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cheonstapes · 6 months

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miguel o’hara stars in… ‘SUGAR BABY CHRONICLES’ ヽ(´o｀；

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡. miguel o’hara x fem!reader .｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

SMUT

REQUEST from my lovely @miguelzslvtz; So I was thinking of an older!Sugar daddy Miguel x reader. The reader is working at small country club and Miguel noticed her. She’s serving him drinks, and taking care of him. He tells her she’s too good to be working there and introduced the idea of being her sugar daddy (basically some arm candy). He invites her over to his mansion for a party and she’s dressed up for him🫶🏻 all night she’s being looked at by other men and woman, he’s being very protective of her. He loves on her all night and makes sure she’s taken care of💗💗spoiled✨

cw; older!miguel, slight age gap (reader is in early 20s, miguel is in early 30s), cumming inside, slight breeding(not really, i just have a problem), sugardaddy!miguel, readers a little bit of a tsundere kinda, miguel’s really in love, cunnilings, shower sex, hair pulling, NAWT PROOFREAD!!

4k+ words (longest fic omg!!)

@cheonstapes; hi again…🤗 these hiatuses are killing me. i’ve been absolutely swamped and i lost so much motivation to write but im glad to say i think i’ve found my footing. i found myself again and i’ll work on balancing everything from now on! i apologise for the mammoth amount of time it took me to do this (this is what i get for working chronologically) and i have not forgotten about your requests if you sent one! pyramids and project ex will still be coming but i want to make sure requests are out of the way as they’ve been there for months and it’s not fair for the lovely people who’ve waited so long. thanks again! i love you all🩷

you loved your job, you really did.

not many people can say that genuinely, but when you’re getting the tips you’re getting, seeing the men you’re seeing, you definitely don’t wanna leave anytime soon. working at such an elite club meant you were among the rich of the rich — the big shots of the city that wouldn’t be caught anywhere else.

at the very least, the uniform was modest enough — obviously though, there would always be a few buttons left undone on your shirt, your skirt pulled up just that little bit higher. that window of flesh, no matter how small, was a guaranteed extra thousand in your pocket by the end of the night — and that wasn’t even counting him.

mr. o’hara. that’s all you knew him by. the man was overtly secretive, often arriving alone or occasionally with a very small group of associates. he was by far your biggest tipper. at times, you wondered if he owned the club due to the pure influence he has on your boss — somehow, much to your excitement, convincing him to bump your pay-check up by a lofty sum. the amount of money you make could send you into an early retirement, but of course you wouldn’t do that. it meant you wouldn’t get to learn more about him, and you needed to learn more about him.

summer was always the busiest, the great weather meaning there was more members than usual coming out to play. although, running around and serving for 9 hours a day was extremely tiring — gruelling even. there was sweat dripping down your face, your black dress feeling like a leather coat with the way it clung to you like second skin.

one last drink. you had one last drink to serve and then you could go on your break. double checking the table number, your eyes widened slightly as you saw him. mr. o’hara was not a small man by any means — the bulging muscles tucked away under his tight dress shirt, shoulders almost akin in length with the table. to put it simply, he was the epitome of sexy. you were barely at his table and you could smell him already, the masculine musk of his oud creating a musky, rose scented bubble that ensnared all your senses.

“‘s that for me, sweetheart?”

yes, yes it was. but he really wanted to hear you say it. your voice was such a sweet caress to his ear — he could guarantee an angel got its wings every time you spoke. miguel usually prides himself on being in control of his emotions, his body — but having a pretty, little thing like you just within his grasp was the ultimate challenge of restraint.

the man felt absolutely helpless, his heart pounding in his chest like a hormonal teenage boy when you placed the drink in front of him. “you know it, mr. o’hara — you order the same thing everyday.” fuck. the sip he was having was definitely becoming more than a sip the longer he held the cup to his mouth — chub twitching against the fabric of his slacks.

you were just the sweetest little thing — much more enthusiastic than the other girls that worked there. he might be just imagining it too, but he can feel deep in his heart that you dress up just for him. miguel knows you want him, and he’s more than happy to give himself to you.

“you know me better than i know myself, dulzura. almost like you’re keeping tabs on me, hm?”

“i mean, yeah, i kinda am. it’s my job, mr. o’hara. you’re one of our most frequent regulars, it’d be crazy if i couldn’t tell you your order ‘fore you give it to me.”

oh…yeah.

in miguel’s defence, it’s been a while….a long while since he last flirted — and having an 8-year-old daughter who’s judging your every move means there’s not a lot of time to work on your game. but he’d be damned if he lost an angel like you, he will be yours. plus, gabi does need a woman like you in her life too.

“do you enjoy it, though? your job, I mean — not keeping tabs on me.”

“you probably won’t believe this, but i actually do. the pay’s good, at least, and i can afford to pay my bills, uni, and still have fun. i’m kinda lucky, i guess.”

“you wouldn’t have to worry about that with me, nena.”

miguel knew he was probably breaking some sorta rule, flirting with staff or whatever — but god you were worth it. if being able to take you home meant that he would never set foot in the club again, then so be it.

“sorry, what was that, sir?”

“…quit your job — not in a ‘you’re bad at your job way’ — i’ll take care of you. i can give you everything, anything you want.”

you couldn’t say you were surprised, especially with the nature of your job — old men say stuff like this to you all the time. but, miguel wasn’t any old man. as much as you loved your job, had a stable income and good connections — the thought of quitting and running away with a man like him? fuck, it was so tempting.

“alright then. i hope you live up to those words, mr. o’hara.”

———————————————————————————

mr o’hara (sugardaddy?)

i’m throwing an event at work tonight, i want you to be there.

sent 16:42

(y.n)

hi, mr o’hara. i’d love to but i finish work at 7,i don’t know if i’ll be able to make it. and i don’t really have anything to wear :(

sent 16:50

mr. o’hara (sugardaddy?)

don’t worry about it, gorgeous. i’ve already got you off work for the rest of the week, and i’ve got you something nice to wear.

sent 16:50

(y.n)

oh, really? well, i guess i’ll see you there then! ;)

sent 16:56

mr. sugardaddy

mmhm, i can’t wait to see you, babe. and call me miguel.

sent 16:56

———————————————————————————

miguel had promptly sent his driver to pick you up in a sleek black sports car, much to the dismay of your co-workers. a beautifully wrapped box was placed on the seat beside you, a bouquet of orchids and a small note that read ‘for you, las flores más bonitas para la chica más guapa - m’

it was hard to not feel a tinge if heat was rising in your face, for someone whom you’re only just getting to know to be so utterly romantic — it was a new experience! relationships had never been something you were particularly interested in, but there was no denying the allure that someone like miguel held and only time could tell how it would all play out.

arriving at his mansion, which was nothing short of jaw dropping — the halls were mostly desolate aside from the quite bustle of the staff that were preparing for tonight’s ball. an elderly woman escorts you upstairs to the master bedroom, your eyes roaming the area as you take in the grandeur of the building — aged walls paired with a modern nueva york touch.

“where’s mr. o— miguel?” the woman turns to you, an indecipherable smile on her lips.

“mr. o’hara is just getting prepared for the ball. don’t fret over him, he’ll join you shortly.” well, it was a bit rude to invite someone over and not be there to greet them but ok! “ah, i forgot to mention,” she opens the door, stepping aside to let you in. “i left you a little something on the dresser. i believe you both’ll be needing it.” the woman winks, silently closing the door behind her — leaving you alone in the large room.

god, even the room smelt like him. a musky wood and cinnamon smell, with the faintest hint of vanilla from the candle burning by the window sill. it wasn’t everyday you were in the presence of such luxury, especially old money luxury. your eyes flitted over to the dresser the woman was referring to, that sneaky grandma.

a box of xl condoms, birth control, towels, all wrapped in a cute gift basket. “seriously? who does she think i am? i’m not fucking on the first date.” wait— was this a date? it definitely felt like one, but it was hard to be 100% sure. this was too much to deal with now, all that was left to worry about was the ball and getting ready.

on the bed behind you lay a beautifully wrapped box, with a red ribbon to top it off. it fell gracefully onto the bedsheets as you unwrapped it, lifting the lid to reveal the shimmering red dress underneath. a sleeveless satin dress, fabric lined with the finest crystals, a slit raising mid thigh, lined a sheer lace. it was the definition of classy, with a hint of seduction.

putting it on felt like a crime, something so beautifully should be preserved and put into a museum. it took all of your willpower to not tuck the dress away somewhere safe and just go and get one of your own — but alas, it was a gift, the least you could do is wear it. the craziest part was how perfect it fit. practically a glove, clinging onto every curve and crevice of your body — extenuating places you never even noticed before.

smoothing out the wrinkles, making sure it was as perfect as possible — fuck, you looked hot. the colour complimented your skin exquisitely, adding a soft glow to your complexion. in the time it took you to get ready, it seemed like the party was already amping up. you could see the surge of people from the window, flashing lights and an abundance of cars being handed to the concierges. you still had yet to see miguel and what better time to look for him than now?

there was a pair of red heels that matched the dress to a T, slipping them on and bouncing down the steps. the butterflies fluttered wildly in your tummy the nearer you got to the party, joining the line of people being checked in by security. though, from the corner of your eye, you catch sight of him. standing there in all his 6’ glory, curls lightly slicked back, wearing a tight button up shirt and those sexy slacks.

something about seeing miguel like this, so carefree and relaxed, set something off inside of you. even though you were supposed to be his guest, you did everything in your power to avoid his gaze — purely cause you don’t think you’d be able to maintain eye contact him for longer than a few minutes without jumping his bones. but of course, fate was destiny’s whore, and soon enough you were being escorted straight into the ballroom.

“were you avoiding me, cielo?”

a hand splayed across your waist, leading you deeper inside the hall as he whispered in your ear. it was obviously due to the fact that you probably couldn’t hear him all too well because to the loud music, but the way his hands caressed your sides, his lips brushing against the lobe of your ear — it felt all too intentional.

“no…i just didn’t want to cut in line. i figured i’d see you when i see you.”

“is that so?” he slid a champagne flute in your hands, grabbing one of his own as he tilted his head at you — a stray curl unfurling down his forehead. “you’re like an open book, cariño. you think i don’t know what’s going on in that pretty little head by now?”

“so you’ve been studying me, hm?” now it was your turn to raise a brow, tilting your head back as you took a long sip of your champagne. it wouldn’t be a huge surprise if he had been, it was kinda obvious from all the stares he’d give you and when he’d ‘enquire’ about you from your colleagues.

“mmm, studying’s a strong word. i was simply…observing you. can’t blame me for wanting to know someone as enchanting as you better.”

he had quite the mouth on him, didn’t he? you couldn’t stop the small smile that graces your lips, shaking your head in disbelief.

“you’re so stupid, miguel.”

“if falling for you is stupid, then i’m the dumbest of them all.”

it was so bad, so bad that it was actually good. and that comment shaped the rest of your night together. considering your new arrangement, he took the liberty of introducing you to his circle of friends and their wives — conveniently leaving out that he was your new sugar daddy, but that was a story for another day. miguel revelled in the looks they all gave you, seemingly forgetting they themselves had a date nestled on their arms. he really couldn’t have picked a better dress, but damn if it wasn’t killing him.

you really didn’t know how beautiful you were, and he so badly wanted to show you. the dim lighting was a blessing for the tent in his slacks, giving him a flimsy disguise for the arousal he felt at that moment. after more than a few drinks too, wandering hands and lingering words, it was becoming unbearable. however, scaring you off wasn’t on his bucket list tonight. he didn’t take this long fighting for your attention to loose you on the first date. he vowed to do everything at your pace, leaving it up to you to make the first move.

as the party wrapped up, and miguel said his goodbyes — you stood at the door, shivering from the cold air as it nipped against your bare arms. the fun you had was incomparable to any party you’ve ever been to, but you thought you may have overstayed your welcome. shakily tapping on your phone with freezing fingers, ordering an uber to pick you up —

“leaving already?”

“yeah, i had a lot of fun tonight, though.” it was a genuine smile, one that spoke a million words. “thanks for inviting me, miguel.”

for a man so big he sure did move so silently. he stood behind you, gently grasping your hand in his as she looked down on you. “when i invited you, i didn’t invite you as a mere guest — you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

it didn’t even sound like he was simply offering, miguel was begging. you could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice — urging you to stay the night, stay with him.

“miguel, are you sure? i don’t even have anything to change—“

“i’ve already organised sleepwear for you, but you could wear something of mine if you’d like?”

that sly smirk slid its way onto his face once again, rolling your eyes as you walked past him — pulling out your phone to cancel the uber. “fine, i’ll stay. i might take you up on that offer too.”

lo and behold, an array of skincare and pyjamas were set out on his bed as you entered the master bedroom once again — and to top it off, gift bags filled with designer items that you’d never thought you’d ever own. “miguel…is this all for me?”

“unless i have another sugar baby, who else would it be for? ‘course it’s for you, darling — consider it a…’welcome’ gift.”

“more like my entire tuition fee, hell. you didn’t have to spend all this money on me, y’know?”

