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adelliet · 3 months ago

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Logan x f!reader

MEMORABLE RIDE

Summary: You went to the club with your friends and when it was time to go, you ordered a limo, but the girls didn't join so you took the ride alone, but this wasn't your only ride of the evening.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, age gap, strong language, fingering, nicknames (good girl, princess,…), unprotected sex (p i v)

A/n: Hello pookies! This is quite a short one-shot unlike the previous ones, but still there may be grammatical errors, for which I apologize. Also sorry if some parts don't make sense, English is not my native language! Thanks, enjoy <3

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"So are you coming or not?" you yell at your friends, trying to shout over the loud music. They were all sitting in a booth with their one-night stands, all dazed and drunk. They didn't hear you, despite their enthusiasm to have a good fuck today. Unlike them, you had no luck in finding a fuck-buddy. It wasn't that you weren't interested or didn't want to, but no one at the party was your type.

Your friends are into boys of the same age, while you prefer more mature men, older men who knows what they want. "Hey!" you yelled at them once more, at this point your throat started hurting. One of your friends finally heard you and gave you a cursory look. "No, we're not going, can't you see we're busy?" Julia said in her typical bitch tone, that you were already used to.

"But I already ordered a ride home" you furrow your eyebrows as you show her your phone screen. "So? Go home, we'll take care of ourselves" Kaylie said this time, making you realize they all heard you but just ignore you. They were just mocking you.

"Whatever" you breathed out and shook your head, deciding to leave. You love those girls, you really do, but when alcohol, drugs, and sex get into them, they're changed. Usually they apologize the next day and everything is back to normal, but sometimes you wonder if the ridicule is worth it.

When you finally squeezed through the crowd of people and nearly went blind from the beams of colored lasers, you stepped outside and took a deep breath. The club was incredibly hot and the air was thick in there, it was practically impossible to breathe, so the moment you stepped out, it was like a godsend.

You stayed on a spot for a while, just enjoying the clean air and the glowing lamps around you, until you noticed a black limousine on the other side of the sidewalk. That was for you. You quickly checked your makeup in your pocket-mirror, to see if you didn't look like a total mess and headed towards the limo.

On your way there, an old guy with a long gray beard and a black suit get out of the car. Even from a distance you could tell, that he's been gone through a lot in his life. He had a cute glasses on, his eyes squeezed, trying to read something in his phone. "Hi!" you said with a sweet tone and small smile.

You caught his attention immediately, making him groan annoyingly as he looked at you, but the moment he saw you, he needed to double check you. He carelessly scan you from the bottom up, his glasses sliding off his nose gently while he looked through his eye lids.

Before he could say anything you overtook him. "313, my code" you flashed him with your phone screen. He hastily blinked, his eyes watering from the brightness of your phone. He rudely took your phone and checked with a closer look. You awkwardly stood next to him until he hummed and handed you back your phone.

"Where are the others?" his voice was deep and grainy, showing his age. Hearing him for the first time made goosebumps all over your body and increased your heartbeat. "They...uh they're not coming, it's just me" you look behind your shoulder and glance at the club, remembering your friends words, before turning back.

He roll his eyes with a frustrated sigh. "Is that okay?" you asked him cautiously, automatically going to sit in the back of the limo, as he got into the driver's seat. "As long as you pay" you deduced, that hearing him talk is very rare thing and that was why it made it so special. Whenever he talks, his voice sends a sharp prick between your legs.

"Y-yeah I have the money..." you rummaged through your purse to check your wallet and you sigh with relief when you saw it there. The old man entered your location on the GPS and started the engine. The ride was quiet except for the songs on the radio, but you didn't mind, you watched things passing by from window. You could turn off your brain and relax.

"May I ask why you didn't take a taxi?" your rest didn't last long when you heard the wolf's voice again. It took you a while to recover and form a sentence in your head. "I guess I didn't think of that" you didn't want to tell the whole lore about your friends and how you naively thought you would drive all home together and enjoy the ride back, so you got a little carried away and spend a lot of money on a limo. All that so you are now sitting alone there and not didn't even enjoy the evening with some good fuck.

He was looking at you through the rear view mirror, sometimes you caught him and he swiftly looked back on the road. He could sense the dissapointment in your voice, but he didn't want to be intrusive, even though he was really interested in the story behind you.

"Aren't you cold?" another sharp hit into your core, when you heard his crisp voice. "Uhh no, it's fine, thanks" the thanks was almost inaudible as you looked down at your knees shyly. You honestly weren't surprised he asked, you were wearing a short top with a short black skirt. You hoped you don't look like some kind of slut, you wanted to impress him in a good way and if he told his friends about you, you didn't want him to call you a whore.

He nodded, quickly checking you in the mirror again before firmly focusing his attention on the road. That was his last sentence before the silence came again, broken by music from the radio and the sounds of cars outside. But it was soothing, the led lights were dark purple and before long your eye lids started being heavy and without realizing it, you fell asleep.

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Your body twitched and you instantly woke up, after you heard a sudden slam of the door. you rub your eyes and yawn tiringly, as you look from the window. You squinted your eyes when the lights of the gas station hit you, but after a while you got used to it, you try to orient yourself. When you wanted to check on the driver, he was gone. You tried to stay calm and not panic right away, as is your nature. You're only at the gas station, Logan must have gone to get gas or buy something, he doesn't want to bury you alive in the woods. Your paranoidness is really pathetic sometimes.

After a while, you heard a melody of door opening and immediately looked after the sound. Your eyes sparkle and your corners automatically lifted up when you saw him walking towards the limousine. Without realizing it, you felt a strange fluttering in your stomach when HE came into your sight. Feeling that you haven't experienced in a long time.

You watched his every step towards you, his serious expression still on his face with no sign of emotion. You sat back in the seat when Logan grabbed the handle and put his upper body into the car. "Hey...I was thinking you might want to drink something" he handed you one of his cups and gave you the cutest eyes you've ever seen. You though you were in a fever dream.

"Oh! T-thank you" you took the cup and giggle nervously, before your fingers touched by the process and you swear a spark jumped between you. The eye contact was intense, strong, almost romantic and none of you wanted to break it.

You hold your breath as you try to read his eyes, what he was thinking about. He flicked from your eyes to your lips quickly and then decided to go back to driver's seat. "Wait!" you stopped him quickly.

He bent down to see your face again and waited for your words. You didn't even know what you wanted. You had to think fast. "Can you...can you sit here with me for a while? I don't want to delay you, I just...I don't want to go home" you chuckle awkwardly as a side-smile appeared on your face.

Logan was quiet at first, again, not a single hint of any emotion in his face, but he got in and sat next to you, as you wished. He keeps the distance between you respectful, even though you wouldn't mind if he scoops a bit closer. "Why's that?" he raised his eyebrow and turned his head to you, looking deep into your eyes. You sighed and looked down while playing with your fingers.

"Well...it's a long story" you look back up at him, smiling softly. "I got time" his interest in you really warmed your heart and your inner self screamed with joy. Even though you are not a very extroverted person, you felt comfortable with him so he didn't have to tell you twice to talk.

"Well, today was supposed to be a hen party and originally, more girls were supposed to be here with me, but as you can see, that didn't quite work out...just a pinch of alcohol and they act like animals" you scoff and shake your head, being really pissed. You remember what they told you, how they treated you and didn't even give a hint of gratitude for the fact that you tried to get them a ride back.

"Oh...well-" he wanted to comfort you somehow, but you didn't finish and decided to confide properly. You surprised yourself. "You know, I really like them, but sometimes they act like total whores who only think about sex and dicks, not that there's anything wrong with that, but they just don't have any self-respect for themselves or others, and then I catch their rude behavior…”

You were so fired up about letting it all out that you didn't even realize the effect it must have on this man. When there was an awkward silence after your speech, you checked on him. He looked a little shocked but immediately cleared his throat and composed himself, so that he could finally react somehow, but you didn't let him, again.

"I have a pretty boring life, I admit, maybe I'm old-fashioned but I'm not really the type to sleep with the first guy I meet in a club..., anyway the answer to why I don't want to go home is simple, I still want to enjoy the freedom before going back to my awkward and boring office-life" this was the final speech and you felt amazing after that. Those words slipped out of your mouth so easily and you haven't confided in someone like this for a long time.

You sip from your cup loudly as the outrageous silence became really disconcerting. Your conscience began to eat away at you quickly, and since you didn't accept any answer, your nervousness grew rapidly. You started tapping your foot and gradually the shaking spread to your hands, which were holding the cup. You started to regret confiding so much and wanted to say something and save yourself a little, but a man's voice caressed your eardrums before you could speak.

"You don't look like someone who has a boring life" from everything you said you were surprised that he reacted to THAT but on the other hand, you were probably grateful for that, if he only reacted to the sex theme, it would probably put you both in an awkward situation. "Oh believe me, I really have…I'm not special" you smiled at him, your dimples shine as you try to read through his eyes again.

He frowned, that was the first facial movement you saw from him, you are finally getting somewhere. "C'mon your boyfriend sure thinks you're amazing" you chuckle softly and shake your head. "I don't have a boyfriend" "Really?" he answered, maybe too quickly, a big surprise in his voice. You nodded and couldn't stop smiling.

"You're telling me that a beautiful lady like you doesn't have a boyfriend?" you giggle again as a reaction to his compliment and shake your head. You felt like a little girl getting compliments from adults, it was exciting. "Damn…" he leaned back in disbelief, looking really surprised. "That's a shame, boys must flock to you" his compliments started being overwhelming and every time he said something nice to you, there was that sharp kick right into your clitoris that makes your core pulsating. At first you were a little embarrassed to be turned on by such an old man's praise, but later you didn't care and just enjoyed the moment.

"Not really...I'm quite quiet" "I noticed" he gave you a smile, which almost made you faint. That cruel nasty man was gone and replaced by a nice gentleman with beautiful eyes. "I'm Logan by the way" he offered you a hand to shake which you took almost immediately and your smile grew bigger. Logan. His name kept repeating itself in your head. It was quite an unusual but unique name that sounded very nice and you would get used to screaming it easily, to be honest. "Y/n" you shake your hands and let go, feeling a bit sad when your skins stopped touching.

"Y/n..." he repeated your name to himself quietly, looking at you up and down, not caring if you notice or not. His confidence was really visible and that only added to his attractiveness. Although you just said that your friends sometimes act like whores who only think about sex and dicks, now you've turned into one of them. A million scenarios started forming in your head and your pulsating started being unbearable every second Logan look at you.

You had no idea what kind of magic it was that he was so extremely attracted to you, in fact you had no idea, except that you wanted to ride him till you can't walk anymore in this fancy limousine. As if he read your thoughts and subtly started bending closer to you. You hold your breath once again, as the distance between your lips started getting smaller, until it barely existed.

You were inches away from touching each other lips, no one had the guts to destroy the barrier until Logan gave up and finally kissed you. As if he was afraid of what your reaction would be, his lips barely touching yours, he was very careful. He didn't want to scare you, but you were the oposite. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and goosebumps surrounded your body when you felt his lips, but you wanted more.

That's why you headlessly grabbed Logan's neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Logan wasn't so careful anymore as your tongues battled for dominance and your hands encircled each other's bodies. At the beginning there were slow, peaceful kisses that quickly turned into a hungry and merciless ones.

You didn't last long on your place and slowly moved away from your seat to sit on Logan. He devilishly smirk into the kisses as he feel your ass on his lap, where his boner was already growing. He was exploring your body, every inch of you, he wanted to remember it. He traveled from your long hair to your ass, which he squeezed from time to time. You panties were soaking wet and your natural instincts took control. You started moving your hips back and forth, desperate for even a little friction.

Your movements made Logan groan and squeeze your ass even harder, making you moan. Your lips were still firmly glued to each other, even though you wanted to see Logan's face as you rode him through your clothes. His body is tensed as he tries to keep his voice quiet, even that he doesn't do it very well. He was as desperate as you, from the moment he saw you you were on his mind and he couldn't let you go. There's a reason your friends didn't go with you and you're actually grateful to them. Really fucking grateful.

Logan was getting tired of touching you only through your clothes, so he lifted your skirt up a bit and touched your folds through your soaked panties. He chuckled at the feeling and let go of your lips, looking into your lustful eyes. "You're so fucking wet" he growled and started creating pressure between your legs that increased with every movement he made. You could finally throw your head back and enjoy his fingers, which for an old man were damn nimble. He definitely has a lot of experience.

Your pelvis automatically moved along with his hand as your palms rested on his chest. You throw your head back and started unbuttoning his pants, making him giggle. "Someone is impatient" you smiled, intensely focused on his pants until he made an illegal move. Your eyes shut and head drop, when he put your panties aside and finally touched on your bare wet folds. He was enjoying the view of you, how your face was squeezed and your quiet whimpers started echoing throughout the limousine, you were perfect.

He couldn't resist and had to thrust both fingers into you at the same time, forcing you to throw your head back and drop your jaw wide open. You felt so full when he was expanding your walls but that was just the beginning. His fingers started curling into you, smooth steady motions that were throwing you closer to your orgasm. “Logan” you were wailing his name over and over again as you started ride on his fingers. Your nails sank into his thighs but he barely felt it.

One of his hands was on your waist trying to keep you still at least a little bit, while the other was fingering you with no mercy. He noticed how you started clenching around him and even your moans started being cut off. You didn't need to tell him twice that you are about to cum right on his fingers, he knew it very well. You felt the weird feeling to go pee and your stomach started clenching, just a few more movements and you would cum, but he stopped.

He pulled his fingers out of you and you immediately look at him confused, sighing at the lost. He smiles, sucking his fingers and looking in your eyes while he taste you. He rolled his eyes and growls loudly. "Fuck you taste amazing" this sentence makes you wet again and your core pulsates even more than before. Logan let go of your weist and started clumsily taking off his pants. You quickly get up so you won't not to get in his way, and the moment his pants along with his boxers touched his ankles, he didn't hesitate for a second. He grabbed your hips harshly and eagerly forced you to sit on him.

You adored his impetuous behavior and how much he was craving for you, for your body, for the fuck. Even though he looked two hundred years old, he had an outrageous amount of energy in him and his body was bursting with adrenaline. You, on the other hand, weren't much different. Your horniness knew no bounds and the passion you felt was irreplaceable.

Your only focus was on Logan, you didn't care if anyone caught or heard you, you wanted him inside you no matter what. You look down at his penis, veiny, unshaven and huge. You gasped a little as the thought that this would all be inside you besieged you, but your excitement was much greater than your fear. "Surprised baby?" the craspy voice rang in your ears and you immediately look in front of you, his myschivious grin makes your core pulsates even more and the lust for orgasm was incalculable.

Your mouth filled with saliva and you weren't going to hold on to the anticipation any longer. You slowly started lowering yourself, your breath stuck in your throat as you felt his tip touching you. "Good girl, nice and slow..." Logan was looking down at the part where you two are going to connect, his strong arms still holding your hips and subtly forcing you to take him.

His words soothed and excited you at the same time, which is why his intrusion wasn't as painful. You groan loudly as his tip was fully inside you, already feeling full but that still wasn't the end. You change your hand placement to his chest, squeezing his boobs without realizing it, but Logan loved every moment of it. He decided to help you and slowly lifted up his hips, pushing further into you. Before long he was all inside you, you couldn't believe how full you were and how he was stretching your walls much more than before with his fingers. Your juice was already dropping on his cock, that was hard as a stone inside you.

He waited a while for you to get used to his length and during that he grabbed your neck and kissed you aggressively. When your hips started moving instinctively, he deduced that you were ready. With his hands still holding your hips, he was forcing you to move back and forth, heating up and creating pressure, like some type of foreplay. Your lips were still glued to his until you couldn't take it anymore and had to pull away to catch your breath. Your head dropped as your whining grew louder and louder.

“Yeah that's it princess…” he growled as he watched your face, still holding you tightly. His pelvis started moving along with yours, his pulse increased and his breathing slowed down. “Such a good girl” the endless compliments only helped to bring you closer to your climax and he was well aware of that. You look up through your eye lids, seeing him intensely focused with furrowed eyebrows send a chill down your spine.

You gradually began to pick up your pace and strength, each movement bringing you both closer and your moans getting louder. The car was starting to smell like sex and the atmosphere around you was getting thick. Logan wanted more, so he makes your hips go up and then thrust down. You scream his name as he did it again, but this was exactly what you both needed. He helped you a bit but after a while you could jump on him by yourself, the incredibly lust to reach your orgasm made you forget about exhaustion.

Logan dropped his jaw and shut his eyes as your ass was clapping against his thighs. His dick was twitching inside you, hitting that sweet spot of yours. That spongy sensitive spot calling the cervix sends incredible waves of pleasure whenever he hits it. You both were sighing in a rhythm as the juicy sounds started getting louder. “That's it baby…that's it” with a struggle he praised you again and banged you, desperately trying to finally reach his orgasm.

You knew you won't last long anymore. The overwhelming tense feeling started shutting down all your senses. Goosebombs jumped on every part of your body as you squeezed his breasts hard, making him chuckle. "C'mon baby, give it to me" this was the last straw when he gave you this green flag to cum. You put all your strength and energy into your hips and into finally achieving what you longed for. You slowly throw your head back again and just whimper quietly, as your hips took on the incredible speed of light.

When the feeling of going to pee and release finally washed over you, your entire body tensed and you shiver. You were paralyzed and your hips stopped moving when you finally reached your golden orgasm. But Logan didn't stop and when he felt how hard you clenched around him and saw your cumming face, he lost his control in hips and cum just few seconds after you. He emptied his balls into you, not missing a single drop and grunted very VERY loudly as he nearly crushed your hips. When you both calmed down a bit, the only thing that could be heard was your heavy breathing.

"Fuck you were...incredible" you breathed out and Logan chuckled, nodding as a acceptence of your compliment. "You too sweatheart" you looked into his eyes with a surprised expression. He gave you those nicknames during sex, that's why you were shocked when he told you after it too. Your corners lifted up and your heart melts, making it hard for Logan to resist and he needed to kiss you one more time. But this time it was a long, romantic kiss that you hadn't received in decades.

When he pulled away, leaving just a tiny space between your noses, your teasing mood started setting in. "You lasted quite long for an old guy" he furrowed his eyebrows but smiled, as he sensed your teasing behavior. "Oh really?" he tsks before he asked ironically and you just hummed. "Say that again and you'll regret it" he warned you but you knew it was just a part of the teasing-play you had going on. "Okay, sorry, grandpa" you devilishly smile as you said the last word.

"That's it" Logan grabbed you and threw you gently on the floor of the limousine, making you smile. He started kissing you aggressively with his dick still deeply inside you.

"You won't be able to walk after this"

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superhoeva · 1 month ago

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bouncer!logan spotting you at a halloween party he's working the door for. it's annoyingly cute how you fumble about when you find out that the there's a door fee and you have no cash.

he lets you squirm for a bit, enjoying the troubled expression on your face before the pinch of your eyebrows forces a sigh from him.

"okay look," the man starts, arms crossing as he motions for you to lean in. thinking for less than a second, you follow the direction, not catching the way logan drags a hard stare across you and your skimpy costume. "'m really not supposed to be doing anything like this. but one, i don't give a fuck. two, you're cute enough to break a few rules for."

with his jaw clenching at the way you can't hide your pleased grin, logan continues.

"gonna let you in for free, but you're gonna have'ta owe me a little somethin' in return."

an eager nod from you has logan biting his tongue. his hand reaches to rub at he growing hair of his beard, pretending to consider his options. finally, he speaks, purposefully lowering his voice so you have to shift even closer.

"use this pretty face and get me a couple'a free drinks? since you don't have any cash and all..."

"okay," you nod again, teeth grazing the corner of your bottom lip. "what do you have a taste for?"

logan's skin heats at your question, shoving the first answer that comes to the very back of his mind.

"nothing too sweet." he's got to save that craving for the possibility of tasting you. "just beer. nothing special."

you're a wizard. logan's certain of it after you bring him the fourth bottle of beer, this time with a glass of something for yourself.

"jesus," logan huffs. "you're wringing 'em dry in there, pretty."

you shrug at the man, slinking atop the stool he brought to keep his back from aching during his downtime. he can feel your eyes on him as he chugs down half the bottle, staring at the bobbing of his adam's apple as he drinks.

lowering the bottle, logan swallows and turns to you. your gaze flicks to the side of him, pretending like you weren't just oogling the shit out of him and how tight the black v-neck he's sporting is.

logan takes the thick silence as a chance to really look at you. take in your costume of black spandex shorts, blue crop top, and empty thigh holsters.

"lara croft," logan finally figures it out, and you grin a little over the rim of your glass. "...you wear her well."

another smile from you and logan nearly squeezes the bottle so hard it breaks. a tiny laugh from you breaks another round of heated silence.

"i miss somethin'?"

"no," you promise him. "it's just... i've spent more time out here than in there. even after you let me in for free."

logan sniffs, meeting your eyes in his lean across from you.

"don't worry, ms. croft. i definitely don't mind."

after that, you end up staying with him for the rest of the night. leaving you his seat, logan standing all broad and strong whenever someone enters, letting you hold the cash he collects from each patron. he sends a wink your way every time he turns to hand out the money but nearly growls out at anyone that asks about you.

"keep movin', bub," logan warns the latest inquirer who lets his eyes linger a little too long for your liking. the guy isn't smart enough to heed the first warning, going as far as ignoring logan to lean in your direction.

"come find me later, yeah?"

you don't get a chance to answer. logan's got him by the back of the neck, shoving him out into the cool fall air of tonight's evening without a second thought. dusting off his hand, logan ignores the man's whines about the cash he wants back, and turns to find you blinking at him with a squirm.

he steps to where you now stand with his eyes hooded, slicking out one of the tens from your grasp. neither of you says a word as logan folds the bill, and encircles his arms around you. your breath hitches at the hand logan plants on one of your asscheeks. he glides the money into your back pocket, biting his lip.

"my shift ends in an hour. i can show you an actual party worth your time if you're up for it..."

warm and dazed, you nod. logan grins a little, squeezing the flesh under his hand before returning to his post of strong, crossed arms and back turned to you while he faces the door.

logan grins again, this time wider, at the way he can feel your gaze burning a hole into his ass.

#bouncer!logan #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine imagine #logan howlett #wolverine

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buckys-wintersoldier · 8 months ago

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Dinner with the mobster | Bucky Barnes

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Mob!Single!Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> Your boss - who is also the most feared man in town - asks you to go out for dinner with him. When he suggests taking his daughter with him, you agree to go out with them.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 2.295

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> (G) none, just fluff

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> Hi I absolutely love your work. I was wondering if you could write a mob boss! Single dad!Bucky Barnes x reader. Feel free to ignore if it makes you uncomfortable. Thank you 🤎🤎

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you so much for your nice words, they really mean a lot and thank you for the sweet request. I wanted to write more for Mob!Bucky and your request was the perfect opportunity to do so. I hope you like what I made with it.🩷🩷 Divider made by @firefly-graphics.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> AFG Fluff Bingo | Row Two-One | First Date | @anyfandomfluffbingo

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

James Buchanan Barnes, the most popular mobster in town, has at least one hundred men who are protecting him and another one hundred men as well as women who clean his house, cook for him, or do other chores. His house - his villa - near the forest is almost not even in town anymore. The man could have every woman, and almost every woman admires him. He has long brown hair, mostly tied into a bun; his beard is trimmed; he has ocean blue eyes; and he has a smile that could light up the darkest night. James has a muscular body, is tall, and is just the dream of every woman. But even though he could have it all, he lives with his daughter alone. But he has an eye on someone, someone who doesn’t look really interested in him, which slightly confuses him but makes her more interesting for the mobster.

“Daddy, look what I found,” his princess says with a proud smile, holding up a book in her hands.

He furrows his eyebrows, his legs spread, while he sits on his couch and waits for the woman he asked to come into his office. In his hand, he holds a glass of his favorite Bourbon while he looks at his daughter. She walks closer to him, pushing herself up to sit on his lap before she holds the book closer to his face. James reads the title on it and smirks.

“That’s the book your friends - my employees - wrote into, isn’t it?” he asks with a smirk.

He told all his closest employees to write into the book after his princess was sad about having just four people - next to her - written into it. Those people were James, Sam, Steve, and Natasha. And then she asked her daddy if he knew if some more who wanted to write into it. Of course she also has friends, but the little girl prefers the big men around her, commanding them around like her daddy does, and he enjoys seeing his well-working education.

“Do you wanna see it?” she asks, kissing her daddy’s cheek softly.

The small girl looks like James - just the smaller, female version - but she has the same brown hair, ocean blue eyes, and the same smirk and pout on her lips as her daddy.

“But just until Y/N is here,” James says, and he turns his daughter around.

With his hands wrapped around her tummy, he looks over her shoulder. Her small back is pressed against his broad chest. Then she opens the book and waits for her daddy to start reading. James does, and his princess is always telling him something about the pictures before he can turn to the next side.

After a few minutes, it knocks at the door, and he looks up to see you standing there, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. You play with your fingers, looking down, while you just stand there and wait for James to give you instructions.

“I- I can- I’m sorry for distracting you,” you mumble when your nervousness grows.

“No, it’s fine. I asked you to come here, so please come in,” he says with his rough voice, and you shiver slightly.

When you met him for the first time, he was scary, and being so close to such a dangerous man can still be scary, but he is all soft and sweet around you and makes you feel like you are special to him. Little do you know you’re special to him, and he would buy the whole town, the moon, or the whole universe for you just to see your smile and hear you laughing while he is the reason for it.

James leans closer to his daughter, kissing her cheek before he lifts her off his lap and places her in front of him.

“Tell Uncle Stevie he has to give you some cookies,” James says, laughing when he sees his daughter jumping around with a giggle before she runs out of the room.

His ocean blue eyes then meet you again, and he gets off the couch as well. James walks closer to the door, gripping the doorknob while he waits for you to walk into the room to close the door behind you. It makes you a bit uncomfortable to be all alone with him in a room, but you know you’re safe.

“Wanna drink something, Bourbon? It’s a good one, my favorite bourbon.”

“N-no, thank you. I- Uhm- I’m fine, really,” you mumble.

You could face palm yourself when you realize what you just said. He didn’t want to know more, just if you wanted to have a drink. You inhale deeply while he leads you to the couch. When the two of you are taking a seat, he smiles and turns his head toward you.

“Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“N-no. I can take care of your daughter when you have plans for tonight.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” he laughs softly and takes a sip of his bourbon. “More like, do you have time to go out with me?”

Your mouth drops open, and you swallow hard, rubbing your palms over your pants to dry the sweat.

“I- You’re my boss, James,” you say quietly, turning your head away.

He chuckles softly and slides his hand to your back, stroking it softly while he takes another sip of his bourbon. The shiver along your spine makes him grin even more, and the way your body reacts to his touch lets him admire you even more.

“I’m not asking you, actually. Babydoll, let me take you out, please.”

“I-I don’t want to overstep boundaries. I- James, I should go back to my room,” you mumble.

Bucky chuckles; the way his body vibrates against yours sent another shiver along your spine. His thumb moves closer to your lips before he slides it over them, making you gasp. Your boss is so close, you can feel his hot breath on your skin; his touches are like electricity, causing more goosebumps all over your skin. Bucky leans closer, his lips almost touching your ear, inhaling your scent before he kisses your earlobe.

“How about we take Mia with us? You love her, and she loves you.”

None of the two of you mentioned that there are feelings between you and Bucky. You nod softly, but he sees it and smiles, kissing your earlobe again. Then he pulls away.

