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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 19 hours ago

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To Your Love That Smells Like Crazy

Synopsis: Damian presented as an alpha, to everyone's despair. He announced he found a mate, to everyone's skepticism. You're the perfect omega, to everyone's delight.

Pairing: Yandere!Alpha!Batboys X Gn!AFAB!Omega!Reader

Tw: 18+ pwp; noncon/dubcon smut; noncon drugging; creepy batfamily members feeling attracted to Reader when they were still 15, but nothing sexual or romantic between them happens until they're 18; this chapter is mostly Damian x Reader; ABO, Reader is an omega, all the batboys are alphas; Heat symptoms; Damian and Reader are 15 at first, when the smut happens they're 18, Tim is three years older than them, Jason is five years older, Dick is 10 years older and Bruce is on his 40s; Implied future gangbang? They want to share Reader (polyamory) but right now the real action is just between Damian and Reader; Loss of virginity on both parts; Implied that Damian is also inexperienced on kissing and Reader knows a little more about that; Fingering!R receiving; Slight schoolgirl/boy/person!Reader; Reader wears lipgloss, nail polish and earrings; Omegas breasts produce milk during heat; Some breastfeeding; Breeding kink; The word ‘rape’ is used twice; Lots of crying; Nipple play; Dirty talk; Negative and selfdeprecating thoughts; Claiming ownership; English isn't my first language.

Word count: 4,7k

Requested? No.

Extra notes: Planning on making one pwp chapter for each batboy, and then a last one with no smut. Also, I think I'm gonna start posting on AO3 since the tw are getting worse...

General masterlist

Damian was territorial, dominant and temperamental since the family had known him. Maybe he was born like that, maybe he wasn't, they couldn't know, so, what they most hoped for was that those were just personality traits, maybe coping mechanisms, and the puppy would present as an omega or beta one day, and then maybe the hormones would make him calm down. It was a small possibility, but one could only dream, right?!

Well, those hopes were crushed when, at his fifteenth birthday, Damian woke up growling at the mix of strong alpha scents stinking his room, his territory, and started pacing inside there, not allowing anyone but the old beta Alfred to come in.

He calmed down after a couple of hours, came out of his room to eat breakfast, assessed and scented the rest of his territory (everyone's territory, really, the manor was the family’s home), and maybe humor his inner alpha by subjugating the rest of the pack. It didn't work, obviously, they were all mature alphas who went through puberty already and knew how to (mostly) manage conflict with a newly-turned alpha who still smelt like milk and was just overwhelmed with hormones.

After a full belly, it was decided he shouldn't have to go to school for the first few days (something the teenager was happy with), to learn to control his mood and impulses, visit a specialized doctor to be sure what kind of suppressants were better suited for his organism, and so he could go through his first rut in peace.

A few days later, Damian went back to school, nose itching from some not-so-pleasant alpha scents, some weak beta scents, some sugary omega scents, and a lot of milky scents coming from most students, especially unpresented puppies.

He wondered how adults live like this, if he would just get used to it, and it wouldn't bother him so much one day. One thing was to feel the smell of flowers or food, another thing was to feel people’s pheromones. But his train of thoughts were halted when he felt you.

Not even inside the classroom yet, but he could sniff you out and find you if he wanted to. Strong, yet suave, soft. Strawberries. And milk. It made his whole body shudder and tremble. Now he knew why his family occasionally asked where the delicious scent stuck to his clothes came from. Now he knew why alphas turned their heads and stared at you so much when you both were walking around. It was all you. His best friend.

Damian stared openly and unconsciously, while you made your way to him none the wiser and sat down at his side, and he almost got annoyed when, at first, you didn't seem to notice his new presentation, as if you didn't even acknowledge him as an alpha yet. But then you turned and stared at him strangely.

— Dude, why’re you staring so mu- Oh. — You blinked, finally having realized where the new musky scent was coming from. — You're lucky you smell good. My neighbor smells like feet.

When he came home, he announced he had an omega.

Obviously, that left everyone bewildered as to what he meant by that, it was impossible for during his first day back outside as an alpha, he already had a mate. But he didn't have to explain much for them to understand, the scent on his clothes was enough proof as to why he wanted you for himself.

After that, Damian invited you to hang out with him at the manor for the first time. It caused a reaction in everyone, and all of them were home, of course they were, Damian wanted to show off his future mate, and you had to meet the family, since he single-handedly decided you were going to join their pack already.

As you walked past each door on the way to Damian's room, everyone had a reaction.

The old beta and grandfather, Alfred, was very polite and nice, he smelt like tea. He smiled more freely with how sweet you were, amused by Damian's clear crush.

Next, you passed Dick by the gym, he smelt spicy, and his door was open, so he could peek better to satiate his curiosity when Damian's crush arrived, yet, he didn't expect to almost fall from his stretching position when he finally took a whiff from your sweet scent for the first time, instead of just the faint and weak thing that occasionally got stuck on Damian's clothes and hair. He managed to look mostly presentable even though he almost sprinted to the corridor to meet you. Dick was even more pleased to see you were beautiful, even in your modest school uniform. He forced himself to hold back and stay in the gym when Damian decided the interaction took long enough, and pulled you to keep walking.

Jason was next, he was in the library. His scent was thick. Woody. He coughed around his drink when he felt your scent, and Damian rolled his eyes at him. Jason’s whole body froze when he saw how soft you looked, clearly an omega. He noted that you looked older than fifteen, but Jason knew you were just a couple of months older than Damian, and you still smelled like milk. His attraction to you bothered him because he couldn't ignore your still-milky scent, and he was already imagining how you would smell like when you fully reached maturity. Your hair was shiny and looked soft, like clouds and cotton-candy. He wanted to stick his nose there and hug you. You looked the perfect company for a nap (and more). Damian quickly steered you away to keep walking.

Next was Tim, he was in his room, and he smelt like peppermint. He always kept the door closed, but during your visit, it was open wide, due to his curiosity to meet you, everyone knew that. Tim snapped his eyes away from his computer when he felt you, and stared at you wide-eyed when you appeared. You didn't even come inside, Damian didn't want to feel your scent coming off of Tim's room to haunt him every time he walked past that door for the next days. It would definitely make him want to kill his brother. Tim tried to burn your image to his brain to the smallest details. He noted the color of your nail polish, your earrings, the thing dangling from your backpack, the shine and rosiness of your lip gloss. Tim specially liked your soft-spoken voice, and it bothered him how polite, neutral and distant it was, because clearly you both didn't now each other, you were just there as Damian's friend, meeting his older brother for the first time, and just wanted to go hole up inside Damian's room as soon as possible to avoid the weird interaction.

Soon, your wishes came through, and you spent the next few hours there with Damian basically teaching you everything and doing your homework. It was a new behavior, he never did that out of instinct before, some people asking him for help would annoy him, others, like you, he would calmly help out of the hidden kindness in his heart, but he never took initiative before. You brushed it off as just new alpha behavior and just used his either gentlemanly or condescending behavior, if it meant you could gain things out of it and be lazy.

At dinner, you finally met his father. Bruce Wayne was the alpha of a pack full of alphas and a beta. His himbo and playboy persona gave you the impression that he wasn't the most dominant alpha around, but you were proven wrong when you felt his sandalwood aroma and saw his towering frame. His personality was the same you saw on the TV, though, pleasant like a TV host or just a popular guy. On the inside, he was fixated with you, ignoring your milky childish scent and your school uniform. He wanted you around the house more. God knows how much a bit more of softness could help the family’s dynamic. Maybe that was what was missing, an omega around the place. Like you. Actually, it could be you. He thought about convincing Damian to stick to living in the manor even after you were both married adults. Or you could be Bruce’s when you were of age. Wait, how old were you?

Alfred drove you and Damian to your place after everything was done, all the alphas with a heavy heart, bothered that you had to go, that you couldn't spend the night with them yet. Even if you were already theirs.

It took a lot to convince Damian to share you, but eventually, he begrudgingly agreed, they were a pack, after all, not just a family, they stick together, take care of each other and of each other's interests. Having something that wasn't just vigilantism in common would be good bonding for them, and the closer a pack could get, the better. That he knew. A pack sharing someone wasn't exactly unheard of either.