“cariño,” you could see miguel walking up to him from the mirror in front, his arm slipping round your waist to pull you into his back. “i spend my money how i want, and i want to spend it on you. so i don’t want to hear no more complaining from you, understand.” the small nod you gave earned a small grin from him, a hand smoothing up the curve of your back until it reached the shimmering zipper under your neck.

“you look like a goddess tonight, baby. so fucking beautiful…” his words were whispered softly into your neck, gentle breaths caressing your skin. as he spoke, the zipper slid lower and lower — until your dress was held together by the tips of his fingers. the cold metal of his rings brushed against your bare skin, the tips of his fingers dancing on the curve of your waist as he lets the fabric pool at your feet.

“m-miguel, i’m sweaty from all the dancing! at least let me wash up first, or something.” if you weren’t sweating much then, you were definitely sweating buckets now. the heat radiating from you mixed with the heat simmering between the two of you made for a heady cocktail of unspoken desire — and you silently cursing yourself for almost breaking the number one rule: ‘don’t fuck on the first date.’

“we can use my shower then, it’s large enough for the both of us.” we? oh, you’re definitely breaking that rule now. “i didn’t say this was gonna be a joint effort, did i? i can wash myself, miguel.” you weren’t even convincing yourself with the breathy way you spoke, the way he was caressing you, the pure adoration in his voice was something you haven’t felt before. plus, this is the guy who’s willingly paying you to simply be around him — it’s a win-win situation.

“i know you can, baby —“ letting out a deep chuckle, miguel intertwined your hands and lead you towards the bathroom — “but it’s more fun with two, no?” the gentle pitter-patter of the waterfall shower reverberated through the silence of the room, the sound of fabric rustling followed shortly after. glancing down at your feet, miguel’s clothing was promptly discarded — your widened eyes trailing up his hefty frame.

“fucking christ…”

the man in front of you was nothing short of absolutely beautiful. despite spending everyday surrounded by older men, you never found yourself truly attracted to them until now — or maybe it was simply just miguel himself. “i thought you wanted to take a shower, muñeca?” oh, yeah, the shower. before you could even finish your thought, miguel was already occupying half of the space in there, leaving a small pocket for you to slide into.

the expeditious beating of your heart was muffled by the steady stream of water, but it was more than clear to miguel what you were feeling in that moment. the moment was strangely intimate, and dare i say innocent, for the predicament you found yourself in. his hands gently roamed your skin, barely making contact with any sensitive areas aside from fleeting brushes. he made a point to use his hands instead of a rag, claiming he could ‘clean you better than a flimsy cloth’.

it was truly getting unbearable, utterly frustrating. your subconscious and ovaries were in an intense battle of wits, when a third party made itself known in the worst way possible. you really had forgotten that miguel was as naked as you were until you felt the base of his cock slide between your ass cheeks, chest flush against his back. the slightest hitch of your already shaky breath earned another rich laugh from within him, thick fingers playing with the skin of your tummy.

“you feeling cleaner or what? i’m more than happy to keep going if you are, baby.”

of course you wanted him to keep going! you were already as wet as is, in every way possible. “i..i think you might’ve missed a spot.” the hand on your tummy paused, his breath hitting your ear as he bent down slightly. “i did? i like to consider myself very thorough, cariño — enlighten me.” you did your best to turn with the small space you had, looking up at him with a more confident expression than the one you wore previously.

“here.”

now it was miguel’s turn to be surprised, the tip of his finger brushing against your swollen clit before tapping against your slit. it had been so long since you had a real good fuck, and right now you were genuinely about to give this man some babies if he kept on smiling like that. “mm, looks like i did. forgive me for being so careless. i’ll make sure she gets extra attention.” his words trailed off as he sunk to his knees, the gentle spray of water splattering against his face.

he tapped your ass, lifting you up with one hand as he pressed you against the cool glass, legs resting on his shoulders. his pretty lashes were dusted with droplets of water as he gazed at you from between your thighs, nipping and sucking on the sensitive skin as he kneaded your skin gently. his thick tongue was enough to completely spread you open, eagerly collecting your creamy essence.

miguel was moaning like a pure slut, you would think he got more pleasure in eating you out than you did. his eyes were rolled back, hips absentmindedly bucking to the rhythm of the shower as he sucked on your clit. the position was not uncomfortable by any means, but the unadulterated pleasure you were feeling made it hard to stay upright — nails raking down the expensive marble tiles as you practically grasped for straws.

“grab my hair, darling. i don’t want you to fall.”

whilst his words were slightly muffled, the undeniable concern in his voice had you moaning embarrassingly loud. miguel was clearly strong enough to hold you up all alone, so you surrendered the grip you had on the wall to rake your trembling fingers through his hair — tugging on the curly strands.

“nngh..fuck..”

he fucking whimpered. miguel o’hara, the richest and most powerful man in this city, was shamelessly whimpering between your thighs. that was certainly the biggest ego boost ever, the fact that it’s your pussy that has this huge man so drunk. pushing out your hips, you practically smothered his face — riding him mid-air as you felt the delicious sensations bubbling up inside of your stomach. breathless chants of his name left your lips, panting softly as your head fell back against the panels.

“c-cumming! ugh— fuck, miguel!

the jerks of your body made miguel grip your ass tightly, licking his lips of your release as he shuffled upwards, grinning down at your disheveled form. “you’re breathtaking when you cum for me, beautiful. can’t believe you’re all mine.” he whispered against your lips, forehead to forehead as he kissed you for the first time. it felt like a million tiny fireworks going off inside of you, the previous tension in your body instantly melting away as you leaned into his touch — tongue’s pressing against each other as drooled slipped down your necks.

he kept his mouth latched onto yours as he gripped his leaking cock, dipping the pearly tip inside of your sensitive hole. his movements were unhurried, sloppily kissing you as he dipped in-and-out, in-and-out. it was a steady pace that you soon found yourself liking more than usual, a stark contrast to the inexperienced fucking’s you were getting before. “inside, please…i wanna feel you, all of you.”

you were too dangerous for this old man’s heart. having a pretty little thing like you beg for him to fuck you like you deserved, to mold that sweet cunt into the shape of his cock — it was all too tempting. he was more than willing to do anything his sweet baby asked him to, and he wasted no time in giving in to you. “shit, cielo, no one’s ever fucked you right, huh? she’s gripping onto me like a vice.”

he was right, in every sense of the word. you didn’t know how many partners he had before you, and really didn’t want to find out — but one thing was for sure, miguel knew exactly how to please you. your head fell against his chest, his hand lifting it up by your chin as he pumped into you. “tell me, dulzura, i’m the only one that’s made you feel like this? only man to fuck this perfect pussy right?”

he took the tiny nods and breathy whimpers as a yes, grinning like a madman as he revealed in the satisfaction of ruining you for anyone else — not like he was gonna let you go in the first place. his pace picked up vigorously, finding the perfect balance between pounding into your sore cunt and softly rutting against your ass. the skin where you both combined was tinged red, the on-going waterfall above unable to fully wash away the evidence of your cream on his pelvis.

“only you, miguel — no one…no one’s better than you. i’m yours, daddy.”

those words, hushed and warm, pushed his already inflated ego to the edge. his hips bucked widly, prodding at the spongy spot inside of you as she pressed his lips against yours once more. all sounds were trapped between your connected lips, muffling the choked squeal that left your lips and the guttural groan that left his as he came deep inside you. he did promise to clean you extra throughly, and what better way to do that than flushing out your canal with his cum!

he lazily rolled his hips against yours, ignoring the sticky liquid bubbling on the side of his spent cock. “did so well for me, my beautiful princess. i’m so proud of you.” the fluttering of your heart made you instinctively turn away, cheeks flaring with heat as you pouted — you really can’t believe you fucked on the first bloody date. your little tough act didn’t fool miguel, in fact it fuelled him even more. he continued to praise your very essence, worshiping the ground you walk on despite your protests — smiling softly as he sees your fierce resolve weaken. “there she is, you ready to let me love on you now?”

“yeah, yeah. but first, we need an actual shower. no fucking this time.”

“no promises.”

this was the last place you saw yourself in life, but maybe being in miguel’s arms were where you were supposed to be.

- thank you for waiting and make sure to watch ateez at coachella!!!!!

#cheonstapes #cheonstapes films!🪷#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o'hara headcanons #astv miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara smut #miguel fanfic

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omg-foreverfilledwithweird-posts · 2 years

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It’s Been a Long, Long Time ❥

Pairing: Pre!Outbreak Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re the school nurse at Sarah’s middle school and you’re volunteered to chaperone the school dance alongside her father, Joel Miller. After some other teachers upset you there, he makes a point of showing you how he feels while also teaching those assholes a lesson.

A/N: okay so i know i just wrote one but you guys were so sweet in the notes :) *sobbing* and im obsessed with him so another Joel Miller fic for you, this one’s more fluffy tho here’s a sweet, smutty one, inspired by that one scene in “The Lost Husband” YALL KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT, enjoy and feedback as always is appreciated >~< i cant stop writing him PREPARED TO BE SICK O’ ME

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fluff, cheesy, just absolute fuckin fluff, mentions of death, months pre-outbreak, language, reader is insulted, slight angst, mentions of alcohol, slight age gap, reader has panic attack, public making out, jealous!reader, Joel loves his pet names, he talks you through it, oral f! receiving, p in v, praise, unprotected sex, y’all it’s a lot

You sip on your mug full of sugary coffee and rub your temple, tired from a night of little sleep. That’s when Sarah Miller, your favorite student, patient, and professional instigator, strides through your office doors with a big smile on her face.

You open up your snack drawer with an affectionate roll of your eyes, grab a pack of skittles, and throw it her way.

She catches it mid-air and sits down on the bed by your door, kicking her feet while she pops only the red ones into her mouth.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble one of these days, hun,” you breathe a laugh.

“Don’t worry,” she sighs, still grinning. “I’m on my lunch break and I finished it fast so I could come see you.”

You smile softly behind the rim of your mug, “Well, I’m glad to see you. What is it that you’re smiling so much about?”

“Awe,” she points to your mug. “You’re using the mug I got you.”

You look at the front of the mug, the words, “World’s Greatest Grandma”, on the front of if it with the word Grandma scratched out with a wash-proof marker and replaced with “Nurse”. She claimed she couldn’t find one that said what she wanted so she had to get creative. It makes you laugh every time you pick it up.

“It’s my most prized possession,” you nod, matching her expression. “Now answer my question.”

She leans forward, having finished off all the red skittles, and hands it back to you so you can eat the rest.

She says it in one, hyperactive breath, “I got my dad to volunteer at the school dance!”

You choke a bit on your coffee.

Setting down the bag of skittles and your mug, you look up at her and chuckling, “Why would you want to do that? Don’t most kids want their parents far away from their homecoming?”

She shakes her head like you’re not getting what she’s saying, exasperated, “I invited him for you, Nurse y/n.”

“I- Why would you-” you let out a nervous laugh before pulling yourself together. “Sarah. Why would you invite him for me, sweetheart?”

“Because you like him,” she props her head up against the wall behind her, a sly little smirk on her lips. She crosses her legs. “Obviously.”

You sip your coffee, a small scoff leaving you, “I don’t have a crush on your father, Ms. Miller. Since when do you play matchmaker, huh?”

“Since he asks about you like all the time,” she groans. “I told him that you’re coming and he basically dropped everything to come.”

Heat blooms in your face but you clear your throat and feign nonchalance despite it. It would be incredibly unprofessional for you to have a juvenile, little crush on a student’s father. Even if he is incredibly handsome, sweet, charming, funny, and a wonderful, single father to his little girl who you also have a soft spot for.

But you do and you’re convinced it’s a bit bigger than a little one. You don’t act on it though because you’ve kidded yourself into thinking it would go away, wither from neglect like a dying plant with no sun. However, that hasn’t worked out very well so far.

Sarah doesn’t miss the flush in cheeks and the small smile you dawn before maintaining your composure once again. She decides to hold onto this information instead of call you out because she’s nothing if not devious. She’s very observant for a 14 year old, you’re sure she gets it from her sharp father.

He doesn’t let anything get past him, like hair in your face that he pushes away for you, a fallen eyelash on your cheek, your shoelace undone, your ponytail getting loose and about to fall out, and whatever else. It’s been almost an entire school year of this, going on field trips, meetings, him picking Sarah up from school when she’s sick (whether she fakes it or not), and around your shared neighborhood because even if it was big in Austin, Texas, he made it feel so damn small.

And now Sarah says this and you can’t contain your excitement. But also your nerves were shot, you haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time. It scares the hell out of you.

“I’m not volunteering,” you laugh. “Why’d you lie to him?”

“Because I’m going to convince you to come,” she raises her eyebrows. “Please, please, please, please!” she clasps her hands together. “I’ll buy you all the skittles you want, I’ll take the red ones out of all of them for you, too!”

“What if I’m busy?”

“I know you’re not.”

You gasp, “Rude, Sarah! I should write you up for that,” you tease.

She smiles, “Come on, you can come and wear a pretty dress, drink punch, and eat free food. What’s not to like?”