“I will pick you up in an hour,” he says, getting up, and you follow.

The two of you walk to the door. He opens it and runs his fingers over your back before you walk out of the room and to yours to change into something better to go out with your boss.

Like he told you, he is knocking at your door an hour later, wearing a suit - like always - his cologne all around you, and you smile softly when you look into his beautiful face. His brown hair is tied back, and he holds the tiny hand of his daughter. She is smiling at you as well as her daddy, both admiring you in your dress. Bucky in another way as the girl, but they both can’t get their eyes off of you. Bucky clears his throat and takes a step to the side, letting you walk out of the room.

“You look beautiful, doll.”

You blush, scratching the back of your neck.

“Daddy said we gonna go to my favorite restaurant,” she tells you with a proud smile.

You’re still not pretty sure what to say or how to act since your boss has invited you to go out with him. So you smile nicely and walk with him and Mia to the cars in the garage.

Bucky is a gentleman, opening the door for you, making sure you’re comfortable, but always taking care of his daughter too.

When you arrive at the restaurant, he takes your hand in his, stroking his thumb over the back of your hand. He makes sure you’re comfortable; otherwise, he would immediately let go of your hand. But there is not even a hint of discomfort on your face, just a small smile on your lips. Together with you and Mia, he walks to the entrance, letting the two of you walk into it before he follows you.

“Good evening,” the waiter says, his muscles tensing when he sees Bucky.

“Good evening, a table for three by the name of Barnes.”

The man in front of Bucky nods and shows you the table. You’re helping Mia out of her jacket and talking to her while you walk through the restaurant. The eyes of the people widen when they see James walking with his daughter and a woman through the room. He smirks when he offers you a seat, takes your and Mia’s jackets out of your hands, and sits across from you, smiling widely with his steel blue eyes piercing into yours. His tattoo-covered arms rest with the sleeves slightly up and his arms on the table, and he just admires you while you look between Mia and him with a small smile.

“Good evening. Have you already decided what you like to eat?” a woman asks, her smile shy, and her eyes dart from Bucky to you and back to the muscular man.

“As always, for my daughter and for me,” he says, then turns his face to you and smiles softly. “And you, doll?”

A shiver rushes through your body, and butterflies go crazy in your belly when he calls you by that nickname in front of other people. Then you look at the waitress and order your food as well. She just nods, takes the menus, and walks back to the kitchen.

“Y/N?” Mia asks, her hand touching yours.

“Yes?”

“Do you like daddy?”

You almost choke on your own saliva when she asks that. Of course you do; who doesn’t? He is a gentle and soft man; he is beautiful, muscular, and makes you laugh. You feel safe with him, not just because there are always some of his men around, but just because of him. On the other hand, he doesn’t act in a soft way with others like you always thought, which makes the feelings you have for him stronger. Bucky doesn’t say anything to the question; he just smirks and waits for you to answer, wanting to know what you think about him.

“I-I- He is nice, but he is my boss,” you mumble.

“But you like him?”

“Yes, but I like you too, Mia.”

“So do you want to be my new mommy?”

This question caught you off guard, and your jaw drops immediately. Bucky chuckles are low and rough, causing your skin to tingle. He makes you feel things you never thought you would feel, especially not for him. The most fearful man in town, a mobster. But also your boss, a wonderful and sweet man and daddy of a beautiful and cute daughter.

“Say yes, and I’m gonna make you mine tonight,” he says.

Your breath hitches, your body shakes softly in anticipation, and you nod. Do you want it? Want to be his? Of course, you definitely want to be his.

“Y-yes.”

Mia smirks, ready to throw herself around your neck, but the food arrives at your table and she learned manners from her daddy, so she just squirms a bit in her seat but starts eating and smirks the whole time at you. Your cheeks are red, and you fix the plate with food in front of you instead of facing Bucky. What if he just wanted to know what you feel for him, but he just wants to play with you? But he is just so soft with you and not with any other woman around him.

“Doll?” his rough voice interrupts your thoughts, and you look at him. “Please let me make you mine. I know the way you look at me, and you’re the only woman I want to have. I have loved you since we first met.”

“O-Oke. B-But I can’t work for you then. H-How can I pay for my things?”

“You don’t have to pay anything. Don’t forget who you’re talking to; you will get everything you need, and you just need to ask me,” he tells you with the softest smile you have ever seen.

When you nod again, his eyes light up, and he can’t help but get up to walk around the table. He gets on his knees next to you, capturing your cheeks with his big hands before he leans closer and presses his soft, plumb lips on yours. Kissing you in a way no one has ever kissed you before, so filled with love and passion. When you kiss him back, he smirks, pulling you even closer, and your hands grip his shoulder, your fingers sliding along his neck. Mia cheers quietly, giggling and looking at the two of you in awe while he bits into her nugget. You blush when Bucky leans back, his thumb stroking your lips, and his blue eyes say more than words could ever say.

“I love you, doll. My precious doll.”

“I-I love you, too.”

“Andddddd I love you. And my nuggies,” Mia says, holding her nugget up to show it.

“Yeah. We love you too, little girl,” Bucky laughs and kisses you again, then he gets up and takes his seat again to finish eating.

Your cheeks are still red, especially when you recognize that everyone in the restaurant was looking at the two of you. But when you look at Bucky, every fear fades away, and you feel just loved by him.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

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heirofnight · 3 months ago

Text

meddling, pt. 4

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 4.6k - we have a lot of ground to cover with this one

summary: reader accompanies azriel to an event at the house of wind that rhys is hosting for the summer court. fluff, angst, and jealous (borderline murderous) azriel ensue.

also based around this request: would you consider writing a protective/jealous azriel? like maybe someone is getting a little too comfortable with his mate lol

a/n: so sorry for all of the slow-burn pining that has taken place thus far. i think you'll find that this part will make up for that. as always, pls leave feedback! hope you love it <3

read parts one, two, and three

rhysand was hosting a courtly event at the house of wind this evening. you weren't quite sure of the political details regarding the whole thing, but you'd deduced that tarquin would be visiting from the summer court after hearing various brief conversations that cropped up during meals.

such as the one that took place during dinner at the town house the night before.

"so, rhys, what exactly is the nature of this party we're hosting for summer?", cassian had asked, shoveling a spoonful of roasted vegetables into his mouth mid-sentence. a few droplets of the lemon & herb sauce had escaped his spoon, splattering against his bearded chin. you'd smiled at the sight, azriel hiding his own huff of laughter behind the rim of his wine glass.

rhys leveled his brother with a blank stare, shaking his head in mock disappointment at cassian's less than stellar table manners.

"it is not a party, cass," rhys drawled, sounding bored. "tarquin is visiting to discuss a few matters regarding the new treaty. however," rhys paused, taking his own sip of wine, "he's also bringing varian and cresseida," another pause, "and i believe - fifty others from his court," rhys finished, pushing his fingers into his temples.

cassian snorted, raising a dark eyebrow, "so - a party," he smirked, resting his elbows on the dark wooden table before him. "i propose we break out the expensive booze for the occasion," cass stated, attempting to use his most noble voice.

you met azriel's amused gaze from across the table, a dimpled smile spreading across his cheeks once you'd both locked eyes.

he shook his head in feigned exasperation at cassian's antics, and you'd nudged the toe of his boot with your own under the table, huffing a laugh.

"cassian, you will be on your best behavior," rhys stated, pointing a lithe finger in the war general's direction. "you're already on thin ice with summer - we need not encourage them to send more blood rubies our way," the high lord exhaled, stabbing a fork into his piece of roast.

you'd cleared your throat then, sitting up a bit straighter in your chair.

"am i allowed to join?", you'd asked. every head at the table lifted to look at you, surprised expressions on their faces. as comfortable as you'd become around the family, you still really only engaged with azriel on a consistent basis. and, as isolated as you'd been during your first few months residing at the house, no one truly expected you to willingly participate in this not-party.

your eyes darted from rhys' pleased expression over to azriel's honeyed gaze. he peered at you tenderly, with eyes that looked like hazel pools of pride.

he was, indeed, proud. proud that you'd spoken up, proud that you'd asked to join the rest of them for a gathering that would have otherwise made you feel the need to hide yourself away in your rooms only a few months ago.

"of course you can, sweet y/n," rhys said, voice oozing delight and charm.

your smile threatened to split your face in half, and you found azriel's eyes again. he nodded once, encouragingly. his own smile grew marginally, a dimple peeking through.

he tried his best to hide his budding fondness towards you around the rest of his family - especially cassian. his brother would never let him hear the end of it, otherwise. such busybodies, all of them. azriel was terrified of his family's meddling tendencies potentially spooking you in the opposite direction.

but, even with all of that being said, azriel couldn't help the words that spilled from his lips before he could stop them:

"uh -," he set his wine glass down gently - holding the stem between his fingers, swirling the liquid once, "you can accompany me, if you'd like to. if that would make you more comfortable," he said confidently, voice unwavering.

if his family had to witness him asking you to be his plus one to a formal party, the least he could do was sound like he wasn't nervous to do so. but, he was. he was very nervous.

however, the butterflies in his chest threatening to rip through his skin and flurry throughout the room only thrashed harder when he watched the way your eyes lit up at the offer.

your gaze flit around quickly, surveying everyone else's expressions - you were met with soft smiles as the family silently watched the sweet exchange. and then there was cassian, sporting a smug smirk as he pushed the food around on his plate.

you looked back to azriel, his expression soft, his fingers tapping quietly at the base of his wine glass.

"i would love to, az," you said graciously, and you sent another nudge to the toe of his boot with your own foot under the table - a 'thank you' said in a language that only the both of you spoke.

now, tonight, you were preparing for said event - having no idea what to expect. what you did know, though, was that you were attending it with azriel. a fact that definitely added a bit of pressure to the evening.

you knew that az would be a perfect gentleman, as he had been since you'd met him nearly eight months ago. but, you were developing very loud feelings for him - feelings that you were unable to shrink and contain in a quiet corner within your heart and mind any longer. they were boiling over, pushing and shoving to make themselves known.

and, honestly, if he didn't reciprocate those feelings, you weren't sure how you'd recover. this was not just some juvenile crush - azriel had helped mend together the pieces of you that were left jagged and splintered upon arriving in velaris. after your past, after the shattering pain you'd become used to, azriel had taken gentle hands and sanded away your abrasive edges.

you took a deep breath, studying your appearance in the floor-length mirror that was propped against your armoire. nuala and cerridwen had assisted you in getting ready for tonight, and honestly, you almost didn't recognize yourself.

your hair was set in long, elegant, loose curls down your back - the skin there exposed due to the gown you'd chosen. a black, silk, floor-length number that appeared as though tiny stars had been woven throughout the fabric. your makeup was beautiful - glowy and fresh. you looked happy. you looked like you belonged.

you were stunning, and you'd hoped your chosen ensemble would turn the head of the one male you couldn't stop thinking about.

little did you know, azriel hadn't been able to turn away from you since you'd arrived.

it was now half-past-seven, and you knew az would be knocking on your door soon to escort you downstairs for the party.

azriel shut his own bedroom door, waiting for the quiet click of the latch before descending down the hall to your chambers. he tugged on the left sleeve of his suit jacket, worrying over the fit of the formal clothing he'd chosen for the evening.

he stopped in front of your door, and opted to readjust his silver chain - a beautiful gift you'd given him only a month prior - to assure it laid correctly, before knocking. his wings twitched in anticipation, and he really hoped he wasn't over-dressed. he glanced down at his black dress shoes, his black slacks. he frowned, slipping a hand into his pocket to fidget with truth-teller nervously.

before his thoughts became too loud, too stifling, he heard your doorknob turn from the opposite side of the threshold.

and there you stood, in a dress that very well may have been sewn and stitched with the sole intention to bring him to his knees in front of you.

that, paired with your innocent eyes peering right up at him had azriel malfunctioning.

his mouth opened and closed several times as he took you in. open. close. open - you thought he may finally say something, but, alas, he closed it again.

while his mind was spinning, thrashing, screaming, his shadows had gone eerily still.

cauldron... boil me, was the only clear thought that he was able to translate from within the absolute stirring storm that was happening internally.

should he bow? he felt the overwhelming urge to drop to his knees and worship you like you had created him with your own hands.

speak, you fool, he commanded himself, realizing that the silence had stretched on for far too long.

"you-", he forced out, swallowing hard. "i am very lucky to have you on my arm this evening," he spoke, taking all of you in once more. you'd placed a dainty gold necklace around your neck, one that trailed right between your cleavage and down the front of your dress. azriel took that detail in now, his fingers twitching at the sight of it.

and you, well. you were struggling to keep your own composure from where you stood. this male in a suit was absolutely devastating. a suit that hugged his tall, muscular form so well, you'd wanted to personally thank the individual who tailored it.

the chain. your eyes snagged on the chain almost immediately. it sat against his bare clavicle, and that's when you'd realized that his chest was showing completely. he'd left the top three buttons of his black, silk dress shirt undone. his tan skin, marked with swirling illyrian ink, showing, and a chain?

you'd really hoped that cassian had convinced rhys to serve the expensive booze tonight. you were going to need it.

the party was progressing along, and after a few glasses of lavish wine, you'd felt loose enough to unabashedly enjoy yourself. azriel was doting, attentive. he'd provide you with a refilled glass every now and then without you even having to ask. he'd paraded you throughout the busy space with a chaste hand on your lower back - your exposed lower back. the feeling of his silver rings against your bare skin sent a bolt of lightening up your spine each time he guided you throughout the room. he'd gently check on you every now and then, asking how you were feeling, if you felt okay, if you needed anything.

and as the night further progressed, and more drinks were had, you found yourself leaning into his strong frame as you both mingled with various partygoers.

azriel had loosened up quite a bit himself - his own drinks allowing him to open up a bit more than usual. wide smiles were being thrown your way more frequently now, and his affectionate hands had found your body on several occasions as if they were acting on instinct.

he leaned into your ear, making sure his next words were only for you.

"you are stunning," he'd said in a gravelly voice, a single wing wrapping around your back as he spoke. he pulled back to take a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours in the process.

you'd blushed, face on fire. but, the alcohol had made you a bit bolder than normal, so you unabashedly placed a hand on his bare chest as you took your turn leaning into him.

"i was hoping you'd think so," you said, your voice smooth as the silk you were wearing. your eyes traveled along the expanse of his face. his long lashes, freckled nose, full lips. your gaze landed on that damned chain once again, and you trailed your tongue across your lips subconsciously.

azriel tracked the movement, his breath hitching at the sight of you. the wing wrapped around your back tugged you in a bit closer to his body, and you stumbled slightly in your heels before pressing your shoulder into his.

"i always think so," he whispered, matter-of-fact.

you paused with your wine glass halfway to your mouth, locking your clouded gaze with his own molten-honey eyes.

he stared back, unblinking. he felt as though his chest was going to cave in. you were ruining him in the best way possible. his slightly drunk mind was swimming in thoughts of you, and he did not care if he drowned right where he stood.

just then, a tendril of shadow darted to the shell of azriel's ear, whispering something that only he could hear. you watched his expression drop momentarily, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"i'll be right back, okay? rhys, he-," he started, huffing out an exhale. "just, i'll be right back," he swallowed, downing the rest of his glass in one go. he was clearly disappointed in the interruption of your intimate moment, a moment that really seemed like it may have ended with his lips on yours.

he went to turn around, his wings tucking in tight to his back in preparation of having to push through a crowd of people. he reached an arm back behind him, wrapping a scarred hand around your wrist. peering over his broad shoulder, he met your eyes.

"will you be okay?," he paused, searching your features for any sign of discomfort at the prospect of being left alone.

you smiled, nodding once, "i'll be at the refreshments table - i need a refill," you offered, nodding your chin towards the large, extravagant spread at the other end of the room.

he nodded, offering you a dimpled smile.

"i won't be long, promise," he said, squeezing your wrist gently in a reassuring gesture.

you watched as he disappeared into the crowd, only the apex of his wings peeking over the heads of party-goers.

you loosed out a breath, making your own trek to the opposite end of the room with the sole purpose of refilling your glass.

you stood next to the exorbitant spread of food and drinks placed around the massive refreshments table, taking everything in with your back to the crowd. you were lost in thought about how much effort rhys put into this entire evening, how detail-oriented he was in his planning, when you felt a warm hand on your bare shoulder.

a hand that you knew was not azriel's.

you peered over your shoulder hesitantly, immediately feeling nerves flood your chest and stomach. you knew almost no one here tonight, aside from azriel and the inner circle - the amount of guests from summer out-populated your small group in excess.

and sure enough, your eyes met those of a summer court male, his orbs twinkling as he took in your appearance appreciatively. he made no effort to hide the way that his gaze raked over your form from head-to-toe, his eyes traveling all the way down to your heeled feet before they snapped back up to your face.

"well," he crooned, "i knew rhys hid away the good liquor, but i had no idea that he was in favor of hiding beautiful females, too," he purred, stepping a fraction closer to you. you turned to face him completely now, arms crossing over your chest to hide yourself from his wondering eyes.

"what's your name?," he continued, pausing to sip his drink, "and more importantly, where have you been?", his eyes sparkled, pure male confidence oozing from every pore on his body.

you opened your mouth, eyes flitting around the room to plot a potential escape route. you were not comfortable. not at all.

az, please come back, come back, come back, you chanted silently, your eyes dancing around the room quickly in hopes of spotting the tips of his wings amongst the large crowd. he knew that you'd be here - in this general area. surely, he'd come straight here to find you. right?

the male before you tutted quietly, grasping your chin with his thumb and pointer fingers to turn your head back towards him, wanting your full attention. he was also wearing rings, but his jewelry didn't have the same gut-twisting affect on you as azriel's had. no, your gut twisted now for a completely different reason.

"eyes on me, little one," he cooed, brushing a strand of hair from your face. you bristled, internally recoiling at his touch, at the term of endearment he'd bestowed on you.

the summer male's hand went to your shoulder, his fingers grazing the skin as they traveled down your bare arm.

"be careful," you heard a familiar voice snarl from beside you. his tone was cold, rough, and left no room for discussion.

azriel.

the male before you dropped your gaze immediately, standing up straighter in az's newfound presence. he dropped his hand back to his side, his fingers twitching as he stepped back from you - curiously eyeing azriel instead.

"ah, the shadowsinger," the man said, attempting to sound far more confident and at-ease than he obviously was. "to what do i owe the pleasure?," the summer male continued, swishing the wine around in his glass.

you didn't miss the way his eyes flashed with unease, and you almost let a smirk form at the sight. you glanced over at azriel, his shadows now swirling around him in agitation. his honey eyes, normally flooded with so much soft, affectionate warmth when settled on you, were now hard, narrowed, and full of ice. this was the feared shadowsinger of the night court - a side of him you had yet to see.

"you'd be wise to walk away," azriel started, his voice sharp. his hand found your lower back, much like it had the entire evening. except this time, it felt claiming, possessive. the cold metal of his rings were a nice reprieve from how warm your skin had become due to this entire interaction.

the male faltered for a moment, but he tried his best to glom onto the last fragment of dignity he had left. "now, now, azriel. there's no need to cause a scene over a female," he spat the word as if he were disgusted by it, and you felt azriel's hand twitch against your skin.

"i've caused a scene for far less," azriel deadpanned, voice lathered in irritation, "and mind how you address her," he continued, "i'd love nothing more than to personally deliver the hand that you used to touch her right back to tarquin's front gates," azriel's deep voice was death personified, and the summer male before you was smart to heed the warning. he exhaled a clipped breath before turning on his heel - striding away into the crowd and out of sight.

azriel let a low growl rumble deep within his chest as he kept his eyes locked on the retreating male, his eyes narrowed. he only allowed his gaze to find yours once he was sure you were both safe from his lingering presence.

you turned your body toward his, azriel's hand still splayed across your lower back. you had no idea what to say, where to start. there were too many emotions to sort through, too many feelings to give names to - and the liquor circulating through your veins wasn't helping, either.

he watched your expression carefully, his eyes softening - the way they always did once he'd sought you out. he rubbed your lower back affectionately, his pointer finger tracing small shapes across your skin.

"sorry," he finally muttered, his eyes searching your own, trying to gauge how you were feeling. he'd never wanted you to see that side of him - that cruel side of him that was able to inflict unimaginable pain and suffering onto the unfortunate soul at the other end of his blade. he didn't want you to run in the opposite direction, although he wouldn't blame you if you did.

after all, as someone who was so used to being shrouded by darkness and shadows, he'd come to believe that he didn't deserve to sunbathe in the light. and that's what you were - a blinding, all-compassing, warm beam of radiance.

his reaction to the summer male was instinctual, second-nature. and that particular reaction was azriel grasping onto every ounce of restraint that he could muster. his knee-jerk urge involved putting the knife in his pocket to good use.

"sorry?," you questioned, brows furrowing. "azriel, for what?", you continued, stepping closer to him, every instinct in your body compelling you to comfort him, to smooth out the concerned lines that had formed between his brows. to wash away the ashamed look that was threatening to flood his amber eyes.

"that-," he sighed, clearing his throat, "i shouldn't have acted that way," he finished, reaching up to absentmindedly run his fingertips across the chain that hung around his neck.

you tilted your head to the side curiously, "i'm glad that you did," you confided, "he made me horribly uncomfortable," and azriel bristled once more at the notion, at the idea of another male intruding on your personal space - going as far as to touch you.

his nostrils flared, and you offered him a comforting smile, wanting so badly to calm him down. you tipped your chin towards the outdoor balcony, resting a hand on his upper arm.

"i'm in the mood for some fresh air," you spoke, stepping around the side of his body to begin leading the way to the large glass doors that led outside. "join me?", you met his gaze hopefully, and azriel wondered if you knew that he would never say no to anything that you asked of him.

he nodded once, his hand still firmly splayed across your lower back. he followed you through the crowd and took his place beside you once more as you approached the balcony railing.

you stayed silent, peering up at the twinkling stars that blanketed the night sky. azriel glanced over at you, both of his hands now taking purchase on the railing.

your mirrored his actions, resting your own hands next to his as you leaned over slightly to take in the sight of velaris below - mesmerized by the smoking chimneys, the bright lights of the rainbow, and the sidra that flowed amongst it all.

"so beautiful," you whispered to yourself, awestruck by the picturesque view spread out before the two of you. it was so extravagant, a living, breathing work of art.

azriel swallowed, his eyes boring into the side of your face. he nodded once, "beautiful," he agreed on a breath, but he wasn't referring to the same view that you were.

the starlit sky perfectly matched the dress that looked as though it was poured over your body, and azriel didn't have much composure nor restraint left in him. not after the last few months, not after he'd seen you in his clothing, not after the affectionate glances and nervous touches shared between the both of you in a room full of others that had no clue, not after sitting across from you for dinner each night - where he'd started looking forward to your little foot nudging his own beneath the table, and not when another male had just tried to sweep you away from him.

his wings flared momentarily, the action allowing him to release some tension before they settled proudly against his back once again.

he stared at you for a moment longer, before touching that chain around his neck one last time - grounding him, giving him courage.

"y/n," he whispered, his large right hand lifting from the railing momentarily - before gently placing it right on top of your much smaller, softer one.

you looked over at him then, expectantly. you were so beautiful. so soft, so elegant, so perfect.

"i'm going to kiss you. do you think that would be alright?", he asked on softly, taking a deep breath of crisp evening air.

your eyes widened, and you blinked. your cheeks turned the sweetest shade of pink as your processed his question.

you felt frozen - of course that would be alright. you'd daydreamed about this moment for months. how his lips would feel, taste, how they'd move. would he be rough, gentle, would he use his tongue to explore your mouth? where would his hands go, where would your hands go? what if you were bad at-

just kiss him already, you scolded yourself, and before you could allow your nerves to take over, you nodded eagerly, a bashful smile creeping across your rosy features.

azriel exhaled a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding, had almost convinced himself that he'd been rejected. he wouldn't have been wholly surprised, but still - it would have been agonizing all the same.

he stepped closer to you, his gentle fingers splaying across the left side of your jaw. as he angled your face upwards towards his, he allowed his thumb to caress the skin of your cheek, smiling at the warmth he felt from your perpetual blush.

"i've been thinking about this for so long," he whispered, ghosting his lips across your own. he shuddered at the feeling, the contact.

finally, he thought to himself.

you nodded, placing a hand on his bare chest.

"me too," you whispered back, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his. his other hand gripped your waist at the action, squeezing once.

and upon hearing your reciprocated want, azriel surged forward, his lips finding yours immediately, as if he'd done this for centuries. it wasn't rough, but it definitely wasn't gentle. you could feel months of repressed want flowing through the both of you, clashing where your lips met. exploding into fireworks and stars, creating vibrant new galaxies at the contact.

he squeezed your waist once more, feeling the fabric of your dress between his fingers. a soft groan trickled up his throat and directly into your mouth, and you almost burst into flames at the sound.

your hand slowly slid upward, caressing the bare skin of his chest before gripping his chain into your fist. and of course, this sent thoughts that were far from innocent cascading into azriel's muddled brain. he pulled back from the kiss, only a fraction, and his knees almost buckled beneath him when you chased his swollen lips with your own.

he leaned into you, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth gently, and you let out a reactive whimper at the feeling. his head was swimming, and as much as azriel prided himself on being a gentleman, you were eliciting feelings that were too overwhelming, too much. his instincts were screaming at him to lie you down, spread you across his mattress, really show you how much you made him feel.

he pulled you against him, his wings wrapping around the both of you - to shield you from sight, to keep you warm, to bring you closer.

his lips met yours again, and his hands traveled from your waist, back up to your jaw, holding your face between his hands as if he were granted the honor of holding the most precious jewel ever discovered.

he supposed, in that moment, he was.

finally, he pulled away, placing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. he brushed loose strands of your hair behind your ears, smiling fondly at you.

"gods," he whispered, catching his breath. "you are such a dream," he finished, taking all of you in hungrily. he would never be satiated enough, not now that he's finally tasted you.

you sucked your lower lip into your mouth, still tasting him there, and his pupils dilated at the action.

smiling, you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, playing with the clasp of his chain, "speaking of dreams," you mused, "i've been dreaming of this for a very, very long time," you smiled, playing with the cluster of curls at the nape of his neck.

"well, i hope i didn't disappoint," he teased, his hands finding your waist once more, fingertips grazing the exposed skin of your back.

you huffed out a laugh, resting your forehead against his bare chest, "you know," you started, tone laced with mock contemplation, "i wasn't able to really tell," you glanced up at him with a smirk.

azriel cocked an eyebrow, smirking down at you knowingly.

"i think we should try again, just to be sure," you quipped.

azriel laughed, a beautiful, melodic sound.

you didn't have to tell him twice.

a/n: FINALLY. i've heard all of your pleas, ok. here is the long awaited KISS <3 i hope i did it justice. pls leave feedback! this took me so long to execute properly, and i truly hope you loved it. my heart is a puddle on the floor !!!

tag list: @stressed-reader @vhjlucky13 @scarsandallaz @victory-salads @weirdo-fun @topaz125 @mrsjna @lovegoodlunaa @lilah-asteria @andreperez11 @luna9876 @kennedy-brooke @coolepowersthings @saltedcoffeescotch @99sunflower99 @nikt-wazny-y @rose-girls-world @mariacbzs @jesskidding3

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fic #azriel fluff #azriel imagine #azriel x you #azriel fanfic

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joelscoffeemachine · 4 months ago

Text

Echoes Of Him

Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: around 6.6k

Summary: After weeks of avoiding Joel, Joel finds you drunk at the tipsy bison, finally able to get some explaining from you only to end up in your bed later that night.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, slightly non-con, soft!Joel (in the end), grinding, language, unprotected piv, slight fingering, pet names, no use of y/n, reader uses feminine pronouns, jackson era!Joel, drinking, reader wears a dress and heels, possessiveness (if you squint), slight praise kink, fluff, kinda dom!Joel, aftercare, sorry if i missed anything.