After that, Damian started inviting you to the manor more often. Almost every week you were there. Your parents started saying that Damian probably was interested in you, but you laughed it off, never thinking an alpha like him would be interested in an omega like you.

The family made the best of that time to get you used to them, to their dynamic, and to make you feel at home, safe, trustful. They also wanted your scent to get stuck everywhere. To get to know you. To learn everything about you. To make plans.

When Damian's 18 birthday came, you were already legally an adult too, and they invited you over, saying it was a birthday party. When you got there, the party consisted in only you and the family.

The conversation was nice.

They put drugs on your piece of cake that simulated an out of cycle heat.

It started with fatigue.

Then fever.

Your eyes got blurred.

You thought you were getting sick, and just planned on taking cold medicine when you got home.

The alphas were slowly coming closer and circling you, unnoticed.

You felt weird in your intimate parts, maybe you needed to pee.

You stood up, but your knees were weak, and you almost fell, if it wasn't for Dick, who caught you mid-air.

All scents became clearer when your eyes locked. You wondered what the look on his face meant, confused.

You felt their excitement, and arousal. And you felt something poking your thigh.

You felt your own underwear getting wet.

You asked them to take you home, but they denied. That made you feel antsy, so you tried searching for your phone to call your parents to pick you up, but you couldn't find it. It got especially hard when Damian picked you up and started walking up the stairs with you.

— It's okay, omega. You're okay with us. I’m going to take care of you… — Your hands trembled when he purred the word ‘omega’, mumbled those words, and nuzzled the side of your head with his nose, taking a deep breath from your sweet strawberry scent, and faint sex smell, due to the wetness between your thighs. No longer any hint of milk anymore, since you already reached maturity just a couple of months before him, and now he also didn't smell like puppy anymore.

— N-No… D-Dami… W-Where are you taking me? What a-are you gonna do? … I wanna go home… I’m not feeling good… — You whimpered and tried to weakly move out of his hold, it didn't work.

— You are home, beloved. And I’m going to help you feel better… With my knot. — Your eyes widened. — I will fuck you real good and fill you with my semen. I know it is your first time, it is mine too. But do not worry, your heat will make it painless and you will be satisfied with me. — You whimpered higher, your omega was preening, crying for a knot, your pussy squeezing hard, but your mind knew it was wrong. Clearly something was wrong. Why was no one helping? Couldn't they see you were caught by surprise with your heat and were saying no to him? Why were they looking at you like that? A cough coming from somewhere seemed to snap Damian out of it, like he remembered something. — Ah, right. And then, you will receive father’s, and my siblings' knots. I will go first since it’s my birthday and I claimed you first. — Damian blushed, despite his smug tone.

You cried for help, at first, it came out weak, as your omega didn't want to make something the alphas would disapprove of, but the closer you got to the room they designated for the moment, the reality of what was coming was overtaking your instincts. Especially after your belly started to hurt at being empty of seed.

The alphas only shushed you, and you helplessly watched as Tim handcuffed one of your hands to the bedpost as soon as Damian laid you down on the nest they made for you, and Dick and Jason each started taking your sneakers off. Bruce was standing a few feet away from the bed, Alfred at his side. The oldest alpha’s eyes were glued to your laid down figure, hungry and serious. Darker than you had ever seen. You've never been more scared of him before. He occasionally commented something to Alfred, that you vaguely registered as instructions, that also started being given to his children.

You weakly tugged at the handcuff and tried to sit up at the same time, but Damian pushed himself between your legs, and held you down by the waist. Dick and Jason held your legs open to accommodate him better, and your overwhelmed brain barely noticed their hands also rubbing your ankles and thighs. You've never felt more aroused and more scared your whole life.

Alfred exited the room to start doing Bruce's orders, and he kept watching. Tim, who had disappeared out of your line of sight for a second, came back holding a long, shiny and glinting pair of scissors. You tugged harder at the restraints and tried to push your body up to get away, thinking he was going to hurt you, but he just purred at you to calm you down, unfortunately, it worked, and your pussy tightened when Damian hissed at feeling your center pressing against his hard cock, when you pushed your hips up and against his. You could feel him poking your underthigh, only the clothes separating you.

— It's okay, omega, I’m just cutting off your clothes, it's gonna be easier to strip you that way. — Tim said soothingly, while purring and almost cooing at you. Your eyes widened when he said that, and actually started cutting your shirt open, until Dick was able to pull the ruined fabric off from under you.

All three alphas started purring at seeing your braless torso, chest already swelling with milk and nipples darkened. Omegas body produced milk when they had a puppy to feed, or during heats, and ruts, when an alpha was in a rut, and the omega was helping them, because the body understood it was a rough period, where a lot of energy was spent and not much nutrition came, since both were too busy procreating and too weak to go searching for food, so the milk was a lot helpful in those moments. There were even historical moments where that skill was useful in other contests, when the economy got so bad that most packs were starving, and the omegas of the pack helped them survive with milk.

Damian bit his lips and brought his right hand up to your left breast, squeezing it softly. Everyone was entranced, watching a single drop of milk come out, the breast not full yet. You arched your back, it felt good, so good that for a moment you forgot why you wanted to get away. Damian also didn't help your train of thought when his thumb started rubbing your stiff nipple, sending ripples of pleasure through your body and forcing your eyes closed. You forced yourself not to make a sound.

You snapped out of it when you felt Tim cutting your pants and underwear off. Your eyes widened at the feeling of being exposed and the almost cold air that made your hair stand. Your legs trembled and you felt Dick and Jason's hands working, uncoordinated pads of fingers dancing across the inside of your thighs.

Your arousal’s scent freely infastated the room now, and half of them growled, in exception of Bruce and Tim, who were keeping themselves more calm and collected.

— It's time to go now, let Damian and (Y/N) have their moment. — Bruce announced and you watched as Damian smirked, then you hid your face, sobbing against the pillow. He cooed at you while his other hand went down between your legs and started rubbing slow circles while pressing against your clit.

Dick sighed.

— Take care of them, Dami. Have fun and enjoy. — Dick patted Damian's shoulder, but you weren't sure the alpha above even noticed you, too busy gazing at you and your body, enjoying how warm and wet you were.

— Yeah, remember to do what we taught you, baby bird. — Damian only hummed at Jason's comment, and leaned down, pressing his chest to yours. He brought his mouth to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and started leaving a trail of kisses up your neck, and under your jaw.

It was your first time feeling someone doing this, when you read fanfics and books, you never thought this could feel good like the writing always described, but it actually did, and you hated that you liked it, crying harder against the pillow and hoping his lips weren't moving closer to your face because he wanted to kiss you. You felt his nose sniffing your scent gland.

Tim hummed.

— Be careful with them, and don't take too long, everyone wants their turn. — Tim warned softly and was the last to exit the room, closing the door, but not locking it.

Damian’s warm breath huffed against your neck.

— Finally alone… — Damian whispered with a hoarse voice that made your hair stand. You whimpered and squeezed your eyes harder.

— Please, let me go… You don't have to do this, I won't tell anyone- — Your sentence was cut short when one of Damian's long and thick fingers invaded your entrance delicately. Your mouth opened on a silent scream, and the alpha watched you with lust in his eyes.

— Beloved… Omega… You will come to like this, I promise you that… — He sucked a faint hickey on your scent gland. His right hand started exploring the rest of your body, fumbling and squeezing the softer parts he found out he liked the most. You couldn't control your panting and small moans when his finger curled upwards inside you, touching your sweet spot.

— D-Dam-... A-Alpha… — You arched your back when he started fingering you faster, your sensitive walls milking a single finger, crying for a thick knot, thirsty for his seed, your womb empty of puppies.

— See… — He kissed your cheek. — We barely started, and yet… — Another kiss, closer to your mouth. — You're already dripping and earning for my knot… — Your lips met, it didn't seem like he had much experience, maybe it was his first kiss? Either way, you knew a little more about what you were doing, and he quickly learned. In just a few minutes, he was dominating your mouth. The younger alpha gave a slow bite to your lips when a second finger joined the first in fucking you, wet noises eccoing around the room.