“The bitchy moms and other teachers, for one thing-” you put a hand over your mouth. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. I shouldn’t have said that,” you chuckle, embarrassed, with your face in your hands.

She waves you off, “My father cusses like a sailor and I won’t tell. I don’t like anyone that works here besides you, anyway.”

“Well, now I feel like I have to,” you relent with a sigh, mulling it over. She was right in that you didn’t have anything to do, so what was the risk here?

She looks at you expectantly, mustering up puppy dog eyes to persuade you.

“If I go... no teasing me and your dad. He and I are just good friends,” you say, which is at least half true. “We enjoy each other’s company, nothing more.”

“Uh-huh,” she says in a sing-song, knowing voice, fingers crossed behind her back. “Sure, Nurse y/n. I promise.”

“I’m serious,” you point at her, taking the last sip of your coffee just as the class bell rings. “Now get out of here and go to math.”

She groans in protest but hops down from the table anyway and fakes being dizzy, “What if I have a fever?” She coughs.

“Then walk it off,” you chuckle, knowing she’s lying. “See you tonight, Sarah.”

She grins widely, waving, running out, “Bye! Dad and Nurse Y/n sitting in a tree-”

“Sarah!”

~~~

Walking into the schools’ gymnasium, you’re almost shaking with nerves when you walk in. You feel like a teenager again, anxious and waiting for someone to ask you to dance.

You slipped on a black slip dress with white trim at the ends and the sweetheart neckline, it hugs your body nicely and accentuates curves, dips, and makes your skin glow with a red sweater that hits at your waist and matches your red, strappy heels. Your hair is pulled back with barrettes to show off your makeup and fresh curls.

The dance has already started thirty minutes ago, so everyone’s already dancing and having fun to the child-friendly music that the DJ spins for the room. You pick up a red solo cup filled with crappy fruit punch and spot Sarah in the crowd with a few of her friends.

She waves enthusiastically in your direction before running over to you and hugging your side. “You look so pretty, Nurse Y/n!”

“Thank you, sweetheart. So do you!” you hug her back, trying the punch and wincing at the off-taste. “Tonight, you can just call me Y/n, if you want.”

She smiles, glowing at your arrival, “My dad’s over there talking to another parent. I’ll go tell him you’re here.”

You look up when she says this and meet his eyes from across the room, which means he was already looking. Joel Miller cracks a lopsided smile at you, excuses himself from his conversation with a pestering mom, and crosses the room to the two of you.

He’s wearing a red flannel shirt, rolled up on his burly forearms, tucked into a pair of dark jeans with a black belt holding the pants up. His hair is slightly wet from a shower, you presume, and he smells of aftershave and smoke and cedar wood. He looks so good, standing in front of you with those all-encompassing brown eyes, you think you might cry.

Those said eyes fall over you, and admire your dress, your hair, your everything. He looks down at his daughter, watching you both with avid attention.

“Don’t you have friends to get back to, chick?” he cocks an eyebrow down at his scheming daughter.

She rolls her eyes, smoothing out her blue dress. Her hair is braided into a bun at the back of her head, matching teal flowers pinned in her curls. “Okay, dad. Have fun!”

She races back to her group of friends and leaves you and Joel alone, two awkward adults who feel like kids again.

“You did her hair tonight?” you smile softly, gushing a bit now. “It looks so nice.”

He flushes and scratches the back of his neck, “Thank you. I tried my best, she did most of it. I just wanted tonight to be perfect for her. She forced me to come, though.”

“She got me, too,” you tilt your head, biting back a grin. “She should be a lawyer when she grows up, this kid.”

He looks out at her dancing with her friends and smiles fondly, “She would be great.” His eyes fall back down to you, “You look beautiful... by the way.”

You beam, “Thank you. You clean up pretty well yourself, too, Joel.”

A blush spreads across his nose and cheeks, “Thanks. I was worried it was too simple and that I should have worn a suit... I didn’t know if it was nice enough to-”

You place your hand on his arm to stop his rambling, “You look great. Seriously. Don’t worry, all the moms and teachers will still drool over you.”

He pinches his brow when he stares down at you. You get the sudden urge to smooth out the small wrinkle between his eyebrows, ease his tensions.

“Really?” he pins you down with his stare, but his dark eyes are glittering with amusement. “You’re way off base, sweetheart, I promise you. None of them think of me like that.”

You ignore the heat blooming in your chest at the nickname, he used it often but it never failed to make your brain short-circuit, “They all talk about you.”

He raises his eyebrows, “You’re joking.”

Jealousy swirls in your belly at the thought of these women and the things you’ve heard around school, but you pull it together with a quick tilt of your head, “I’m not laughing, am I?”

He notices your jaw clench a bit and how you gulped before speaking, logging the observations for later, “How do you notice?”

“How do you not!” you say, moving to his side and unintentionally brushing your arm against his. He shivers. “It’s obvious. It’s hard not to.”

His eyes linger on your lips before glancing back up your eyes, “Maybe I’ve been distracted.”

You grow flustered under his gaze and look ahead, stammering, “Yeah... maybe. And well... Sarah tells me that they ask her about your life in the pickup line after school. So it’s proving to be borderline obsession,” you laugh.

He smiles softly, seeing past your nerves, “Poor Sarah. She must love that,” he says dryly.

“Sarah might say some choice words about them,” you shrug your shoulders. “She’s fine, though. I probably shouldn’t have told you, we tend to share secrets,” you look at him, filled with care for his daughter, for him.

“She adores you,” he says sincerely and you can tell by the warmth in his tone that he means it and appreciates it. “You’ve quickly become one of her favorite people within a little over half a school year. Tommy thinks you’re great too, from the few interactions you’ve had when he picks her up sometimes.”

You grin and his chest seizes at the light that exudes from your sweet expression, “Tommy’s a wonderful uncle. Good brother too. He talks about you often.”

“Oh yeah?” he looks at you, his voice sends shivers straight through you. “And what does he say?”

“Can’t betray a friend’s trust,” you shake your head, teasing.

He discreetly shows you his flask of whiskey, “Not even if I let you drink from my emergency flask?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you one thing,” you hold up a finger and he slips you the flask, cracking a dazzling smile, while you turn around and take a long sip. The DJ transitions the E.D.M to a slow song, something sweet and best to sway to.

He takes a long sip himself and tucks it away in his pocket again, holding out his hand to you, “Do you want to tell me while we dance, darlin?”

You look around the room, your boss nowhere in sight. There was technically no rule against dating a student’s parent, but you didn’t want the judgement. You knew the people around here talked and there would be rumors, shaming. But he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room, putting himself out on a limb just to ask you to dance.

It didn’t have to mean anything anyway, it could just be two friends sharing a dance. You’ve danced with friends. It’s the same thing. Your internal monologue was racing a mile a minute.

“Are we allowed to? I mean, as chaperones.”

“We’re watching the students more closely.”

“Yeah, I just...” you pause, pinching your brow.

His face falls slightly. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to,” he starts to pull his hand away. “It’s really no-”

You put your hand in his, “I’d love to dance with you, Joel.”

Warmth blooms in his handsome face and he pulls you into the crowd of dancing people. Joel pulls you gently towards him, placing his hands on your waist as you wrap your arms up and around his neck. You both try to keep your distance, make a good example for the kids, but it’s growing increasingly harder for him not to hold you close and kiss you right here in front of all these people.

You catch Sarah giggling excitedly at you both dancing, whispering with her friends. You roll your eyes with a small smile.

You look up at Joel, resisting the urge to lay your head against his chest, “You still want to know something Tommy said?”

“Desperately,” he laughs.

“He told me you said I’m pretty.”

Rosy color spreads across his nose, but his eyes are darkened, his lips part slightly, “I should’ve known he’d tell you.”

“So he’s telling the truth?”

His eyes soften, “Of course he is.”

“Well... thank you,” you flush, blood rushing to your face, making Joel smile. You feel like a schoolgirl again.

He chuckles, eyes searching your face, “You’re welcome.”

You tilt your head, “You’re pretty, too, Joel.”

He spins you as the song picks up a bit and pulls you back to him, your dress spinning as you do. He pulls you back against his chest, hands in against shirt and his around your waist. Warmth radiates from his broad chest, his hands are calloused even through the fabric of your slip dress, and your breath catches in your throat.

He doesn’t pay any mind to the stares he gets for doing it, but he lets his head drop to your shoulder, writing love letters in your skin when he lets out a breath. He says nothing about the compliment but he’s holding you closer, and that’s all he needs to do. A quiet understanding washes over the two of you in that moment.

Joel’s always been the strong and silent type, but the longer the two of you have known one another, the closer you get, he’s begun to let more things slip. He begins to ramble, his nerves making an appearance when he’s near you, a teenager again. Then there are times like now when his actions do all the talking for him and neither of you need to comment on it.

Then there are others when he won’t shut the fuck up.

“People are looking,” you whisper.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“...No.”

“Then why do you care what they think?”

There’s a beat of silence before you sigh out the three words, “I don’t know.”

“We’re not Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey over here, the kids will be fine,” he teases. Then he lifts his head to bring your joined hands up to his side, moving you to the changed song with the more upbeat tempo.

You snort, “Wouldn’t that be something.”

“If we were somewhere else...” he muses, looking at you to gauge your reaction.

You meet his eyes, your own crinkling with amusement, “You’d do the lift?”

He throws his head back with a thunderous laugh, “I’d try for you.”

“Think I’m too heavy?”

“God, no,” he spins the two of you, dodging a pair of kids dancing. “I’m just old.”

“You’re like 35, Joel.”

“You’re only 27, you don’t get it yet,” he whispers into the side of your hair and you laugh, not even bothering to glance in the direction of the judgmental moms and teachers.

Joel Miller had a talent of making you feel like the only person in the room.

The song ends and you feel out of breath just from being this close to him. You step away from him and smile softly, “I gotta run to the restroom. I’ll be back.”

His eyes sweep over you, then he nods, “Okay.”

“What?” you grin. “No dad joke about not falling in?”

“I’m classy Joel tonight,” he chuckles. “No bathroom jokes.”

You shake your head with a laugh as you walk back towards the restrooms. Stepping inside, you move to stand in front of the mirror and grab your lipstick from your bag, fixing up your makeup. You try to calm your nerves, hands shaking when you bring the golden tube to your lips.

After taking a deep breath, your mind begins to wander about how his hands felt on your skin and how he thinks you’re pretty. The thoughts fill your head and litter your skin with goosebumps.

You don’t usually like being the center of attention, but with Joel around you, it was hard not to be. And you couldn’t say you minded it.

A few other women walk through the door and you recognize them to be Bethany, Sarah’s rude math teacher, Cara, a mom who gives you trouble constantly, and Kristina, another mom who thinks Joel is hot and constantly asks Sarah questions about him.

“Hey, y/n!” Bethany draws out in a sing-song, forced way that sends a chill through your body. “Saw you out dancing with Mr. Miller. Ain’t y’all cute?”

You look at her blankly in your reflection and she clears her throat.

“Adorable,” Cara’s shark eyes roam you over in the mirror, making you feel small as you fix your foundation. You don’t let it show though, you weren’t going to give them the satisfaction.

“Such a shame about Joel’s wife,” Kristina hums, putting on her own bright pink lipstick. “Wonder if he’s still looking for a stepmom for sweet little Sarah.”

The three of them laugh together and you feel your blood pressure quickly rise. Three wild vultures circling a carcass, kicking it while it’s down.

“Can we not tonight, ladies?” you turn around to look at them. “Let’s just forget this and have fun.”

“What do you mean, dear? This is fun,” Bethany blinks her stark, blue eyes, red lips curling. “This must be a lot for her though, girls. She’s probably having a rough time considering what happened to her.”

You freeze.

“Oh yeah...” Cara finishes her makeup and frowns at you. “I remember hearing your fiancee passed away before you came here, how sad.”

Your blood runs cold, sirens going off in your head, and a pounding begins in your skull. No one’s brought up Rick since you’ve gotten here, you’ve dodged the questions from the nosy parents, the gossiping neighbors, and the rude coworkers. You don’t know how they figured it out, and now you feel it, being back in the car with Rick the night that it happened.

Joel and Sarah didn’t even know, you had pushed it to the back of your mind so you would never find it again. Now it’s coming back like a wave, full force, and pulling you under the current until you’re drowning.

“Then you moved here to Austin in July,” Kristina slits her eyes at you and cocks her head to the side. “Now you’re trying to get back out there with Joel, huh? Like you’d really have a chance with him.”

She looks in your direction and it’s as if she sees right through you, past your carefully created facade and into your core, that sad, broken girl with no family left and nowhere to go.

Your eyes fill with hot tears, you want to run away, but you can’t move. You’re frozen, feet glued to the linoleum tile.

“I knew Rick... your fiancee,” Bethany says. “He was so sweet. We went to college together.”

“So sweet,” Cara looks at you and flashes another sickly sweet smile.

You inhale sharply, tears falling down your face. You hastily wipe it away, “I... I gotta go.”

You grab your purse off the counter and rush out of the door, slamming into a hard chest and a pair of hands that fly to catch you by the waist.

Joel stares down at you, grounding you, and your eyes begin to brim with tears, “What’s wrong, sugar? What happened?”

The words tumble out of you, wiping away the tears that slip out while you ramble on, “Nothing, I just... the women in there, they’re horrible, they hate me, and they make me feel like shit. They brought up Rick and they think you’re hot and they think we’re dating and I just wanna go. I’m just gonna go home-”

He looks over your head at three women leaving the bathroom, waving in his direction.

Joel looks back down at you before tucking his fingers into the straps of your dress and pulling you into a searing kiss. Your inhale sharply when his soft lips meet yours, and your hands grip onto his flannel shirt, sighing into his mouth. He slips his hands up to the back of your neck, tilting your face up to kiss you more completely, unraveling you in his capable hands.

Bethany stares at you wide eyed, getting the other girls attention, all jaws dropped in utter shock at the image before them.

His tongue dances with yours as he moves his lips expertly, his thumb gently rubbing against your cheekbone as he coaxes your lips open. He hums small praises while tracing shapes into your skin. You let a small noise slip past you, unable to contain how good he’s making you feel, swallowing your sadness and helping you breathe again.

He groans as he forces himself to pull away from you, struggling not to kiss you again. Forgetting you’re not alone.

Joel’s hands slip down to rest on your shoulders, lips flushed and swollen from the kiss, voice gravelly, “I hate terrible people.”

You look at him, mouth parted, lipstick probably smudged. He licks his lips before glaring at back at the women before they scoff and walk away, muttering under their breath.

Neither of you get the time to speak of it before Sarah is running down the hallway, after hearing the commotion. You and Joel split apart when she comes up, and she’s smiling widely.

“Kelsey asked if I could sleepover, can I go get my stuff at the house and go to her place? Pretty please,” she begs her dad, clasping her hands together.

He tears his eyes away from you and nods, smiling, “Yeah, that’s fine. We’ll head home and I’ll walk you there.”

Sarah grins happily before looking up at you. “Everything okay, y/n?”

You force a smile and fix a flower falling out of her hair, “Yeah, I’m good. And I think I’m ready to go, too.”

“Do you need a ride?” Joel asks. “I know you walked here cause we all live so close, but I don’t want you walkin’ home in the dark. Also Sarah’s got control of the radio on the way back,” he offers you a grin. “She’s got good taste.”

“We’re listening to 80′s hits,” Sarah nods, taking her job very seriously.

You nod, feeling better just by being near the two of them. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