A/N: so sorry this took so long, lately i’ve been going through a hard time, but i didn’t want to leave whoever is actually reading these, hanging. you should definitely read part one before this, but if you don’t want to, i won’t force you to. hahaha. not too much on the pictures, i was struggling. i hope this doesn’t make me hate my life any more than i already do, and i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

part one part three

It had been weeks since that awkward moment with Joel.

You tried your hardest to avoid him. He had to notice, because every time he’d walk into a room, and you’d walk out, you could feel his eyes boring into your skin.

You used every technique in the book to avoid him, but when you felt someone tap your shoulder as you sat at the bar at the Tipsy Bison, you knew you fucked up.

You slowly turned your head, eyes catching the man with the patchy beard, and flannel with the sleeves rolled up just above his elbow. The detail of his beard added an unexpected depth to his appearance, making the moment feel even more intense.

He let out a soft “hey,” sitting on the stool beside you.

You clutched your glass of neat whiskey, teeth biting away at your cheek as you glanced at him.

Joel’s gaze wandered over you, his eyebrows pressed together as that look of confusion took over his features. It’s been weeks and he hadn’t been able to get a word, hell, even a passing glance from you.

Now he was face to face with you, finally after trying to get you alone for so long and you wanted to ignore his presence.

The stool creaked as he sat down, adjusting how he sat. He cleared his throat, leaning forward in his seat.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Heat rose to your cheeks. You weren’t sure if it was because the man you were avoiding for what seemed like months was sitting next to you, or if it was because you were extremely drunk, swallowing multiple full glasses of whiskey like there’s no tomorrow. The scent of his cologne mixed with the sharp tang of whiskey created a heady cocktail that made your head spin even more.

It was an awkward pause, you looked away, his eyes stayed on you. You weren’t planning on saying anything, but the words just blurted out.

“How’d you know I was here? Or did you come for the same reason?” Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the circle of emotions churning inside you.

His eyes, intense and unwavering, made it hard to breathe, let alone think straight.

He could only give a shrug of his shoulders, tilting his head to the side.

“Tommy told me you’d be here,” he answers, his tone low.

The deep buzz of his voice reverberated through the silence, adding a layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere.

You quickly hum in response, furrowing your eyebrows in realization.

How the hell would Tommy know you’re here — Fucking Maria. You sighed sharply as the thought ran through your mind, taking a deep sip from your glass, the bartender coming from nowhere to fill it back up.

The whiskey burned less now, but the alcohol didn't seem to dull the sharp edge of your thoughts.

You figured that if you drank until your tongue fell out, you’d forget. You’d forget that you even went to the stables, you’d forget what your goddamn name was. The burn of the whiskey was a welcome distraction, a temporary escape from the disorder inside your mind.

But you still fucking remember.

The memories clung to you like the scent of his cologne, impossible to shake off no matter how hard you tried.

Joel could clearly see the redness of your cheeks, taking in the way you avoided looking at him, but he could assume that the alcohol played a major role in how you were acting right now. The flicker of confusion in his eyes softened into something almost tender, as if he understood the disarray, you were going through.

He watched as your gaze fell, hearing the way you let words fall from your lips, a little surprised by your question. The slight tremor in your voice didn't escape him, and he found himself leaning in slightly, almost involuntarily, drawn by the vulnerability in your tone.

You didn’t know what to say. Usually, if that night didn’t happen, you’d be yapping about Tommy and Maria’s wedding, and the way her bump was the most perfect shape or making inside jokes. But you couldn’t think of any at the moment. The words that used to flow so easily between you two now seemed stuck, lodged in your throat.

“So, what is it?” you murmur, gazing back at him.

His eyes only showed confusion, slight furrowed brows. The flicker of uncertainty in his eyes mirrored your own feelings, making the silence between you feel even heavier.

“What is it that you want?”

It irked him how you were acting, how you tried to ignore him, but he decided to brush it off, for now. He had more important things on his mind. The frustration simmered beneath the surface, but he kept it in check, focusing instead on the reason he was here.

He didn’t expect you to actually look at him, being given the chance to admire how your eyes seemed to shine in the low light, how your cheeks were tinged a light shade of pink. The sight made him pause, a moment of softness breaking through his resolve.

He leaned in closer, his voice just loud enough so only you could hear. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, darlin’.” His breath brushed against your ear, the intimacy of the moment heightening the tension between you two.

“Don’t—“ You flinched your body away, almost falling out of your chair as he moved closer.

“Don’t call me darling.” You demand, shaking your head.

You could see the look in his eyes change, he moved away, breathing the embarrassment away. The shift in his demeanor was palpable, the confidence faltering for just a moment.

Joel’s facial features hardened at your sudden outburst, his shoulders tensing at the way you recoiled back from him, his eyes widening just a bit. The shock was evident, but it quickly morphed into something more resolute.

“We need to talk about what the hell that—“

You cut him off, your neck breaking as you turned to look at him.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You lift the glass up to your lips, tilting your head slightly as you continued your slurred speech.

“It was a mistake.” The words came out harsher than you intended, the alcohol loosening your tongue and sharpening your tone.

His lips pressed into a tight frown, watching as you turned and looked at him, the words leaving you. The intensity of his gaze bore into you, searching for any hint of truth in your denial.

“Bullshit.” He mutters, leaning against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest. “If that was a mistake, you wouldn’t be avoiding me like the damn plague.” His voice was low, but the frustration was clear, each word laced with the weight of unspoken emotions.

You smacked your lips as you tasted the strong whiskey, placing your cup down with a slight cough from your mouth. The burn of the alcohol was a stark contrast to the coldness in your voice. “Yeah, well, I don’t talk to taken men, especially if something happened between us before.” You share, shrugging your shoulders, trying to mask the hurt.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Joel's confusion was evident, his brows furrowing as he tried to piece together your words.

“I’m not fucking stupid, Miller. I heard you and Tommy. A nice girl who’s been ‘dropping her panties for you.’ You didn’t turn down the offer, so, therefore, it was a mistake, because the same night, you went off, and fucked some desperate whore.” The bitterness in your voice was unmistakable, each word dripping with the betrayal you felt.

Joel’s heart sank in his chest, a frown appearing on his face. He hadn’t realized how loud he and his brother had been talking, but he also didn’t think that you’d overhear the conversation. The guilt gnawed at him, knowing the misunderstanding had caused you pain.

The sound of his last name coming from you took the edge off, but the words you spoke set him off even more. His jaw tightened, and he took a step closer.

“I didn’t even touch her, I left before I even got the chance to buy her a drink.” He states, his voice now gruff, deep, his eyes narrowing at your form. The sincerity in his tone was unmistakable, each word a desperate attempt to bridge the chasm that had formed between you.

“Oh, yeah? Well, either way, I don’t give a shit.” You say, looking straight ahead at all the bottles on the shelves behind the counter, focusing on the bartender who was darting back and forth between customers. You could feel it. You were two fucking sips away from being able to ‘forget.’

Hell, it’s probably already working with the way you went off on Joel. You wanted to glance back at him, but the feeling of having his sad, puppy dog eyes on you just made something in your chest ache.

You were drunk, but that person who cared so deeply for Joel ever since that night, was still deep down in there. Somewhere. The alcohol might have been numbing the pain, but it couldn’t erase the memories or the emotions tied to them.

The way you were behaving pissed Joel off; he hated the way you spoke to him, how you acted, how you looked everywhere but at him.

It pissed him off, but at the same time, he knew the alcohol was taking control of you. The frustration boiled within him, mixing with a sense of helplessness.

He sat and watched you, his features hardening at the way you sat, your body leaning forward as the glass was in your hand, almost empty. Each sip you took felt like a blow to his patience, his concern for you battling with his anger.

He wanted to say something, anything, just to get you to look at him, but he let out a sigh instead, his voice low and strained. “You’ve had enough.”

You ignored him, taking more sips of your drink, but slowly, swishing it around in your warm mouth just to tease. He hated every damn second of it, snatching the glass from your hands, throwing it on the ground with the pieces shattering everywhere, repeating his words, “You’ve had enough,” with more aggression.

Everyone who stood in the bar snapped their heads at you two, eyebrows knitted, some had smiles, some had no care at all. You glared at Joel, jaw slightly open, the shock mingling with your defiance.

He turned his head at all the men and women staring so deeply into his soul, scooting off his chair, hand gripping onto your arm. “We’re leaving,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Joel grabbed onto your arm, wrapping his fingers around your skin with a firm grip, ignoring the way you attempted to pull away, dragging you out of the tavern.

Everyone in the crowd around them continued to stare as Joel stormed through, pushing past random people until the both of you were outside. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words and simmering anger.

He continued walking, still dragging you along, tossing you around like a rag doll, his hand gripping onto your arm even tighter, causing bruises. The pain shot through your skin, but the alcohol dulled it just enough for you to keep up with his relentless pace.

You finally manage to get yourself free from his grip, shoving him away with all the strength inside you. “Joel, what the hell is wrong with you?!” you shouted, your hand massaging the bruised area. He glared at you, no remorse shining through his eyes.

No response from him, just very quick breaths, the same grumpy face. You blinked, swallowed, then turned back around. Joel’s hand caught your wrist, forcing you to turn around.

You wanted to hit him, to call him filthy names, but you held back for some reason, because you did try, so why was your body rejecting you? Why were you giving in when you’re supposed to hate him? The conflicting emotions tangled inside you, leaving you feeling more confused and vulnerable than ever.

The sound of your voice echoed in his head as the words you spoke settled in. He looked at you with a hardened glare, panting softly from the adrenaline.

He ignored the way you attempted to turn, his hand gripping onto your shoulder to keep you in place, seeing the way you tried to shake him off or back away.

He took a step closer towards you, closing the space that separated you, the heat from both your bodies radiating off of you and onto him, your faces almost touching. You could feel his breath mingling with yours, the tension between you almost tangible.

“Honey, please. Let me take you home,”

Your face softened, lips pursing as you nodded. You were too worn out, the drinks finally kicking in and making your head swim. The lights from the streetlamps blurred into a hazy glow, and the sounds of the night seemed distant and muffled. But at the same time, you felt like the drinks kicked in at the wrong moment. You felt like you should be kicking and screaming, your emotions a chaotic storm inside you. But there he was, standing so close to you like that warm night, his presence both a comfort and a torment.

He practically begged you to let him take you home. His voice was low and urgent, filled with a mix of concern and something deeper, almost primal. He begged like he wanted to know you were safe. Safe under him. You stumbled beside him, your steps unsteady, walking up the hills that seemed steeper than ever, and falling up your porch stairs, your legs barely holding you up.

The sight of you stumbling was a sight to be seen. He had never seen you in this state, so drunk that you could barely walk straight, your normally graceful movements reduced to a clumsy shuffle. Your hair was disheveled, and your clothes were slightly askew, adding to the disarray of the moment.

You leaned on the wall near the door, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of your flushed skin. Joel was searching for the key in the small purse you brought, his fingers moving frantically, too drunk to bring up the fact that you didn’t take the key with you. The realization hit you like a wave, but you were too exhausted to care, your body heavy and your mind clouded.

He silently shook his head as he searched through your purse, his brow furrowing in concentration. The realization that you hadn’t brought your key with you hit Joel the moment his fingers grazed against the bottom of the bag, finding nothing but the smooth lining.

With a low sigh, he closed the bag, looking up at you, noticing the way you leaned on the wall, your eyes fluttering as you tried to stay awake. The streetlight casting a soft glow on your face, highlighting the exhaustion etched into your features.

“Where’s the key?” he asked, his voice gentle but strained, the weight of the night pressing heavily on both of you.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying, trying to make sense of it all when you watched him bend over to look underneath the mat in front of the door. His movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, as if he knew exactly what he was looking for.

He leaned up, sticking the gold key into the small hole, softly opening the door with a creak that echoed in the quiet night.

You stepped in first, the smell of home sweet home hitting you in the face. It was a blend of familiar scents—lavender, old wood, and a hint of something sweet, like vanilla. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as you staggered to the stairs, catching yourself on the railing, the cool wood grounding you for a moment.

Joel helped you, his arm wrapped securely across your back as he held you up, his touch firm yet gentle. You could feel his warmth seeping into you, a difference to the chill of the night air.

The soft glow of the hallway light put shadows that danced around you, making your journey seem even more precarious.

You sat on the bed, back slightly slouched, mellowing out as the room swayed around you. The soft sheets beneath you felt like a cloud, and you let out a sigh of relief, the tension of the night slowly melting away.

The room was dimly lit, the soft hum of the night settling in around you.

He kneeled in front of you, trying to look at your face as you were practically leaning forwards, eyes slightly closed, your breath coming in slow, heavy sighs.

“C’mon, pretty lady,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to your muddled senses.

He slid your black heels off with care, his fingers brushing against your ankles, sending a shiver up your spine. The relief was immediate, and you could feel the tension in your feet dissipate as he set the shoes aside.

After every foot he’d take out, it’d be followed with a small foot rub, his thumbs pressing into the tender arches of your feet, coaxing the tension away.

He stood with a grunt, his knees popping slightly, heading over to your worn-out dresser. He opened the drawers one by one, the old wood creaking as he rifled through the contents, searching for some comfortable clothes for you to shimmy into.

“Bottom drawer.” You yawn, eyes focused on your fidgeting hands in your lap, the weight of exhaustion pulling at your eyelids.

He made his way back over to you, pulling you off the bed to a stand as he lifted the dress off of you, the fabric slipping over your skin with a whisper.

His eyes explored your soft body, the scars from knives, or even bullets, each one a testament to the battles you’ve faced. He admired every part of you, his gaze lingering on the intricate tapestry of your skin, the stories carved into your flesh.

He just wished this didn’t happen. He wished he would’ve seen your perfect body another day. A day when you didn’t hate him, and when you weren’t drunk. This feels wrong. The regret gnawed at him, a bitter taste in his mouth as he helped you into the clothes, his hands trembling slightly with the weight of his own guilt.

Joel ran his thumb over the little nicks and scars that scattered over your body, the urge to kiss each one of them taking over, but he held himself back, instead, his eyes slowly exploring the rest of you. The way your skin was so soft, like silk under his touch, your curves in all the right places, how you looked so damn perfect, even in this vulnerable state.

He continued to slide the tank-top and small shorts over your body until it fit perfectly against your skin, his hands grabbing your hips, feeling the warmth radiate from you. His fingers traced the line of your waist, lingering for a moment as if trying to memorize the feel of you.

He didn’t want you to hate him, even if you were drunk. The thought of your anger cut deeper than any blade, and he wished he could turn back time, to a moment when things were simpler, when the world hadn’t yet driven a wedge between you.

You crawled under the sheets, his fingers gently pushing some hair behind your ears. He kissed your forehead, turning around to leave out the door, but your tired voice called out for him. He stopped in his tracks, his head looking over his shoulder.

“Stay.” You mumbled, slightly sitting up.

He nodded, just giving in even though he knew he shouldn’t, knowing that he should be at home, looking out the window as he sat at his single set table, waiting to see if Ellie got home safely. But he chose you.

He laid on top of the blankets, his hands resting on his stomach as his head turned to watch you. Your eyes stayed open, a small smile on your face as you two looked into each other’s eyes, the unspoken words hanging in the air, a silent understanding passing between you.

The room was filled with a tender stillness, the kind that only comes from shared moments and deep connections.

He hated the way you made him so damn soft, the way he melted whenever you asked him to stay, hell, even just the sound of your voice saying his name made his heartbeat quicken.

He watched as the smile stayed on your tired lips, his own lips curving a bit as he took in the sight of you. A warm halo around you from the bedside lamp, making the moment feel almost dreamlike.

He didn’t get this, but in this moment, he didn’t care to question it. He was just grateful that he was here, with you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate bubble where nothing else mattered.

“Kiss me.” You finally say, his eyes squinting slightly.

You moved closer, sitting up, him echoing your moves. You placed both clammy hands on his cheeks, eyes going doe.

“Kiss me.” You repeat, he obliged.

He kissed you gently, and then passionately, then aggressive. Like he’d missed this.

It was like that night, quick, rough, messy. His tongue found yours, roaming around in your mouth with free will. You moaned into the kiss, almost overwhelmed with the pace. The air around you seemed to thicken, charged with the electricity of your connection.

His hand went to your neck, pulling you closer, feeling as if he’d let go, you’d get mad again, pushing him away, telling him to leave. His other hand gripped your waist, anchoring you to him, as if grounding himself in the reality of your presence.

The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the soft rustle of the sheets, creating a symphony of intimacy.

A low groan rumbled within his chest, the ache within him taking over. He missed this, he missed the feeling of your lips on his, the way you tasted, how your moans filled the empty air around him, the way you grabbed him and held onto him. Every touch and sound from you seemed to ignite a fire within him that he could no longer contain.

He couldn’t deny you, he didn’t want to anymore. The walls he had built around his heart crumbled as he surrendered to the moment, letting his desires take control.

He pushed you back, roughly laying you down on the pillows, his body pressed against yours as his tongue tangled and explored your mouth. His hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve and contour, while his lips moved with a fervor that spoke of months of longing and pent-up desire. The intensity of his actions mirrored the desperation he felt, the need to be close to you, to be one with you.

You couldn’t help but fumble the button of his shirt, groaning out of frustration as each button slipped from your fingers. Finally getting them, you rip his shirt open, tossing it across the room. You run your fingers down his chest, down his chest hairs, and then the hair disappearing down into his jeans. The warmth of his skin under your fingertips sent shivers through your body, heightening the intensity of the moment.

His hands groping your tits, you pulling away from the kiss to let out little noises of appreciation. Your hands stretched out on his back, holding onto him like you did that night. The way his muscles flexed beneath your touch brought back memories of past passion, making the moment even more electric.

"Jesus, Joel..."

You prayed that Tommy wouldn’t randomly bust through the door, and interrupt this moment, but you start to think your intoxication is messing with your imagination. How would he even be able to get into the house - God, get it together.

The room seemed to spin slightly, but the only thing that felt real was his touch, his presence, grounding you in this whirlwind of emotions and sensations.

His eyes meeting yours, and the way you looked at him, like you were appreciating his body. The intensity in your gaze made his heart race, a mixture of desire and admiration that he hadn't felt in a long time.

A low gasp slipped past his parted lips when your hands wandered over his chest again, his muscles tensing slightly under your touch as he pressed his hips against yours. The heat between you two was noticeable, every movement and touch amplifying the connection you shared.

He pressed kisses down your jaw and down your neck. He wanted to mark you, make sure anyone who looked at your body knew what a fucking whore you were. His lips left a trail of possessive kisses, each one a silent claim, as his hands roamed your body, pulling you closer, deepening the bond of this passionate moment.

Your hands aggressively moved on Joel’s jeans, pulling on them, trying to even rip them, too dumb to even realize he had a belt on. And that you had to unzip the fly.

“T-Take these off,” you beg, squeezing your eyes shut at the pleasure from his hips pressing into yours, the friction driving you wild.

He slides his jeans off with ease, pushing them off to the side. You didn’t hesitate to yank your tank top off, tits bouncing as they were released. Joel groaned at the sight, placing a kiss to each one, his lips warm and soft against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You hummed, back arching off the squeaky bed. The sensation of his mouth on your breasts, combined with the pressure of his body against yours, made your mind spin. Every touch, every kiss, heightened the craziness of the moment, making you lose yourself in the passion that enveloped you both.

Joel’s tongue ran across your skin, trailing down your chest, peppering soft kisses across your stomach. He could already feel you squirming underneath him, your fingers buried in his hair, tugging on the strands as his lips went lower. The sensation of his tongue and lips left a heated trail, making your body shiver in anticipation.

His tongue glided over your hip and to your inner thigh, pulling down your shorts while he’s at it, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a mark. Each bite sent jolts of pleasure through you, the mix of pain and pleasure heightening your senses.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his eyes looking up at you, dark with desire. “All needy and desperate for me.” His words sent a thrill through you, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster.

You were already a moaning mess and he had barely even touched you. You were left in your pretty pink panties, hands gliding up and down Joel’s shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingertips.

His touch was gentle, but so rough as he slid your panties off with ease. He took a moment to just stare at you, mouthwatering at the delicious sight, his eyes darkening with desire as he drank in every inch of your exposed skin. His fingers ran through the flaps of your pussy, collecting the juices that came with it.

You noticed his desperate eyes, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him back up into a deep kiss. The kiss was intense, filled with longing and hunger, as if you both were trying to pour all your emotions into that single moment. His hands roamed your body, making you shiver with anticipation and need.

His tongue slipped past your lips, once again exploring your mouth, as if he’d never gotten the chance to before. The taste of the strong alcohol was still prominent on your tongue, but he didn’t pull away; it was still you, and that was all he wanted.

He pulled away from the kiss, only to nip and suck at the mark he’d left on your neck, the sound of you groaning filling the air. The sensation of his mouth on your skin sent shivers down your spine, each groan vibrating through you, heightening your arousal. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he continued to tease and torment your sensitive skin.

His hand went down low, his fingers playing with your sensitive clit. Your jaw dropped open, squirming around as your hand gripped tightly on Joel’s arm.

For some reason, it felt weird for you to be fucking your best friend’s husband’s brother, but at the same exact time, you didn’t give a damn. You’ve been craving that longing feeling for so long now, finally finding someone to give it to you.

Joel’s touch was both gentle and demanding, his fingers expertly working you over, making you gasp and moan with every movement. The forbidden nature of your connection only seemed to heighten the intensity, making every touch, every kiss, all the more electrifying. His groans mingled with your own, creating a symphony of desire that filled the room, leaving no room for second thoughts or regrets.

You knew he was just trying to prepare you, but you needed him so bad. You smacked his hand away, and he pulled away from your neck to look at your face. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of concern and lust.

"N-Need your cock." You whisper.

Your fingers wrapped around the band of his boxers, pulling them down, his fat erection bouncing up to his stomach. You gasped at the sight, throwing your head back as a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine.

He knew what you wanted. He kicked his boxers off fully, jerking himself with quiet whimpers that sent a thrill through you before entering your pussy slowly. His gaze stayed on you, looking for any sign it hurt, his fingers gently caressing your thigh as if to soothe any discomfort.

You breathed out a ‘god,’ eyes slamming shut at the stretching feeling going on down below. He stopped immediately, brows knitting with worry, but you shook your head before he could speak.

“D-Don’t stop, Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "Feels s-so, so, so good, baby."

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I ain't goin' nowhere. I just want to make sure your doin' alright," he replies, soothing your whines.

Joel’s movements were careful yet filled with a desperate need, each inch pushing deeper as he watched your reactions closely. The sensation of him stretching you was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that had you gripping the sheets tightly. His quiet whimpers turned into low groans, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to move, his pace slow and deliberate, ensuring you felt every bit of him. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared desire, the vigor of the moment making you feel more connected than ever before.

As Joel pushed deeper, your body instinctively arched towards him, seeking more of the delicious friction. His hands roamed your body, one gripping your hip to steady you while the other trailed up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple. The dual sensations sent shivers down your spine, making you moan louder, your nails digging into his back, leaving red trails in their wake.

Every thrust seemed to reach new depths, his rhythm gradually increasing as he found the perfect angle that made you see stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless gasps and his guttural groans. The intensity built with each movement, the pressure inside you coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. You could feel the heat pooling in your lower belly, your body trembling with anticipation.

Joel’s eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with raw desire and an unspoken promise of more. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath away, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same fervor as his hips. The connection between you was too good to be true, every touch, every kiss, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge. The taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, it was all too much.

"C'mon, baby. C'mon." He praised; hands glued to your body.

Finally, the pressure became too much, and with a cry of his name, you shattered around him, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

Joel's hips stuttered, his thrust losing rhythm as he asked, "Where?"

"Inside, please. Fill me up, Joel." your response quick, breathy.

Joel followed soon after, his release spilling into you as he buried his face in your neck, his own groans of pleasure vibrating against your skin. The two of you stayed like that, tangled together, riding out the waves of your shared ecstasy, completely lost in each other. The aftershocks of pleasure left you both breathless, hearts pounding in unison as you held each other close.

Joel pulled out with an over-exaggerated groan, plopping next to you. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, eyes fixed on the ceiling, hand resting on his chest. You lay there, half-asleep, your mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. Did you still hate him? Did you still want to forget everything that had happened between you two?

Joel, sensing the fragile silence, got up without a word and headed to the bathroom just outside your room. You could hear him rummaging around, and you idly thought that he must be having trouble finding a rag or towel. Not that you cared; you were too tired to move, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Your eyes snapped open at the sound of your name being called softly. Joel had returned, a wet rag in hand. He sat at the end of the bed, gently spreading your legs to clean between your folds and inner thighs. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he wiped away the remnants of your shared intimacy.

He held the rag under your leaking hole, rubbing your lower stomach to coax your droopy eyes open. “I know, baby. Just wait a minute. Push f’me.” You complied, feeling the mixture of his spend and yours rush out. He caught every drop, folding the rag and tossing it into the dirty hamper.

Joel then shimmied back into his boxers and gently pulled your panties over your hips. He walked around to the other side of the bed, slipping under the sheets beside you. He kissed your shoulder once, maybe twice, as you turned onto your side, your back facing him.

His chest pressed warmly against your back, his hand finding its way to your boob, grasping it for comfort. The steady rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep, the complexities of your feelings momentarily forgotten.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel miller fluff #hbo the last of us #the last of us

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theonottsbxtch · 1 month ago

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WHATS LEFT BEHIND PT.2 | MV1

an: guys my time off is coming to an end, i move to france next week and start my job the week after rip me but in the mean time enjoy this badboy i've been sitting on

summary: when max verstappen left his childhood girlfriend behind to face her career ending injury alone to chase his dreams of being the best bull rider the country has ever seen, he thought it would be easy. except it wasn't, he was back in town and they hated him, for one reason. they hurt their star barrel racer.

wc: 6k

part one

Max pushed open the door to The Rusty Wheel, the familiar creak of its hinges greeting him like an old memory. The low hum of country music drifted from the jukebox in the corner, and the faint smell of spilled beer and worn leather hung in the air. Not much had changed since the last time he’d stepped foot in here, years ago—except, maybe, for the fact that now every pair of eyes in the place was on him.

He ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the bar, pausing only long enough to hang his cowboy hat on one of the hooks by the door. He used to come here every weekend, same as the rest of them. He hadn’t expected the town to change much—but somehow, it felt smaller now. Tighter. Like it didn’t quite fit him anymore.

Before he could take a seat, the owner, Earl, stepped out from behind the bar. Earl was a grizzled old cowboy, his flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves, a white beard flecked with grey. He stopped in his tracks, wiping his hands on a rag, and gave Max a once-over, his face creasing with disbelief.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Earl muttered, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t believe it when they told me.”

Max chuckled softly, not missing the edge in Earl’s voice. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“You actually back for good?” Earl asked, still eyeing him like he was trying to decide if he was a mirage.

Max shrugged. “Looks that way.”

Earl grunted, leaning his hands on the bar. “Guess we’ll see how that works out.”