You gained some clearance after a few moments, when he took his fingers off. You whined, not knowing if it was to plead him not to rape you, or because you wanted his cock stuffing you as soon as possible. You tried to force your head away from his, and he relented, pausing the kiss, but only to start taking his own clothes off. If your face wasn't already hot from the fever and arousal, you knew it would be now, feeling shy with everything new that was happening and his naked body, and surprised that you never once noticed his muscles before.

While afraid, you peeked down and saw his hard and bobbing dick, it was thick and above average, but not too much. Not too much for someone who wasn't a virgin like you were, that is.

You tried to sit up, to get away from him in a bolt of strength you didn't have until now, fighting your omega with as much as you could. But it proved to be no help, as it punished you by making your belly tug and hurt twice more. Your torso fell down on the bed again, powerless by pain, numbness, and the restraint around your wrist.

Damian only cooed, still kneeling above you and between your legs. You cried. You didn't feel his calloused hands holding and caressing your hips, but you felt the blunt wet tip against your entrance. You were ruined.

Your parents would hate you. They would say it was your fault for ignoring their warnings and shoving yourself inside a home full of alphas with no omega. They would kick you out of the pack. And if the Wayne's did good on their word of raping you one after the other, you would probably get pregnant, as you weren't on birth control. That is, if they didn't kill you or kept you hostage in their basement. And even if your pack wanted to, they wouldn't be able to do anything to get justice for you, as the Wayne's were much more influential and rich. You were only going to the same school as Damian because your parents worked as teachers there, for god's sake. You were doomed. And if they decided to mark you…

You cried harder, ashamed of being so aroused now and so dumb all along. For the first time, you hated being an omega.

But all those self-deprecating thoughts were muffled when he finally invaded you. It was slow, gentle, testing how things felt. Damian heaved a breath and buried his face on your neck, breathing your scent deep. It felt amazing, for the both of you. You were so deep in your heat that of course it wasn't going to hurt at all, silly you. Those alphas were right, they are always right. They can take care of you.

— … More… Please, I want more… — You moaned and tried moving your hips against his, forcing his cock to push against your walls faster. Damian's head snapped up, looking at you with interest and lust. You were already cockdrunk, as he was pussydrunk, and he wasn't even halfway inside yet.

He bottomed out with more hurry, after pulling in and out twice to test if you really weren't in pain. He moaned deep against your face before shoving his lips against yours again, while he thrusted his hips. The alpha found the perfect rhythm while pulling almost all the way in and out, in a steady dance. Your moans got louder by the second, your inner omega happy with all the attention you were receiving.

Your free hand shot up to rest on his back, nails digging his scarred skin, not knowing what to do. Damian's hips gradually grew in force, until the bed was shaking and softly hitting the wall. The sound of your hips colliding and your wetness clear as day didn't bother you, as you only started begging for the alpha. To be owned. To be knotted. To be breeded.

— See how I take care of you… — He kissed down your collarbone, murmuring against your skin. — Make you feel good… — One of his hands slid down to grip your thigh, pulling your leg up, purposefully looking for a deeper angle to ravish you. You gasped as he found it, and his thrusts got harder. You mumbled a bunch of agreements to whatever he was saying, you just wanted his knot! — You're my omega now, our omega now… — He softly bit your pouting nipple, being considerate as to not hurt the sensitive and swelling area. Your hand trembled on his back and shot up to pull his hair in an overwhelming wave of pleasure. He pulled weakly at your nipple with his teeth scraping the nerves on the area, until he let it go. — We will stuff you full of cum everyday and every hour… — His lips trailed down your ribs, but the position didn't allow him to go further down. He wanted to leave kisses on your whole body, and now he could do that, because now you weren't escaping them. He growled, resigning himself to traill his lips up through the space between your breasts. Your body trembled with the sound. — Fuck you real good… You will never have to beg, omega, we will spoil you with everything you need, everything you want… — His huge hands trailed up your body until they reached your chest. He squished them for a moment, enjoying how soft they were, and how pliant you were, looking straight into your dazed cockdrunk eyes. Imagining how your perfect pups will look like. Milk started coming out in small drops, so silent that he only noticed when it was dripping down his hand. His eyes shot down to assess the view and his knot started growing at the sight of your swelling breasts and darkened nipples, giving up milk for him, for him, so soft his fingers were digging and moulding the flesh, all while they were dancing up and down, bouncing, seducing him. You were seducing him. You were stunning, ravishing, perfect without even trying. He was happy his pack was the one tying you down to them, he wanted to kill someone just for thinking that someone else could have you like this. — … And you will give us everything we want…

He tentatively, almost hypnotized, leaned down and sucked your stiff nipple between his soft lips, sucking a small amount of milk inside, letting It rest on his tongue for a moment, savouring the taste, before swallowing.

You were sensitive, with a dull ache, but his suckling helped with the pain and sent waves of flickering pleasure against your body. You could feel him forcing his knot with each thrust to fit inside you as it gradually grew, and gasped, whimpering pleas for more. Begging him to keep going and stuff you full. You were both getting close to orgasm. Damian shut his eyes hard, overstimulated with the growing pleasure. He let go of your breast when he started feeling his canines getting more protruded, itching to bite your neck and claim you, his eyes also getting brighter, his inner alpha waiting to take ownership over you. Strip you off the life you had before. Forcing you to subjugate, until the smallest cells in your body knew who you belonged to.

He didn't hold himself, of course, and your first mark soon made home above your collarbone, your souls locking together and the intimacy going to an extraordinary level when you reached the peak of pleasure in tandem, while his knot swelled and made you stuck together, stopping any drop of cum from going to waste.

Every single drop was forced to stay inside of you, and Damian lifted your almost limp head, you both drunk, still coming down from the waves of pleasure, and forced your lips against his neck, his scent gland, and you, whose omega and heat had taken over since the moment his cock invaded you, didn't hesitate to mark him back, locking the bond completely.

— Good omega, good omega…

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youreverydayfangirl · 16 hours ago

Text

KING OF MY HEART

pairing: max verstappen x singer reader

summary: the one where she loudly love him, she begins a new era and he never stops loving her

warning: self doubt

a/n: RAWRRRR

face claim: sabrina carpenter

f1 masterlist

main masterilst

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y/nsprivate I LOVE HIM SO MUCH GUYSSS

tagged: jimmyandsassysdad

jimmyandsassysdad 🖤🖤

-> y/nsprivate 🖤

thatoneartgirlalex IM SO HAPPY FOR YOUU

-> y/nsprivate AHHHHHHHHHHHH

keekslikestospammmm the cutest couple

-> y/nsprivate ❤️

livbereallydumb HAPPY FOR YOU

-> y/nsprivate NEVER BEEN SO HAPPY

itssabrinaaa UR TOO CUTE

-> y/nsprivate u too urself in the mirror

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It’s a rainy Sunday, and Y/n and Max are cozied up in his apartment, surrounded by a pile of blankets, snacks, and the soft glow of fairy lights. They’d planned to go out, but the rain kept them in, and neither of them minded one bit.

Y/n is flipping through Netflix, and Max has his head on her lap, eyes closed, looking so content she can’t help but smile. She runs her fingers gently through his hair, watching him relax even more under her touch.

“Y’know, I think this might actually be better than going out,” he murmurs without opening his eyes, his voice soft and relaxed.

“Oh really?” she teases, poking his cheek gently. “No big plans for today, Mr. World Champ?”

He opens one eye, grinning lazily up at her. “I mean, I could race anyone and anything, but nothing beats just… this,” he says, gesturing to the cozy setup around them.

She feels a warmth spread through her, leaning down to give him a quick kiss. “Good, because I think I’d still pick a lazy day with you over anything.”

He smiles, pulling her closer until they’re wrapped up together in their little blanket fort. The rain keeps falling outside, but inside, everything is warm, calm, and perfect - just them, soft laughter, and the feeling that they’d always choose each other.

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jimmyandsassysdad valentines with my valentine

y/nsprivate 🖤

-> jimmyandsassysdad 🖤

thatoneartgirlalex WIFEYYY

-> jimmyandsassysdad WIFE MATERIAL FOR REAL

-> y/nsprivate 🤭

leosfather yeah your alright

-> y/nsprivate glad we finally got your approval charlie 😂

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As Y/n sat curled up on the couch, Pluto sprawled out across her lap, she caught her reflection in the dark window. It was one of those moments when insecurities tried to creep in. But as she started to fall into that spiral of self-doubt, a familiar voice pulled her back.