~~~

“Head Over Heels” by Tears For Fears is blaring through Joel’s truck and you’re humming under your breath while Sarah is screaming it in the backseat. Joel laughs at his daughter in the rearview mirror.

Grieving your boyfriend’s death has been something you’ve pushed aside for a long time. You knew these women could be catty, but you never thought they’d be downright cruel to you, bringing up Rick the way they did. Looking out the window, you think back to the moment you felt frozen in that bathroom, unable to speak or move. You feel embarrassed for not standing up for yourself, blaming yourself instead of them and their hateful words.

Joel notices your faraway expression and rests his hand on your thigh in a way so Sarah can’t see. He rubs his thumb over your bare skin and it both calms and excites you, heat rushing to the apex of your legs.

You let out a small sigh and lean back into the chair, resting your hand on top of his. He has to rip his eyes off of you, willing himself to ignore your pleased exhales if he was going to drive properly.

He pulls the car into the driveway one-handed and comes to a stop, turning around to talk to Sarah, “Go grab your stuff, chick, and we’ll go to Kelsey’s.”

She nods and hops out, running towards the house.

Joel turns to you, hand still on your leg, clearly nervous, “Do you want... do you want to come inside? I have wine and some clothes you can put on, if you want something more comfortable.”

You search his set features for confirmation, “You sure? I can just walk next door to my house, I don’t wanna put you out-”

“Y/n...” he stops you. “You should know by now that if I say something I mean it, I promise you.”

You didn’t know if it was a good idea being with him alone like this, but you honestly didn’t want to be by yourself right now.

You relent with a nod, “Alright. You had your chance to change your mind,” you flash a sneaky smile.

The two of you step out of the car and head into his house. Sarah’s already tumbling down the stairs, changed into pajamas with a packed bag slung over her shoulder, “Ready to go when you are.”

“Damn, you got ready fast, kid,” he laughs despite himself. “Let’s go.”

Sarah runs up and hugs your side, “Bye, y/n!”

“Have fun with Kelsey, be safe, okay?” you squeeze her shoulder.

Joel whispers to you as they walk to the door, “There’s shirts upstairs and some shorts you can borrow. Make yourself at home, okay?”

“Okay,” you smile softly.

They head out and leave you alone in the dimly lit house. You exhale slowly and head up the stairs to go to his room. You look around at the messy bedroom, one king size bed with blue covers, and minimal decorations. It felt like him, smelled like him, cedar and oak and smoke. You open one of his drawers to grab one of his big tee shirts from work, and a pair of baggy gym shorts.

You slip out of your dress, let down your hair, and set your red shawl down on top of it. You tug on the big tee shirt and pull on the gym shorts. As much as you had liked that dress, you feel like you can finally breathe now, much more comfortable in your sleepwear now. The clothes smelled of him, too, and it filled your chest with heat, a red glow pouring out of you.

You’re in Joel Millers room... wearing his clothes.

You can’t help but look around at the photos of Sarah and him in framed photos, some hung on the wall and others propped up on his drawers. There’s one photo that catches your eye in particular, though, the side of it folded in and tucked into the frame. It’s Joel smiling down at Sarah, just a baby in his arms, and there’s a part of the photograph hidden. But you spot a glimpse of a yellow dress in the corner, the rest of it hidden away.

You wonder if it’s Sarah’s mom. You don’t know much about her, just that Sarah says she never got to know her, and hardly remembers anything about her. It broke your heart hearing that, wishing she could have, but also selfishly wanting to be that person for her.

“Found what you needed?”

You jump at Joel’s sudden presence in the room and turn around to him. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop, I-”

He smirks and it feels like a lit match to your insides, “I know, darlin. Nothing to be sorry about.”

His eyes trail over you in his clothes, your arms folded under your chest, “You look good in my clothes, sweetheart. Better than I do, that’s for sure.”

You smile, “Thank you. And thanks for letting me borrow them. I feel better.”

He pinches his brow together, “Do you want to talk to me more about what happened? We don’t have to, but just know I’m here.”

You take a step towards him, “I know, I just haven’t talked about him in a long time.”

“Him?” his eyebrows raise.

You laugh at his shock, moving past him so he follows you downstairs, “Down, boy. I’m single, wouldn’t have let you kiss me if I wasn’t.”

He blushes. “Well, then, what about him?” he trails behind you to his kitchen. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

You love his Texan drawl and voice a bit too much, how deep and molasses like it was, how it coated you in sweetness and didn’t let up. Maybe it was because you weren’t from here and you weren’t used to it. But his was different and it affected you all the same.

“I might tell you,” you hop up on the countertop. “Over a glass of wine.”

Joel cracks a smile, happily obliging your request with one of his wine bottles, “I can do that.”

He pours you a glass of red and hands it to you, “So... who’s Rick?” He sips his own.

“My um... my ex fiancee,” you say, taking a long sip of your wine. “It feels weird calling him that...” you let out a dark laugh. “-since the two of us never ended it ourselves, it sounds wrong. But he uh-” your voice gets thick. “He died the beginning of last year.”

His face falls, genuinely on your behalf, wanting to wrap you in his arms, but also wanting to let you continue, “I’m so sorry, y/n.”

You’ve heard that more times than you can count from friends, family, and strangers alike, but from him, it’s one of the most sincere you’ve ever heard. You actually believe he truly cares and you wonder why you didn’t tell him sooner, maybe worried you’d scare him off. You wanted a fresh start in a place where no one knew Rick, where no one knew what happened.

“Thank you,” you sniff, mustering up a small, grateful smile before you continue. “It was New Year’s Eve. I didn’t know he had been drinking... he really seemed fine,” you recount like it was just yesterday that it happened.

“He didn’t see the ice on the roads,” you take another long sip, hands shaking again. You clear your throat, “I tried to help him, I thought we would be fine. But there was a bridge... and we went off. He got me out,” you blink the tears away, breathing out the words as if expelling them from your person. Like you wouldn’t have to hold onto them anymore. “He didn’t.”

“I’m alive because of him,” you inhale sharply, finally looking at Joel. “And he’s dead because I didn’t notice...”

He frowns, “It is absolutely not your fault, y/n. It’s a horrible thing that happened and it is not because of you.”

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and it breaks Joel’s heart a bit more and more, “I haven’t thought about it in so long. And they brought him up in the bathroom. I don’t know how they found out, I haven’t told a soul here.”

Protectiveness slips into his deep tone of voice as he steps towards you, it sends a shock through you, “What did they say about him?”

You shake your head, letting out a laugh, “It’s not important.”

“It is absolutely fucking important,” his eyes darken when he speaks to you, you’d never seen him so worked up before. “I’ll go to the damn superintendent if I have to, they’re grown ass adults. They shouldn’t use the death of your fiancee against you.”

You can’t help but let a smile slip through, “It’s cute how mad you are about this.”

He scoffs, mirroring your amused expression, “Believe me, I’ve dealt with the wolves before. They ask you inappropriate questions and dig into your personal life, pushing your boundaries like it’s nothing. No one can have any secrets around here.”

“Yeah,” you sniff. “I noticed that.”

There’s a beat of silence before he sighs and says quietly between the two of you, “When they found out about Sarah’s mom leaving her when she was a baby, they brought it up to her at a school picnic. Made her feel small. She ran home, crying her eyes out. I’d never seen her so upset. I was scared what I would do. It broke me.”

You nod in understanding, “That’s awful, Joel. I’m sorry. For you and for Sarah.”

“The next time they brought it up, Sarah asked Bethany why she’d been divorced six times. You should have seen the look on her face,” he laughs and you join him, throwing your head back at the mental image of Bethany’s pinched, angry face.

“Oh my god, I love Sarah so much,” you let your head fall into your hands, still laughing loudly in the otherwise silent kitchen.

“I was very proud,” he grinned.

“I’d hope so,” you tilt your head slightly. “She gets it from you. I wonder how she got that information about Bethany.”

“Beats me,” he smirks and you narrow your eyes affectionately in his direction. “Smart kid, that one.”

The two of you let the moment sink in for a bit in the silence. Joel’s standing between your legs now, hands on either side of your thigh, steadying himself. He searches your face like he did at the start of the evening, fingers itching to touch you again.

“Should we...” you finally say, pulling you both back into reality. “Should we talk about the kiss back there?”

“What’s there to talk about about?”

You frown, filling with a sense of dread that you’ve misread this entire night, “What do you mean?”

He jumps to fix what he said, hands falling to splay out on your thighs, “No, baby, wait not like that-” he sighs. “Shit, I’m sorry, I’m out of practice with this, sweetheart-”

You press a kiss to his lips, causing him to abruptly cease his rambling. You tilt your head and pull away from hm after just a couple seconds. He leans against you even after you’re away from him, lips trying to follow you.

“I just meant...” you whisper with a small smile, looking up at him through your lashes. “Like what does this mean? Because I haven’t done something like this since Rick and I’m trying not to feel guilty...”

“Guilty bout what?”

“For moving on.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty for that,” he shakes his head, lowering his voice. “I understand if you’re not ready though. It took me awhile, to open again, I still haven’t completely... But I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you. And I know I’ve never met Rick, but I believe he’d want you to be happy. With whoever, even if it’s not me.”

Your heart cracks open at the sweetness of his words, splitting you in two right in front of him. You know you shouldn’t feel bad, even if you’ve moved on from loving Rick, a part of you will always mourn and have a place in your heart for him. You needed to realize there was more than enough room to let other people in too.

Your eyes soften, “You’re more out of practice than I thought if you think I’ve moved on with anyone else but you, Joel Miller.”

His eyes darken with something like raw desire and complete adoration, something like love that you haven’t seen in a long, long time. You don’t know if he’s been looking at you like this all along and if you’ve just now begun to notice.

Joel leans down to whisper to you, hand on your neck, thumb tucked under chin and other fingers on the side of your throat, squeezing just so. You dreamed of this, thought if he would be rough or sweet, when he was really a stunning, swirling mix of both.

“You were so jealous earlier,” his voice is wrecked in your ear, low and gravelly. “I thought I was just imagining it at first, but talking about those moms that think of me, you got so red. It was so sexy, sweetheart.”

You gasp a little, wanting to deny it, tease him. But who were you both kidding? You were jealous, and now there’s a warm satisfaction in the center of your chest at the fact they were wrong. Singing insults, saying he wouldn’t want you. Now you’re in his kitchen in the middle of the night wearing his shirt and he’s in between your legs, pressing against you.

“They said I didn’t have a chance with you,” you tangle you hands in his shirt, tugging him closer.

He shakes his head, eyes never leaving you, “I’m only yours, baby. Always have been.”