Before Max could reply, a figure appeared beside him, sliding a bottle of beer across the counter. Max glanced up and saw Daniel—his best friend from back in the day—giving him a smirk as he set the beer down. Daniel was leaner now, with a few more lines around his eyes, but he still had the same mischievous glint that had gotten them into trouble as kids.

Daniel raised an eyebrow as he wiped down the bar. “Bold move, man,” he said, shaking his head. “I mean, really bold.”

Max took the beer, the cold glass sweating in his grip. “Figured it was time.”

Daniel leaned against the bar, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well, half the people in this town think you’ve got some nerve coming back after what you did to her.”

Max’s stomach clenched, but he kept his face neutral. He knew it wouldn’t take long for that topic to come up. “And the other half?” he asked, taking a swig from the bottle.

Daniel snorted. “They’re just in awe of what you’ve done with your career. Hell, I’ll admit it—I followed your rides. Man, some of those bulls you took on… I thought you were insane, but you sure made a name for yourself.”

Max nodded, setting the bottle back down on the bar. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

Daniel tilted his head, studying him. “That right? Because last time I checked, you were in all the magazines, got sponsors throwing money at you, and about a million followers watching your every move. That doesn’t sound like a bad deal.”

Max sighed, leaning his elbows on the bar. “It was great for a while. But the thing is, they don’t see the rest of it. The part where you wake up and don’t know where you are half the time. Or when you’re trying to remember which interviews you’ve already done or whose hand you shook at some event you didn’t even want to go to.” He shook his head, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “Everyone thinks they want that life until they get it.”

Daniel didn’t say anything for a moment, just watched him, the silence between them hanging heavy. Then, after a beat, he nodded. “So why’d you come back? You finally get sick of signing autographs?”

Max’s eyes drifted to the shelves of dusty bottles behind the bar, memories of a simpler life flooding back. The long nights in places like this, where the biggest problem he had was getting enough cash together to fill his tank. Where people knew him as Max, not Max Verstapppen, the famous bull rider plastered on posters across the country.

“Something like that,” he said quietly. “I was never cut out for that big city stuff. The lights, the cameras… all of it.” He paused, running a hand along the neck of the beer bottle, feeling the condensation slick against his skin. “I missed home. The quiet. The way things made sense out here.”

Daniel chuckled, shaking his head. “Home, huh?” He let out a slow breath. “Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad to see you. Always hoped you’d come back. But you know it’s not going to be easy. People here… they don’t forget.”

Max’s jaw tightened, his grip on the bottle a little firmer. “Yeah, I know.”

Daniel stared at him for a long moment, and then his expression softened, some of the teasing edge fading from his voice. “She’s still hurt, you know. Even if she doesn’t show it. You coming back… it’s gonna stir up a lot of things.”

“I figured that,” Max replied, his voice low, almost resigned. “But I had to come back anyway.”

Daniel nodded, his eyes softening. “Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. You’ve got a lot of work to do, man.”

Max took another swig of beer, the cool liquid doing nothing to settle the unease that had been bubbling in his gut since the moment he’d driven into town. “Trust me,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “I know.”

The sound of the front door creaking open interrupted the conversation, and Max glanced over his shoulder to see a group of locals walking in, laughing and chatting as they made their way to a corner booth. He recognised some of them, faces he hadn’t seen in years, but he wasn’t ready for more conversations, more questions.

Turning back to Daniel, he nodded toward the bar. “Mind if I hang here for a while?”

Daniel smiled, a knowing glint in his eye. “Stay as long as you need. Just don’t expect the town to make it easy on you.”

Max nodded in appreciation, as he sipped his beer, letting the familiar hum of the bar settle around him. The chatter, the music, the faint clink of bottles—it all felt like a song from a time he thought he’d forgotten. But he hadn’t. Not really.

He’d been running from home for so long, he’d forgotten what it felt like to just stand still. And now that he was back, he wasn’t sure what hurt more—the memories of what he’d lost, or the fear of facing the woman he’d left behind.

______________________________________________________________

The next morning, Max stepped out of his truck, the early sun casting long shadows across the gravel driveway of High Ride Stables, Austin. The familiar scent of hay, leather, and horses filled the air, stirring memories he hadn’t thought of in years. It was a place he knew well—he’d worked here as a kid, mucking out stalls and helping with the horses. But today, the barn felt different, like the weight of his past was waiting for him inside.

He pushed open the large wooden door, the creak announcing his arrival. Inside, horses shuffled in their stalls, and the rhythmic thud of hooves echoed from deeper within. He glanced around, spotting the counter near the back where Leslie, the barn’s owner, was talking to one of the stable hands.

Leslie had been running this barn for as long as he could remember. She was tough as nails, with streaks of grey in her otherwise jet-black hair and a sharp gaze that could cut through any excuse. The stable hands called her “Les” when she wasn’t listening—if she caught them at it, they'd regret it.

When she saw him, her conversation trailed off, and her expression hardened. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the counter, eyeing him like he’d just tracked mud through her pristine barn.

“Well, look who the cat dragged in,” Leslie drawled, raising an eyebrow. “If it ain’t the hometown hero.”

Max tried to smile, but it fell flat. He took off his hat and held it in front of him. “Morning, Les.”

“Morning,” she replied, her tone flat. “What brings you here?”

“I’m lookin’ for work,” he said, stepping closer, but staying on the other side of the counter like it was a barrier between them. Which, in a way, it was.

Leslie’s eyes narrowed. “Work?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “After all that bull riding fame and fortune, you’re back here beggin’ for a job?”

“Not beggin’,” he muttered, his voice low. “Just askin’.”

She pushed herself off the counter, walking around it and standing toe-to-toe with him, hands on her hips. “Same difference.”

“Come on, Les,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice. “You know how it goes. The fame doesn’t last forever. Sponsors move on, injuries pile up… and the money—well, it dwindles. I can’t live off my bull riding winnings for the rest of my life.”

She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed. “Sounds like a ‘you’ problem, not a ‘me’ problem.”

Max sighed, glancing around the barn, trying to find the right words. “I grew up here, working in this barn. I know horses, I know the work. You know I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty.”

Leslie tilted her head, considering him for a moment. “You really expect me to just hand you a job, after everything?”

He frowned, confused. “After everything?”

She shot him a knowing look. “Don’t play dumb with me, Max. You know who works here.”

His stomach sank, realising where this conversation was heading. Of course, she worked here—why wouldn’t she? It was her world. She’d never left it, never had a reason to. But that didn’t make this any easier.

“I’m not lookin’ to cause any trouble, Les. I just need work,” he said, his voice softening. “I’ll stay out of her way.”

Leslie raised an eyebrow. “Stay out of her way? You can’t just waltz back into this town, askin’ for a job, and think you can just avoid her. This is a small town, boy, not some city where you can hide from the people you’ve wronged.”

Max winced at the word “wronged.” It was blunt, but he couldn’t argue with it. He had wronged her. Maybe more than he even realised.

He took a deep breath, meeting Leslie’s gaze. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt her. But… I need this job, Les. Please.”

Leslie studied him for a long moment, her face unreadable. Then, she turned and walked back to the counter, rummaging through a drawer before pulling out a small notepad. She scribbled something down on it, then tore off the piece of paper and held it out to him.

“Here’s the deal,” she said, her voice cool and matter-of-fact. “I’ll give you a job if you go apologise to her. And not just any apology—she has to forgive you.”

Max stared at her, not taking the paper. His heart raced, a mixture of panic and disbelief. “Les, that’s impossible.”

Leslie crossed her arms again, looking at him with the same steel-eyed determination she always had. “Well, if you think it’s impossible, you don’t want this job bad enough.”

His eyes flicked to the paper in her hand, knowing exactly what was written on it. He didn’t need to look to know it was her address.

“You know she’s not gonna forgive me,” he said quietly, feeling the weight of the past like a stone in his gut.

Leslie gave him a half-smile, but there was no softness in it. “Well, you better get working, boy.”

Max finally took the paper from her hand, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should. He looked down at the address, familiar yet distant, as if it belonged to another lifetime.

“I’m serious,” Leslie said, her voice softening just a bit. “You want a job here? You’ve gotta make things right with her. I won’t have you causing more mess in this barn—or in this town. Either she forgives you, or you pack your bags and keep drivin’.”

Max swallowed hard, tucking the paper into his back pocket. He wanted to argue, to tell her that there was no way in hell she’d ever forgive him. But he knew Leslie well enough to know that there was no arguing with her.

He nodded once, stiffly. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll try.”

Leslie smirked, her eyes gleaming with something he couldn’t quite place. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

As he turned to leave, the barn door creaked open behind him, and for a split second, his heart froze. He half-expected to see her there, standing in the doorway, glaring at him like she had on that road. But it was just another worker, coming in to start the day.

Max let out a breath, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. It had been one thing to face her the first time, in the heat of the moment. But now… now he had to go, hat in hand, and ask her to forgive him. To admit he was wrong. To dig up all the things he’d been trying to bury for years.

He shoved his hat back on his head and walked out of the barn, the piece of paper burning a hole in his pocket. The road ahead of him felt longer than it had ever been.

The next day, Max stood at the front steps of the small house, nerves twisting in his stomach like a coiled rope. He stared at the chipped paint on the door, feeling the weight of years pressing down on him. This was the house he’d been avoiding ever since he set foot back in town. And now, here he was—about to knock.

He took a deep breath, raising his fist and rapping his knuckles on the door. The sound echoed in the still morning air, louder than it had any right to be. For a moment, he thought maybe she wouldn’t answer, maybe he could just turn around and—

The door swung open.

She stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowing the second she saw him. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore an old flannel shirt that he recognised—one she stole off of him when they were kids. She didn’t look surprised to see him. If anything, she looked like she’d been expecting him.

“Nope,” she said flatly, her hand already on the door, ready to slam it shut. “Not happening.”

“Wait,” Max said, holding up his hands. “Just… just hear me out for a minute.”

“I don’t think I need to,” she shot back, her voice cold. “I’ve already heard enough.”

“Darling, please—”

“Do not call me ‘darling,’” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut. Her eyes flashed with anger, and Max felt the sting of it, like a whip cracking against his skin. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Max took a step back, raising his hands defensively. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean?” she interrupted, her voice rising, filled with a raw, seething rage that had been simmering for eight long years. “What, Max? You didn’t mean to leave me in a hospital bed without a word? You didn’t mean to disappear without so much as a goddamn goodbye?”

He swallowed hard, the guilt gnawing at him like it always did when he thought about that day. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to face you.”

She let out a bitter laugh, crossing her arms over her chest as if to protect herself from him. “So, you just ran? That’s your excuse?”

“I wasn’t running,” Max muttered, but the words felt hollow even to him. He’d been running for years—he knew it, and so did she.

“Bullshit,” she spat, her eyes blazing. “You’ve been running your whole damn life. When things get hard, you don’t face them—you just pack your bags and leave. That’s what you did to me, and that’s what you’ve been doing ever since.”

He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that wasn’t true, but the words died in his throat. She wasn’t wrong. He had run. He’d run the second things got complicated, the second he felt like he was losing control.

“I thought I was doing what was best,” he said finally, his voice quieter, less sure. “I thought you’d hate me if I stayed.”

Her jaw clenched, and she took a step forward, her fists balled at her sides. “You really think I could’ve hated you?” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of years of hurt. “You think I wanted you to just leave me behind like I didn’t matter?”

“I didn’t think I was enough for you!” Max burst out, the frustration and regret spilling out of him. “You were laid up in a hospital bed because of that fall, and I was getting calls about sponsors and competitions. I was torn in two, and I didn’t know what to do! I thought if I stayed, you’d see me as some reminder of what you’d lost, of the future we’d been planning and couldn’t have anymore.”

Her eyes widened, and for a second, the anger flickered, replaced by something else—something rawer, more vulnerable. “So, what? You thought I’d hate you? That I wouldn’t want you anymore? Out of pity?” She shook her head, stepping back from him as if the very thought disgusted her. “Is that what you really think of me?”

Max dragged a hand through his hair, hating how badly this conversation was going. “It wasn’t like that,” he said, his voice pleading now. “I didn’t want to be a burden. You’d just lost everything, and I didn’t want to remind you of the future you couldn’t have anymore. You deserved better than a guy who was barely hanging on.”

“Barely hanging on?” She seethed, her fists trembling. “You didn’t give me the chance to decide that! You didn’t even try to talk to me, to ask me what I wanted. You made that choice for me.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing!” Max shouted back, his frustration boiling over. “I thought if I walked away, you’d move on. You’d be better off without me, and I could… I could disappear before you realised I wasn’t enough.”

She stared at him, her chest heaving, her eyes burning with a mixture of rage and heartbreak. “You think leaving was easier for me? You think watching you drive off without a word made me better off?”

“I wasn’t strong enough to stay,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I thought I’d hurt you more by sticking around. I thought you’d hate me, that you’d look at me and see someone who was staying out of pity.”

“God, Max,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You don’t even get it, do you?”

He swallowed hard, the weight of her words crushing him. “Then tell me,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me what I didn’t see.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her breath shaky as she tried to compose herself. When she opened them again, there was no anger left—just hurt. “You were everything to me. Everything. And you took that away because you were scared. You left me in that hospital bed, and you didn’t even let me fight for us. You made that choice, and I had to live with it.”

Max felt his chest tighten, the guilt and regret almost suffocating. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so damn sorry.”

Her lip trembled, and for a moment, she looked like she might break. But then, just as quickly, she straightened up, hardening herself again. “Sorry doesn’t fix eight years, Max. Sorry doesn’t undo the fact that you abandoned me when I needed you most.”

He took a step closer, desperate to bridge the distance between them. “I’m here now. I want to make it right.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “It’s not that easy. You don’t get to just walk back into my life and pretend like nothing happened.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I know I can’t fix what I did. But I want to try. Please, just give me a chance.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without another word, she stepped back inside and slammed the door in his face.

Max stood there, staring at the closed door, the sound of it still ringing in his ears. The weight of her words, the pain he’d caused, hung heavy in the air around him.

He slipped his hat back on, the brim casting a shadow over his eyes. As he turned and walked back to his truck, the gravel crunching beneath his boots, he realised something: he’d always been running. But for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure if he could ever stop.

That night, Max couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, the weight of her words pressing on his chest like a stone. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—angry, hurt, and accusing. It had been easier when he thought he was protecting her by leaving. Now, after their argument, it was clear that all he’d done was rip open a wound neither of them had been able to heal.

With a frustrated groan, he threw off the blankets and sat up in bed. Sleep wasn’t coming—not tonight. He rubbed a hand over his face and glanced at the clock. It was just after midnight, but it felt like the hours were crawling by, leaving him trapped with his thoughts.

His mind wandered to the only place that ever brought him a sense of calm: the rodeo. The old training grounds on the outskirts of town where he’d spent countless nights like this, working out his frustrations with the one thing he understood—bull riding. He hadn’t been back there in years, but tonight, it felt like the only place he could go to clear his head.

Throwing on a pair of jeans and his boots, Max grabbed his jacket and slipped out of the house, the cool night air hitting his face as he headed to his truck.

The rodeo grounds were quiet when he pulled up, the faint glow of the moon casting long shadows over the empty bleachers. The scent of dirt and leather filled his lungs, familiar and comforting in a way that nothing else had been since he’d come back to town. He walked toward the arena, the sounds of his boots crunching on gravel the only thing breaking the silence.

As he got closer, something caught his eye. Movement in the arena. At first, he thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but then he saw her.

She was on horseback, weaving through the barrels in the dim moonlight, her movements graceful and precise. It was like watching a memory come to life. She moved with a fluidity that made it look effortless, but Max knew better. He’d seen the hours she used to put in, the work that went into every sharp turn, every quick burst of speed. She hadn’t lost her touch.

He stopped at the edge of the arena, standing just out of sight, not wanting to disturb her. For a moment, he just watched, his chest tightening as he remembered how much she loved this—how much they had loved this world together.

Then, it happened. As she rounded the last barrel, something went wrong. Maybe her horse misstepped, maybe she pushed too hard, but in an instant, she was thrown off, hitting the ground hard. Her horse skittered to the side, startled by the fall.

Before he could stop himself, Max was moving. He vaulted over the fence and ran toward her, his heart pounding in his chest. She was sitting up by the time he reached her, dusting off her jeans with a wince.

“Who the fuck did I piss off in my past life for you to be the one to find me?” she muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she glanced up at him.

Max skidded to a halt, a little breathless, and held up his hands in surrender. “I was just passing by. You okay?”

She shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “Like you care.”

He didn’t argue, just crouched down beside her, unsure of what else to do. “How can I help?”

“Help?” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You really think you can help now, after everything?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, his voice softer than before. “But I’m trying.”

She rolled her eyes, but her usual fire seemed to be dimmed, just a little. “Doctor’s orders,” she said finally, wincing as she shifted her leg. “You wanna help? Raise my leg and keep it elevated for fifteen minutes.”

Max hesitated for a moment, unsure if she was messing with him or not. But the way she was holding her side, the tightness in her face, told him this was real.

He nodded and carefully slid his arm under her leg, lifting it gently and resting it on his knee. She didn’t protest, but she also didn’t look at him. They sat there in silence, the tension between them as thick as the night air.

The minutes dragged by, and Max could feel every second of it. He kept his gaze focused on the ground, resisting the urge to say something—anything—to break the silence. But she was the one who spoke first.

“You should’ve stayed gone,” she said quietly, her voice lacking the venom it usually held.

Max swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I couldn’t.”

“You mean you didn’t want to. Big difference.” She still wasn’t looking at him, her focus trained on the darkened arena ahead of them.

He shifted slightly, careful not to jostle her leg. “I missed this place,” he said after a long pause. “Missed the people. Missed… you.”

She scoffed, but there was less bite to it. “You missed me? Is that why you didn’t call for eight years? ‘Cause you missed me?”

“I didn’t know how,” he admitted, his voice low. “I thought you’d moved on. I thought it was easier for you if I wasn’t in the picture.”

“Easier?” She let out a humourless laugh. “Do you even hear yourself, Max? You just disappeared. You didn’t even give me the chance to move on, to deal with any of it. You just left, and I had to pick up the pieces.”

He clenched his jaw, the guilt settling deep in his chest. “I thought I was doing what was best.”

“Stop saying that,” she snapped, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes were filled with anger, but underneath it was something else—something softer, more vulnerable. “You keep saying that like it was some noble thing you did, but all you did was make a decision for both of us. You never even asked me what I wanted.”

Max opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She was right. He hadn’t asked. He’d just assumed.

They fell into silence again, the weight of the unspoken things between them pressing down like a heavy fog.

After what felt like forever, she sighed, leaning back against the fence, her leg still resting on his knee. “You know,” she said quietly, “there was a time when I would’ve given anything to hear you say you missed me. But now… I don’t even know what to do with that.”

Max looked at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her so close, yet so far away. “I’m trying,” he said softly. “I know I messed up. I know I can’t fix what I did, but I’m here now. I want to make it right.”

She didn’t respond, just stared out at the empty arena, her face unreadable.

The silence stretched between them, and Max could feel the weight of it settling in his bones. He wanted to say more, to tell her everything that had been building inside him for years. But the words felt too small, too insignificant for the damage he’d caused.

After a long while, she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if it’s enough.”

Max’s heart clenched, but he nodded. “I get that,” he said quietly. “But I’m not going anywhere this time.”

She didn’t say anything else, and the two of them sat there in the quiet of the rodeo grounds, with nothing but the stars and the distant sounds of the horses to keep them company.

For the first time in years, it wasn’t the silence that felt unbearable. It was the hope buried somewhere beneath it.

She shifted slightly, wincing a bit as she adjusted her leg on his knee. Max kept his hold steady, though every muscle in him was tense. He was waiting, unsure if she’d kick him out of her life again or keep him suspended in this strange limbo they found themselves in.

“What was it like?” she asked suddenly, her voice soft but cutting through the stillness. She didn’t look at him, just kept her eyes trained on the horizon, as if the answer was out there somewhere in the night sky. “To make it big? To live that life?”

Max glanced at her, surprised by the question. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to respond. His instinct was to downplay it, to gloss over the highs and lows like he had so many times before when people asked. But this wasn’t just anyone asking—it was her.

He took a deep breath. “It was everything I thought it’d be,” he started, his voice low. “At first, anyway. The crowds, the money, the fame… it was wild. Everything moved so fast. One minute I was just this kid from nowhere, the next I was on posters, doing interviews, getting invited to places I’d never even dreamed of.��

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as the memories flooded back. “The adrenaline—it’s like nothing else. Every ride, every victory, it felt like I was on top of the world. But the crashes… they’re just as big. Bigger, even.”

She listened quietly, her face unreadable. He wasn’t sure if she cared or if she was just being polite, but he kept going, needing to get it out.

“There were nights when I’d lie awake in a hotel room, hundreds of miles from home, and wonder what the hell I was doing,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I was surrounded by people all the time, but I never felt more alone. It was like… like I was chasing something, and no matter how far I got, I couldn’t catch it. Every high came with a low, and after a while, the lows started outweighing everything else.”

She still didn’t say anything, her eyes fixed on the stars. He looked down at the ground, the dirt beneath his boots feeling more real than anything had in a long time.

“I got tired of it,” he confessed after a long pause. “Tired of the crowds, the noise, the pressure to be something I wasn’t sure I wanted to be anymore. I missed this place. I missed…” He trailed off, but she didn’t need him to finish the sentence. They both knew what he meant.

Finally, she turned her head slightly, her eyes finding his. “And you think you can just come back?” she asked, her voice steady but tinged with something bitter, something hurt. “After all of that? Just walk back into this life like nothing happened?”

Max swallowed hard. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t think that. I know I can’t just… fix things. I’m not here to pretend that the past didn’t happen.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her gaze sharp, cutting through the quiet. “Why should I trust you?”

He didn’t flinch at the question. He’d been expecting it, waiting for it.

“You don’t have to,” he answered honestly, meeting her eyes. “I know I haven’t earned that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Her jaw clenched, and she turned her gaze back to the arena. “You hurt me, Max. You didn’t just leave—you disappeared. Like I meant nothing.”

“I know,” he whispered, the words heavy with regret. “And I’m so damn sorry. If I could take it all back, I would.”

“Sorry isn’t enough,” she said, her voice trembling just slightly. “You don’t get to come back after eight years and expect me to forget what that felt like.”

He nodded, his throat tight. “I’m not asking you to forget. Or even to forgive me right away. I just want a chance to make things right. To prove that I’m not that guy anymore.”

She didn’t respond, just sat there in the silence, her leg still resting on his knee. It was a strange kind of intimacy—one built on years of unresolved hurt, but also on something deeper. Something neither of them wanted to name yet.

After a while, she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Nothing ever changed here, you know,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “While you were out there, living that big life, everything just… stayed the same. The same people, the same rodeos, the same barns. It was like I was stuck while you were off becoming someone else.”

Max’s chest tightened at her words. He couldn’t imagine what that must’ve felt like, to watch the world move on without her, to feel left behind. And worse, to know he was part of the reason she felt that way.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, the words feeling inadequate, but it was all he had. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to leave you stuck. I thought you’d move on. I thought you’d—”

“Stop thinking,” she cut in, her voice sharp again, though there was a weariness in her eyes. “You keep telling yourself you did what was best for me, but you never asked me what I wanted. You just decided for both of us.”

He nodded, taking the hit. She was right, and he wasn’t going to argue with that.

She shifted again, pulling her leg off his knee and standing up, brushing the dirt off her jeans. Max stood too, though he kept his distance, unsure of what to do next. The tension between them was still there, heavy and thick, but something had changed. There was a crack in the wall she’d built around herself, just a small one, but it was there.

“Look,” she said after a long pause, her voice softer now. “I don’t know what you expect to happen. I don’t know if I can ever trust you again. But… I don’t hate you. Not anymore. I thought I did, for a long time. But it’s just… it’s hard to hate someone you used to love that much.”

His heart stuttered in his chest at the word “love.” Even though it was in the past tense, it still felt like a lifeline.

“I don’t expect anything,” he said quietly. “I just want to be here. Whatever that looks like.”

She gave him a long look, her eyes searching his face as if she was trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. Finally, she nodded, just once. “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t even close. But it was something.

She turned and started walking toward her truck, her steps slow, like she was still testing how much she could trust the ground beneath her.

Max watched her go, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, the weight of the past still pressing on him. But for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he had a chance.

And he wasn’t going to waste it.

part three

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thesilmarillionblog · 5 months ago

Text

IN BAD DREAMS

Summary: After having a bad dream, Soldier Boy finds peace in your arms.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: fluff, comfort, soft Soldier Boy, established relationship, sweetness

Word Count: 1260

A/N: English is not my first language.

This one-shot story is inspired by the song 'In Bad Dreams' by Crippled Black Phoenix

⪩ Thank you for 300 followers! This one is for you. I hope you like it. 𓆩♡𓆪

Lost in thought, you sipped the water from your glass, got up from the chair, and headed to Ben's room. Everyone had gone to sleep by midnight, with the exception of you.

Ben and you had not spoken much since this morning, after he found out he had a son who was Homelander. Ben warned you about it and didn't want to discuss it with the rest of the crew. He had been acting more aggressively than usual, so you didn't want to press him to speak. You also didn't want to do anything that might damage your recently formed friendship because you were aware of how fragile his trust issues were.

Cautiously, you sneaked into his room, trying not to make any sort of noise. Although he was sleeping noisily, he didn't appear peaceful at all; instead, he appeared uneasy, as if he were having a nightmare.

You just mumbled, “Ben?” because he had told you not to touch him while he was sleeping so that he wouldn't grab your arm violently and accidentally hurt you.

He opened his eyes instantly and looked around, confused. Then your eyes met his emerald ones. He breathed deeply, as though he were relieved, and then extended his wide arms and rubbed his face.

“What time is it?” he said in a hoarse voice, trying to figure out if it was morning or evening by peering out the window.

“It's almost morning,” you remarked as you sat on the bed and ran your fingertips over his rough hands.

His eyebrows furrowed as he inquired, “Why aren't you asleep yet?”

You held his hand firmly and muttered, “I don't know; I just couldn't sleep. You looked quite uneasy when you were asleep. I’m worried about you, Ben.”

At least try to get him to talk about his dreams because you didn't bring up the Homelander issue and get him to push you away. It was incredibly difficult for him to open up to you. Being a man with PTSD, you knew you had to be patient with him, but you also wanted him to trust you as much as you trusted him.

He hesitated and said, “Yeah,” as if speaking was difficult. “Just a bad dream.”

With a sympathetic tone, you said, “Again?” and cautiously settled upon the bed. He swiftly proceeded to around you with his powerful arms and planted

solid kiss on your lips before kissing you firmly on your forehead. “What was it about?”

“You.”

“Why do you always see me in bad dreams?” You whispered to him, running your hand over his full beard, and leaned in to feel the warmth of his chest.

With a smile, he said, “I'm not sure. It has become somewhat of a habit these days.”

Assuming he would talk about it this time, you inquired, “What are they about, though?”

His hands came down to rest on your stomach, and his fingers lightly caressed your skin. You also felt he wouldn't want to talk about it, so you kept silent as you measured his expression.

Finally, he stated, “I would never let anything happen to you,” as though he didn't know how to fully open up to you and you understood.

You told him, “I know you won't,” hoping he would realize how much you trusted him and that you also wanted him to have faith in you. “No matter what, nothing that happens will ever be your fault, and I will never hold you responsible for anything. Ben, I need you to fully understand this.”