“Hey, what’s going on in that pretty head?” Max murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

Y/n hesitated, running her hand along Pluto’s fur as he settled in. “It’s nothing… I was just thinking, you could probably do better, y’know? I mean… just look at your exes.”

Max tilted his head, a gentle smile forming on his lips as he reached out to take her hand. “Look at you, love,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ve never been happier, and I’ve never been more certain of what I want.” He pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead as Pluto snuggled against them both, purring contentedly.

“See?” Max chuckled, “Even Pluto thinks you’re the best.” He kissed her cheek, tightening his arm around her. “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with, okay? So don’t ever doubt it.”

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f1gossip Tension rising between Lando Norris and girlfriend ExBsf. They were caught earlier in a heated exchange. Could this have anything to do with the new rumors which have been circling?

user1 NOOOOO

user2 i used to like her but shes been so sneaky recently

user3 shes creating so much drama for what

user4 I MISS Y/N AND LANDO

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COMMENTS ON THIS POST HAVE BEEN LIMITED

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hey its literally been a fat minute guys im so so sorry

but im feeling way better so thank you guys

im sorry it took so long but i had exam block which is for my grade 12 stuff so that was my focus and then we went to sydney for a holiday so ive just been so preoccupied

oh and it was my birthday a few weeks ago aswell

so sorry everything has been hectic but im on holidays now so ill try and post much more frequently

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thesunloveschips · 2 days ago

Text

Obsessed - Part 8 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Y/n discovers a few things and a few more are revealed.

Warnings: sex, minors please stay away.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Y/n was upset. Her semester was ending. The exchange programme had come to a close. Now, she’d have to leave for her internship and then go back to her university for the remainder of her studies. She’d miss her friends. She’d miss this new country.

And who knew how long Azriel was posted here in this city?

It was a coincidence that they met and they had a good few months together but Y/n really did not want to go back to a life where he was not a constant.

The idea of it didn’t sit well with her.

After her last exam today, she’d taken some time for her friends here. On her way back to the apartment, she’d started feeling upset but then she wore a smile and rang Azriel’s doorbell.

He’d opened the door, took one look at her, and fucked her wildly like he wanted to reinforce something. And then, they made love to each other with Y/n slowly riding him.

Y/n let herself rise and fall, eyes closed. Her hands were on his chest, tattooed and perfect for her. His large hands nearly covered all of her ass.

Fuck.

He was such a large man and the most convincing evidence of it was deep inside her, thick and throbbing as she rode him at her own pace.

She could feel the air on her body. Her nipples were already hard and were even more sensitive after Azriel had sucked on them and smeared his saliva, and then left them exposed.

Her breasts ached and all she wanted was his large hands to pinch and grab them roughly as if he selfishly owned her.

His hands. Gods, they were so perfect.

The tattoos on his fingers was an arousing sight.

Especially after she’d once seen herself suck them.

The way those hands groped every part of her and were still on her ass.

She was in bed, tired after exams and sex. Azriel had woken up after a nice cuddling session for a meeting. It was an urgent one and he’d promised to return soon but Y/n was not going to pester him even if he didn’t.

The man had a job. That too, at Umbra got fuck’s sake. That was an empire on its own managed by some young fellow Y/n hadn’t bothered about since that was not her field.

Sex with Azriel always made her sleepy and she always woke up feeling refreshed.

Her eyes were closed. The furry blanket was so cosy and she was just there.

Her phone rang and interrupted her peace.

Y/n groaned in frustration. She grabbed it and softened when she saw Azriel’s name. She swiped on the screen and accepted the call. “Hey.”

“Hello, sweetheart. I hope I wasn’t disturbing you.”

“No, no. Tell me.” She wouldn’t tell him that she wanted to sleep even more.

“Could you bring me my iPad? It’s on the nightstand.” Y/n rose and looked around for the device.

“Where. . Got it.” She removed herself from the sheets, ended the call, took the iPad, and was about to walk out of the room when a message popped up.

Miss Y/n’s mother has sent a parcel to the apartment she shared with Nesta Archeron. We believe her mother has no knowledge of her current whereabouts and her exchange program.

What?

Y/n tapped on the notification and the chat opened. It was a group chat with Azriel and a bunch of people. She scrolled and read the messages.

Other members of the group chat were constantly updating on her location and activities while Azriel had sent the occasional ‘okay’.

She also found photographs of her taken from her outings with friends. Taken from a distance and clearly not with her consent.

The more she saw, the more she wanted to smash her head against something.

Why?

Why did Azriel have her followed?

He’d always known where she was, at what time, who she was with. She hadn’t bothered hiding much from him.

Then why was this. . ?

Y/n walked over to the room with the iPad, the group chat open on it.

She saw Azriel’s eyes widen as she entered the room. She placed the iPad on his table. “What’s this?”

He looked at the chat quietly and then looked up at her.

Y/n felt hot with fury coursing through every part of her. And yet, for some strange reason, she felt cold.

It wasn’t until Azriel walked over and wrapped a jacket around her that she realised that she hadn’t dressed after leaving bed.

She’d been naked and angry.

“I’ve had you followed, Y/n.”

And she couldn’t control it.

She was barely restraining herself until then but to hear him say that he had her followed broke the dam.

“Why? Didn’t you trust me enough to go out and not cheat on you?”

This time, Azriel sounded confused. “It wasn’t because I thought you were cheating on me.”

The audacity of this man to say such a thing. He had her watched and followed and photographed and so much more.

“Scroll up, Y/n. This started the night I met you in that club before we ever spoke to each other properly.” He extended the iPad to her.

She hesitantly took it and scrolled up furiously. When she reached the first message, she saw the date the group had been created. Feyre’s birthday. There was a photo of her dancing in that club with Nesta.

Somebody had sent a few documents. She opened them—her CV, biodata, details of people close to her.

“You’ve known all this about me?” He silently nodded. She felt like such a fool.

Y/n couldn’t even think. She couldn’t process it like this. So she simply kept the iPad on his desk and walked away.

“Y/n. Y/n, listen to me, sweetheart.” He was following. She increased her pace and entered his room. Her clothes were on the chair and she began dressing. “Y/n, please. I only wanted to know about you.”

She looked at him and it hurt.

It hurt to know that this man didn’t trust her.

Didn’t trust time.

Didn’t trust their connection.

“I would’ve told you everything with time.” She wanted to cry. “Whenever I was ready to revisit my past and speak about it, I would’ve told you. About my childhood. My ex. My mother.”

“I only wanted to know about you.” He was pleading but she was so tired.

“You did not trust that our relationship would reach to the point where I would ever confide in you. You thought yourself entitled to find everything about me. .” She choked back a sob. Azriel moved to hold her but she took a step behind and he halted.

“You did not trust me.” It was a whisper and it broke everything. “And therefore, you violated my privacy.”

“I did not get that information because I didn’t trust you.” Azriel moved. When he reached her, he kneeled.

“I was impatient. I wanted to know everything about you immediately. I’m desperate for anything you’ll give me. You heart, your body—I cannot have them unless you give them to me. But information—that I can take from any place. And I’ll take any scrap of it you leave behind.”

What was this feeling? She was being broken but also healed at the same time. And even then, everything hurt.

“And as for being followed, I had to know that you were safe.” He was still kneeling. The world was blurry.

Y/n was still cold as she hadn't dressed completely.

She didn’t know anymore.

She didn’t want him to know that she had a troubled past at least until she could help it.

She knew it would’ve come out soon but this soon? It wasn’t at her own pace.

What was she supposed to do?

Should she explain it to Azriel?

Should she be angry at him?

Should she end this relationship?

It was dizzying now. Her breathing was becoming difficult.

She could hear her sniffles, Azriel calling her name. “. . breathe, sweetheart. Inhale. . . Exhale. . .”

He kept telling her to inhale and exhale until she could focus on those words and force her breathing into a pattern.

She was sitting now. Azriel was wiping her nose with something. A blanket was draped over her. He was right there, holding her hand.