You all but pounce on him in that moment, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him close. He laughs just before you softly press your lips against his, the rumbling, beautiful sound vibrating against you. You’re tugging at each other almost immediately, his hands pulling and sliding up and down your waist while your arms wrap around his head. You fingers slide through his brunette curls, pleasantly humming at the satisfaction of knowing his hair is just as soft as you imagined, how even his rough hands feel gentle, and how his lips move with yours, slowly, languidly, painfully.

“You’re beautiful...” he kisses the words into your neck, repeating it over and over. “My beautiful, beautiful, girl.”

“Joel...” you sigh out and tilt your head back.

“Puts your arms around my neck, baby,” he whispers, arms pulling your legs up so they wrap around his torso. “What I want to do to you won’t work exactly on my kitchen counter.”

You quickly oblige him and he carries you up his stairs, your hands and lips never leaving each others. He stumbles while holding you, making you giggle into his shoulder, shrieking when he almost drops you.

“Was this the kind of lifting you had in mind with me tonight?” you smile softly into his skin.

He kicks open his bedroom door, “I’ve always had this in my mind, sweetheart.”

You both drop onto the bed, wanting to take this slow but also get to what you’ve both been wanting as soon as possible. He’s atop you, hands on either side of your head while you kiss like college students, handsy and messy and surprisingly amazing. How fast you two fit together, how good it feels. He grinds his lower half into yours. You moan into his mouth, earning one from him, both enjoying and exploring the other.

“I wanna taste you, sugar,” he lifts your chin up with his fingers, kissing down your chin then your neck then your collarbone and chest.

You wordlessly slip off your, his, shirt revealing that you have nothing on beneath it. He inhales sharply, taken aback by you. Your fingers scramble for the buttons of his flannel and you honestly think you break a few, moving so quickly.

“Impatient, are we?”

You look up at him through your lashes, “Just know what I want.”

Joel shrugs off his shirt, undoes his belt, and pulls off his jeans. You barely have time to admire his toned body, broad shoulders before he descends. He tugs off your, his, shorts, tosses them, and kisses everywhere his fingers leave, wet, open mouthed whispers against hot skin that make moisture pool between your thighs. His lips trail from your belly to your inner thighs and back up again.

“Nothing underneath?” he kisses the soft flesh, noting the slick at the apex of your legs. “This all for me, darlin?”

You nod when he licks a stripe up your cunt, “Only you, Joel.”

He buries his face in you, eating you out like a man starved, rutting against the bed like he’s enjoying it as much as you are. You all but scream at the way he’s unraveling you with his tongue, circling your clit, accompanying his skilled mouth with his equally capable fingers, bigger than yours

When you tug at the ends of his hair, he groans into you, the noises fueling the coil in your gut, begging it to splinter and snap. He sucks hard and you let out a loud moan at the feeling. He holds you down against the bed with a palm flat against your stomach as you begin to lift your pelvis. Joel’s tongue enters you while his fingers take over, stimulating you with gentle rubs and flicks.

Your orgasm washes over you, the pressure relieving through every nerve and vessel, his name a prayer leaving you over and over. Wishing for him to come fix you again.

You pull him up to you and bring him down to press your lips against his. He melts into you, arms wrapped around you while he holds you close, filling you out in all the right places while you taste yourself in his kiss.

“Can I...?” you ask him, hands slipping down to palm him through his boxers.

He groans, head falling into the crook that meets between your neck and shoulder, “As much as I would enjoy that, baby... we’re gonna need to do that later. Need to be inside you.”

You look at him for a moment, just breathing him in as cheesy as it sounds. It’s only hit you now how much you’ve been longing for this.

“You have all of me,” you tell him, moonlight sculpting his handsome features.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that, y/n...” your name is blanketed by his voice, delivered to you in the way Zeus gives the world lightning. Simple bursts of electricity that can tear the earth.

You hold his stubbled jaw in your hands, rubbing his cheek with your thumbs. He doesn’t remember a time anyone has ever looked at him like you do, gently, adoringly, openly.

Joel puts his lips near your ear, kissing your temple, “Are you ready for me, sweetheart?”

You nod as he pushes himself inside you and you bite back a moan into his shoulder.

Your hair is in messy tendrils in every which way and you’ve never been more breathtaking to him. The color of your eyes brighter, skin flushed with warmth, and lips puffy. His eyes scan over your face, committing your soft and sharp features alike to memory. Lust blown and glowing with dewy sweat.

“Eyes on me, beautiful,” he holds your jaw in his hand, kissing you again.

He quickens his pace and you whine into his mouth, nails digging into his skin. You wrap your legs around his torso and he hits you so nicely. He rises and looks at you, lips swollen and red from kissing, eyes clear and pupils large, and face flushed with heat.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he praises in your ear, littering kisses across your jaw. “Wanted you for so long...” he find your lips again with his own.

You mewl into his lips, licking his tongue as he pushes inside you again and again and again.

This past year of stolen glances and touches seem so pointless when it could have been this, this beautiful mess of limbs and lips and tongue. You never knew euphoria until this moment.

Joel’s hips begin to stutter and you’re both already close to release. You lick up his throat and kiss a constellation across his jaw, feeling him gulp under your touch.

“Keep kissing me like that, sugar, and I’m done for.”

You can’t help yourself, overwhelmed with feeling as the two of you reach your climax together. Blissful and stupid. His lips wander down your neck and nipping that sweet spot, as you arch into him.

You whimper and his movements slow as do yours, walls tightening around him. He reaches down and rubs your clit with his expert fingers.

You finish together, mouths open and hands all over each other’s bodies. It overcomes you in a tingling, perfect sensation, continuing on in euphoric waves, leaving you aching and wanting more. He kisses you through it and it aches, all of the love you have pouring into him and him into you.

As you both lay there, chests heaving slips parted, he smiles down at you.

“Will you go out… with me?” Joel says sweetly, kissing your temples. “That usually comes first but we- I…”

You interrupt his nervous ramblings with a soft kiss, “The answer is always yes.”

You interrupt his nervous ramblings with a press of your lips quietly, “Yes. The answer is always yes.”

Joel rubs his knuckles over your cheek, softly and adoringly he looks at you. You tuck yourself into his arms under the blankets. Your chests heaving, out of breath but happy. Everything you both have wanted for a long, long time, laying right in front of each other.

“Can I...” he searches your face, face red and nervous you’ll say no even when you’re in his arms. “Can I take you out tomorrow? I usually do that before this, but we just... I-”

You interrupt with a kiss, his new favorite thing, whispering, “Yes, Joel. The answer is always yes.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal joel miller #fanfiction #smut #bella ramsey #ellie the last of us #ellie

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fure-dcmk · 2 months

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FINALLY WATCHED THE MOVIE first impression rambling >>>

[MILLION DOLLAR PENTAGRAM SPOILER WARNING]

HEIJI WAS SOOOOO COOL. HANDSOME. TERRIFIC. the first 20 minute is just me losing my mind from all the heiji details

>> heiji and kid bantering about fairy lips in the intro. kid going your fault for not noticing hmmp! <- huh? are you a tsundere heroine

>> HEIJI ORIGINAL DUFFLE BAG!!! CAMEO-ING IN 2024!!!

>> 4 new outfit from heiji that fits him so well... handsome guy

>> a fairy lip redraw. i died

how the hell did heiji brought his bike with him all the way in HOKKAIDO. you can almost way osaka to tokyo is only half of the travel to hokkaido how many day trip would it take to reach that far. also a jp tweet i read once brought to question how a high schooler was able to use the high way. did he brought kazuha with her in this extreme trip? with the excuse that he's going for a kendo tournament... when his bigger agenda is to confess. everything about the bike being there doesn't make sense but i give it a pass for being cool 😁👍

and the heikazu scene.,.. i came there fully expecting to not care at all but they actually made me invested. ran was SOOOO CUTE her excitement directly influenced me to also want to see heiji succeed. heiji asking if the legendary 100 million night view is better than big ben and ran agreeing just to placate him for the sake of her otp 😭

THE STUN GRENADE! the fact that kazuha immediate reaction is to protect heiji ears.... her self sacrificial nature a call back to mermaid island in the most subtle way 🥹🥹🥹 heiji shocked eyes was so cute. and heiji confession speech isnt cringe and is actually cute! shocker! (sorry trauma from heart anniversary lines its so awful im dnfuebdjfjf) devastated such an ideal confession scene was wasted. but its from kazuha trying to save heiji SO FORGIVEN

need to make sure ppl know im a momiji enjoyer. all her faults are forgiven purely cuz she is funny. let a rich girl be delulu !

also loove how they keep cannonizing her keen hearing from m21 THIS IS THE APPEAL OF KAZUHA THEY GET IT

touichi gifting a lost national treasure to his little brother yuusaku for winning the macademy award, as well as keeping in touch with him and gifting various trinkets.... meanwhile keeping his own son completely in the dark that he's alive this entire time...

conclusion 1: worst parent award goes to kuroba touichi 🥳🥳🥳

conclusion 2: ah he's definitely a brocon huh

kills me that everyone is dejected that the katana with the star shaped guard is a lost treasure. meanwhile its quitely sitting in kudo yuusaku's store room cuz his big brother gifted it to him LIKE SDJDJFF!? turning your justice leaning lil bro into an accomplices. the gag potential here is so made for me

shoutout to sonoko who took up haibara's usual information provider role. every scene with her was animated so cutely IM SHOCKED m27 doing excellent job at showing off her cuteness. there is a fun parallel to think about, sonoko was the first person heiji went to to get information on kudo's whereabout, and now heiji is also going to her for information ♥️ heiji-sonoko friendship crumb thank you for the food

this movie really play a lot with the crumbs from kendo school tournament arc. heiji-ran friendship makes me want to cry, ran efficiently karate chopping hijiri to make sure theres no distractions for heikazu 🥺😭 ive been convinced on okita's cuteness the past 3 month cuz if the okita fanart boom in my corner of jp twitter but watching it for myself... he really have it bad for heiji LMAO wdym "it's boring if hattori ain't here~" how much did you say this for kaitou kid to catch that its a good trait for an okita disguise. im glad this movie give a good balance of real okita and fake okita, m10 still makes me so sad for having ZERO real hakuba 🥲 kid's dosu e~ is so moeblob

ah i still got so many word vomit on this movie it seems to be never ending 😭😭

my final review of the movie is this is my no 1 fav conan movie of all time, 2nd place is bride of halloween. i still havent rank anything below that properly. im truly entertained by this movie it got so many characters i care about with a lot of bombastic scenes. as much as i want to say my ultimate fav is m7 and m21, both of them are kinda... slow with all the deduction talk. im here for eye candy after all 😔 mixing kid's energy is doing wonders for the tone of a heiji movie. heiji's presence is also doing wonders for KID as well cuz gosh!!! KID has never emit this much childlike moe blob energy. heiji and conan being the straight man to kid's prank is the dynamic really help to emphasize his whimsical energy

and the final theme i caught; parallelism where hijiri is willing to do anything to protect his father's legacy only for us to find that its all for naught.... now why does this sound familiar 🤔🤔🤔

rewatching the movie tomorrow so ill probably do another ramble on it

#m27 spoilers #million dollar pentagram #100万ドルの五稜星 #personal

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airaibunny · 1 year

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sana x reader - “finally” (“she's better” pt 2) (warnings: smut, angst, arguing, oral, fingering, scissoring[idk if there's a classier word], breast play, praise)

a/n: by popular request, here is the part two to "she's better." this took me so long, i didn't know what direction to take it in. hopefully you guys like the finished result! also, i didn’t include dom+indicators because it switches in the middle!

word count: 1.8k

you wake up to the feeling of warm sunlight on your face. after adjusting your eyes to the brightness, you notice sana is still in bed, hugging you as she sleeps. she would normally be gone by the time you wake up, but you’re glad she’s not.

last night was definitely different, it didn’t feel like the normal ‘just sex.’ you didn’t want to ask sana about it last night, it felt too soon. you’re hoping to talk to her about it today, maybe your relationship could become something more.

“good morning!”

you excitedly remark when you see sana is awake. you turn to hug her, burying your face in her chest.

“morning.”

she turns around, getting out of bed. you’re slightly taken aback by her response, but just brush it off because you’re both barely awake.

“so, last night was…new.”

she stretches, standing up and getting her clothes.

“mhm. i’m going to get ready, see you later.”

she gives you a half smile and walks outside. you sit in bed, confused at whatever just happened. she kissed you last night, she didn’t act like it was another causal hook-up, why was she suddenly being so cold?

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t somewhat angry at her right now, is she just playing with you?

you decide to just forget about it for now, maybe she’ll act differently later. for now, you just get ready for the day. with promotions finished, there’s not much to do until the end of your schedule, so you have the day off again.

you go outside to find everyone at the table, eating breakfast. you take a spot right next to sana, smiling at her. she halfheartedly smiles back and you lean in to whisper in her ear.

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing’s wrong.”

she joins in on the conversation at the table and completely forgets you’re there. why is she back to normal? you thought after last night she’d finally ask to be your girlfriend or at least confess her feelings for you, but maybe you got the wrong idea. maybe sana doesn’t like girls, you got too excited over nothing.