“Nothing will happen,” Ben said with a rough voice, ignoring what you've just

You nodded to him and sighed. Not sure how to start the conversation, you asked him politely, “How are you feeling about today? About him?”

You weren't sure if Ben's emotions or ideas about Homelander had changed in light of today's news, even if he was a horrible person—the worst person alive; in fact, he was still Ben's son. In the end, Homelander turned out to be Ben's son. There was no need to be in denial.

He cut it short, obviously not interested in talking. “I don't know,” he said. “But that changes nothing. That's just not how I pictured myself several decades ago. There were a ton of various possibilities.”

With a heavy heart, you asked, “With Countess?” Even though he killed her, you knew he loved her. Back then, he must have envisioned a life with her and a family. You hated her since she was the cause of his current trust issues.

“You know I don't like talking about such stuff, especially her, right?” He was dissatisfied with your question. Even though he didn't mean to, it still made you upset.

You said, “Fine,” losing interest and wanting to stop asking questions.

You made an attempt to break free and gain some distance, but he simply stopped you with an irritated sigh, trapping your body between his strong arms. "Stop moving," he said playfully. “Why did you get sensitive now?” he inquired.

“I didn't.”

“You sure didn't,” he said, teasing you more and making you laugh with quick tickles to the stomach.

Upon witnessing your afterwards silence, he took a deep breath, uncertain about where to begin. He never felt completely at ease opening up to you, even though you were the easiest person with whom to have a real, sincere talk.

“It's true that decades ago, I had dreams of starting a family with her, but as you have seen, I ended up killing her because she was a cunning, dishonest bitch. I'm not even sure if I really liked her.” At last, he said, “Maybe I just wanted to do what was required of me. Now that it's all over, you can stop feeling jealous.”

With a clearly deceptive smile, you said, “I'm not jealous.” Your pulse was racing, so you knew he could understand. But his words brought you relief. That was the first time he had told you honestly about how he felt about her.

You wanted him to want for the same visions with you and to trust you with his life because you knew you would never betray him, but you were unsure of how to show him how much you loved him. If you told him, you were worried he would push you away. That's the reason you haven't brought up the Countess issue until now. It would be best if he just moved on from the past and forgot about it. Whatever had broken inside of him—Countess, his father, Vought, and Payback—you wanted to fix.

You proceeded to brush his bare chest with your hands, whispering, “I just need you to know you can trust me just like I trust you with my life. You are very dear to me. You also need to quit seeing me only in your bad dreams. I have no doubt that a mighty supe like you could even control his dreams.”

Although you are unable to express your affection for him, you can reassure him of your trustworthiness.

He nodded and gave you a small chuckle before playfully remarking, “You talk too much tonight, sweetheart,” without adding anything. “I’m sure that cute mouth of yours can do other things to that mighty supe.”

“Like what?” you said in amusement.

“Like kissing me.”

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

A/N: I hope you liked this one. You can check my MASTERLIST for more. ♡˚.

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy the boys #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys #the boys series #the boys season 4 #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys x y/n #the boys tv #the boys amazon #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fic

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emmcfrxst · 2 months ago

Note

Hear me out… lil blurb of old man Logan and reader just slow dancing together to find comfort, despite all of the evil going on around them 😭

okay so i got carried away and tweaked the prompt a little bit. this is fluff with a spoonful of angst. little more than 900 words. reader’s gender/characteristics are not specified but it’s implied that you’re shorter than logan. putting the drabble under the cut as to not clog the tags <3 inspired by lyrics from The Mountain Goats’ song Sax Rohmer #1

The soft melody of the rain outside harmonizes with the dull buzzing of the old, beat up fridge you’re leaning against, a glass of water cradled between your palms. Your gaze falls on Logan as he walks through the front door, droplets of water gliding down the exhausted lines of his face. He says nothing as he sheds off his suit jacket, eyes lingering on you for a moment before he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow arched in question.

“Couldn’t sleep?” his voice sends pleasant tingles down your spine; the rich, raspy quality of it enveloping you with his every word. You wish he’d speak more often— you would love nothing more than to drown in the depths of his voice, but Logan is a man of very few words, and you’ve long since made your peace with the realization that not much could ever change that part of him; and you wouldn’t want to, either. Your relationship with him may be complicated at times, but you remain certain of the depth of your feelings for Logan— you’ve come to love him as he is, not interested in trying to modify the results of over two centuries of pain and loss; his past is part of who he is, and you love that person wholeheartedly.

“Was waiting for you.” the softness of your tone seems to reflect the look in his eyes as he steps forward, clothes leaving a trail of droplets behind. Your eyelids flutter lightly once his hands are on you, curling around your hips like they have done so many times before— it’s been years of living by his side, but his touch still manages to set your insides alight with the kind of trepidation that one feels for their first love. You move forward until your chests are touching, rain quickly saturating the shirt you’re wearing— one of his; an older, more tattered one you’ve held onto all this time, as if needing proof of your shared past. You wrap your arms around Logan’s neck, tilting your head upwards so your foreheads can meet in a tender press, his beard tickling the top of your lip. Up close, you can see the array of new bruises making their home on his handsome face, a frown downturning the curve of your lips.

“M’okay.” he mumbles quietly, already expecting you to point it out— these days, you find that you don’t really have to say anything anymore, whether it be from the synchronization of your souls or your lover’s dismissal of any and every concern about the changes in his physicality; Logan has a way of soothing your worries away with a tender brush of his lips on your forehead, sincerity enveloping his tone like a warm blanket on a cold day. He knows his limits, and after a series of tearful confessions between the worn out sheets of your shared bed, he knows not to push them too much so as to not upset you. Nodding in response, you let your nose rub against his, comforted by the fact that he will tell you about the events that led to the purple blooms across his skin all in due time— it would end up being a group of drunks like usual, anyway; a small pack of testosterone filled idiots emboldened by the alcohol and refusing to pay for the services Logan offered them. Nothing I can’t handle, he would add afterwards, cradling the side of your face with a tenderness very few people have ever seen the great Wolverine exude. You’re okay with pushing all of these thoughts to the side for now, anyways— focus on him, because he kept his promise to you again today

I’ll always come home to you.

“Dance with me.” your lips brush against his as you whisper out your demand, making Logan raise one eyebrow at you playfully.

“There’s no music.” he states as if that was obvious— because it is, but under the dim lights of the kitchen, here with him in this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care. A soft chuckle leaves him when you shrug lightly, your lover’s head tilting down to give you a proper kiss; the first one since he arrived a handful of minutes ago.

“Doesn’t matter. Just wanna feel you.” your explanation makes his heart ache, idly wondering if he would survive the tearing open of his chest in an attempt to gift you the appendage— it would be worth the pain, and there is no one else he would die for like the way he would for you. It belongs to you anyway, he thinks serenely.

“Alright.” he ends up saying, voice laced with layers upon layers upon layers of tenderness. He takes a moment to memorize the way your eyes light up at his acceptance, wanting to take the visual away with him were he to meet an untimely death the next time he steps through the threshold of your front door— he wouldn’t go down without a fight, but he’s old and tired and aching and although he denies it when it comes to you, he knows his body doesn’t heal the way it used to; there is a chance, every time he leaves for work, that he won’t be able to keep his promise of coming home to you, but he will try anyways— would come home with blood pouring out of his mouth if it meant getting to hold you for one more night. You make it worth it. You make him want to live.

You rest your forehead on his shoulder, body swaying along with his as he kisses the crown of your head in silent reverence.

Tomorrow may not be guaranteed, but none of that matters tonight as you wrap yourself around him, dancing around the kitchen in the moonlight, anchoring him with the steadiness of your heartbeat and giving him something to fight for for a little longer.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett angst #old man logan x reader #old man logan imagine #old man logan fluff #old man logan angst #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine fluff #wolverine angst #xmen imagine #xmen angst #xmen fluff #wtfhasmy-lifecometo #answered

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loucifersbitch · 2 months ago

Text

He feels like he’s being weighed down. Like he’s under water or a heavy blanket. His limbs are heavy, and he can’t get his eyes to open. There’s muffled sound nearby, but he can’t make out anything coherent. He’s also really warm. Uncomfortably so.

Is this what death is like? Is he in Hell? Or something Hell-adjacent? Were all the fire and brimstone idiots he refused to give the time of day actually right about something?

But then the heat is gone and there’s a cool breeze that skims across his skin.

Does he have skin? Do people feel their skin once they’re dead?

He’s still debating with himself as he gets pulled further under.

~***~

What is that annoying, repetitive sound? Did he change his alarm? Why the fuck can’t he turn it off?

~***~

It hurts.

Why does it hurt?

He can’t even tell what hurts, but something fucking hurts.

If he could just open his eyes and get up to take some ibuprofen.

Also his nose itches. Why can’t he fucking scra-

~***~

“Fucking bees.”

~***~

He’s warm again, but it’s not uncomfortable this time.

He feels safe. And alive.

He doesn’t feel as weighed down anymore.

It’s difficult, but he cracks his eyes open. He’s - in the hospital? That’s definitely a hospital ceiling and hospital lights and hospital machines beeping.

He turns his head to the left - slowly - and sees his arm is in a giant cast. That explains why he can’t lift it.

He turns his head to the right just as slowly. He’s surprised to see a head of curly hair lying next to his hip, a large hand in his own.

When he flexes his hand, the curly head pops up immediately.

The man looks at him with bloodshot eyes that clearly haven’t seen sleep in days. He’s young - not alarmingly so but certainly younger than Tommy. The stubble on his jaw has gone far past 5 o’clock shadow and has entered the realm of beard, making him look slightly older. But who -?

“Tommy?” the man asks. His voice is low and raspy, possibly unused.

“Uh,” Tommy says. His own voice sounds even worse.

Without hesitation, the man turns - without letting go of Tommy’s hand - and pours a cup of water from the pitcher on the table next to the bed. Then he brings the cup up to Tommy’s mouth, a bendy straw pointing toward him.

Tommy drinks slowly, his mouth feeling like parchment that’s been left out in the sun too long.

“Thanks,” he says.

The man sets the cup down and says, “Yeah, so um, h-how do you feel?”

He thinks for a bit, taking stock of himself.

“Sore. Numb in places. I assume they’ve got me on the good stuff?” The man nods, a cute smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “But there’s also the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen sitting next to me, holding my hand. So all told, I’m doing pretty well.”

The tips of the man’s ears turn pink, and a cute blush spreads across his cheeks. Adorable.

“You don’t have to flirt so hard, Tommy. You should know by now, I’m a sure thing.”

Ah, so -

“So we’re,” Tommy gestures vaguely with his head, ��together?”

“Uh,” the man laughs uncertainly, “for about six months now, yeah.”

“Oh.” Tommy’s eyebrows shoot up. “But you’re so…” He trails off, not really knowing where he was going with that.

“So…what?” the man prods.

“Take your pick,” Tommy says. “Young? Pretty? Out of my league?”

“Sweetheart.” The man says it like they’ve had this discussion before, but he’s smiling. “Don’t try to amnesia your way out of being with me. I called dibs forever after our second date.”

Tommy smiles lazily. “Dibs forever, huh?”

“Yep. You’re stuck with me.”

Humming as if he’s considering the pros and cons, Tommy finally says, “I guess I can live with that.”

The man’s smile is blinding. “Evan,” he says. “Evan Buckley. In case you forgot.”

It comes back to him then - a cruise ship rescue in the middle of a hurricane, a basketball game, a kiss, a first date that ended terribly, more dates that ended perfectly, slow dancing in the kitchen, long nights together that ended too soon. A call during a bad storm, total engine failure, glass and fear and rain and acceptance and trees and blue eyes and a smile like warm sunshine.

“Evan,” Tommy says, pulling him closer. “Baby.” He kisses him softly. “I love you more than anything. How could I forget?”

Evan has tears in his eyes and leans their foreheads together when he says, “Don’t ever do that again. I thought I lost you.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. I thought so, too. I thought I’d never get to see you again. I’m so sorry.”

The next kiss is wet with tears - Evan’s or his own, it doesn’t matter. They’re here, and they’re both okay, and they’re together. That’s all that matters.

“I love you, too, by the way,” Evan says once they pull apart. “Can’t believe you waited to tell me until after you almost died, but I’ll take it.”

“I’ll say it every day until I actually die, okay?” he says. He gets a smack to his good shoulder for his effort, but they’re smiling too hard for it to have any weight.

There’s a long road ahead with recovery and therapy and stubbornness and frustration, but they’ve got this. They’ll get through it all.

Together.

part 1

part 2

part 3

also now on ao3!

#911 abc #911 #911 on abc #the ally and the beast #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #bucktommy fanfic #tevan #kinley #kinkley #firepilot #jules writes

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navybrat817 · 2 years ago

Text

Sugar and Spice

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You make a sweet impression on one of the new tattoo artists in the neighborhood. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Flirting, fluff, innuendos, brief moment of insecurity (reader's mom kind of sucks, sorry!), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Future couple, slight angst, and feels. A/N: Because I "need" another tattoo AU, let me introduce you to Hottie and Sugar. ❤️ Thank you to @rookthorne , @sweeterthanthis, @dreamlessinparis, @11thstreetvigilante for listening to me ramble about this man and some future upcoming shennanigans. Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics, and Bucky edit by the wonderful Nix. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The first time Bucky Barnes walked into your bakery, your best friend and co-owner, Tess, assumed he was lost. Maybe because he didn't appear to be your average customer. A confident aura surrounded him, like he took what he wanted without question. You hadn't encountered a man who looked like sin incarnate before.

It took you a moment to greet him with how dry your mouth had gone.

The stranger didn't smile as he made it to the counter in a few strides. It surprised you that he got through the door with his massive frame. The dark t-shirt and jeans looked painted on and the skin you could see was littered with tattoos. A handsome package wrapped up with chestnut brown hair past his ears, short beard, and steel blue eyes.

Lust at first sight was an understatement.

It was as if he walked out of your wet dreams and into your life.

Sin. Incarnate.

You smiled from ear to ear when you saw him up close, even though he still didn't smile back. You didn't take it personally. Tess once said you were too sweet for your own good, but you replied you never knew what was going on with your customers. Maybe a bit of kindness would brighten their day.

You weren't sure if it was friendliness that he needed, but he wouldn't stop staring at you.

You admitted to yourself later that his gaze made your heart pound and it wasn't out of intimidation.

"Hi. What can I get for you?" you asked.

He blinked and looked toward the display case, giving you a chance to exhale.

When did you start holding your breath?

"Something sweet," he said, his voice huskier than you expected as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Those were the exact words my punk friend said."

"That's extremely helpful in a bakery," you deadpanned.

His eyebrows shot up as you dropped the serious expression and started laughing. It surprised you when he laughed with you. Not only did you consider his reaction a personal victory, but it made him look even more handsome.

How was that possible?

"Exactly what I said."

"Well, not sure if he's allergic to anything or how many of you are eating, but we can do an assortment of cookies if you'd like," you suggested, walking to the end of the case to show him the different flavors.

"That sounds good. A dozen should work," he said, narrowing his eyes as he placed his large hands on the glass and looked it over again. Was it rude to stare at him? "And since the punk didn't tell me what he wanted, surprise me."

"I'll pick the best flavors," you smiled as you grabbed a box and tongs.

"What's your favorite?" he asked curiously, folding his hands and resting his chin on top of them as you selected the cookies.

Your cheeks flamed when you realized he was watching you. You hoped you didn't drop anything. "Can't go wrong with chocolate chip. It's a classic. If I had to pick a favorite treat overall, I'd pick the caramel chocolate brownie. Simple, but full of flavor."

"I'll take one of those, too, please."

"Sure. You'll have to let me know what you think," you said, placing the best brownie from the batch in a smaller box.

"So, you're saying you want me to come back," he said with a half smile as he pushed himself off the display to follow you back to the register. "Is that it?"

Is he flirting with me? No, he couldn't be.

Your mom chastised you for ending things with your recent boyfriend. According to her, you should've appreciated that a charming, good-looking man wanted you all of all people. It hurt to hear that, but he turned out to be a jerk and you refused to settle for less than what you deserved.

You also wouldn't let negative thoughts cloud your safe space.

"I wouldn't mind," you giggled before you cleared your throat. Even if by some miracle he was hitting on you, you weren't supposed to flirt while you worked. "We like having repeat customers," you added.

"I'm sure you have plenty. It's a cute shop."

You looked for a hint of sarcasm on his face and found none. "Thanks," you said, holding your head a bit higher. The shop was your baby and you took pride in it, always doing your best to make it as bright and welcoming as you could. "And I really would like to know what you think. Always looking to improve if we can."

"It's a good thing I'm just across the street," he said as he got his wallet out. "I can sample the entire menu."

You began to ring him up when you paused. "You don't happen to work in the new tattoo shop, do you?"

Some of the other business owners on the block weren't too happy about a tattoo parlor opening up, afraid that it would attract a rougher crowd. You knew better than to judge a book by its cover. You also felt bad that you hadn't had a chance to go over to introduce yourself.

"Co-owner. What gave it away?" he asked, reminiscent of your deadpan delivery moments ago.

"Oh, just this feeling," you teased, wondering how many tattoos he had hidden under his clothes. You cut that thought off and stopped him when he took some cash out to pay. "On the house as a small welcome to the neighborhood."

He moved his hand over to the tip jar and dropped the money in. "Thanks," he gave you a half smile again as he glanced at the nametag on your bright apron and said your name.

It sounded like honey on his tongue.

"I'm Bucky, by the way. Nice to meet you," he said, taking the boxes.

"Nice to meet you, too," you smiled back, a wave of heat rolling down your chest at the thought of him coming back to see you. "Enjoy the treats."

"I'm sure they'll be as sweet as you, Sugar," he smirked.

You stood there, stunned, as he walked out of the shop. Thankfully it was a slow time of day and you had a moment to fan yourself once you remembered to breathe. You had half a mind to get a tattoo as an excuse to see him again.

"Who the hell was that?" Tess asked from behind you.

You jumped and clutched your chest, forgetting that she was in the shop. "My new crush," you answered without thinking.

"Obviously. I thought he was lost until he ordered something," she snickered as she nudged your shoulder. "You were giggling."

"Yeah. Well, I doubt he'll be back," you mumbled, going to the case to wipe it down.

"Oh, he'll be back. I saw how he looked at you," she said, moving her eyebrows up and down. "You're the sugar he wants to taste."

"Did you see how hot he is? He has plenty of 'sugar' out there and I'm," you waved your hand as you tried to think of a good comparison. "I don't know. I'm Splenda."

"Okay. First, that sounds like your mother talking, which is not allowed in here. Second, you're not Splenda. You're the whole bakery. No putting yourself down in our sanctuary," Tess said sternly. She liked to give you a hard time as your best friend, but she was serious when it came to your love life and self-esteem. "For real. You're a catch."

"Maybe he'll fall in love after he eats the brownie I gave him," you joked.

"That's the spirit," Tess said, graciously not calling you out on your deflection. "He'll be back."

You didn't want to get your hopes up over a stranger, but you did want to see him again.

You just didn't expect him to visit your shop again the very next day.

"So," he said when he went to the counter and set his hands on it, blocking out everything behind him. "About that brownie."

"Yeah?" you asked breathlessly, praying you looked halfway decent. "What did you think?"

"Best fucking brownie I've ever had," he grinned and rubbed his stomach. The praise rendered you speechless. "What else is good here?"

Me. I'm good.

You wished you said what was on your mind, but you gave him one of the leftover sample cakes instead.

It went on like that for over a week. Bucky would stop in and select a new dessert. On the slower days, he tried the treat at the counter and chatted with you. Tess messaged you on your day off to tell you how disappointed he looked when you weren't there. He bought two items when you saw him the next day.

The brownie was still his favorite.

So you decided to surprise him when he showed up at his usual time. The blue Henley made his eyes stand out more and the smile he gave you sent heat through your core. Your hand managed not to shake as you held up a plate for him. You couldn't help but want to impress him.

"Is that my brownie?" he asked when he went to greet you.

"With a twist. Caramel chocolate brownie, but I added chocolate fudge frosting," you replied, handing it to him. His fingers touched yours and you wished at that moment that the counter didn't separate the two of you. "I hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will," he said, keeping his eyes on you as he brought the brownie to his mouth and took a bite. They slipped shut as he let out a deep moan. His head fell back briefly, too.

Your fingers twisted in your apron as you pressed your thighs together. Did he do that on purpose or was it that good? You didn't think your treats were worthy of pornographic sounds.

"Fucking delicious," he promised as he opened his eyes and took another bite. "It'll hurt my feelings if you don't add this to the menu."

"Thank you. I'm glad you like it," you said, wondering if the words sounded as breathless as you felt.

"I haven't tried a single thing here I didn't like, Sugar."

"Why do you keep calling me 'Sugar'?"

"'Cause you seem sweet, like these treats you make for everyone," Bucky stated as a matter of fact. "I can stop if you don't like it."

"Please, don't stop," you said. You liked hearing it from him.

He smirked as he licked a bit of frosting off his thumb, your mouth salivating at the sight. "Not how I expected to hear those words from you."

Blood rushed to your cheeks as your brain tried to process what he said. You could play it cool. Or play along. "Well, Hottie, if you're lucky, you might hear them in a different way."

Bucky's mouth shifted from a smirk to a full blown grin. "Hottie?"

You tried to summon the ground to swallow you up, but it didn't work.

"Well. Yeah. I mean, you call me Sugar, which makes you Spice. Spices can be hot and you're a hottie," you said with as much dignity as possible before you giggled. "Or I can just call you Bucky and we forget this entire conversation."

"I won't forget. My memory can be fuzzy at times, but I'll remember this conversation," he promised, tapping his temple. "And keep calling me that. I like it."

You leaned across the counter, trying to look as enticing as possible. At least, as much as you could in your work apron. He visited the shop multiple times now and he was definitely flirting with you now. You could make a move.

Don't be Splenda. Be the whole bakery.

"Bucky, would you want to-"

The door swung open before you could finish your question, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "There you are, Buck. Andy is actually smiling at someone. Hal's trying to get a picture. You gotta see this."

Bucky's nostrils flared as he closed his eyes. "Fucking punk."

He sounds as disappointed as I feel.

"Friend of yours?" you guessed.

"That's just Steve with his impeccable timing."

Bucky stepped aside so you could get a look at his friend. The man was just as large as your newfound crush, also covered in tattoos with long, blonde hair and a trimmed beard. And he was beaming at you.

"You must be Sugar. Buck mentioned you."

"Is that right?" you asked.

"Oh, yeah," Steve smiled. "Hasn't shut up about you."

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you gazed at the brunette. He didn't look ashamed or embarrassed as he stared back. You must have made some sort of good impression on him if he spoke to a friend about you.

"Are you working tomorrow?" he asked, ignoring his friend for the time being as he handed you his empty plate.

"Yeah. I'm opening the shop," you answered.

"If I'm not arrested for murdering my best friend, I'll come back and we can finish our conversation," he said as Steve frowned. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling. "If that's okay with you."

Who in their right mind would say "no"?

"More than okay. I'll see you tomorrow," you said, giving Steve a wave as Bucky stomped toward him. "Nice meeting you, Steve."

"You, too. Keep making those cookies! They're so good!" he chuckled as his friend chased him out of the shop.

"Oh, who the hell was that?!" Tess shouted from the back of the office.

"A friend with bad timing," you called back with a shake of your head.

"You were finally going to ask him out, weren't you?" she asked, poking her head out. "About time. Sick of hiding in the office so I don't have to watch you two flirt."

You scoffed when you caught her smiling. "You love being in the office. And tomorrow is a new day. I'll ask him."

"You better wear something pretty for your hottie."

She's never going to let me live that nickname down.

You weren't sure what you were going to wear tomorrow, but you knew you couldn't wait to open the shop and see Bucky again.

Hope you liked this sweet introduction and can't wait to share more of this Bucky and the other boys. More from Hottie and Sugar with And Everything Nice. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #tattoo!bucky barnes x reader #tattoo artist!bucky barnes x reader #tattoo artist!bucky barnes x baker!reader #bucky barnes #tattoo!bucky barnes #tattoo artist!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #hottie and sugar

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autumnsvixen · 11 days ago

Text

Distractions

Pairing: Erix x f! reader

Summary: Eris is looking for a stress reliever and you are the perfect cure

Warnings: smut (18+ only), oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, some fire play, praise, slight degradation, choking, gross men, a very loose understanding of how autumn court money works.

A/N: Yeah i uhh... I have no words for this. But who doesn't like some good old fashioned Eris smut?

request guidelines || masterlist

The lights were dim in the tavern as you hummed softly to the music that filled the room. Your feet gently carried you and the four mugs of ale you held across the room, flashing a smile to the loud laughing patrons you passed. Setting the glassware on the table in front of the four burly males, you grinned, “anything else I can get for you?”

The male with the crooked smile and shaggy brown beard had a glint in your eye you were all too familiar with, “just your name, gorgeous.”

The smile on your face was soft, the result of years of mastering hiding the instinctive scowl at his words. “Y/n,” your voice was just as soft, ever the façade of gentleness.

Another at the table, this one with a head of messy orange hair and a chipped tooth adorning his hungry smile, spoke next, “well, y/n, I’d prefer to call you mine.”

You let out a gentle laugh, “well, if you can still walk straight when my shift is over, I might take you up on that.”

Truthfully, you had no intention of finding the male once your shift was over, not that he could keep up with his end of the bargain seeing as he was already 3 glasses in. But you’d found through your centuries of working at the tavern that males were more likely to leave you a few coins on the table when you played along with their flirting.

“In the meantime,” you continued, “I’ll be around. Let me know if you need anything.”

The night had been routine in every way, flirty patrons, loud groups, and more ale spilled than you cared to measure. You were headed into your last hour of your shift, lips tired fom the forced smile you kept plastered to your face, when the owner of the establishment, an older fae male with a head of white hair, called to you. “Could you help behind the bar? Alastair is getting slammed, and I can’t pour drinks as fast as I used to.”

You gave him a small nod, hiding the distaste that threatened to infect your features. The males at the bar were notoriously loud, handsy, and drunk, but you owed the older male your livelihood, so you complied.

As you took your place behind the bar and began to pout the orders of ale and liquor thrown at you, something in the air changed. The room felt heavier, voices quieted, as a tall, muscular man walked towards the empty seat a few feet to your left.

The deep red hair and wicked glint in his eyes warned you who the approaching man was. He held himself with grace, an air of arrogance and nobility surrounding him. If that wasn’t enough, the pristine clothing he wore was much too nice for a place like this.

“My lord,” you smiled politely, dipping your head in respect, “what can I get for you?”

His voice was deep, yet soft like honey, “what’s the strongest drink you can make?”

A smirk overtook your features as you set to work, mixing cinnamon whiskey with a strong stout. You poured extra portions of the spirit into two glasses, sliding the mixture and one shot over to the male.

“If I had to guess I would say you could use both. The shot’s on the house if you don’t tell the boss.”

The lordling perked an eyebrow at you, but downed it quickly, chasing it with the concoction you’d prepared him. You quickly threw the remaining shot down your throat, the cinnamon and alcohol warming your chest. “The name is y/n, let me know if you need anything.”

You swiftly moved to the patron a few seats down from him, setting back into your rhythm of pouring ale and dodging the hands of rather unruly customers. You couldn’t shake the feeling of the lordling watching you work, but you knew better than to question it, than to invite the wrath of Beron’s son.