Her eyes fluttered close and Y/n faded into the dark.

****

Whispers.

Somebody was talking.

Somebody was responding.

It ached.

Something more than her body ached.

“. . rest and she’ll be. . medicines. . . care.”

Y/n faded away again.

****

Y/n was warm. In a room. It was dark. And a hand held her own.

Azriel was right there, sitting on the floor, one hand holding hers and the other arm folded on the bed to rest his head.

He must’ve fallen asleep.

She tried to rise and felt too weak. But the shuffling of the blankets was enough to wake him up.

“How are you feeling?” His deep voice asked.

“Fine.” She didn’t want to say anything more. Absolutely nothing.

She’d sweat a lot. The greasy feeling of it remained on her body. “You have a fever.”

Oh.

“Have some medicine.” And he rose to leave her side, to get a strip of tablets and water from the nightstand but she did not let go of his hand in the first instance.

“Y/n.” And then she immediately let go and looked away. What was she supposed to do?

Was their bond supposed to be overlooked by this?

Could it be so easily sidelined?

She saw his hand with the medicine come in her line of sight. “Medicine.”

His voice was only deep whispers ever since she woke up. As if he was afraid his normal pitch would shatter something.

Y/n quietly took the medicine and water and consumed them. Azriel was there to take the glass away from her and he kneeled by the bedside.

“You had a panic attack and then you fainted.”

“And the fever?”

“You came to me with the iPad unclothed, leaving your body exposed to the cold. And you didn’t fully dress when you came to the bedroom.” And she was now wearing one of his sweatshirts which was too big for her.

Y/n could tell that he was being careful with his choice of words.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He clutched her hand as though in prayer. “It’s my fault you had a panic attack.”

Damn straight.

Was there any point?

“I need to go.” She knew she sounded weak and pathetic and even if she did go back to her apartment, there was no way she’d be able to take care of herself.

“Please. Rest here until you recover. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“Don’t you understand?” Oh gods, she was going to sob any moment now. Or scream. “If I stay here, even for a single second, I will not get any clarity.”

“As you wish.” Azriel retreated to a distance. Y/n slowly stood up under his gaze.

She remembered that she had only worn her panties and jeans when Azriel had followed her to apologise. So she removed his sweatshirt he had dressed her in.

When the sweatshirt was over her head, leaving her bare, Y/n saw that Azriel had turned away, as if he knew his permit to see her naked had been revoked.

She wore her own clothes and looked around. She grabbed her phone and walked towards the door where he stood with his back towards her.

Upon hearing her footsteps, he moved away, clearing the way for her. Once she began walking, she heard him follow her. She looked behind and saw his imposing figure behind her.

He was in pain.

So much pain.

She could see it.

But so was she.

And Y/n had had enough of ignoring her own pain for others.

But Azriel standing there and following her from behind was a realisation.

That he’d always be there. Behind her if not beside her.

“Call me.” He suddenly said. “If you need anything—medicines, food, anything—just call.”

She wanted to kiss him. So she turned away and left his apartment.

Y/n climbed into her bed, her fluffy blanket, and fell asleep without changing her clothes.

****

Azriel had a mission.

Scratch that, he had two missions.

One, Y/n’s recovery.

Two, Y/n’s forgiveness.

He honestly didn’t understand where she’d gotten the idea that he had her followed to monitor her in case she cheated.

If she did cheat on him, it would be the fault of the fuckwit who thought he could drive a wedge between them.

Azriel would simply dispose of any such menaces and Y/n wouldn’t even know anything.

He sighed.

Her not knowing had not turned out well for him.

He’d flown in his personal doctor in the middle of the night. And while she’d been resting in his apartment, he’d gotten a doctor in the city to check on her.

His doctor was situated in one of the apartments, ready at a moment’s notice.

Azriel kept stock of medicines and food ingredients, just in case she wanted something.

And he waited like a dutiful husband.

And while he waited, he googled up on how he could earn her forgiveness.

The bugs in her apartment began transmitting her sound. She was crying and talking. He heard the name Nesta. And more crying.

She was worried about how this would pan out.

How she’d been an excellent fool by falling for him.

Wait.

Y/n had fallen for him?

Oh.

He shouldn’t be happy considering what happened but he couldn’t help it.

And it was then that Azriel decided that he should probably get rid of those bugs before she saw one or saw something else on his iPad.

He wasn’t going to hide the iPad.

He didn’t like hiding things from Y/n but there were certain things he simply hoped she’d never find.

It was poor thinking but what else could he do?

He was obsessed and his morals clashed and crashed far too often for it to make sense.

As as for how to earn her forgiveness, Y/n’s favourite books had a lot of fictional men grovelling after fucking up.

He needed to analyse everything.

What exactly was she hurt about.

What could he do to stop her hurt?

How to make amends.

How to convince her that he was not a complete piece of shit and was worth some consideration of forgiveness.

Her safety had been an important concern.

If Y/n knew the number of people that had started following her while she went out on her own.

The number of people that had been beaten up so that she could roam around outside without anything to fear.

The number of phone numbers he’d looked into after any call that made her uncomfortable. He had them all deactivated.

No.

Her safety was an important matter that needed his attention.

It was not a bargaining chip to win an argument or to prove a point.

It was simply his duty.

But how was he going to convince her that he hadn’t worried about her cheating?

That he was only endlessly and ravenously curious about her ever since he first saw her?

Azriel sighed. He needed advice. He picked up his phone and called the one person he trusted enough with such a matter. When the call was answered, he began. “Hello, mum.”

****

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its-avalon-08 · 8 hours ago

Note

Omg you recent lando fic has me smiling like crazy no joke.

I was hoping I could request something similar ish. Where reader is Max.V. Sister and Lando wants it to be secre, bu the reade thinks he only wants to keep it secret because he's going to break up with her soon. (Dating for a while), and when the reader tells Carlos this, he tells Lando, who decides to let the whole world know by running up to her and kissing her just before the race.

secrets and shushed voices (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, comfort

The buzz of conversation in the Red Bull hospitality was overwhelming, but Y/N Verstappen had mastered the art of tuning it out. She adjusted her team polo, flipping through her notes for Max's debrief, when she felt a presence near her. Without looking up, she muttered, “Unless you have coffee for me, I’m not interested.”

A soft chuckle answered her. “What if I said I could charm you into being interested?”

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing at the source. Lando Norris leaned casually against the table, his grin infuriatingly perfect.

“Charm me?” she repeated with a raised eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume that’s possible.”

“Bold is my middle name,” he shot back, undeterred.

“Funny,” she quipped, turning back to her notes. “I thought it was ‘Overtakes on Softs.’”

His laugh was genuine, and she hated that it made her chest flutter. “Touché, Verstappen. Touché.”

Over the next few months, their paths crossed often—media days, driver briefings, paddock run-ins. Lando made it his mission to tease her relentlessly, and to her dismay, she found herself looking forward to it.

One afternoon, she’d been ranting about how Max ignored her race notes.

“I bet he ignores them because you write, like, an essay for every corner,” Lando teased, plopping down beside her in the lounge.

“You’ve never even seen my notes!”

“I don’t need to. You scream ‘overachiever.’”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “And you scream ‘class clown.’”

“Ah, but clowns are memorable.”

“Annoying, more like.”

“Annoyingly charming,” he corrected with a wink, making her laugh despite herself.

Their playful banter became a staple in the paddock, much to the amusement of their teams. Max often shot her knowing looks, while Carlos liked to poke Lando with, “Mate, just ask her out already.”

But Lando enjoyed the chase. Every lingering glance, every sarcastic comment, every moment they shared—it all felt electric.

One night after a particularly chaotic post-race party, they found themselves on a quiet balcony overlooking the marina.

“You’re surprisingly tolerable when you’re not trying to be funny,” Y/N remarked, leaning against the railing.

“And you’re surprisingly fun when you’re not intimidating,” Lando countered, nudging her playfully.

She looked at him, the usual walls in her eyes softening. “You don’t actually think I’m intimidating, do you?”

“Only in the best way,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re... different, Y/N. In a good way.”

Her breath hitched slightly, but she covered it with a smirk. “You’re such a flirt, Norris.”