“hey, im sorry about the nayeon thing last night. we all talked about it when you went to your bedroom and realized we took it too far.”

chaeyoung puts her hand on your arm as she apologizes, you tell her it’s fine and everyone continues on with their discussion. you go back to thinking about sana, you genuinely can’t stop. why did she string you along like that? there’s no way she didn’t know what she was doing.

you sit through the rest of breakfast choking back tears. it’s really so foolish of you to be upset over this. sana hasn’t budged in months, why would that change now? as soon as everyone is done eating, you storm off to your room.

you stand there, silently crying and cursing yourself for getting your hopes up. you suddenly hear the door open and look back to see sana. you wipe your tears, putting your hands on your hips.

“hey.”

sana walks closer to you, noticing how red your face is. “hey. you okay?” she brushes your cheek with her finger and cups your face.

“yes. why’d you follow me?”

“well, you came into your room and it’s the middle of the day…”

you roll your eyes and take her hand off of your face. you can’t believe her right now.

“and what? that means i’m ready for you to fuck me?”

she stands silent for a second, looking puzzled “doesn’t it?” you huff in disbelief. “you’re unbelievable sana.”

she’s still staring at you quite baffled at whatever is happening. you’re growing angrier at the fact that she doesn’t immediately know why you’re acting like this.

“i don’t understand.” she crosses her arms, furrowing her eyebrows at you.

“of course you don’t, because i’m just a fun toy for you. you play with me when you’re bored, and ignore me when you’re not.” the words choke in your throat. you can feel yourself about to cry, but you can’t, you can’t show her how truly upset you are.

“what are you talking about? i thought we were both on the same page about this relationship.” your mouth opens in shock. “what relationship sana? we don’t have a relationship, you don’t want a relationship.” you feel a tear stream down your cheek and wipe it away.

“what? you’re the one who doesn’t want a relationship. you’ve never acted like you liked me in the slightest.”

sana walks closer to you. her eyes look glossy, like she’s about to cry.

“sana, when this started, you told me you didn’t like girls. you’re also not one for sticking around.”

“well, you said the same thing.” her eyes fill with tears, but she wipes them away before they fall down. “what was i supposed to say? ‘oh well, i do’ no, sana, i liked you. i still like you. i wanted to have something with you, and this was the only thing you were willing to give me.”

you’re sobbing as your speak, your voice breaking in between sentences. sana walks closer to you, holding your face in her hands. she lifts it up to kiss you, wiping away most of your tears.

“i’m sorry. i only said all of that because i didn’t know how you would react. i know that’s stupid, i should have told you how i really felt.” she kisses you again “i like you…“ she’s stops for second, thinking about her next words. “i love you, i love you so much.”

you hug her tightly, crying into her shirt for a few seconds.

finally.

after so many years being completely whipped for minatozaki sana, you finally know she feels the same way. you heart wants to jump out of your chest with excitement. she wasn’t stringing you along, she felt the same way you did! you were just both terrified of saying what you felt.

“sana, i love you too.”

you kiss again, it feels so much different than it before. it feels primal, you’re fully enveloped in her. the kiss quickly becomes something else, her hands travel to your sides, tugging at your shirt.

“let me show you how sorry i am.”

she whispers against your lips, pulling your shirt off your body. you pull off your shorts and underwear as well, you want her all over you. you try pulling her shirt off as well, but she grabs your hands.

“no, i want this to be all about you.”

“well, what i want is your tits. please.”

you look at her with a pout, she gives you a wicked smile while pulling her shirt off and tossing it aside. you immediately wrap your hands around her breasts, connecting your lips with hers at the same time. she guides you to the bed while still kissing you and pushes you down on it.

“what do you want me to do first?”

she bends down; leaving slow, wet kisses on your neck.

“go down on me, please?” she looks up, smiling. “whatever you want, princess.”

she moves lower, her lips hovering over your skin, letting you feel her breath all the way down. she stops at your dripping core, turning her face to kiss your thigh. you would normally beg her to stop teasing you, but not today. today, you want her to kiss every inch of you.

she continues kissing you, leaving bruises and bite marks with her mouth all over your thighs. you’re dripping onto the sheets at this point, your body aches for some sort of friction. luckily, she’s done teasing you for now. you feel her tongue drag across your folds and slap a hand over your mouth to cover your moans.

she giggles at your reaction and you bring your other hand to her hair. her tongue moves up and down your core, earning low moans from you. she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks on it, fuck she’s so good.

“sana, feels good. please don’t stop.”

you look down at her, delighting in how pretty she looks. she’s still doing the same thing with her tongue, but you can now feel her fingers on your heat. she runs them across your entrance before forcing them in, making you cry out in pleasure.

with the added stimulation, you can feel yourself on the edge already. her fingers curl inside you as her tongue circles around your clit, both in perfect synchrony.

“fuck, sana-“

you finish while moaning her name, your lower body twitching. once she finishes completely cleaning you and her fingers off, she comes up for a kiss.

“you taste so good, princess.”

she gives you an inebriating smirk, bending down to kiss you again. “what now?”

“let me ride you.”

she stops kissing you, widening her eyes in shock.

“huh?”

“you heard me, let me…ride you.”

you push her down on the bed beside you and pull down her shorts, straddling her without waiting for a definitive answer. you push your hair to the side, lowering yourself to her neck. you use your hands to play with her breasts while using your lips to mark her, you want everyone to know she’s yours now.

“lift your leg.”

you order, feeling a sudden rush from being so dominant. she complies, lifting one of her legs over yours. you lower yourself, letting your folds come in direct contact with hers. you both moan and sit still for a second, getting adjusted to the new feeling.

“ready?” you ask down at her and she nods, so you start moving your hips. sana is instantly a whimpering mess, and so are you. you twitch a bit every time your clits rub against each other, she feels amazing. you notice a tear fall down her cheek and you’re surprised at how much that turns you on.

looking down at her in such a vulnerable state is exhilarating. you never thought you’d enjoy this so much, but all you want is to hear is her moaning and whimpering for you, because of you.

“does that feel good?”

she nods and you speed up, making you both grow louder. you know the members are outside but you can barely think about anything but her.

you’re both very close, you can see how flushed she is and how quickly her tears are coming. “you’re so pretty.” you whisper against her skin as you bend down to kiss her chest.

you feel your body tensing, about to reach your high. sana does before you however, squeezing your thigh. her release is all you need to hear before you come completely undone. you slow down, panting as you try to calm yourself.

you stare down at sana, smiling to yourself. she notices your smile once she opens her eyes and asks “are we done?”

“not by a long shot, i want to see you cry more.”

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updownlately · 1 year

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i'm the definition of 'wreck' (if you look into my soul)