You served the high fae male a few more drinks throughout the night, but didn’t pull much more conversation from him. As the tavern grew closer to closing and many of the patrons had filed out, you heard his hot honey voice again. “What gave me away?”

You cocked your head at the prince’s question, “pardon?”

His golden eyes were captivating, a mix of amusement and danger lying in them. His voice entranced you as he spoke, “you said I could use both drinks, and you know that I have the funds to pay for as many as I’d like, so why the free shot?”

Your teeth captured your bottom lip, an anxious habit you’d developed in childhood that your parents couldn’t break. You hadn’t meant to offend the fae, though you felt by his question that you might have.

Eris seemed to sense the nerves that overtook you. “Honest answer, please. I’m just curious.”

Raising your chin, you replied, “well for one, you didn’t care what I poured you as long as it was strong. And second, you’re in a tavern, hours away from the forest house. If I had to guess, you either had a long day away from home and stopped here for a drink before continuing…” You took a deep breath, trying to read the stoic expression of his face.

That damn eyebrow cocked up again, urging you to continue, “or you wanted to get as far away from that place as possible. And if that’s the case, I’m guessing you could use more than just a drink.” You placed another glass in front of him, this one a mix of bourbon, bitters, and orange.

He downed it in one gulp.

“I didn’t think I was so easily perceived.”

You chuckled, “I’ve served fae in this place for hundreds of years, and they only ever come here if they’re running to something or from something.”

His gaze darkened, “I don’t run from anything.”

The shift in his demeaner caused a flutter in your chest. As scared as you were of his tone, you also found it incredibly alluring. You leaned forward on the bar, his natural scent of amber and charcoal mixing with the cinnamon and ale on his breath. “Then what are you running to?”

His eyes roamed your features, glancing at your breasts that were pushed against the wood and your lips that held the smallest hint of a smirk, “a distraction.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place.”

Eris stayed seated at the bar while you finished your shift, only laying coins on the wooden surface once you had tossed your rag in a bin and signaled the other bartender that you were off for the night. You collected the proper amount of gold and tossed it into the jar where you kept the tavern’s earnings, leaving three pieces in front of the male. He slid them towards you, “those are for you.”

You smiled graciously at him, “we split the jar at the end of the week. Keep your coins.”

He shook his head, “now how is that fair? Everyone else benefiting from all your hard work?”

“We all work hard and we split it evenly. That is fair.”

A chuckle, “I don’t see the male bartender putting up with the crude comments of old fae like you do.”

You shrugged, “and you also don’t see me mopping the floors every night like he does.”

Eris picked the coins up from the bar with one hand, the other moving to find your own. His touch was warm and inviting, the effects of the fire that danced beneath his skin. He nudged your palm open, laying the gold on its surface, “then think of this as a personal thank you for your conversation tonight.”

A sincere smile spread across your face, “who knew that the cruel prince could be so generous.”

His warm breath sent a shiver down your spine as he leaned in, his soft lips hovering next to your ear, “you have no idea how generous I can be, darling.”

The hitch in your breath pulled a cocky grin to his lips. With his hand still holding yours, he led you out of the tavern and into the cool autumn night. “Would you let me walk you home?” he asked you, his eyes studying your face for any sign of discomfort.

You bit your lip, trying to decide if bringing the high lord’s son was a smart move. He moved his hand to caress your face, thumb gently pulling your lower lip from your teeth’s grasp, “princess, if you keep doing that, we aren’t going to make it to your house.” His voice was husky, laced with a hungry desire that sent a pulse straight to your core.

Letting out a soft breath, you responded, “good thing it’s not very far.”

The walk to your house was quiet, the pure attraction you felt towards the male keeping you from saying much for fear of disturbing the mood that had befallen the two of you. But once you got to your small cottage, a blush took over your cheeks.

“I know it’s not much, but it’s home,” you said softly, shame burning your face. The realization that you had brought the high lord’s son, a high fae raised in the finest house in all of the autumn court, to your one bedroom cottage had you second guessing your decision.

Your anxiety was only quelled when he took your hand and led you inside, with a soft utterance of, “it’s perfect.”

Once he stepped inside the small structure, his eyes swept over the room. Faelights bathed the living room in golden light and, as you looked at the future high lord, cast shadows over his face that accentuated every sharp line of his jaw. Your eyes drifted down to the veins accentuated in his neck, a neck that you desperately wanted to cover in marks.

You had never felt this level of attraction towards any male, the carnal desire to have him. He looked so large in your small home, the dominance radiating off of him was captivating.

He seemed to notice your stare, turning towards you with dark eyes, “see something you like?”

“I just might,” you muttered, eyes darting from his golden stare to his pink lips.

Eris took a small step towards you, reaching one hand to grab your waist gently while the other found a home under your jaw. There was a moment of hesitation in his expression before he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

You were shocked at his tenderness for only a moment before you kissed him back, hands finding purchase on his broad chest. As he pulled you closer to him to deepen the kiss, one of your hands traveled to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer in turn.

He tasted like the cinnamon whiskey you’d been serving him all night, combined with crisp apple and something that you could only identify as smoke.

Slowly, he moved the two of you so that your back was pressed against a wall, his lips not leaving yours. You moaned as he pressed his body against yours, the feeling of his arousal on your stomach sending a wave of need to your core. He swallowed your moan, pressing his tongue into your mouth.

The hand that was on your jaw moved down your chest to cup your breast through the fabric of your dress, causing you to arch yourself into him. He groaned at the fullness he found, squeezing tighter. The kiss grew sloppy as he began to grind himself into you, fingers leaving your waist to massage your ass. You whined as he groped you, relishing the way his hands felt all over your body.

His mouth left yours and pressed wet kisses down your jaw, your neck, to the hemline of your dress. He paused at your collarbone, taking his time and sucking a harsh mark into the skin. You moaned, pulling the hair just above his neck.

You could feel him smirk against your skin, “needy, are we?”

You wanted to come up with a snarky response, bit the feeling of his hands in all the right places and his lips sucking bruises onto your skin only allowed you to whimper a response.

He chuckled darkly against the purpling skin, hands reaching behind you to undo the laces of your dress. His mouth left your chest as he struggled to untie the laces and you took the opportunity to reconnect his lips with yours briefly, moving to press soft kisses down his jaw and neck.

A deep groan escaped him as you pressed against a particularly sensitive part of his neck, his crotch pushing into you. Through his pants you could already feel that he was big, and you had no doubts you would need to be prepped before taking him.

You felt the laces come fully undone and Eris easily slipped the fabric of your dress down your arms and chest, exposing your breasts to him fully. He snaked a hand to your hair, gripping it tightly to pull your lips from his neck.

“Princess, you are going to be the death of me.”

A smirk found its way to your lips at the glint in his eyes. It didn’t last very long, as you were soon moaning out as he took a nipple into his mouth. Your hand traveled down to the hem of his tunic, pulling at the fabric. He was wearing far too many clothes for your liking.

He pulled his lips from your chest after leaving a soft bite on the sensitive bud, helping you lift his shirt over his head. His lips met yours again in a fiery passionate kiss, arms circling your waist to pull you impossibly closer to him. Hands pulled at your dress, dragging it down to expose your lacey undergarments. You pulled your legs out of the skirt, kicking it away and giving Eris access to your exposed body.

A soft whine was swallowed by his mouth as he reached to caress your ass. A soft swat encouraged you to lift yourself up to him, his strong arms doing most of the work. You wrapped your legs around his exposed middle, back now pressed against the cold wooden wall of your cabin.

“Bedroom?” he asked softly against your lips, his hot breath coming out in pants.

You pressed your lips against his briefly before responding, “end of the hallway, you can’t miss it.” You then dove down to press your lips against his neck once again as he carried you to your room. At this point you were sure there would be glistening evidence of your arousal on his stomach, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

He set you down gently on the edge of the bed, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before kneeling in front of you. His mouth explored the path from your jaw to your breasts, taking time to lick and nip each of them, before continuing further south. Your legs instinctively opened as his head got closer and closer to where you were aching for him.

Eris grasped both thighs in his hands, throwing one over each shoulder. Your hands found their way to his red hair to stabilize yourself as he pressed his lips against the soft skin either side of your heat.

His large hand traveled to the seam of your panties, flicking it against your skin softly. He pressed a kiss to your center, dragging a sigh from your lips. “Need to do something about these,” he muttered against your clothed middle.

Before you could move, you felt a singe of heat. Not enough to hurt, but enough to pull another whine from you. You could feel the air against the skin where your underwear had just been. More importantly, you could feel Eris’s hot breath against your clit, causing you to push yourself closer to his mouth.

He stopped you before you could feel the relief of his lips, strong hands keeping your hips in place. As he spoke, you could almost feel his smirk against your heat, “did you like that darling? The feeling of my fire against your skin?”

Your teeth dragged your lower lip between them as you eagerly nodded. You could only imagine what that slight heat would feel like against your breasts.

As if he could read your mind, you felt one of his hands leave your thigh and travel up to your chest. His skin was hot as he tugged your puffy nipple between his fingers, pain and pleasure fusing together. “I thought I told you to stop biting your lip,” he muttered, pinching your breast harshly.

“Eris,” you whimpered, “need you.”

He blew cold air at your clit, causing your hips to buck softly and your hole to clench around nothing. “Show me some manners, darling.” You should have been embarrassed by the needy whines that escaped you, but you were far too desperate for him to care.

“Please,” you whispered.

“There’s my good girl,” he said softly, before licking a stripe up your entrance.

You tugged on his red locks as he gently sucked on your clit, the feeling sending a spike of pleasure up your spine. Your hips rocked against his head, and this time he let it happen.

His tongue swiped across you again before delving into your heat, a moan escaping him. “You taste just as sweet as I thought you would, doll.”

His praise was making you dizzy with desire, wanting nothing more than to keep him buried between your legs for the rest of your immortal life.

He pulled away for a moment, your hips rising to follow his lips only to be held down by his strong hands on your thighs. He looked up at you with dark, lustful eyes, “you really are a needy princess, aren’t you?” You whined as you tried to move your hips, desperate for the sweet friction his tongue provided you.

He tsked at you, “tell me how much of a needy slut you are, and I’ll let you come on my face.”

Your mind was foggy with lust as you did what he asked, muttering a weak, “I’m such a needy slut for you Eris, please.”

A dark chuckle left his lips before he attached them to your clit again. He ate you out with a hunger no male had ever shown you before. His tongue hit spots others could never reach. He let you ground your hips against his face as he buried his tongue deep inside your hole. If this is what his mouth felt like, you could only imagine how good he was with his cock.

The sound of your moaning grew louder as you felt yourself approaching your climax. You tugged harshly on Eris’s locks, “Eris.” He showed no signs of hearing your breathless utterance of his name, continuing to feast on your center.

The pressure built up in your middle. “I’m close,” your voice was mere whimpers.

Again, he gave no indication of hearing you. His nose brushed against your clit as he dove deeper inside of you, tongue collecting the juices spilling out of you. It was enough for that hot white rush of euphoria to burn through you, your hips bucking relentlessly against his face as you came.

He didn’t stop his ministrations as you came, his tongue spreading the sticky mess that you had made throughout your core as his nose deliciously pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves just above your entrance.

“Eris,” you muttered, breathless from your orgasm.

He pulled away only briefly before muttering, “want one more darling. Then you can have my cock.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you moved your hands from his hair to the plush sheets below you, fisting the fabric tightly. Your sensitive mound rolled against him as he continued to devour you.

You were sensitive in the best way, every small movement sending you closer and closer to another orgasm. As you felt the coil inside of you tighten, Eris removed his tongue from your center and sucked harshly on your clit. A hand moved from your thigh to your center, finger dragging down your slit before pressing into you.

He carefully pumped his finger into you a few times before adding another, stretching you perfectly. “Gotta get you nice and ready for me, princess,” he mumbled against your clit.

You hummed in pleasure, closed eyes squeezing in pleasure as he pushed you closer to your crest. When he curled his fingers inside of you, you felt pleasure wash over you in waves as you gushed around his hand.

He continued to pump his fingers into you as you came, dragging out your orgasm until you tugged at his hair with a groan.

Pulling his fingers out of you, he brought them to his lips, sucking your glistening juices from the digits. He hummed with a smirk as he stood, his eyes dark.

“Taste so good princess,” he breathed out, voice thick with lust. “Can you give me one more?”

Your head spun from the orgasms he had just pulled from you, but you gave him a dazed nod in response.

“I need to hear you pretty girl,” Eris whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. “Tell me how bad you want my dick.”

You followed his lips as he leaned back, chasing the taste of him that you had been deprived of. When realizing he wouldn’t give you anything until you spoke, you mumbled out a small, “please Eris.”

The smirk on his face seemed permanent, as it never left his face. He shook his head, “I’m gonna need more than that, darling.”

You whined impatiently, all sense of shame gone from your mind. “Please, Eris. Just fuck me already.”

“There’s my good girl,” he said darkly, hands moving down to unbuckle the belt that held his trousers up. You could clearly see the outline of his hard member, a shiver of anticipation shooting up your spine.

Despite him already pulling more orgasms out of you than any male you’d been with previously, you ached for more. Eris’s beauty was unlike anyone else, an effect of the high lord’s blood that ran through his veins. He was ethereal, seemingly crafted by the gods of sex, and from the way his mouth worked you, it was safe to say he would fuck like it too.

He released himself from his pants, long, leaking cock pressing against his stomach. He motioned for you to lay further back on the bed and you eagerly followed his command. Your head rested on the pillows as he climbed over your body, parting your legs to lay on either side of his lap.

You ran a hand up his broad chest, his muscles rippling under the attention you were giving them.

“As much as I love your hands on me baby girl, I want you to remember exactly who in charge here.”

An expression of confusion flashed across your face as he took your small hands in his large ones, forcing them on either side of your head. You felt a slight heat against them as an orange hue illuminated his face. Looking to the side, you saw a rope of flame wrapped around your wrist, tying your arms to the bedposts on either side of you.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before mumbling against them, “let me know if its too much.”

You whined as you rolled your hips upwards, searching for friction, “it’s good.”

Another kiss was pressed to you, harsher this time, before his lips began to travel down your body to your breasts. Despite the purple marks that were already blooming on your skin, he sucked more into them. You pulled at your restraints, desperately wanting to touch him.

As he rose from his position to hold his body over yours fully, one of his hands wandered up your body gently, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You whined out, tired of his teasing, to which he just chuckled. His hand left your body to align himself with your entrance before he slowly pushed his tip into your entrance. Even just the small part of him he gave you was enough to stretch you and elicit a moan from your lips.

He dragged his tip out of your hole, only to push it back in. After a few repetitions and a frustrated huff from you, he pushed his hips towards you, driving himself in to his hilt. It was delicious, the feeling of him filling you up, stretching your walls. You gasped at the sudden pleasure, eyes closed in bliss at the simple movement. Eris then pulled out completely before slamming into you harshly, groans escaping both of you. He set a steady pace of euphoric thrusts, his cock dragging against your walls and hitting every spot imaginable.

He pushed himself up to his knees, your legs wrapping around his middle. Your bodies were still connected in the most delicious way, but this new angle made your head spin.

One hand moved to your waist while the other fingered lazily at your nipple, his thrusts picking back up, much faster this time. The sound of skin hitting skin and moans filled the room as your hands struggled against the fire that bound you. You needed to hold onto something to ground you in the intense pleasure you felt as he drove deeper into your heat.

“Fuck, you’re perfect baby. Pretty fucking pussy squeezing me so tight.” He said, words occasionally being interrupted by his groans of pleasure. You couldn’t help the way your walls squeezed around him at the pure lust in his tone.

He hit a spot that made your eyes roll back, a loud moan ripping from your throat. The hand on your breast traveled to your jaw, pulling your face down to absorb the look of your pleasure. “You look so pretty getting fucked, doll.” His thumb pressed against your lips and you greedily sucked it into your mouth. “So eager to ruin yourself on my dick, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly with a whine, the feeling of him all over you combined with the filthy words he was saying to you was too much. You could feel another orgasm bubbling up, ready to release yourself all over him.

He seemed to notice the tightening of your walls and the fucked out expression on your face, “gonna cum on my cock, baby?” His husky voice was only making matters worse, pushing you closer to the edge of bliss. All you could do was give him another nod, hips thrusting to meet his own.

The hand on your jaw traveled to your throat, squeezing softly on the pulse points and making your mind feel numb. His other hand snaked to your clit, thumb rubbing you in harsh circles. You moaned out, squeezing your eyes shut as he spoke again, “cum on my cock, slut. Show me what a good, dirty fucking girl you are.”

It was enough to send you over the edge, your body shaking as the orgasm took over you. He followed soon after, spilling his hot seed into you. His thrusts continued as you both rode out your orgasms until they slowed to a stop.

You felt like you were in a haze as he leaned down to kiss you softly, softening dick still inside you. You could barely return the kiss, only opening your mouth to invite his tongue in. He indulged you briefly before pulling away, sliding himself out of you as his sticky substance leaked out of you. The heat on your wrist was gone, but your arms felt too heavy to move from their position.

A soft peck was placed on your forehead as he mumbled, “took me so well princess.” He forced himself up and moved towards your washroom, grabbing a towel and wetting it, he let his power heat the cloth enough to be comfortable. When he reentered the room, he found you with a blissed out expression on your face, watching him stroll towards you.

He knelt on the bed, gently holding your thigh with one hand as he brought the washcloth up to your core with the other, swiping softly. You groaned at the contact, feeling overwhelmingly sensitive. He leaned towards you, another kiss planted on your lips, “just cleaning you up, darling.”

You gathered the strength to move your hand down to the one on your thigh, gently grasping it. He cleaned you up slowly, making sure not to overwhelm your sensitive heat. When he was finished, he tossed the washrag towards the basket in your room and lied in the bed next to you, arms wrapping around your middle. You turned to nuzzle your face into his strong chest, leaving light kisses where you could reach, and let his steady breathing lull you to sleep.

#eris #eris vanserra #eris smut #eris x reader #acotar #acotar smut

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zoewrites · 1 year ago

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Your Price (Joel Miller x F!Reader) 18+

Tags/Warnings: no use of y/n, smut, alcohol, prostitution, dirty talk, daddy kink, pet names, rough blowjobs, cumplay, grinding, overstimulation, size kink, creampie, unprotected sex, negative attitude towards sex work, rude grumpy joel

Wordcount: 4k

Even from a distance, you could sense the ever-present air of grumpiness that exuded from Joel Miller’s being. And it made your heart beat faster. He sat alone at the bar, his narrowed eyes fixed on the glass of whiskey in his hand. He only ever raised his head to flag down the bartender for more.

Since his arrival in the community last month, you’d heard plenty of gossip about the man. That he was a dangerous smuggler, having committed unspeakable acts of violence - and not just for survival-

And that he was cold to even those who had reached out and tried to help him settle in-

And that he seemed to revel in his reputation as a tough, unapproachable man, only ever softening for that daughter who “wasn’t actually his daughter.”

“Ungrateful son of a bitch,” Your friend had described him in a huff after a particularly unpleasant encounter down at the stables, “He’s damn lucky that Tommy is his brother…”

But all the rumors did was fuel your curiosity and crush. There was an undeniable allure about the mysterious older man. The combination of his rugged looks and the intimidating energy surrounding him made him undeniably attractive to you, drawing you in despite the barriers he put up. On the third fill of his glass, you decided it was your chance to approach him.

You sauntered over across the busy saloon, taking a seat beside him. Not a shred of acknowledgment upon his face as you cleared your throat, leaning in slightly.

“Hey cowboy,” You smiled, taking a sip of your drink, letting it fuel your determination.

Joel turned his head to glance at you, his eyebrow raised but his expression remained guarded.

“Mind if I-”

“M’not interested.” His low voice shut you down and he turned back to his whiskey.

You felt a pang of frustration at his immediate dismissal. But you also felt another kind of pang, one that settled deep down within you as you finally got a close-up look at the man. His features were weathered, with grey patches in his beard and lines of experience framing his eyes. It made you wonder what all he had seen out beyond the walls of Jackson where you’d spent most of your life.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” You maintained your composure, smirking at him.

“I know who y’are, what you do,” He grumbled, still not facing you.

“Do you?” You questioned, curious as to what exactly he knew. It was true you had a bit of an… “arrangement” going on with some of the men in the community. You were a pretty girl who liked attention, and in a town where bartering was the new monetary medium, what was wrong with receiving a little… “compensation” for your time? You had no shame, it was a win-win for all involved.

He didn’t answer. Instead, his jaw clenched even more and his thumb and index finger met the bridge of his nose, sighing in annoyance.

“Long day?” Not one to give up easily, you egged him on.

“Long week. S’Why I’m here. Trying to relax.” He punctuated the end of his sentence by setting the glass down and glaring at you.

“And how is that working out for you?” He watched as you swiveled your bar stool towards his, stretching your long legs out and crossing one over the other, giving him your full attention. The way his eyes flickered to the exposed skin on your thigh where your dress rode up didn’t go unnoticed. In fact, it ignited something in you.

“Was workin’ real nicely till you interrupted.” You were indeed beginning to understand why he was so disliked.

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow, “Because you were lookin’ real lonely over here to me.”

Joel scoffed.

“But maybe I could help you.”

“Help?” He frowned.

“With relaxing,” You teased, leaning in a little closer, “I’m good at that kind of thing.”

You maintained his eye contact as you slowly wrapped your lips around the straw of your cocktail. You swore you could see redness bloom on the apples of his cheeks when he shook his head. The craving was building, you wanted to see this man come undone.

“Jesus Christ, woman.” He murmured under his breath, almost too quiet for you to hear over the rowdy Friday night crowd.

You shrugged innocently, turning your stool back to face the bar. You began to wonder if he really was as impossible to crack as everyone said. But he was still sitting so close that you could feel his body heat against your right side. And you could smell the leather of his worn jacket. You swallowed hard as the two of you sat in silence. Just as you were about to excuse yourself and give up for the night, he cleared his throat.

“How much?” Joel asked quietly and you felt your eyes narrow in disbelief, surely you’d misheard him.

“Hm?”

“Your price.” Oh? Oh. Your heart slammed against the walls of your chest.

“Oh really?” You couldn’t control the teasing grin that spread across your face, you had Joel Miller right where you wanted him, “Now you’re interested?”

“Forget it,” He muttered and went to stand.

“Hey, wait,” You reached for his arm, eyes shining bright with delight, “Yours or mine?”

You passed by Joel’s home most days on your walks to the greenhouse or the stables. You'd always hoped to catch a glimpse of him out on the porch, sometimes talking with Ellie, sometimes strumming a guitar. Though you’d never spoken to either, it always felt like you were being let in on a little secret, getting to see just a glimpse of who Joel was underneath that cold exterior.

And now here you were, standing on that very porch, following him inside. It was tidy aside from a few pairs of boots and some comic books strewn about. Better than you were expecting for a single father and a teenager.

“Your kid out for the night?” You'd asked, letting your fingers dance across the mantle of the fireplace, eyeing a drawing she must’ve done for him. It suddenly felt so intimate, being let into his private world.

Joel shot you a look that said ‘of course she is.' That he was offended you would ever even consider the possibility of him bringing you here if she wasn’t out. He made it clear he didn’t have you over to simply ogle the ornaments on the shelves.

After locking the door, he stood at the entrance, looking down and fidgeting with his gloved hands. You began to wonder if he was nervous. What a sight, the gruff and tough Joel Miller…. timid in your presence.

“Well…” He began and then trailed off.

“Well…” You repeated and stood behind the couch, letting your hands rest on the backing as you leaned forward, giving him a full view of your cleavage in the low-cut dress another man had gifted you.

“Dunno how this usually goes…” He admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck and shrugging his jacket off, leaving him in that wrinkly plaid button-up, “D’you uh-”

“We can do whatever you want,” You assured him, giggling at his sudden apprehension, “Come sit.”

He ambled over, a little confused as to why you were still standing behind him until he felt your hands move over his shoulders, rubbing at the tense muscles. You applied a gentle pressure, digging in with your palms, and he couldn’t help but let his head fall forward as you worked.

“You’re so tense, Joel,” You whispered against his ear, fighting the temptation to bite at it, and all he could do was groan, “Let me help.”

As you progressed, kneading at his flesh through the faded fabric, you could feel his muscles gradually loosen and his breathing become deeper. Slower. You wondered when the last time, if ever, he’d been touched like this. When was the last time he had someone help ease the ache, helped bring him some peace? He made a sudden noise that pulled you out of your thoughts.

“There.” He sighed as your fingers worked in circular motions at the base of his neck.

“Here?” You smiled, pushing harder, and the sound his throat made sent a flood of heat throughout your entire body. His deep moans had you tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to ignore the hot throbbing between your legs. “See I knew you just needed someone to help you relax.”

You could practically feel the pain and frustration leaving his body as his large hand covered your own, pausing your movements.

“Sit with me.” Joel’s voice was husky, the deepest you’d heard it tonight. He let out a heavy exhale when your hands left his body and you rounded the couch to straddle him. His thighs were strong and sturdy beneath you, giving you a nice seat.

His large hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, and you let your own hands trail up his solid chest and into his hair. You ran your fingers through the messy wisps of gray. Finally, they wrapped behind his neck and you pushed your lips to his.

It started slowly, a little hesitant on his part until you reached down to guide one of those large hands on your lower back down to your ass. Then it was more.

You never enjoyed the taste of whiskey until you tasted it on the tongue he had inside your mouth. He groaned, low in his throat, and it made your head spin. His hands squeezed at you through the fabric of your short dress and you pressed yourself closer, feeling him harden beneath you. You kissed him deeply then, sliding a hand lower as you did. Your tongue dipped into his mouth at the same time you curved your fingers over the shape of his cock, feeling the swell of it under his jeans.

When you pulled away breathlessly, Joel chased you with his mouth until you were too far out of reach, slinking down to your knees. You gazed up at the entirety of him, at the hard rise and fall of his chest, at the way his glossy eyes stared you down as you made quick work of his belt.

“Starting to feel bett-” Your taunt was cut short by the surprise of his thumb in your mouth. One of those large hands slid down his thigh and up the side of your face, pressing his thumb inside, the pad of it resting on your bottom row of teeth. He pushed down and forced your mouth open. You trembled at his sudden dominance and the vulnerability of it, feeling your pussy grow wetter and wetter. You were glad you were already on your knees because your thighs shook and his pupils blew wider.

Joel’s other hand met your face, framing your cheek. He slid the roughness of his fingertips down against the shape of your lips before pressing another thumb inside your drooling mouth. His eyes grew darker and he leaned in like he was inspecting you. He then pushed both thumbs down on your tongue, pushing back until you gagged.

“Gotta make sure there’s enough room in there for me, baby.”

You whimpered as he pulled your mouth wide.

“But you take cocks all the time in here, don’t you? Bet you’re a pro by now, huh?”

He let you go, giving you a chance to catch your shaky breath.

“Does that bother you?” You hissed, playing into it, “That this is what I like to do?”

“That you like bein’ a slut?” Your heart pounded at his words. You’d heard it all before but never the way Joel said it.

You answered by eagerly reaching back out for his hands that had gone back to resting on his thighs. You pulled both thumbs back into your mouth and sucked. You swirled your tongue around them, getting nice and sloppy, letting your drool run down onto his wrists, giving him a show of how good it felt to have something big and solid in your mouth. He let you have your fun for a moment until he was pulling them out again and you couldn’t help but whine.