“Only with you.”

It was after a rainy qualifying in Silverstone when everything changed. Y/N had stayed late in the garage, waiting for Max, when Lando appeared, soaked and grinning.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked, handing him a towel.

“Trying to decide if I should do something really stupid,” he said, his voice unusually serious.

“What kind of stupid?”

“This kind.”

Before she could process his words, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers softly. The world seemed to blur as she kissed him back, a hundred unspoken moments between them finally falling into place.

Dating Lando was like stepping into a secret world. Behind closed doors, he was thoughtful, goofy, and overwhelmingly sweet. But in the paddock, he insisted they keep their relationship under wraps.

“It’s not that I’m ashamed,” he’d said one evening, his hand brushing her hair back as they lounged on the couch. “I just want us to have this—our thing—without the world tearing it apart.”

She had nodded, understanding his reasoning, but over time, doubt began to creep in. What if he wasn’t ready to commit? What if this secrecy was his way of keeping an exit strategy?

As Lando hugged her tightly after another stolen moment in the shadows of the McLaren motorhome, her thoughts spiraled.

He’s holding on so tight, but for how long? Am I just a phase he’s going to grow out of?

His voice broke through her haze. “You okay?”

She forced a smile, burying her face in his shoulder. “Yeah. Just tired.”

But as he held her, all she could think was, How much longer until he decides to let go?

Y/N sat in the McLaren hospitality, her hands gripping a lukewarm cup of tea she wasn’t drinking. She’d just watched Lando breeze past her in the paddock—no glance, no smile, not even a quick touch on the arm. He’d turned the charm on for the cameras as if she didn’t exist, leaving her to stew in the weight of their secrecy.

She set the cup down with a loud clink and stormed out. A short walk later, she was in the Ferrari hospitality, where Carlos and Rebecca sat chatting.

“Carlos,” she blurted, her voice trembling. “He’s going to break up with me.”

Carlos frowned, sitting up straighter. “¿Qué? Who’s breaking up with you?”

“Lando!” she exclaimed, collapsing onto the couch beside Rebecca, her emotions spilling over. “He doesn’t want this anymore—I know it!”

Rebecca placed a calming hand on Y/N’s knee. “Slow down, cariño. What happened?”

Y/N sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “It’s everything. He didn’t even look at me this morning. No hug, no kiss. Nothing. He just… walked past me like I wasn’t even there. And it’s not just today—it’s been months of hiding. He insists on keeping this a secret. I thought it was romantic at first, like we had something private, but now—” Her voice cracked as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Now you think it’s because he’s trying to find an easy way out,” Carlos finished, his tone heavy with disapproval.

Y/N nodded, sobbing into her hands. “He says it’s to protect us, but I don’t feel protected, Carlos. I feel like I’m not good enough for him to want people to know.”

Rebecca pulled Y/N into a hug, rubbing her back soothingly. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re more than good enough. If anything, it’s him who’s too blind to see what he’s doing to you.”

Carlos crossed his arms, his brow furrowed in thought. “Has he given you any reason to believe he doesn’t care about you anymore? Other than the secrecy?”

Y/N hesitated, her voice muffled against Rebecca’s shoulder. “It’s all the little things. He’s so different when we’re alone—he’s kind and loving and makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world. But the second we step into the paddock, it’s like I don’t exist. I just… I can’t do this anymore.”

Carlos’s face hardened, his protective side kicking in. “He needs to hear this, Y/N. But not from you—no, not while you’re like this.” He stood abruptly. “I’ll talk to him.”

“No!” Y/N sat up, her eyes wide. “You’ll just make things worse!”

“I won’t,” Carlos said firmly. “But he’s my friend, and I’m not going to sit here and watch him break your heart because he’s too much of an idiot to see what he’s doing. He needs a reality check.”

Rebecca nodded in agreement. “Carlos is right. He knows Lando better than anyone—you should let him handle it.”

Y/N sniffled again, her resolve softening under Rebecca’s calming presence. “You’re sure you won’t tell him I sent you?”

Carlos crouched in front of her, his expression softer now. “I’ll make it about what I’ve noticed. He’ll never know you said anything.”

Y/N nodded reluctantly. “Okay.”

Rebecca gave Y/N a comforting squeeze before Carlos kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll fix this, amiga. Trust me.”

As Carlos left, Y/N leaned into Rebecca’s side, her tears slowing but her heart still heavy. “What if he really does want to break up with me?”

Rebecca stroked her hair gently. “Then he’s the biggest fool on the planet, and we’ll make sure he knows it.”

Carlos leaned back in his chair in the McLaren hospitality, casually sipping on a bottle of water as Lando scrolled through his phone. They had been talking about summer break plans, with Lando suggesting a group trip to Ibiza.

“Ibiza would be fun,” Carlos said, setting his bottle down. “But only if you bring your girlfriend.”

Lando choked slightly, quickly glancing around to see if anyone overheard. “Shh, man!” he hissed, leaning closer. “What if someone hears you?”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “This is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Lando frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Carlos straightened, his tone turning serious. “Y/N came to see me today. She’s convinced you’re going to break up with her.”

“What?!” Lando’s voice rose before he quickly lowered it, glancing around again. “Why would she think that?”

“Because, mate, you’re treating her like some big secret, like she’s something you’re ashamed of,” Carlos said bluntly. “Every time you refuse to acknowledge her in public, every time you say no to posting a picture or holding her hand, she feels like she’s not enough for you.”

Lando’s face paled, his phone slipping from his hand. “That’s not… I don’t—” He stopped, his mind racing. “I’ve never said I’m ashamed of her. I thought she understood why I wanted to keep it private.”

Carlos leaned forward, his eyes hard. “She might have understood at first, but it’s been ten months, Lando. She’s tired. And frankly, I don’t blame her.”

Lando opened his mouth to argue but stopped as Carlos’s words sank in. His mind spiraled into a series of flashbacks.

-flashback-

He remembered the first time she’d asked if she could post a picture of them on her story. It was a harmless shot—just their intertwined hands on a table.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he’d said quickly. “You know how people can be.”

Her smile faltered, but she nodded. “Yeah. I get it.”

-flashback-

After a race in Monaco, Y/N had waited for him by the McLaren motorhome. When she tried to hug him, he’d gently pushed her into the shadows.

“Not here,” he’d whispered, glancing around nervously.

Her shoulders had slumped, and she took a step back. “Right. Sorry.”

-flashback-

At a post-race party, Rebecca had taken a picture of them laughing together. Y/N had been so happy, showing it to him with a hopeful smile.

“Becca sent this to me. Can I share it?”

Lando had hesitated. “Maybe not. It’s just… better if we keep it private.”

The light in her eyes had dimmed, though she tried to mask it with a nod. “Okay.”

present day

Lando’s chest tightened as the memories hit him. He hadn’t realized how often he’d dismissed her feelings or how much his need for secrecy had chipped away at her confidence.

“She thinks I want to break up with her?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Carlos nodded, his expression softening. “She’s scared, Lando. She loves you, but she’s scared that you don’t feel the same way.”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, his heart aching. “I’m such an idiot.”

Carlos smirked faintly. “You said it, not me.”

Lando ignored the jab, his mind already working. He couldn’t let her think he didn’t care. He couldn’t let her feel like she wasn’t enough.

“I need to fix this,” he said firmly, standing up so fast that his chair scraped against the floor.

Carlos leaned back with a satisfied grin. “About time.”

Lando’s mind raced with ideas, his determination growing. He’d spent months hiding their relationship from the world—now, he’d show everyone exactly how much she meant to him.

The pre-race chaos was in full swing. Mechanics bustled about, drivers made their final rounds with engineers, and the paddock buzzed with energy. Y/N stood to the side near the McLaren garage, watching quietly as Lando spoke with his team. Her arms were crossed, her heart heavy from the morning’s events.

She had seen him arrive, head down, moving past her like she didn’t exist. Again. The weight of the past few months pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

Rebecca’s words from earlier played in her head: “If he doesn’t see what he’s doing to you, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Maybe he doesn’t.

Suddenly, she noticed Carlos walking toward Lando, giving him a nudge and pointing in her direction. Lando froze, his head snapping up. Their eyes met briefly before Y/N turned away, unable to handle the hurt.