| leah williamson x reader | angst | 2.4k | inspo: time by nf / everywhere by niall horan | a/n: i tried to write angst, no idea how that went but here's what i got. technically since no names were named you can imagine any player from the arsenal wfc as 'her' but i wrote this with leah in mind bc well im a lw6 simp

~~~

It's been like this for weeks. This push and pull. The little things that work just a little harder each time to knock you over the edge. To be honest you don’t know how much of it you can take. And what’s worse is you know you’ve got nobody but yourself to blame.

It’s when she’s leaving your shared bed early in the mornings, long before either of you need to be up. It’s the way she’d retire to bed later than she probably should, long after you’ve headed up, risking less sleep just to avoid contact.

It shouldn’t be like this. Love shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn't be missed date nights, keys grabbed after every fight, doors slammed, sometimes more nights a week spent at hotels than your own bed. Yet, it’s all you’ve ever known and the only thing you carry in your heart. This sad, broken, pathetic attempt at love is really all you have to offer.

In all honesty, you were shit at this relationship thing, though no one could blame you. They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree and yet you’ve begged and prayed that it would. And yeah you technically have control over your actions and should better yourself, but you’ve tried and failed over and over again. You’ve tried to improve, work on yourself, create a better version of you, but in the end, when everything’s burning and there’s napalm in the air and rubble all around you, all you’ll ever know is to grab your weapon, fire, and run.

It’s left you alone, failed relationship after failed relationship. You swear you’ve tried. Tried to work on communicating, on breathing deep breaths before your anger builds up, on talking about your fucking feelings. Regardless, it’s never enough for yourself. You run, you hide, you lock yourself away until there’s nothing to find.

So when weeks and months pass and you see her each day with the light finally returning to her eyes you can’t help but be glad that she got rid of you.

And when you feel so broken seeing her and her family after a game won at your home pitch, you quietly gather the shattered pieces of your heart and make your way toward the locker rooms with nobody but yourself to blame.

It's only as you pass the friends and family section that you can pick out her mother’s voice and your name being said in conversation, with a follow up question on how you’re doing, something you really don’t deserve after how you’ve treated her.

You’re very much aware that no matter how many times you fix your damaged heart and dull all the sharp edges, that you’ll still end up hurting those around you. So you speed up ever so slightly, shielding your already broken heart, cradling the pieces that had fallen ever so gently as they break further in your hands, careful not to cut anybody along the way. You swear you drop some pieces in your hurry, but with your rush you tell yourself you’d come back later to grab them (spoiler: you never do).

You end up showering and changing before anyone else has even made it back inside. Making a pit stop to confirm your departure and the following days’ schedules with your manager and coach, you check the time and head to your car.

It's late afternoon and while that helps expand your options for lunch, it also means you have one too many hours left in the day to survive before you can let yourself head to bed. Contemplating on how to spend the rest of your day, it’s your tiredness that makes the final decision.

You grab a quick lunch, choosing to not head home and instead to the gym for a workout. It may not be one of your wiser decisions to have an extensive training session today, but with the free time on your hand and the voices in your head, there’s really no better option.

Meeting up with your trainer, which by the way bless his heart for booking you at the last minute, you gather your gloves and handwrap and head towards the equipment. It’s as you run through your normal warm-up that you reflect on how pathetic your life’s become.

For the past three months, you’ve damn near ceased to exist. Yeah your body’s still here, you’re waking up in the mornings, attending practices, playing in games, all the good stuff really, but you know you’re not there. A feeling you’re all too familiar with. The lack of care of what happens to your body, the way your slide tackles and play gets just a tad bit more dangerous each game, the way you keep training, choosing to ignore the idea of a recovery period, the way your car’s more comforting to you than the apartment you own. You’ve been here before and it wasn’t a good place then and it sure as hell isn’t now, but it's all you know and the only thing that’s never really left, so you’ll cherish it for as long as you can. You know that if anything and everything leaves, as they always seem to do, you’ll still have your companion in the darkness.

The sane part of you realizes how far gone you are, it tries, tries so helplessly hard to pull you back, remind you that you can be okay, but this time? This time you’re sure you’ve given up on trying to remember that. So you’ll do what you know best. Let it consume you. Let it destroy you. Pick you apart piece by piece. Let you slowly forget the feel of a sunny day and a good practice with the team. Rid you of the joy that comes with the pretty sunsets London Colney sometimes has to offer. And this time you’ll let it all happen with open arms, truly, honestly, finally exhausted.

An hour later when your trainer’s calling it a day and forcing you to take a break, you listen, if only to spare yourself a lecture. You grab your stuff, shower, change, and head out. You’ve still got a couple hours left to kill, and with your training bag and boots still in your car, it’s not a difficult decision of where to go.

Opening your car door and entering, you can feel the day catch up to you, your body readily sinking into the driver's seat, almost protesting against your mind. You know you’ll be feeling these workouts tomorrow, but your mind’s not done racing yet.

Lacing your boots a short while later, back at the training grounds, you grab your spare ball and warm-up once again, going through the motions. With how many hours you’ve spent at the grounds alone, you’ve developed a pretty consistent solo training session. It's the peace of being alone, a football at your feet, and a near-perfect grassy pitch at your disposal that your mind slowly begins to slow, finally tiring.

You thought you got lucky, a finally tired mind and the hour changing to one acceptable enough for sleep, but then your phone rings, an all too familiar caller ID flashing the screen.

Eight pm after a match in the afternoon is an odd time for your coach to be calling you and with curiosity getting the best of you, you scramble to answer the phone. Running through the pleasantries, you gently prod the reason for his call.

The answer you get isn’t what you were expecting really, but then again, it was a miracle it had taken this long for it to be said.

“Your contract’s ending soon. wrapping up the third and headed into the final year. Any thoughts on your future?”

The tone in Jonas’ voice causes your heart to sink. This club had been home to you since you had left your own. Arsenal had accepted you with open arms from the start, being your saving grace when you had thought you were going to be subjected to living a broken life at a place that never felt like home. When they had renewed your initial two year contract into another four, you had been elated for your future. You had never felt more excited to be tied down to a place before. taking a silent deep breath, you push back the memories of that day and swallow your emotions effortlessly.

“Depends. What's my future at Arsenal looking like?”

“You tell me. You of all players know that chemistry in a team is what makes a team run, what makes a team successful.”

His response tells you everything you need to know. You know he wasn’t oblivious to what had happened. How your outgoing personality had slowly stopped being exactly that. The way that you had pulled away from your teammates, treating them like nothing more than colleagues rather than friends, treating your job as what it simply was, your job. But you never expected him to have let it impact your presence on the team. You knew what you were worth and what you brought to the table. You weren’t a goal scoring machine, or defensive unit, a tough protective wall. You were you. You played all your minutes like they were the last you’d ever play, heart left of the pitch (not that there was much left of it anyway). You were content with setting your teammates up, leading the league in assists. You were a decent tackler, winning more than two thirds of your face-offs on the regular. You knew your worth on the team, and your agent reminded you of it often enough too, mentioning the potential offers you could have from other clubs regardless of how many times you’d told him you didn’t plan to leave.

“Our on pitch chemistry hasn’t changed. My on pitch chemistry hasn’t changed. We’re still a unit on the field Jonas and you know it. You know I have the utmost respect for you and this club, don’t let me think any differently.”

“A handful of clubs have reached out. Their offers are tempting to say the least.”

As much as it hurt you to say the next few words, you knew that taking any other stance would leave you stuck, broken for the umpteenth time. “I trust you to make the best decision for the club. At the end of the day, I wish nothing but the best for Arsenal.”

The ‘with or without me’ goes unsaid but from the few years that you’ve worked with him, you knew for a fact that he had heard the unspoken words. As Jonas lets you know that while a decision had to be made, there wasn’t an immediate rush, you know for a fact that you’ll likely not be calling London home again. And when you both agree to reconnect a week from now, you’ve already accepted your fate.

It’s an unusually silent drive home for you. The brief break you had earlier from your mind is long gone as you make a mental note to get in touch with your agent first thing tomorrow morning.

The post goes up after your last match of the season. While Arsenal had qualified for the Champions League once again, the team had gotten knocked out in the semis for the tournament, ending their season a few days early. It’s between the break of club football and world cup prep that your departure is announced, with no real destination said. If you hadn’t known that London wasn’t home for you anymore, the lack of a response besides an occasional story about the post from a few of your teammates solidified it.

It's when Bayern upload their new signing post with you holding up your new jersey that the final nail in the coffin is hammered in. The way your move suddenly becomes real. The comments being said online. Speculation on why Arsenal decided to let you go despite your importance to their success. Why Bayern was who you chose. Why there was no lengthy farewell. The people were digging for any crumbs, any notions on why you may have left, but it was only you and your teammates that really knew, and you all chose to keep mum.

It’s with the acceptance that you’re leaving do you feel absolutely unwanted and lost. And while you’d felt lost in your life before, it had never been like this. Feeling lost was when you were younger and couldn’t find your mother while at the toy store and when you had gotten your first failing mark in school. Feeling lost was when you were asked to leave your childhood home after coming out, no idea where to go. It was when you still got night terrors from the fights that your parents used to have even when you thought you had healed. But being lost had never felt like this. It had never reminded you that you had lost the only good in your life. That the only family you had ever loved didn’t want you anymore. That you hurt all those around you, people you promised to protect and love. That you had a gaping hole in your chest from a gun that you had fired.

So as the weeks pass and the world cup comes and goes and you notice yourself slipping just a little more each day, you let it play out. You don’t know what your breaking point is but at this point you just don’t care enough to not find out, especially since you’ve got nobody to blame but yourself.

When you leave your bed early in the mornings, long before you need to be up just because sleep wasn’t coming to you and retire to bed later than you should just to avoid having to lay in a bed alone, you blame yourself. When you come home to an empty apartment in a new city, the loneliness amplified by the darkness you choose to adorn your apartment with, you have no one to turn to but yourself. And when you interact with your new teammates solely for work in fear of hurting them too, you remind yourself that you’re broken, only able to spread your misery rather than feel joy.

It never was supposed to be like this. Existing wasn’t supposed to be like this. But now it’s all you know and all you have. So when you wish you yourself could leave your body and soul behind, it wasn't hard to understand why she left you.

At the end of the day, when everything's done and gone, you at your core were a mess you didn't know how to control, a wreck of a soul, barely alive.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #woso fanfics #angst #arsenal wfc x reader #x reader #reader insert #my writing #fic #itdow #leah williamson

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darling-i-read-it · 1 year

Text

Reunion

Trevor Philips x fem!reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: smut, unprotected smut, gta5 story spoilers,

Author’s Note: I am very aware this is the randomest thing to post. I have been replaying gta5. I am in love with Trevor. He’s my best friend, he’s the funnest to play, and I need him (nefarious motives). I unironically have a part 2 to this I’ve half written where the reader and Trevor meet up with Michael so let me know if anyone is invested <3 This is partly inspired by me going into the strip club to go to the atm and then going batshit insane. i am no better than a man but it is never the women im objectifying.

Summary: The reader did the original heist with Brad, Michael and Trevor. Afterwards, when everyone got split up, Lester told the reader that both Trevor and Michael were dead. After the jewelry store the reader wonders if he was lying about both of them. The reunion is filled with anger and also long lasting tension.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

“You see him at all? After the incident?” Michael’s voice trailed off into a feign disinterest. Lester and him both knew; this is what the conversation had been leading up to. The conversation had dissipated away from the task at hand, casing the jewelry store. Neither of them seemed to care.

“I kept tabs on him for a while. Needed to know that he didn’t blame me,” Lester complained, reminding them both of the idicotic ways of their former friend.

“Yeah, where’d he go?” Michael questioned, trying to be nonchalant.

“North, south, east, west. Wherever there were liquor stores to turn over and hitchhikers to disappear.” There was a beat of silence as Michael climbed further up the roof to get a better vantage point. The words could have remained in the air, if Michael hadn’t pushed further.

“Where did they bury him?”

“They buried him? Not as far as I know.”

He wanted to ask. He knew he had to.

“You see her?”

Lester was glad Michael couldn’t see his face. It was a knowing look. Oh God, Michael wanted to talk about her again! Something so familiar that it didn’t even seem out of place, not even after everything.

“No. She left all together.”

“She still…she still around?”

“She’s alive if that’s what you’re asking. Moved, made a better life for herself. Better than he could’ve gaven her. Or you for that matter. Still got the bullet wound to prove she was there though. Physical therapy for months on that shoulder.”

Michael was hit with a sudden pang of nostalgia. He thought about the pandering, the vein attempts to make himself look better for you. The fight’s he and Trevor used to have all the time, arguments on who deserved you and who would get you. He had hoped you were oblivious. Now he wasn’t so sure he believed that.

“I told her he was dead.”

Michael paused on the roof, his movements only momentarily stunned.

“You feel bad about that?”

“It was the only thing to do. She would’ve found him. They would’ve found you. Bad for everyone.”

“And especially your cover.”

“Especially that.”

You were living a life where both he and Trevor were dead. You had moved on because it was the only thing you were able to do. He yearned to know what it could’ve been like if things hadn’t gone to hell. The danger was intoxicating but never as intoxicating as you.

He thought about Amanda. How she had never been you, how that’s the reason he was never able to love her the way he wanted. Clearly she had never loved him quite as much either, as was the case from her tennis performance. You were out there somewhere.

“I don’t wanna know,” he decided. If Lester told him even the smallest thing, a job, a marriage, a kid…he would go looking. He knew himself better than that.

“I wasn’t gonna tell you if you asked.”

Another short beat. He was almost to the highest vantage point.

“She deserved better than both of you. But you have to know she would’ve always chosen him.”

“There’s no need to hash up old shit okay? I was just asking to see who was still around. There’ll never be a better get away driver than her.” Even his deflection felt fake and vein. Lester saw right through it but decided to let it be. Michael thought of Franklin, diverging his thoughts. He could have him work, train him, mold him. He huffed as he got to the highest point.

“Now just to take a picture of the vent up there,” Lester said, evenly. The conversation was over. They wouldn’t talk about you or Trevor again today.

You were sitting at the small dining room table of your apartment. It was more of an island honestly but you called it the dining table because it was the best you could get. Los Santos was an expensive city and you were lucky to have found a place you could afford at all. Not that you weren’t doing well here.

The television was on to the news, though you weren’t necessarily paying attention. You poked at your mashed potatoes, proud of yourself for making anything tonight. You grabbed the remote with the intention of changing it to a shitty reality TV show when the screen shifted. ‘Breaking News’ painted the bottom of the television in red. A man was speaking but the volume was too low to hear it. You turned it up, out of sheer curiosity. You were reminded of a life before this one, a bang of guilt in your chest that you had desperately tried to get rid of.

Was it the guilt that brought the nostalgia forward? Or was it the way they reported it to be set up? Was it the cars, the hacking, the timing? Was it the sheer familiarity that made you sit forward? Or was it the fact that looked exactly like a Michael Townley job?

“You forget a thousand things everyday,” the witness said, shaken, “make this one of them.”

Your food was forgotten. Your face had gone blank with confusion.

“That motherfucker,” you muttered. The urge to throw something came back with his face in your head, the funeral you went to, the life you left. You saw his face on a big portrait and cried in front of it, wishing you had been faster. You left before ever seeing if anyone held a funeral for Trevor but now you wished you had stayed. What if you had spent all this time alone when they were out there, somewhere. What if Trevor was still alive?

The TV was now a ghost. It was now a time long forgotten. It was the bullet wound in your shoulder that now ached, something you hadn’t felt in a long while. That jewelry store was in Los Santos. It was here. Michael was here.

Lester told you him and Trevor were dead.