“Fuckin’ needy girl,” He groaned under his breath as he rubbed your spit over your lips, playing with them until you were absolutely aching to have him down your throat. Your trembling hands traveled to the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down. The noise he made when you finally got a hand around his thickness was guttural and you wanted to hear more. Fuck, you knew he’d be big. You stroked him slowly, wanting him to ache just as badly for it as you were. It was already so hard, the head wept with pre-cum as you fisted him the way you knew men liked.

You hated to let go but you needed him to use you right fucking now. You rested your hands on your knees and parted your swollen lips, presenting your face for him to take. Joel slapped the tip against your mouth. You tried to lick out at it but he pulled away, smirking when you whined in complaint.

“Please,” Your eyes squeezed shut, your cheeks burned in embarrassment when you realized how quickly he had you beneath him, yearning for a taste of his cock. But god, this was precisely what you’d been craving since the moment you'd seen Tommy going around and introducing him that very first day.

“You gonna beg for it, sweetheart?” He held what you desperately wanted in his hand, just barely out of reach, teasing you so meanly. Want quickly squashed any embarrassment and you didn’t care how pathetic it made you sound when you mewled out for it.

“Yes,” Your voice was meek, “Daddy, please let me suck your cock.”

His eyebrows raised, “Daddy, huh?” He brought his cock back down your face, smearing pre-cum down your chin, “Ya call ‘em all that?”

You shook your head fervently. And it was the truth. None of your usual encounters had ever had you this strung out before they even started fucking you, none that you would’ve ever even considered calling “daddy.” None of them ever had you on the verge of tears with need like this.

“Say it again,” He ordered and you could actually feel the arousal dripping.

“Daddy,” You moaned sweetly and something in him broke. All hesitancy, all the apprehension within him was gone. He finally rewarded you as he thrust inside your mouth. You heard him hiss above you as your lips wrapped around him. God, he was so big. Bigger than you’d taken before. But as you’d made clear by the events of tonight, you loved a challenge. You moved your hands to curl around the back of his calves, holding yourself steady as he pressed deeper inside.

"Shit," He cursed, "Fuckin' look at ya, such a pretty little cockslut.” Saliva dripped down your chin and all you could do was take it as he started fucking your face in earnest.

You were gagging but it only made him go faster, his fingers thread through your hair to pull you back and forth. The noises you were making were depraved and you’d be surprised if you weren’t dripping onto the wood floor beneath you with how wet you were. He used you like a toy, barely able to breathe, barely able to keep your eyes open, but you tried your hardest because the sight of him looking down on you in awe as you took all of him, calling you a whore… it was beautiful.

He lost himself in it, throwing his head back, making those delicious noises. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he pulled you in hard one last time, holding you right there, pressed up against his base. You forced yourself to breathe through your nose, to not break, to surrender to him as his cock pulsed against the back of your throat.

Tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time he’d finished ruining you and pulled out. The filthy choking sob you gave when he did set him over the edge, releasing ropes of cum over your tongue and chin.

“Daddy too big for you, baby?” Joel groaned, sounding wickedly amused as you gasped, attempting to regulate your breathing. He pulled you back up into his lap and you crumpled against him. He brushed stray hair from your tear-soaked cheeks, cooing something about being a good slut. He wiped his cum from your face, holding it to your lips for you to lick from his fingers. His cock twitched again as he watched how desperate you were despite being this wrecked already.

“Y’alright girl?”

“More,” Your throat was burning so your plea came out as a weak, hoarse whisper. Your thighs rubbed together unconsciously, the throbbing was almost unbearable at this point and he knew it.

“More?” His laugh quickly turned to a groan as you gathered the strength to pull your sopping panties to the side and shifted in his lap, dragging your hot pussy against the length of his shaft. Your clit ached from the friction and you slid an arm around his neck to give yourself the leverage to start rocking your body back and forth on top of him.

“This pussy’s fucking starved baby, thought this whore would be satisfied, taking cock on the regular.” He tutted. “S’fuckin’ crying for it.”

A loud wail tore out of you as you increased the pace, about to cum before he ever even got inside you. But he stopped. Hands at your waist, halting you just before you reach your peak and your pussy clenched hard around nothing.

“Joel, no…” Your head fell in despair, too far gone to care about anything but needing to cum. He lifted and situated you above the head of his thick cock. ‘Yes, yes, yes’ is all you could think as you realized what he was doing.

You both gasped, mouths against each other, stealing each other’s breath as you sank down onto him. You took every last delicious inch, letting it stretch you until you were fully seated on him.

You couldn’t control the tears that ran down your face from how fucking full, how fucking good it felt having him breach the deepest part of your cunt. Your mind went fuzzy when you looked down to see where you were joined, seeing how his slick cock split you open.

“Look at you, baby,” Joel mocked you when he saw the way your mouth gaped open, “this what you needed? For me to fuck you stupid?”

“Daddy,” You babbled, fluttering all around him as he held you down still, molding your insides to his shape, “P-please, please, please.”

“Fuck yourself on me, use it, baby, let daddy see you cum.” He growled, his southern accent so deep, “Show me how pretty you and this pussy are when you cum. Must be good, the way you’ve got all these men lining up to share ya.”

A high-pitched squeak left your mouth when his hands finally released you, letting you move. They went to lift your dress up over your head, exposing your bouncing tits for him.

With your nails scratching sharply into his neck and shoulder, you raised then lowered yourself again and again and again. The obscene squelching sound and his glazed eyes on your tits brought you right to the edge once again.

“There you go,” his fingers dug hard into your hips to help you move once your thighs started shaking uncontrollably.

“Joelllllll,” You hiccuped, bouncing yourself harder and harder, chasing what you needed.

“Thought I was daddy,” He panted, his hands moved back to your ass and he gripped at you, slamming you down on his cock.

"D-daddy- fuck! Fuck!" You held onto him for dear life, your muscles turned to jelly as he thrust into your weeping pussy, letting him take over fully, just like he did to your mouth.

Then your cries went silent, mouth went slack, breath ragged. You came hard around his cock, harder than ever before, squeezing him until he was gasping against your lips. You swore you could hear him whimpering before you could only hear your ears ringing. Your entire body shuddered with white-hot pleasure.

“Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me,” You chanted through the aftershocks as he continued to rut into you, so fucked out of it you couldn’t even hear your own voice, “D-daddy, please, please, please...”

And then he was filling you, hips bucked up and cumming hard until he physically couldn’t anymore. He was at your ear, desperately moaning for you as you twitched around him, squeezing him, “Nghhhhh… hah, fuck, baby.”

His skin was burning, his eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched, pulsing so hard in your cunt, overstimulating you almost to the point of pain. Almost.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ, this pussy…” He gasped, equally as overwhelmed as you felt when he slid out.

“Oh my god,” You held onto him tight, your bare tits pressed up against his still-clothed chest, just breathing him in as you attempted to calm yourself.

“Let me see it,” He exhaled heavily.

“Hmm?” You shook, face buried into his neck, feeling his sweat on your cheek.

“Need to see it leaking out. Show me.” He rasped.

You whimpered at his order when you realized what he wanted. He didn’t give you any time to regain your strength, he simply flipped you over the arm of the couch. He groaned as you bent yourself over the edge, widening your legs to give him a full show of just how good he’d fucked you.

“Spread yourself for me, baby.” He breathed, his chest still heaving.

You did as he said, your hand reached underneath you, spreading your lips apart. You keened at the feeling, so overstimulated that you could barely handle your own delicate touch. His eyes followed the cum dribbling out of you and down your thigh.

“Fuck, that’s it, just like that.” Joel watched as he pulled his pants back up, buckling his belt. He reached out, sliding a hand down your lower back, making sure you stayed just how he wanted. You felt so incredibly naked in front of him like this.

“Fuck… can’t believe I just came in you… fuck,” He groaned as realization dawned on him. The spell broken.

“M’clean,” You moaned, head still fuzzy, “n’safe, I swear.”

He just sighed.

“Joel, I promise. I never let them do this.” You tried to move but his hand held you in place. You didn’t know if he believed you or not but it was true. It was your rule. You were always safe. Your heart pounded at the thought of how different it had been with Joel, how easy it had been for him to take full control of you. Breaking your rules without him even realizing it. You didn’t regret it one bit though. And you hoped desperately that he didn’t either.

Joel didn’t reply, only asking what he owed you. You almost forgot what the hell he was talking about.

“Don’t worry about it,” You sighed as he let you back up, stretching in exhaustion. There you went breaking another rule. They always paid you. But with Joel, it felt like you should be the one paying him.

“Tell me what I owe you,” His features hardened.

“Joel, I-...” You were taken aback by his quick shift, “It’s fine. I wanted this, you don’t have to-”

“That’s not…,” He ran an exasperated hand through the tousled hair you’d just had your own hands in, “I wouldn’t have done this, otherwise.”

You wiped at your thighs with your discarded panties as you tried to make sense of his frustration, the dizziness still in your brain making it difficult. You wondered if you should feel insulted by his statement.

“Jesus, it’s not a big deal,” You pulled your dress back over yourself before facing him, “Get something from the Outfitters or whatever. I don’t care.”

“You should leave. I’ll get you your payment but you need to go now,” He backed away from you, avoiding your eyes.

Before you could begin to try to wrap your mind around what had just happened, the sound of the front door being unlocked had both of your heads shooting up in time to see Ellie.

“Joel! I forgot-” The girl stopped hard in her tracks as she took in the scene of you and Joel standing awkwardly in the living room. It was silent between the three of you as she made no attempt to hide the way she was staring you down. Your face warmed again as you mentally thanked whatever God was out there that she hadn’t entered a minute earlier.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ellie turned to Joel, her brow furrowed.

“Ellie,” He scolded her language but failed to attempt any lie about who you were or what was going on. And you took this as your cue to escape because you had nothing to offer.

“Yeah…I’ll, uh, see ya,” You grabbed your bag off the coffee table and it took everything in you to walk and not sprint out the door.

#joel miller x reader #tlou fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us #joel miller daddy #filth #smut

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starrystevie · 2 years ago

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it's 2004 when steve finds himself back in hawkins for the first time since he moved away for good. he has a master's degree under his belt, a mortgage on a house outside of st. louis with a dog and picket fence, and a rockstar that wormed his way into his heart next to him in bed every night. he's closer to 50 than he is to 20 and life feels good, life feels settled, figured out in a way he never thought he'd get to see.

"you gonna tell me why you're shakin' like a leaf?"

but sitting across from wayne munson and his sharp gaze is enough to make him feel like a teenager again.

steve takes a sip from his glass of water before setting it down on the end table next to him and watches the way wayne's finger taps against the side of his coffee cup. it's like he's keeping rhythm with something that steve can't hear, like a drum beat in his head that proves that he's the reason eddie has musical talent.

"i'm fine," he responds back to wayne, a stilted smile crossing his face. wayne's gaze deepens like he he doesn't believe him. "i'm fine!"

there's a clock ticking somewhere in the living room and the faucet in the kitchen is dripping quietly and it makes the silence that falls between them even more deafening. steve takes in a deep breath and nods absently as he rubs his palms over his denim clad knees.

"is he in trouble?" wayne asks in a gruff voice, low and to the point. steve shakes his head immediately, stutters out something that sounds like no, and wayne looks at him with his eyebrows pinched together. "are you in trouble?"

"no, it's not-" steve stands up and paces out some of his nerves, hands shoved into his pockets so that he stops waving them around. he sighs and looks back at wayne. "it's nothing bad."

"if it ain't bad, then just say it."

steve groans and runs his hands through his hair. it's harder to do this than he thought it would be, quite possibly the hardest thing he's done in years and that's including having to admit to eddie that he does indeed like the stupid beard he grew as a dare from jeff. wayne is still staring at him with a determined look, like he won't let steve get away with any of his usual charming bullshit, and looks so much like eddie that it makes something in his heart explode.

"fine! i'm asking eddie to marry me and i need your permission or something. happy old man?" he finally says, or well, shouts. it's too loud in the quiet house and he can see wayne wince from the decibel he reaches but it's out. it's off his chest and he's finally said it.

and wayne is smiling.

seeing him smile is strange, not because he doesn't look good with a smile, but because it's not often that steve gets to bear witness to it. it starts off slow, clipped at the edges before it spreads to his cheeks and crinkles his eyes. steve's breathing hard when wayne stands up and wraps his hands around the tops of his shoulders. he can feel himself shaking under wayne's grip and from this close, he can see the tears that he knows wayne is fighting against.

"it's about damn time, boy. took you two long enough to pull your heads outta your backsides."

getting hugged by wayne is almost weirder than seeing him smile. it's short, to the point, with pats on backs and chuckles that break loose from steve's too tight chest. part of him wishes eddie were here to let him be a part of the moment, but it would ruin the surprise he's so carefully planned, so he revels in the rare time between just the two of them.

"had to wait for somewhere to allow it first, wayne," steve mutters as they pull apart and he feels hope unfurl somewhere within him when he says it.

"well, alright, i guess you're off that hook then. but y'know," wayne's sitting back down in his arm chair and steve does the same, matching grins plastered on their faces. "you don't need my permission. that boy is crazy over you and if you think you ain't a part of this family already, then you're crazier than he is."

steve looks around at the pictures on the shelf behind wayne's head. sees young eddie and wayne with arms around each other, sees a makeshift graduation picture, an out of focus one of the two of them outside their house in missouri, one of all three of them around the chritmas tree in '99 when they had wayne come down to see them, and he thinks, yeah. they're already a family. at least now it'll be paper official.

#don't ask i just wanted to write about wayne okay #bee try to not write wayne as if he is uncle bobby from spn challenge failed #steddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #wayne munson the man that we have made you........#this is long but i didn't want to ruin the flow with a read more so pls forgive me #crush the idea that a man has to ask permission to marry u but steve absolutely still would because he thinks it's what a gentleman does

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macfrog · 1 year ago

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illicit affairs

cowboy like me chapter eleven

howdy everyone it's me again 🤠 latest chapter of cowboy like me is now yours. do with it as you wish. love u all so much. see ya soon x

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: your relationship with joel is getting harder and harder to hide, especially when a surprise visit from your dad threatens to spoil your romantic weekend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is a lil hungover, gluten bagels, lots of LIES, reader and joel being horny devils, gene kelly, unprotected piv sex, sex tape, praise kink, fluff, cockwarming, angst!!! and pain!!!!, reader and joel fight, cheating....??, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 8.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist

You wake in the same position you fell asleep in just hours ago: curled up in Joel’s bed, the curve of his body safely encasing yours. His lips are still by your ear, breath gentle against your lobe. You lean over to lift your phone from the nightstand.

8:14. You’ve had less than four hours’ sleep.

Below the time there’s a text message, sent a couple hours ago.

Dad: Remember to take the trash out before you pass out kiddo. Hope you had a good night 👍

Well, that was never happening, was it? As far as your dad knows, his best friend had picked you up from Frank’s and given you a ride home. Probably walked you to the house on his steady arm, made sure you downed a glass of water before seeing you off upstairs to bed. Polite. Respectful.

Of course, your dad is blissfully unaware that, in actual fact, at 6AM you were in said best friend’s bed, pressed up against him, no clothes between you, fast asleep. Definitely not making sure the trash was out.

The bright screen burns into your eyes as you squint at the notification below his text, decorated with alarm emojis – your way of ensuring you remembered to get back before him. DAD HOME stares back at you ominously, eventually persuading you to push yourself up off the mattress, loosen Joel’s lazy hold on your waist, and slip out of bed.

Joel, still asleep, rolls across your side of the bed onto his stomach when you sit up, sighing into your pillow as you prop yourself on the edge of the bed. You sit for a minute, dumb smile wide across your lips with no one to conceal it from, staring at him. Studying every part of him in his content, sleepy state.

The sharp curve of his jawline, the flecks of gray through his beard. The soft brush of hair falling on his forehead, deep brown curling just above his eyebrows. His toned shoulder, round and strong, flexing some with the grip his arm has around your pillow. His face buried in the cotton, breathing you in.

You jump when your phone starts vibrating in your hand, pad across to the door and slip out, closing it gently behind you.

“Hello?” you whisper.

Your dad’s voice is like a foghorn in your hungover ear. “Mornin’, kiddo! Wake ya?”

You wince, clutching your forehead as the quick movement from Joel’s bed to his hallway catches up with your aching brain. “Mighta done, yeah.”

He chuckles. The car hums in the background while he talks, meaning he yells even louder to compensate. “I’m about an hour out, thought I’d bring in some breakfast. You want anythin’?”

“I’m good with whatever. You’ll be back soon?”

“Nine-thirty or so, looks like. Why?”

“Nothin’, just wondered. I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Hey, d’you take the trash out?”

“Uh, I can’t– You’re breakin’ up, there, Dad, I’ll see you when you get home. Alright, cool, see ya then, bye.”

You cut his babbling voice and hang up, clutching the phone to your chest, close your eyes and exhale. When you swing back into the room quietly, Joel’s still sleeping.

You slip back into your dress and pull your boots on, scanning the room for your panties. No sign of them, though, and it’s not like you got all the time in the world to search. They’re probably underneath Joel’s deadweight body, anyway.

You tiptoe over to the side of the bed and crouch, kissing his neck softly.

He stirs, hand lets go of the pillowcase and finds yours, intertwining your fingers sleepily.

“I gotta go, baby,” you whisper, running your fingers through his unkempt hair.

His voice mumbles into the cotton, deep and groggy. You catch the tail end of his sentence: “…give you a ride.”

“No,” you reply, laughing a little as you sweep hair from his forehead. “I’m good, I’ll walk. You sleep. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Text me when you’re…home…”

The words barely pass through his lips as he begins to drop off again, and you kiss his head before straightening up, grabbing your bag, and heading downstairs.

You dip into the kitchen before you go, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. You’re fucking parched. Hungover, exhausted, you roll the freezing cold bottle across your forehead. It does little to soothe the throbbing pain, but it takes the edge off of it for a few seconds before you’re slinging the bottle under your arm and searching through Joel’s cupboard.

You steal a bagel. Feels kinda hard, probably a day past its best, but it’ll do. You set off, picking at the dry bread as you walk, holding it between two fingers as you gulp at the water.

It’s the blandest walk of shame that ever happened.

Twenty minutes later and you’re pushing through your front door, fucking drenched in sweat. Your jacket’s tied around your waist, leather hot and stiff. You toss your keys on the kitchen counter and collapse into the couch, letting your heartrate settle and waiting for the room to stop pulling in and out of focus.

Your head is pounding now, your throat feels like sandpaper. Your body aches, though if you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure that’s just from the hangover.

Once you’re in a fitter state, pulse no longer beating through your eyeballs, you head upstairs and tears your clothes off to jump in the shower. You keep it on a low heat, only warm, and it soothes your skin and flushes the smell of alcohol, sweat, and Joel down the drain.

You’re back in the kitchen, hunched over the counter nursing a coffee, when your dad waltzes through the front door. You lift your towel-wrapped head from your hand and look up.

“Well, hello,” he calls. “I notice ours is the only house in the street with no tra–”

“How was your trip?” you cut in, eyes screwing shut.

“Ha. Good. Nice drive, up that way. I got us bagels. Want one?”

Sometimes it’s like some twisted fucker is sat writing this comedy into your life. He brought home bagels? After you just choked one down walking home in the blistering heat? Whatever, dude.

“Thanks,” you mutter flatly against your mug, reaching out for the paper bag he’s offering.

Your dad lifts his own bagel, takes a huge bite, then looks up at you and gives an enthusiastic thumbs up. When you bite into yours, you’re…less enthusiastic. It does taste better than the dry one you just had, though. The cream cheese helps.

“I, uh…I’ll be headin’ out again soon,” you tell him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Staying at Anna’s tonight,” you lie, setting your coffee down. “Said we’d have a pool day.”

He nods, mouth full of food. “Sounds nice, kiddo. Nice day for a tan. Hey, uh, how was Joel?”

You almost choke on your bagel. “Wh-what?”

“Joel. He alright?”

You shrug, picking at the bread. Unable to meet your dad’s eye. “I dunno. Why don’t you ask ‘im? I don’t know how he is.”

He stares at you. Brows knit, a line between them pointing upward. “I was just wonderin’…since he…He did pick you up last night, right?”

Oh, fuck.

“Oh,” you bat a hand, tucking it back under the counter when you notice it trembling. “Oh, right. I thought you meant this morning. Yeah, he was fine. He…Yeah. Fine.”

“Uhuh,” your dad nods, eyes narrow.

You don’t have the energy or the brainpower to be convincing. Not right now. There’s alcohol still drying up in your blood, muscles still tight from that fucking hike home, and your mind isn’t even in the room with your dad right now. It’s elsewhere – wrapped up in Joel’s bedsheets with him.

“I hope you didn’t keep him up too late.”

“It was, like, 2AM or somethin’. Wasn’t so bad. He said he was up watching TV anyways. So.”

He seems to believe this – swallows it down with the last few bites of his breakfast. You continue chatting, covering over your blunder like packing dirt back into a hole in the earth, conversation drifting from how your girls night went, to how his trip was, to an awkward apology for ‘forgetting’ the trash. He won’t let that go, will he?

But it’s short-lived. Soon, you both fall into silence, and the air between you feels muggy. Thick with lies and secrecy. Things you can’t say – I wanted a McDonald’s, but Joel wouldn’t budge, then I caught him watching Grey’s Anatomy, did you know he’s only slept with ten – I mean nine people?

Your dad glances up a few times, studies your face. You hide behind your bagel, guilt and shame across your cheeks like a wine stain. But he only smiles pleasantly, until he’s throwing the last bite into his mouth and rubbing his hands together, announcing he’s going for a shower.

“I’ll take your bag to your room,” you crumble the paper wrapped inside your fist, toss it across to him, “I gotta pack anyways.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” he says, patting your back as you pass him.

You don’t look back when you lift the leather straps of his bag and lug it upstairs.

It drops from your clutches with a thud at the foot of his bed. And then you’re quite literally skipping through to your own room, grabbing a black tote from your closet and blindly tossing clothes into it. A spare t-shirt, underwear, socks. Who gives a fuck what you pack? You’re going to Joel’s – the clothes will probably last five minutes on your body before you’re peeling them off again.

One thing you do take time picking is your bikini, opting for a red strappy one. Your old roommate once told you it made you look like you were in an episode of Baywatch. Which, y’know, seems like Joel’s kinda thing.

Your dad’s stood by his bed, hair damp from his shower, unpacking his bag when you emerge from your room.

“That you leaving your old man?” he asks with a tut, folding a t-shirt onto the mattress in front of him.

You wander through, sweet smile on your face, and kiss his cheek. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Have fun, honey.”

And then you’re gone. Straight back to Joel’s.

You’ve been away a couple hours, if that, but when you wander up his driveway, he’s not home. He keeps a spare key under a plant by his door, so you let yourself in. Sink back into his couch, throw on an old episode of Love Island while you wait. Twenty minutes later, his truck pulls up and he shoulders the door open, grocery bags in his arms.

“Hi, baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss your head as he passes.

You switch the TV off and follow him through to the kitchen to help him unpack, rocking into his side as you empty the bags with a giggle.

“He ask?”

You shake your head, chewing on a Twizzler.

“Nothin’? Really?”

“Didn’t really give him time to,” you reply. “Had breakfast, grabbed my stuff, left. And I parked a couple streets away, just on the off-chance.”

Joel looks down at you with a hesitant smile on his lips. He steals the Twizzler from between your teeth and puts it in his own mouth.

“Dick,” you mumble, and he chuckles quietly.

“You know, darlin’…all this lyin’, covering our tracks, I…”

“Joel,” you lean into him, standing on your tiptoes to peck his lips. “I don’t care. There’s nowhere else in the world I wanna be. Just with you. He’ll find somethin’ to do, you know he will.”

He gazes at you for a few seconds, eyes flitting back and forth between yours. You lean your head back and his arm snakes around your waist, squeezing you into his side.

“Trouble,” he mutters, taking a six-pack of beer over to the fridge.

----------

The summer sun blazes down over Joel’s backyard, and the pair of you spend the afternoon by his pool, keeping cool by having a dip every now and then. The red bikini is, as it turns out, a hit: Joel can’t keep his eyes – or his hands – off you, anytime you push up off your lounge chair and slink over to the pool edge, slipping in beside him.

You lock your arms around his neck, legs lazily draped over his hips as he floats you both through the water, and turn your head to the sky; eyes shut, the inside of your lids bright red with the sun screaming down through them. Joel idly kisses your chest, lips curving around your collarbones.

“I like this,” you say, looking down at him. Droplets run down the ends of his dark hair, beads of water rolling down his temples. “I could get used to it.”

“Wish we could,” he replies, bucking you up under his forearms. “I like it, too.”

It feels nice, if a little bit of an ache. Hearing him talk like that. Everything you two ever say, no matter how thick with sincerity, is laced with threat. Wish we could. Because you never will be able to get used to it, right? Something will always be swimming underneath you, a black shadow that disappears whenever you attempt one good glance at it.

Something always threatening to spill your secrets. Something threatening to blow everything apart.

Joel lifts a hand to cup the back of your head and pulls your lips down to meet his, moving backward until his back hits the wall of the pool. Your teeth pick up his bottom lip, tongue slips past into his mouth, and he groans, smiling into the kiss.

You begin to feel him harden under his trunks, and you grind your core against him.

“Inside?” he breathes between kisses.

“Mhm,” you whine, and he drags you out of the pool back into the house.

You spend the entire day following a pattern: eat, chill, tease, fuck. Eat, chill, tease, fuck. As the sun begins to melt behind the trees lining Joel’s backyard, you’ve spend more time on your knees, underneath, or on top of Joel than you have actually tanning.

Can you blame yourselves? Whenever you get alone time with no risk of being caught, it’s hard to keep your hands off one another. With no reason to keep quiet or hidden, you can fuck around all you want without a care in the world, right?

Right.

You order pizza, laze in the slow-dying sun to eat it, talking about nothing and everything before one of you steers the conversation and, before you know it…your bikini bottoms are pushed to the side, or otherwise torn from your body.

Eat, chill, tease, fuck. It’s too easy.

When the yard is finally drowned by dusk, Joel grabs some blankets and you spend the evening on his couch, talking some more and then deciding which movie to watch. You’ve never seen Singin’ in the Rain. Joel takes obscene offense to this fact.

“What kind of film student ain’t seen Singin’ in the Rain?”

“We actually did study it for one of my classes,” you mutter, tossing popcorn into your mouth. “Flicked through the important parts. Wasn’t my thing.”

“Well, you gotta watch the whole film. It’s a classic. Won at the Oscars ‘n everythin’.”

His enthusiasm almost makes you hold back – the way he’s sat on the edge of his seat, twisted around to chastise you properly for your ignorance of musical film. This could be the most animated you’ve ever seen him – over Gene Kelly. So, you almost bite your tongue.

Almost.

“Didn’t it…famously get nothing?”

His face sours in a heartbeat. Expression drops like a sack of bricks. He turns away from you and throws himself back into the couch, grumbling. “Alright, smartass. Watch it, and we’ll talk after.”

“I’m just sayin’, it–”

“We’ll talk. After.”

It’s still not your thing. For a multitude of reasons, but the newest one, the most difficult of all to let go: you can’t get the way Joel spoke out of your mind.

Just shut you right up, didn’t he? With three flat words, and a look in his eye that warned you not to push him. But fuck, you want to. You want to make him talk. Now.

Fifteen minutes into the film, you sit forward and swipe his phone from the coffee table.