But before she could step back into the crowd, she heard his voice calling her name.

“Y/N!”

Her heart jumped. She turned to see Lando jogging toward her, his race suit partially unzipped and flapping as he moved. She frowned, confused. What is he doing?

As he reached her, he stopped, slightly out of breath. “I need to talk to you.”

“Now? You’re about to race,” she said, her tone wary.

“Now,” he insisted, his blue eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “I’ve been an idiot, and I need to fix this.”

“Lando, what are you—”

He didn’t let her finish. Instead, he stepped forward, cupping her face gently with his hands. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry for making you feel like you’re not enough, for hiding what we have, for… everything.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Lando…”

“I was scared,” he admitted, his forehead resting against hers. “Not of being with you, but of the world ruining what we have. I thought I was protecting us, but all I did was hurt you, and I hate myself for it.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” she whispered.

His eyes widened in shock. “No. God, no. I want you, Y/N. I love you. I’ve loved you since the day we met, and I’m done pretending I don’t.”

Before she could process his words, he pulled her into a kiss—deep and unapologetic, right there in the middle of the paddock.

The world around them seemed to pause. For a moment, there was only him—his lips on hers, his arms wrapped tightly around her, as if he was afraid to let go.

When they finally broke apart, she noticed the stunned silence around them. Cameras clicked furiously, and the hum of murmured voices grew louder.

“Lando…” she started, her cheeks flushed.

He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “Let them talk. I don’t care anymore.”

“But the team, the media—”

“Let them say what they want,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “I’m not hiding you anymore, Y/N. You’re my girlfriend, and the whole damn world is going to know it.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding. His words, his actions—it was all so overwhelming.

“Say something,” he said nervously, his grin faltering.

She threw her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

Cheers erupted around them, and Carlos’s loud, teasing whistle cut through the noise. “¡Eso es, chico! About time!”

Lando laughed, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You good now?”

Y/N nodded, her tears finally spilling over—but this time, they were happy ones. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“Good,” he said, pulling back just enough to look at her. “Because I’m not going anywhere, and I’m making sure everyone knows it.”

She smiled through her tears, and he kissed her again, sealing the promise with every ounce of love he felt.

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pomefioredove · 2 days ago

Note

Hello! I hope you feel better soon :) remember to drink lots of water!!

Could I request a one-shot with Idia, where reader brings him a meal they cooked themselves since he hasn't had much to eat in the past few days? (Sorry if this is too vague I've just been having thoughts of taking care of Idia)

no this is perfect! <3 actually just what I needed to write rn

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ you have that effect on him

type of post: fic characters: idia additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, food, mentions of eating and not eating, depression👍, actually cute, reader is not there much sorry,,,

One breath in. One breath out.

Idia has been counting the snicks and scorches on the ceiling all weekend.

They're mostly his. Haywire robots and Ortho mishaps, which he always takes the blame for. One dark smudge is from his shoe, when there was a bug on the ceiling and his brother was out of the room.

Each like a star in his own sky, memories of the days he could get out of bed.

This is not one of them.

Nor was yesterday. Or the day before that.

Just one of those weeks.

One breath in, one breath out. Idia feels painfully aware of the rise and fall of his chest.

He'd sent Ortho on some pointless sidequest for the day. He needed to be alone- well, not really. He just didn't want his brother to worry about him.

He gives up sleep, and lies on his side instead, opening his phone to doomscroll again. The harsh blue light makes his eyes water in the dark of his room.

It feels like he's been locked in an unskippable cutscene all week.

What would you think of him if you could see him now?

He doesn't want to picture it. Idia feels pathetic enough as a cringey, awkward, social reject, even if you like him that way.

There's no going up. When he hits rock bottom, he starts digging.

Knock.

Idia cringes at the sound. He was hoping to be asleep before Ortho came back.

Knock, knock.

"Come in,"

But he doesn't. Idia finally looks up, at the door. Ortho will give the compulsory three knocks, then wait for a verbal command, and then come in. He was programmed that way. He usually talks, too.

But, nothing.

Not Ortho, then.

Idia cozies himself back up in bed, dressing himself in blankets as if they were... well, a shroud.

Another hour goes by. At nine PM sharp, Ortho's melodious knocks, his happy chiming, and the light from the hall follow.

"Find that thing?" Idia asks. He can't even remember what he asked Ortho to get.

"Yep! And guess what! You have a present!"

Psh. Wut? Idia looks up from his phone.

Ortho hovers to the edge of the bed and hands Idia something lukewarm, in a covered glass dish.

"Whatsit?"

His brother giggles. "Can't you guess? You don't even need a scanner for it!"

Idia can't help but crack a smile at that, and he slowly sits up. He peels off the lid of the dish. It's soup.

"Did you make this?" he asks, inspecting the lukewarm dish.

Ortho gives a negative chime. "It was by your door when I returned. Would you like me to heat it up for you?"

"Uh..." Idia hums. "...Yeah. That'd be good."

Within a few minutes, it's back in his lap, hot again. Idia cautiously takes a bite. It's rich, filling, and good, clearly homemade. Not some cheap junk out of a can. One spoonful is more filling than any of the garbage he'd eaten in the past week.

"Your hormonal levels and body language indicate that it's satisfactory. Do you know who left it?" Ortho asks.

Idia shrugs. "Someone came by earlier, but I didn't get the door. Who'd leave me a home cooked meal, anyway?"

He eats some more. It's hard not to enjoy himself, if only a little.

"Well..." Ortho says. "...I may have mentioned to the Prefect that you've been unwell."

Idia almost does a spit-take. "WHAT?! WHA- WH?! This is- th-"

"Calm, Idy! I just said you weren't feeling well! They must have thought you were sick!"

He almost collapses on his bed. His hands are shaking. How humiliating. And he already looked lame enough as it was.

One breath in, one breath out.

"They came all the way out here..." he mutters, stirring the soup around the dish.

"They must really care about you, Idy!"

Idia's face goes bright red. "Don't say it like that..." he mumbles.

But he'd be lying if he wasn't secretly hoping that was true. The thought of you having made something like this just because he felt bad... well... it's a nice one.

You care.

Idia makes a mental note to send you a DM later. As thanks. And to ask if you have any soup left. It's pretty good...

Maybe the promise of you coming over will motivate him to get out of bed.

You have that effect on him.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud x reader

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ladykailitha · 2 days ago

Text

Spellbound Part 1

Normally I would post Caged Bird today, but this has a much larger backlog, sooo! Happy himbo witch time!

Summary: It's a quiet, idyllic life in the town of Hawkins. For everyone but Eddie Munson. You see, his look and cottage scream witch. The long, curly, dark curls, the black clothes, and dark and broody cottage all point to Eddie as a witch. But no. That title belongs to Steve Harrington down the way. In bright and cheery house, dressed in green and a sunny disposition. Things start turn in the town when Chrissy shows up on Eddie's doorstep thinking he's the witch.

Eddie Munson was everything one expected a witch to look like. He had long, curly, dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. He wore dark makeup and painted his nails black. In addition to the only color palette liked was reds and blacks, he wore lots of jewelry, including many things that people associated with witches like pentagrams, animal teeth, and beads.

The house he shared with his Uncle Wayne was light grey, ramshackle, little cottage with black roof, door, and trim. The front of the house was overgrown with vines and wild flowers.

So he really shouldn’t be surprised when people would knock on the door looking for a witch.

He opened the door with a sigh. “Can I help you?” he asked the stranger.

She was pretty thing, a little younger than him. She had bright green eyes and her strawberry blonde hair was neatly arranged on the top of her head. She wasn’t very tall, but her green dress gave her long lines.

“I need a love charm?” she asked with a blush. “I just want to know if the man my father wants me to marry is the right one, you know?” She twisted her handkerchief nervously in her hands.

Eddie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The witch lives two houses down and across the street. Great big sign that reads: ‘Harrington Witchery, charms, curses, and wishes performed here’.”

She looked down the way at the bright yellow house surrounded by neat plants and the perfect ray of sunlight on the door and then back at him in confusion. The door opened and the witch stepped out. He had honey colored hair and hazel eyes. He wore bright blue robes today and had the sunniest smile.