You searched for your phone. You didn’t have his number anymore, you couldn’t. He had changed it. He was too smart to keep the one he had years before. You recklessly searched anyway, knocking over the chair you were sitting in, tossing your pillows aside. Finally you grasped the phone in your hand, frantically searching in your contacts. His name remained, under L, and you called the number. It rang and rang and rang. You were already starting to think about how you would find him when the line picked up. Your breath caught.

“Y/N.”

“You fucker. You motherfucker. You fucking fucker.” You almost didn’t recognize the voice coming out of your mouth, you were so dedicated to the rage you felt. It was almost Trevor’s, almost the same cadence that you had picked up from him. It was amazing how fast all of that came back to you. How, just like that, you were her again. You weren’t her anymore, even when you took a turn too fast or knew the fastest routes out of an issue.

“What are you talking-”

“You know what I’m talking about,” you seethed. You failed to think about how he had kept the phone just for you, just in case you needed him one day. It didn’t even cross your mind that Lester had loved you too, that they all had. You were friends in the purest sense of the word. You were all each other's people. Now, you hadn’t heard or talked to Brad since he was arrested. Now you were a different person.

Lester was laying low but he still answered your call.

“I don’t know-”

“Is he dead?” You couldn’t say his name.

“Michael? “

“No.”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you.” There was a bitterness in your voice you almost didn’t recognize. Her, her, her. When did you stop being her? “Lester tell me the fucking truth.”

“I don’t know. I used to follow him but there was no use.”

“What do you mean you used to follow him?” There was a long pause. Too long. “What do you mean?” You sat down slowly on the chair by your island. You grabbed the edge of the counter. Your knuckles were strained. “Did he live?”

Silence.

You were gonna kill Lester. You were gonna kill him and you were gonna enjoy it.

“Where did you see him last?”

“Sandy Shores. But that was ye-” You hung up the phone. You should’ve asked about Michael, you knew you should’ve. You wanted to but the anger was too much. If you saw Michael now, you’d kill him with your bare hands. Sandy Shores was not a large place. And you were a determined person.

Trevor looked in the mirror at the tattoo he had for Michael Townley, his dead best friend. His formally dead best friend. On his other arm was a tattoo for the only girl he had ever really loved. She was supposedly dead too.

He broke the mirror with a fist. His knuckles started to bleed from the glass cuts. He ignored it. Ron was standing in the doorway, shaking, leaning over. Trevor almost made a shitty joke about his posture but for some reason, he didn’t. He had already sent Wade to find Michael Townley but he had kept you to himself. He wanted to find you but he’d do that with his own two hands. No one else needed to know you were out there. If you were out there. A Townley job did not mean you were still alive. Just because Michael lived didn’t mean you had.

“What the fuck do you want Ron?”

“Sorry boss.” He moved out of the doorway, down the steps outside. He looked around eagerly, glancing back at Trevor but not holding eye contact too long. Trevor followed him outside and walked past him. “Bikers had been scoping out here while you were gone.”

“Did you tell them to fuck off?”

“No?”

“Well next time, tell em to fuck off!” Trevor approached his truck with the intention of going to the city himself to find Michael. Michael would know if you were alive.

Trevor thought about that time little. He thought about leaving his friend, about the bullets that flew past him, the moment he knew he would never see you again. He thought about the bullet wound in your shoulder, the one in him, the wounds that will never fully heal. A constant reminder of the near death experience he lived through and shouldn’t have. In drunken nights he always wished it had been you who was in his place. You would’ve made a life. Had you made a life? Had you done it without him?

He hopped in the truck. He needed more booze.

“Where ya going boss?” Ron questioned.

“Bar.” He started the engine. It rumbled to life underneath him and it was already hot from the heat. He turned his head to Ron. “Get lost Ron.”

Ron nodded eagerly, already starting to stumble away. Trevor needed to clear his head. He needed to cloud his head some. He pulled away, mentally going through the map closest to him. If he went to a strip club, he was extra sure not to think about anything else. But the better booze was always cheaper at just a bar. If he went all the way to the city he could search for Michael at the bottom of a bottle.

All of those options seemed like good options. He wanted to beat the shit out of somebody. He should probably stay in Sandy Shores to do that. But where’s the fun in doing what you’re probably supposed to do? He made a sharp turn, almost running over a girl crossing the street.

“Hey don’t you see I’m driving here!” he yelled, feeling better already knowing he had probably ruined someone's day with their near death experience.

“Watch where you’re fucking going! Jesus Christ, some people don’t know how to fucking drive,” you called, anger lacing your voice.

The cogs turned at the same time.

You were standing on the side of the road, in the dust of the truck. You stopped walking completely, replaying that voice in your head again like it was your favorite song. The familiarity ached at you. You knew it the second you heard it.

Trevor had gotten about half way down the road when he hit the brakes. Hard. He was in the middle of an intersection. People were honking at him but he just sat there, both hands on the wheels, eyes squinted in confusion.

With ease he put the car in reverse. Much to the dismay of the few drivers around him, he backed up. You were staring at the truck as it did so, not sure if you should laugh or cry or yell or have any reaction at all.

He stopped beside you, head turned. You stared at each other for a moment. Eyes so familiar it was like coming home after a long time away. Like the feeling of your own sheets but someone else had made the bed.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost sweetheart,” he hummed, his voice as cocky as it had always been. “Which can’t be true because if I remember, you’re my ghost.” Your lips parted. You approached the truck and he let you, wordlessly. You were in shock. You were stunned. There had to be a word for seeing a ghost from your past you thought was dead. You wrapped your fingers around the edge of the door.

“You motherfucker,” you whispered, in awe.

“I’m the motherfucker?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not the motherfucker.” You wanted to hit him. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to slash his car tires. You wanted to take him home.

“I thought you were dead. I mourned you, Trev.” The car behind him honked. Neither of you had even noticed they were there. You both turned and it was like you were possessed by your respective ghosts.

“Can’t you tell we’re having a fucking moment?!” Trevor yelled. They honked again. Trevor pulled out a handgun. You watched him wordlessly. He shot the window. He missed. The car quickly diverged around and was gone in the dust again. You opened up the car door, his gun still smoking. He watched you, eyes curious. He thought he had memorized your entire body but now that you were there in front of him he realized his memory had never done it justice. You shut the door behind you and turned to him. The hand with the gun was slung against the passenger seat.

“I need a drink,” you muttered. He chuckled lowly.

“My girl.” He started to move forward again. Closest bar would do, he decided.

Lester wasn’t sure if he should even tell Michael. It was probably for the best that none of them had any contact for a while after the robbery. He had set that rule himself. They would lay low, stay straight, stay away from each other. Still, after the phone call with you it seemed stupid to not let Michael know, in some capacity, that you were going to be looking for him. Maybe he was more worried about you finding Trevor and then dealing with the aftermath of the havoc the two of you could bring.

Lester stared at his phone. He could text Michael. He could call. He could drop a place to meet. He knew that his friend would come if he asked, ever the rulebreaker. If you and Trevor remerged together that would be bad for everyone. That was bad for this whole thing.

Lester finally picked up the phone. He decided a text would do.

She knows.

Michael picked up his phone. He had been desperately attempting to hide from his kids and Amanda. He was glad for it, honestly, that the life he had chosen had chosen him back. But when he saw the text from the number with no photo with it, his jaw tightened. He had told Lester he figured Trevor was dead but now a risk was going to have to be made. You were out there and you were either looking for him (which was bad) or Trevor (which was worse).

Trevor and you were better off thinking the other was dead. The world was better for it. The money, the people, the general crime rate were all better for it.

“I want the TV,” Tracey said, approaching him. Her voice was muffled. It was like he was hearing her from underwater. “Dad. Give me the remote.” He looked up at her then, eyes still wide from worry. She made no note of his mood. He handed her the remote. He stood up, grabbing his car keys from the side table.

“Where do you think you're going?” Amanda questioned when he ran into her in the hall. He didn’t come up with an excuse fast enough and the judgemental look in her eyes creeped in.

“Gonna try and find an old friend,” he admitted.

“Yeah? How old?” Amanda dripped in annoyance. Did he mean a stripper? Did he mean a criminal? Somehow she knew it would negatively affect her.

“Old.” He pushed past her. Amanda looked at him and knew there were only two options to that answer. Neither were good.

Michael opened his phone to Lester’s number.

Where?

You sat beside each other in a bar that wasn’t memorable, drinks in hand you didn’t know the name of. You sat as close to him as you could get, legs touching. You didn’t want to ever not be touching him again.

“I had no idea,” you told him. “Lester told me you died.”

“Fucker.”

“I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve got a bullet with his name on it.” You took a sip of your drink. He looked at you, watching eagerly. You looked different. Well, you looked the same, but the clothes you were wearing were different. You must’ve had some sort of office job that required clothes on you he had never seen before. You used to steal his shit all the time, when it was clean. “I’ve got seven bullets for Townley. I’m makin sure that motherfuckers dead this time.”

Trevor smiled.

“Fuck girl, I thought you bled out from that shoulder wound. I thought I left you there.”

“You did leave me.” He glared at you. You had told him to leave and he did, only after you begged. “Lester told me you were gunned down in the escape.”

“You saw the fucking jewelry-”

“Yup.” You shook your head. “Bold of him. Really bold.” You finished your glass. You pulled down your blouse at the shoulder, revealing the bullet wound scar. He put his hand on your shoulder. He hadn’t touched your skin since seeing you again. It made you shiver. He poked it, making you roll your eyes. “Don’t be a dick.”

“All I know how to be.”

He rubbed it with his thumb, shaking his head.

“Looks like it hurt.”

“Yeah well.” You put your sleeve back up.

“So you haven’t seen him?”

“Nope. Went to find you first.”

“I’ve always been your favorite,” he bragged. You rolled your eyes, a sly smile playing on your face. It was true. It had always been that way. “You got any leads?” You were more reliable than Wade.

“Lester know’s where he is. I was gonna pay him a visit anyway.” “Well there’s no time like the present,” he offered. You gave him a look. He couldn’t read it. People skills had never been something he was particularly good at. You tilted your head.

“You haven’t seen me in nine years and you wanna go find Michael right now?”

His eyes went wide.

“Nine years and she finally admits it.”

“You knew it then. Don’t pretend you didn’t.” He did remember it. He remembered all of it, every second of it. He leaned in.

“I’ve got a shitty trailer with a shitty bed.”

“That sounds like heaven right now Trev,” you said under your breath. He had been wanting to kiss your lips as long as he had known you. It took so much of him not to do it all the time when you saw each other regularly. After he thought you were dead, he regretted not doing it every chance he had.

You threw money at the bartender, too much he noted, and piled into his truck. Your lips were on each others before the car even stopped. You crawled over the middle of the truck, wondering if you would even make it to the bed, wondering if you even needed to.

Ron came rushing out of the front door, talking before he registered, “Boss the bik-” He stopped, literally putting a hand over his mouth. It wasn’t odd to find Trevor fucking a girl in his truck but Ron knew he didn’t like to be interrupted. Trevor left your lips for only long enough to speak.

“Get the fuck out of here Ron!” He nodded, scrambling away. You popped open the truck door and slid out. You weren’t touching Trevor for a mere moment and he grabbed you again, pulling you towards him. “You’re not getting outta here again,” he promised, voice low and threatening. You smiled brightly.

Ron opened the door to his place nearby and peaked through the window. You were dragging Trevor behind you, hands interlocked, a puppy dog look in his eyes. Ron was used to seeing Trevor with girls. He wasn’t used to seeing Trevor with girls he liked. He lost the two of you as you entered the trailer.

Trevor’s lips didn’t leave yours, even when the door hit him from behind. He hugged you close to him. How close could he get to you? How close could he make you so that you never left him again?

You hadn’t expected Trevor’s lips to taste so good. You expected beer or weed or unbrushed teeth or something shitty but something about them was intoxicating. He had a firm grip on your ass, pulling you closer to him. You tripped over something on the ground. You pulled away to see where you were going.

The trailer was a mess. There were beer cans littering the ground, half naked girls on the walls, unwashed dishes in the sink. He let go of you just to move shit off of his unmade bed. He grabbed the pictures he had of girls and tore them off his wall.

“Disrespectful,” he grumbled, kissing you again. And just like that you could have been anywhere in the world and it didn’t matter. You had waited long enough.

He was clawing at your clothes with one hand while the other dragged up your back under your shirt. You shoved him down onto the bed. He chuckled, falling onto his back.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“Think?” You crawled on top of him, cupping his face in your hands. Why hadn’t you done this before? Why hadn’t you done this so many times? His hands reached for your shirt and it wasn’t until then that it hit him. You were alive. You were here. You were in his arms. He had beat the stupid longstanding fight him and Michael would always spat about over drinks. You were here, with him. He took off your shirt.

“God woman.” He cupped your breasts, eyes wide like they were gonna pop out of his head. You put your finger under his chin.

“Eyes are up here Trev.” He kissed you like he would never be able to do it again. He needed to be on top. The rising tension in his sweats were hard to ignore as you sat on top of him. He could feel your every movement. You slid your hands slowly up his shirt and then down again, fingertips electric. You hummed as you trailed kisses down his chin. While you were distracted he flipped you onto the bed. You made a surprised noise that caused him to chuckle.

“My girl.” He took off his shirt. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept with a girl and wanted to make it last. When was the last time it was less fucking and more something else, something he could barely remember the name to? You gripped his shoulder. There was a tattoo there, your name in faded ink. Your eyebrows softened. He didn’t seem to notice. “My girl,” he repeated, whispering against your skin.

“Trev,” you whined. He was already shimming down his pants. He kicked them off the bed onto the floor. You could feel his hardness against your clothed core. He fixed his fingers around the loops of your jeans, pulling it down with ease. You raised an eyebrow at his expertise but he was so caught up in the taste of you he didn’t notice.

“God!” You arched your back, looking up at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t wait any longer. Without warning he was inside you, all of him. You gasped at the sudden change and then eased. He gave you no time to calm down or adjust but he was leaning over you and his lips were permanently on your skin and it was like the room had gotten ten degrees hotter in the span of five minutes. You could probably fuck around all night. Trevor could go again and again but he needed to do this right now.

He placed a finger on your clit. You gasped, eyes locking with his. He grinned smugly. You kissed him to shut up whatever he was about to say.

Your breath hitched as he sped up, moving his fingers wildly and without care. Somehow he managed to hit just the right spot.

You came together, plagued by moans and spasms.

Still inside you he smiled, self satisfied.

“Never thought a dead guy would make you cum huh?” You snorted, eyes shut tightly.

“Fuck you Trevor.” You were laughing through your words.

“Haven’t gotten enough yet?”

He collapsed beside you. You found the bed more comfortable now in your bliss. You grabbed a pillow, placing it under your head.

“Get me a beer T. I can go all night.”

When Trevor woke up you were still in bed. He had a hand on your thigh, now clothed, much to his dismay. He had no idea what time it was. You had thrown on one of his clean shirts, one of the rare ones. You were hunched over your phone, sitting beside him. He rubbed his eyes. You turned your head, realizing he was awake.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” you said, a pleasant smile on your face. Your hair was a mess of the night. He could still feel it on the tips of his fingers. He could still taste you on his lips.

It hadn’t been a dream. You were here. You were with him. It wasn’t a wet dream, it was reality. Just the thought made him dizzy.

“Let’s get drunk and get hitched.” You laughed gently.

“Now that’s an idea.” He sat up and kissed you aggressively, throwing you off but not by much. Your phone fell from your fingers. You turned to him. His girl. His girl. His girl. You pulled away, much to his dismay. “I think I know where Michael is.”

He groaned.

“You had to remind me.” He fell back onto the bed with a flop.

“Los Santos. There’s a Michael De Santa with two kids and a wife. Amanda.” He perked his head up.

“You check the plastic surgery records?”

“I did not but I have a rough estimate.” You stood up. The bed was cold without you. Couldn’t you just live forever like this? Why go find Michael at all?

And then he remembered his anger.

“They’re living in a mansion, Trev,” you said. You hadn’t taken any money from that robbery. You couldn’t, it wouldn’t make any sense. But Michael was out there and he was using that money somehow. He had taken it all for himself.

Trevor’s anger intensified. He was here in the slums of San Andreas in a shitty trailer. He had put his life on the line. He had lost everything he cared about. Michael got the house and the family and the life they had all risked it for. He had lost you for nine years.

He tossed you the truck keys.

“Start it but don’t drive it,” he said. You rolled your eyes.

“You think you’re a better driver than me T?” You both sat in the memories of you driving away with money, evading the cops, knowing nothing but the danger in your speed.

“I’m the only one that drives that truck.” You put your hands up in surrender, backing out.

“Yes sir.”

God he wanted you back in bed.

Part 2

#trevor philips x reader #trevor philips imagines #trevor philips x fem!reader #trevor philips fanfiction #grand theft auto imagines #spicy tag

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