“What are you doin’?” he asks in that monotone voice, the one he always uses whenever you’re pissing him off. Whenever you’re…getting to him.

“Bored,” you state, thumbs tapping in his passcode. You’ve been around him enough by now, studying every little move he makes, to just absorb dumb little things about him like the fact that his passcode is 0908, because those are the three numbers his thumb can reach easiest.

The phone clicks open and your eyes dance over the screen, deciding which app to load first.

Joel says your name. Just once. But it’s enough.

You angle your head in his direction. Bat your eyelashes.

“Enough. Watch the damn movie, would ya?”

Your head rolls back around to his phone. You click the photos app.

Joel curses under his breath, shaking his head and turning back to the screen. His eyes are boring into the pixels, mumbling things you’re too busy scrolling through his camera roll to listen to.

It’s mostly screenshots. Contracts, invoices, receipts. Boring Joel stuff. There’s the odd photo of his backyard, a few where the sunset rips across the tops of the trees in a fiery glow. They’re a little tilted, a little off balance. You smile at his attempt at photography.

“You gotta learn how to straighten your pictures, dude.”

“Took that for you,” he utters through a mouthful of popcorn. “Thought you’d like the sky with the trees in front, ‘n all.”

“Coulda text me it,” you say, letting him swipe through the photos to show you, each one from a slightly different angle to get more of the trees in, crop the pool out, hide the horrendous rosebush his neighbor has creeping over his fence.

He shrugs, pulling his hand away. “Musta been distracted by all the dumb stuff you send me.”

“Fine, no more funny videos. You’ve done it now, Miller.”

He chuckles and his attention turns back to the film. You’re slowly creeping further back through his pictures – measurements for something he’s building, different thicknesses of lumber propped against each other under the fluorescent light of Home Depot. And then –

You recognize the huge arching window first. Sunlight casting across a white tablecloth, polished cutlery shimmering. The velvet curtains in the background, and the made-up diners dotted around behind you and Sarah, both grinning into her phone camera.

“When did you…?”

Joel’s lips press the crown of your head. “Saw her gettin’ her phone out ‘n thought it’d be a nice picture from that angle, too.”

“Joel…” you breathe, eyes stuck on the image of your swollen cheeks, more centered in the frame than Sarah’s brown curls.

Your thumb swipes once and there’s a second photo: Sarah’s arm is lowered, she’s typing out her caption. You’re still smiling, looking over her shoulder as she selects the perfect cocktail of emojis.

She’s barely in the frame. It’s all you. Only you.

“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, limp hands dropping the phone to your stomach.

“’s just a photo, baby.”

And he’s right. Or – he’d be right, if it weren’t the only two photos of a human being in his entire camera roll. The only person he deems worth taking a picture of. The only one, in amongst trees, and emails, and wooden planks. The things that make up Joel, in your mind. His work, his home, and…you.

As quick as the thought delights you, it’s already terrifying you. Thrill barging through your veins, competing with fear to shock through your system the hardest.

“Alright,” you mutter, switching to his camera app and turning the phone to aim at him, “just a photo.”

You watch on the screen as he gives you a telling glance, holds his hand up to block the lens, and says, “Baby. Will you put that–? Hey. Watch the damn movie, now.”

“No,” you reply, avoiding his palm to snap a picture of his face. You twist in your seat until you’re at a ninety-degree angle to him, your feet in his lap, pulling a cushion to swipe at his attempts to grab the phone. “No, c’mon. We gotta fill your camera roll with more ‘n just contracting stuff.”

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah.”

Your thumb swipes to video mode, hitting the bright red button and giggling when Joel’s deadpan face turns to watch you behind his phone.

“Quit – it,” he chuckles, swatting the phone from his face.

“You wanna watch a movie, maybe I wanna make one.”

His stare darkens. A smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. You hear it how he heard it seconds after, and you mirror his expression.

“Enough,” he tells you again, voice low, but it’s less of a telling as it is…a warning.

You put the phone down. Lock it, slide it across the couch to Joel. Silent. Giving him the choice.

His fingers lock around it, clicking the button to light the screen back up. He studies it for a second, deliberating, and then leans forward, setting it on the coffee table.

When you turn to look, the phone is sat on its side, screen reflecting back the image of the two of you; Joel, sat upright in the couch, and you, strewn out beside him. The oversized shirt you’re wearing has ridden up past your underwear, pooling on your stomach.

He’s staring at you. You can see it in his phone. You turn to look back, and he lifts his palm. Ball’s back in your court.

“Turn the TV off,” you mutter. You’re not fucking him with Singin’ in the Rain in the background.

He keeps his eyes on you, reaching for the remote. The screen cuts to black.

“Sure you wanna–?”

“C’mere,” you cut in, tossing the cushion and pulling him into you when he moves.

Somewhere between Joel leaning down on top of you and taking a grip of your hair in his hands, he presses the record button. The tiny ding sound shines a spotlight on you that lights your skin with nerves, a little bit of embarrassment, but…thrill. Excitement. Arousal.

Joel grinds his hips into yours and you both moan, your head falling back to allow him room to bruise your neck with his lips. His fingers knead roughly into the soft skin around your hips, pressing divots into your waist, sneaking their way up to cup your tits.

And then you’re turning, craning your neck to watch yourselves on his phone screen. Joel’s lips on your neck, his hands beneath your shirt.

He lifts his jaw for two seconds, coming up for breath and noticing your gaze.

“You wanna watch it, baby?”

You laugh in response, nodding when he turns your jaw to look at him.

In two seconds, you’re on your front, flipped by Joel’s hands. He takes your hips and lifts them, lining them with his own. You cross your arms and rest your chin atop them, watching in the reflected image as he slips his tee over his head and pulls your ass back to meet his stiff crotch.

Both of your heads are just cut out of shot. Yours at the left-hand side of the screen, and Joel’s at the top. The only recognizable traits are your hair and his beard. Those – and the sounds escaping your lips.

He wastes no time undressing you. Just lets your tee fall down your spine to your shoulders, pushes your panties to the side, and tugs his sweatpants low enough that he can comfortably slip inside you.

It’s sloppy. And quick. It barely lasts five minutes. As far as sex tapes go, it’s a pitiful attempt. But it’s hot – pretending that someone might fucking see it one day, see you and Joel, arguably doing what you do best.

And it’s even hotter seeing it from a different angle; feeling the stretch of him inside you, and watching it happen in real-time on his phone. Thinking of him rewatching it once the weekend’s over, his cock in his fist, shooting cum all over his belly.

Joel thrusts into you, pulling your ass back until you’re swallowing every inch of his cock. Your fists ball and you bite down on your arm to counter the shallow pain of him deep inside you, groaning with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he whispers from behind, slipping back only halfway and pushing in again.

You breathe a laugh, whispering, “Harder,” and he listens.

His hips crack against yours, a whimper calling from your lips, knees slipping further apart on the leather beneath you to accommodate the fucking size of him.

“Yeah? You want it harder, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you whine, bottom lip between your teeth.

He picks up the pace, pushing deeper every time your ass comes into contact with his hips. His skin slaps against yours, squeals of delight and pleasure cutting from your throat with each movement he makes.

Your hand slips between your legs, fingers run quick circles over your clit.

“Good girl,” he grits, “make yourself feel good, baby.”

You whine his name, forehead flat against the couch cushion as he fucks you, pleasure building between your legs like a tornado, tightening, tightening, tightening.

And then you’re being hauled up from the couch, flat against Joel’s body, cock still buried deep inside you. His hand replaces yours, his fingers on your clit, rubbing faster and harder than you think you can take.

He’s whispering in your ear like he always does. Saying everything he knows you like to hear. You’re a good girl, you’re his girl, you’re taking him so well. It’s desperate, and messy, and you know you’re both just racing to the finish line, aching for the relief that only you two know how to bring to one another.

And you cum, hard, fighting against his hold in a desperate attempt to fall flat against the couch. Joel keeps you upright, fingers slowing on your aching cunt as you clench and squeeze his cock, your orgasm ripping through your body.

He lets go of you, settling you on all fours in front of him before he pulls out, spilling all over your back.

You sink lower, ass still in the air, tits pressed against the cool leather of the couch as his warm cum slowly trickles down your spine.

Joel groans, a deep, guttural groan, still holding his cock between your ass cheeks as he stills, watching every rope of cum coating your back.

You catch your breath, panting mixed with laughing, and turn, rolling over and staring up at him. He leans back over, grabs the phone, and stops recording.

“Fuck…” you breathe.

“Fuck,” Joel agrees.

You laugh again, the last of your energy going into taking his shoulder and pulling him down against your body as he examines the footage. Tender kisses along his neck, dipping between his collarbones, listening to the grunts and groans from the speaker by your ear.

“Jesus, darlin’,” Joel breathes, eyes never leaving the screen. “We’re a fuckin’ mess.”

Your head tilts back with laughter, and Joel’s lips ghost across your throat. “We are not,” you finally reply, taking hold of the phone and scrolling quickly through the video. “I liked that part,” you turn it to show him your bodies held to one another by Joel’s strong arms.

“Yeah?” he asks behind a chuckle. Then he takes the phone from your hands, locks it, and tosses it to the other side of the couch, pulling you up into his arms until you’re sat on his lap, noses brushing against one another. “I liked all of it.”

“I like all of you,” you say, and he presses his lips to yours.

Joel kisses you gently, running his hands under your shirt and across your back, still covered in his release. He presses you closer to his body, almost painfully, as if the cotton of your shirt, the skin of your bodies, the cages of ribs inside are all keeping you too far apart from him.

You pull your jaw from his, run two delicate fingers across his lips.

“Don’t go fallin’ in love, cowboy,” you whisper.

----------

Joel carries you to his room just after midnight – sun-kissed, chlorine-coated, fucked-out, exhausted. He slips into bed behind you, curling his body around your frame, and, when his leg lifts to slot between yours, your hand stops it.

“No?” he asks, head lifting.

“Don’t want your thigh,” you mumble.

“How come?”

“Want you to…want somethin’ else.”

Joel understands without another word. He kisses your shoulder once, then takes your hips in both hands and pulls your ass to his front. You feel him pull the elastic of his underwear, stroke himself a couple times, and then push his tip in.

You gasp when he enters you – half-hard, slow, but even still. You’ll never get used to the feeling of him filling you, of his body connecting with yours, of him knowing and feeling you this intimately. Knowing and feeling you more intimately than anyone in your life ever has. Ever will, maybe.

When you’re full of him, he steadies. You scoot your hips back a little, and he growls in your ear.

“Careful, pretty girl.”

“Just gettin’ comfy,” you sleepily sing, almost teasingly.

He snakes one arm under your neck, cradling your head in the crook of his elbow. The other lies lazily over your waist. A satisfied sigh runs from his lips past your ear. He sounds and feels the most relaxed you’ve ever known him to be.

And you wish you could say the same.

Your eyes close over, heavy and tired, but you don’t fall asleep as quick as Joel. Something’s tugging at your heart. Something solid, that drags it down to the bottom of your stomach, and pools like ice water there. Something that nips at your lungs, stealing breath from you whenever you think too hard about it.

Something you’ve been patting down, stamping out with your foot every time the flame relights. And suddenly it feels as though the entire room just caught fire from under you.

Sheer exhaustion sends you off to sleep, with dreams of conversations and confessions you’re sure would never happen. Could never happen.

Should. Never. Happen.

----------

Warm water pours down over you, soaking your hair and chasing down your shoulders, your arms, past your breasts and over your stomach. You grab some more of the shampoo you’d stolen from Sarah’s bathroom and lather it up, covering your hair in it and drowning yourself under the water again.

Joel’s bathroom is one of three in his house; Sarah’s is slightly roomier, and the guest bathroom has the best water pressure, but you don’t care. Something inside you goes wild knowing you’re naked and washing in Joel Miller’s shower, even though you two have been fooling around for almost a month now.

You’re busy relishing over how perfect the last couple of days have been, wondering what breakfast Joel’s cooking up downstairs when the bathroom door bursts open.

“Hey,” he says, pulling on the shower door. “Out.”

“Huh?” you reply, eyes screwed shut, hair covered in soapy bubbles.

“I said get out. He’s here. Your damn dad’s here.”

Joel reaches around you and hands you a towel as he pulls you out of the cubicle and quickly wrings your hair for you. In a daze, you throw his tee over your shoulders and take his hand, following him out of the shower room and across his bedroom to the closet.

He turns you, hands tight on your shoulders, and ushers you inside.

“What’s he doin–?”

“I got a leaking pipe. He was passin’ by, dropped in to take a look. You stay here, do not make a sound, you hear?”

He closes over the slatted door gently, and you peer through the wood with narrow eyes. You hear footsteps approaching, your dad’s unmistakable chortle as the bedroom door is pushed open again and Joel shows him to the leaking pipe.

“Somewhere under there,” he mutters, hands resting on his knees to point to the space underneath his sink. “Had a look myself, tried some stuff, but it ain’t for fixin’.”

“Let’s have a look,” your dad bends down, groaning when his bad knees reach the tile. He’s almost shoulder deep under Joel’s cabinet, flashlight on, when Joel steals a glance in your direction.

He shakes his head, holding a hand up. Stay quiet.

He gives the room a quick scan, frantic eyes searching for any evidence of your being there. He swivels on the spot, twisting behind himself, noticing your cell on the nightstand at the same time you do.

Joel leans back, feet still rooted to the carpet, and fishes the phone between two fingers, slipping it into his back pocket. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Ah!” your dad exclaims, and Joel shoots straight back around. “It’s your trap.”

“Is that right? I had a look at it.”

“Mhm. Is your eyesight failin’? Look at this, son.” Your dad’s hand reaches blindly behind him into his toolbox and grabs a wrench. “Just the joint’s loose.”

Joel grumbles in response.

You hear the squeak of metal as your dad tightens the pipe and then the clank of his wrench being thrown back into his toolbox. With maximum effort – thanks to his bad joints – he straightens back up alongside Joel, who thanks him.

“Better be the last of my issues.”

“Ha! So little faith in me, ol’ boy. Anyway. I’ll get out of your hair. That’s a mighty good smell comin’ from your kitchen, don’t wanna hold you back from enjoying it.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” Joel says, and you can see him trying to usher your dad out.

But your dad, though you love him, is kinda fuckin’ annoying.

“Anyone special?”

“Huh?”

“You, cookin’? Naw. ‘s gotta be for someone good. Anyone comin’ over for a breakfast date? A…receptionist from a plant hire, perhaps?”

Joel’s eyes squint as he looks your dad up and down, taking his bottom lip under his teeth. “Nope,” he grumbles after a beat, with one shake of his head.

Your dad laughs a little, and then looks to something behind Joel’s back.

“Nice hat,” he scoffs, pointing a finger.

Joel doesn’t reply for a few seconds. You know he’s having the same realization you’re having: your cowgirl hat is hooked over the corner of his headboard.

He laughs. Nervously. Though maybe only you can hear that.

“Yeah, uh…yeah.”

“Looks a hell of a lot like a hat my daughter has.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks, sensing the same accusatory tone you do. Your forehead falls into your palm, hearing the almost pissed-off tone in which he asks, “And what would your daughter’s hat be doin’ in my bedroom?”

For fuck’s sake, Joel. Subtle, much?

“No, no,” your dad’s almost protesting, “I ain’t meanin’…” He sighs. “You know what I meant. Alright, I’m gone. I’m outta your hair.”

His boots recede down the hallway, then downstairs. Your breath doesn’t come back until you hear his car door slam shut, and the tires drive off.

When Joel pulls the closet door back, you’re still stood, towel in your hair, head in your hands. You can’t even look at him.

He doesn’t say anything like you expect him to. No, Sorry, baby, I didn’t know he was comin’. No, Come get breakfast, I’ll make it up to you.

He just wanders off back downstairs, leaving you to get dressed by yourself.

When you enter the kitchen, he’s plating up pancakes and drizzling them in syrup just the way you like. You pass him and run a hand over his shoulder blades, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch.

When you sit at the table, he puts the plate down in front of you. Silently. Then sits across from you.

You watch his every move. He picks up his knife and fork, and begins cutting into his own breakfast. Staring down at the plate. Then out of the kitchen window to the backyard. Then back to the plate.

You give his calf a light kick under the table, and his eyes lift, but only to your plate.

“You gonna eat?” he asks. Toneless. Less emotion than he talked to your dad with.

Without a word, you pick up your cutlery and start on your own pancakes, though your appetite suddenly disappears.

He made them with banana – your favorite – but the way he’s being with you right now, they taste sour and dry. You chew your way through as much as you can until you’re staring him down, desperate for him to –

“Would you just say somethin’?”

He looks up. Finally looks you in the eye. “What?”

“Say something. Get mad. Yell at me or something, I dunno.”

“Why would I yell at you?” He plants his fork into a scrap of pancake and drags his knife alongside it.

“I mean, you seem pretty mad right now.”

“I ain’t gonna yell at you.”

“But you are mad?”

Joel doesn’t reply. He leans to one side, fishes in his back pocket for something, then slides your cell across the wooden table toward you. He nods down at it, and you click to unlock it.

Dad: Hey, I’m heading over to Joel’s to check something out for him. Wanna meet me there?

Dad: If your slumber party’s over, that is

He sent them an hour ago. If you’d fucking looked, you’d have known.

“Fuck…” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, jaw chewing, “fuck.”

“He didn’t– I mean, he didn’t see me, though. Right?”

“He saw your hat.”

You lean back in your chair, cutlery clattering against your plate. “He didn’t know it was mine.” A smile forms on your lips, you can’t help it, but it quickly vanishes when Joel’s tone doesn’t shift. Not even a note.

“And how do I know he ain’t drive by your car on his way?”

“Aw, c’mon, man, I’m parked, like, four streets away.”

Joel shakes his head, eyebrows arched. “You’re unbelievable,” he whispers.

“Uh, okay. Thanks. Jeez.” You fold your arms and glare out to the backyard, face beginning to heat. Eyes beginning to sting. Joel’s never like this with you. Never mad, never disappointed. Never makes you feel like a kid being told off.

“I mean, your bikini’s hangin’ up out there,” he points his fork toward the backyard, “and ain’t your bag sat in my hallway? How in the hell he didn’t see that, I have no idea.”

“But he obviously didn’t, so what’s the big deal? It’s only a black tote, it could’ve been anyone’s.”

“The big deal is that he could’ve seen it, baby! And it’s not just anyone’s, is it? It’s his daughter’s.”

And the thing is – he’s not even wrong. You can’t argue back much, ‘cause you know as well as he does that everything he’s saying is true. It’s valid. Your dad would’ve walked right by that bag – twice. The same bag he saw you hook over your shoulder right before you kissed his cheek and skipped out of his room.

This whole time, you’ve been dancing on a knife edge. Waiting to be caught. You came too close this time, and Joel tells you as much.

“Alright, well, what do you want me to do? I can’t go back in time and move the damn bag. I’m sorry, Joel. I didn’t fucking mean to let him see–”

“That’s not the point,” he interjects, which is another thing Joel rarely does.

This whole argument is something Joel – something you rarely do. The two of you. The last time you saw him this animated, this angry over something, it was Arthur Kennedy eyeing you up at the barbecue. And even that – that wasn’t directed at you. He wasn’t mad at you.

“Then what’s your point?” you ask, hands slapping down on the table.

“My point is – how many times are we gonna come within touching distance of someone finding out about this? If it wasn’t Hank almost finding us upstairs, it was your dad waltzing right in while I had you fuckin’– while I was…” He sighs, and then throws his cutlery down onto his plate.

Your head drops, thinking back to the seconds of panic between your dad opening your front door and him seeing you two, an awkward, guilty distance apart. Your shorts under the couch. Your wet on Joel’s fingers.

Joel’s kitchen table blurs in and out of focus, tears swimming across your eyes. You rapidly blink them away, but they’re forming quicker than you can rid yourself of them. When he speaks again, you can’t look at him.

“Look,” he runs an almost trembling hand through his hair, rising from the table, “I gotta go. I got some things I need to do today.”

You stand to height opposite him. “You…gotta go? Right now?”

“Yes, darlin’. I got work stuff to see to.”

“Right. Sure.” You lift your plate, turning away, and hear him sigh.

“I’ll only be a couple hours. We’ll talk more when I’m back.”

You spin then, pursing your lips. “So, I’m to wait here for you? That what you’re sayin’?”

Joel’s already picking up his keys. “No…If you wanna go, you can go. Just…if you wanna talk, then stay. We’ll talk.”

You look up at him, no more words coming to the surface to say. He moves a lock of hair from your face, and heads for the door.

Wait here for him. What a fuckin’ joke.

Still, that’s exactly what you do.

You throw yourself down on his couch, flick on his TV. Put on another episode of Love Island. Think over which boy you’d pick, then decide it’d be none of them, and wonder why the hell you’re watching it in the first place.

You wander upstairs to his room. Sift through the shirts hanging in his closet – all different variations and prints of flannel because it’s Joel fucking Miller. Pull the sleeves to your nose, breathe in the smell of him. The sweet, sandalwood smell that wraps over you like a warm blanket; comforting, calming. Fix the pillows on his bed, punch out the lumps where you lay huddled against him last night, his body against – and inside – yours.

You feel hot with anger. Frustration. A little bit of guilt. It sits heavy on your head, drips down to your stomach, swirls around and mixes with the anxiety already in there. If he’d just come home, you could argue it out. Force whatever he really wants to say out of his mouth. Say a few things of your own back to him.

You never fight. It’s the one thing – you never fight. You bicker, you toss back and forth. You piss him off and he shuts you up with his words, or his lips, or with more. But you never really fight.

It’s like something’s different. As if something’s changed, right from under your feet.

Joel comes home two hours later. Lets the door shudder closed behind him, sighs as he kicks his boots off. You’re still upstairs in his room, perched on his side of the bed reading some stupid book on Alcatraz you found in a drawer.

“Baby?” he calls, and you don’t reply. You’ve little right to be as mad as you are, but he can search for you for a minute as reparation for walking out earlier.

“Hey…” he whispers when he pushes the door open, spotting you with the book resting on your thighs. “Alcatraz, huh?”

“It ain’t that good,” you huff, slamming it shut and sliding it across the nightstand.

He breathes a Hmph, then sweeps around the bed. Like he’s scared to make a sound. Like he’s trying not to be noticed. When he reaches you, he sinks into the mattress at your feet, elbow resting on your knees.

“We gotta talk.”

Do I want to hear this? you ask him with your eyes.

He sucks a deep, unsteady breath in, and his brows furrow. He sighs again.

And you know what he’s about to say.

“This…We’ve pushed this too far, now. We’re way beyond reining this in.”

You stare at his lips. Waiting for them to offer something more. When they fall silent, your gaze trails up the shape of his nose, curving around his brows and then finally falling onto his eyes. They reveal all you need to know.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. You’re not serious, right? Joel.”

“Kid, I…”

“No. What? Because of a bag?”

“Not because of a bag.” He looks you in the eye and shakes his head, whispers your name., then, “…because of the lying.”

“It’s never been a problem up until now.”

“It’s never been as bad as now. You ain’t been home in almost two days. Your dad has no idea where you are.”

“I’m not in danger, Joel.”

“You think he’d be happy? If he knew where you were really at right now? Knew you’d lied to his face this entire weekend?”

You sink back against the headboard, defeated. Desperately trying to find another way through what he’s saying. “What, then? What do we do? Come clean?”

He almost fucking laughs. Plays it off by pushing the air from his cheeks. “No. I don’t think we should…No.”

You shrug. “Then, tell me. Just fucking say it.”

Joel shakes his head, holds his hands out. “You’re lookin’ at me like I’m breakin’ this off outta the blue, baby. Like it’s comin’ outta left field.”

“So you’re breaking it off?”

“No, I’m– It’s not– I don’t…” He sighs, fingers pressing into his eyes.

You stand up, towering over him, silhouetted by the window behind you. “Just – fucking – say it. End it. I’ll go.”

“That’s not what I’m tryna do, kid.”

“What are you tryna do, then? There are two of us in this, Joel. You’ve been lying just as much as I have.”

“You don’t think I know that?” he hisses, standing up until you’re chest to chest, inches apart from one another. “Jesus, kid. I’m checking myself every fuckin’ conversation I have with your dad. Makin’ sure nothin’ I say will clue him in. Makin’ sure I don’t accidentally let slip what the hell’s been goin’ on!”

“I’ve been doin’ the same!” you yell back. “It ain’t just you, Joel, but that doesn’t seem to mean nothin’ to you!”

“Mean nothin’,” he repeats with a laugh, turning away and running his hands through his hair. “You don’t mean nothin’ to me? That what you think?”

“What else am I supposed to take from this, asshole? That you’re fuckin’ in love with me?”

He falls silent. His lips pull into a frown. He backs off.

Downstairs, his phone starts ringing. He glances to the doorway, shifts between his feet.

“You don’t get to do this, you know,” your voice trembles, “you don’t get to pull me in and then just drop me when it becomes inconvenient. Once you’re done with me.”

“Don’t.” Joel’s voice cuts like glass. “Don’t.”

You step back. Stare him down, try to make him say something. Try to make him do something. Your hands are on his biceps, eyes boring into his, swelling with tears you’re trying desperately to hold back.

Nothing. Not a word.

“I can’t read your mind anymore…” you whisper.

Joel takes a deep breath, his eyes flicker across your lips just for a second. He looks sad, eyes glassy, lines around his eyes where his eyebrows meet. But they tell you nothing.

His phone’s still ringing out, echoing through the silent house like an alarm bell.

You look at him blankly now. “Phone’s ringin’, Joel.”

He says nothing back, just looks at you from under his low brows.

You back out of his bedroom, shaking your head and stumbling a little over thin air. You’re staring at each other; you, trying to work out who the man is standing in front of you, and Joel, trying to plead with you to hear him out.

When you reach the threshold, you turn as if to run.

“Darlin’, come back. Hey.”

He follows you into the hallway and you feel his hand around your wrist. You whip it to your chest and turn to face him.

“Darlin’? Not your darlin’ anymore, am I? ’m just some girl you were fucking for a month.”

“C’mon, now, you know that’s not true.”

You lead downstairs, shoes thudding as you go. Joel’s right behind you, trying any combination of words to slow you down, make you look at him, stop for five seconds.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, your arm swoops down to grab your bag, and as you straighten up, Joel’s ringtone cuts and his machine beeps.

“Hey, Joel,” a woman’s voice fills the space between you both. Your head whips around to stare at the machine.

“It’s Lois. I was just callin’ to…to check in. It was really nice seein’ you today. Give me a call when you can, okay?”

The voicemail cuts and the two of you are plunged back into silence. Silence, save for the heaving of your breath. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your heart ready to burst through it. You haven’t taken your eyes off of the machine, red light blinking menacingly.

Joel lifts his hands. “That is not…It’s not what it sounds like…” he says, slowly, calmly. Quiet. Like you’ve never heard him speak before. Not We’re about to be caught quiet. Not even Quit arguin’ back quiet.

This is desperate quiet. And desperate’s not something you’ve ever heard pass Joel’s lips.

Your whole body is shaking, and you’re not sure whether it’s from adrenaline, or fear, or hurt, or pain. It takes most of the life inside you just for your lungs to open and close. You can’t fucking look at him. You can’t – fuck, you can’t even look in his direction.

You turn slowly toward the front door. You unlock it in a daze, and pull on the handle. The heat from outside hits you like you’ve opened an oven door.

“Baby…” Joel whispers.

“I’ll see you ‘round, Joel.”

----------

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