Eddie could feel his face flush as the witch waved over at both of them.

“Here he comes,” he said with a pinch of dismay.

“Hi,” the witch said brightly. “Are you looking for the witch?”

The young woman looked back at Eddie and then at the witch. “Yes?”

“Fantastic!” he said beaming at her. “I’m Steve Harrington, witch extraordinaire. Please to meet you!”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” she said shyly. “I was wanting a love charm?”

“I’d be happy to help you with that,” he said putting his arm over her shoulder, “let’s leave the grumpy Gus to his music playing, shall we?”

Eddie huffed. “That’s Mr. Grumpy Gus to you!”

Someone smacked him on the back of the head. “Don’t you go antagonizing the man who makes my arthritis medicine, boy.”

Steve stopped and turned around. “When do you need a top off on that, by the way?”

“I’m running a bit low,” Wayne admitted. “It was bit rougher this week with that huge storm we had.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll be over with the packet after I’m done with Chrissy.”

“I’ll have the tea ready for you,” Wayne said with a fond smile.

Chrissy looked around the house as he led her through to the back of the house. It was neat and tidy with every clearly labeled in a neat cursive hand. There was something bubbling on the fire, but from the smell it was probably dinner and not a potion. She could smell the beef and vegetables.

There were two rooms off the one side and the privy to the other. It was everything the opposite you would expect of a witch’s house. The animals on the other hand fit. One was a raven sitting in the windowsill being fed by a beautiful woman dressed in a dark blue gown. The other was a Tortoiseshell cat with bright green eyes, who meowed at her and jumped away.

“Merlin!” Steve admonished. “Be nice.”

The cat stopped in its hasty retreat and meowed back at him.

“Well she can’t help that,” he answered as if he understood what the cat was saying. “Now, run along and actually catch the mouse that has been stealing your food.”

Merlin meowed again and was off.

“He’ll never catch that mouse,” the woman said.

The raven crowed, seemingly in agreement.

“Then you catch it, Circe,” Steve huffed, hands on hips. “I know you can and you complaining about Merlin’s abilities doesn’t catch the mouse any faster.”

The raven crowed and flew off, causing the woman to laugh. “She won’t catch it either.”

“Yes,” Steve agreed, “but with her it’ll be because she doesn’t like being told what to do and not because she can’t.”

Chrissy shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “So about that love charm?” she asked tentatively.

Steve jumped. “Oh! Oh my god! I got so wrapped up in familiar politics I nearly forgot you were there. Here, just let me...” he began gathering supplies.

Some twine, a bit of silk, some herbs and oddly a couple of flowers too. Ivy, lilac and pansy. He swiftly made them into a doll and handed it to her. “A lock of your hair, and snip of your petticoat will finish the job. Then whisper into its ear all the things you want in your true love. Then the next time you touch your betrothed, you will know if he is your true love.”

“That’s all?” Chrissy asked, staring down at the doll, no bigger than her palm.

“Yep!” he said brightly. “Robin will help you with the hair and petticoat. I’ll be in the front room preparing Wayne’s medicine.”

Chrissy blushed and nodded. Robin stood up and wandered over to the desk to grab the scissors.

“Are you a witch, too?” Chrissy asked as she held still for Robin to clip a bit of her petticoat.

Robin stood up with a smile. “Not yet, but I hope to be. Steve is teaching me. I��m still a little clumsy with the potions but I’m good with the herbs. Steve says that I could be a hedge witch!”

“Oh!” Chrissy cried. “I didn’t know there were different kinds of witch. What kind is Steve?”

“The tired kind!” Steve huffed from the front room.

Robin giggled. “Don’t make me laugh when I’m about to cut her hair!” she admonished.

Steve looked over his shoulder and gave her a completely unrepentant grin. Robin huffed and gently took a bit of curl from the base of her head near the neck. She took the doll back from Chrissy and tied both pieces to the doll.

“Now,” she said brightly, “just whisper all your wants and desires for a future soulmate. It’s actually good you’re doing it now. A lot of people do it as kids with childish hopes and dreams which isn’t great for adult relationships.”

Steve came into the room dusting his hands off on a towel. “That’s unfair,” he huffed. “It’s not childish, it’s childlike. And who knows love better than someone who hasn’t been taught to hate yet.”

Chrissy tilted her head to the side. “I think I’m with Steve on that one, Robin.”

“Yeah, well,” Robin said rolling her eyes and stepping back. “Doing it as a child hasn’t done Mr. Witch over here any good. He had his made by his mom when he was seven and fifteen years later, he still hasn’t found his true love.”

Steve threw the towel over one shoulder and put both hands on his hips. “I still maintain that it’s because I’m witch and can’t get out much that’s why I haven’t found them yet.”

“I still thi–” Robin began and then was cut off with a wave Steve hand. She glared at him.

“It won’t last very long,” Steve growled, “but long enough that Miss Cunningham won’t be here for that particular argument.”

“She thinks you’ve already met your true love?” Chrissy surmised.

Robin jumped up and down and nodded with a huge grin.

“Robin is operating under the delusion that the goth down the road is my soulmate,” Steve huffed putting his hands back on his hips. “Never mind, it’s a guy, he absolutely hates me because people keep mistaking my house for his.”

Chrissy blushed a deep red. “Yeah, sorry about that. But it’s the commonly held belief that witches are–”

Steve held up his hand. “I’m going to stop you there. I won’t gag you like I did Robin. But I don’t know where those ‘commonly held beliefs’ come from, but witches have never worn black or had black cats or flew on brooms. Hedge witches in particular favor nature’s colors of blues and greens and browns. But you’re all set to go.”

Chrissy recognized the dismissal that it was and turned to leave. She barely got a single step when she turned around.

“What about payment?” she asked, uncertain. “Surely you need something in payment.”

Steve’s eyes seemed to glow gold for a moment as he spoke. “There is no need to pay for a love charm, there being more love in the world is enough for the spell. And it is only spell that does so.”

“Your other charms and spells have payments?” she asked, now a little nervous.

“Most of them require a trade or a simple favor,” Steve said, seriously, “like running an errand for me. But if you ask for a potent charm, one would almost call a wish, that is all you will get from me. You’ll never be able to find my house ever again. You’ll see me around town and I can visit you. But you require some powerful magic, then that’s it. I will not be used to fix every problem you see fit.”

Chrissy gulped and nodded. She clutched the doll to her chest and ran off.

“Steve...” Robin said, darkly. “There was no need to frighten her.”

Steve leveled her with a glare. She backed off, hands in the air in surrender. He stomped back to his potion, the small cottage darkening with his foul mood. The raven flew into through the window and landed on his shoulder, rubbing her beak on his temple.

“I’m fine, Circe,” Steve mumbled, scratching the raven’s neck. “I think Merlin was right about her. She wasn’t here for a good reason. I think she just wanted to prove to everyone that Master Carver’s son isn’t her soulmate. I don’t think she’s actually interested in finding true love.”

The raven crowed and cawed.

“Of course you caught the mouse,” he huffed, gently shaking his head not to dislodge her from his shoulder. “What did you do with it?”

Circe cawed again and Steve laughed. “Of course you did. Merlin is probably pouting. He’ll play with its corpse once he’s done.”

The raven made a sound suspiciously like laughter and then flew away. Robin came up and put her hand on his shoulder and then pulled him into a hug.

“I heard what you told Circe,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “You’re right of course. Merlin, too. She was trying to hard to believe in your magic. She was just looking for an excuse not to marry dickface.”

“That’s Master Dickface to you,” Steve teased halfheartedly.

Robin snorted. “Yeah well. That’s probably the last we see of her. He’ll turn out to be her soulmate, she’ll be forced to marry him and she’ll live in the ivory tower the rest of her days.”

He let out a shuddering breath. “I’m heading over to visit Wayne to deliver his medicine. I’ll be back later.”

She grinned and jumped up and down. “Maybe the hottie gothy will be there and you’ll finally touch and it’ll be...” she clutched her hands together and batted her eyelashes, “true love!”

He pushed her off of him and wrapped up the blue packets of medicine. He paused for a moment and then took a jar of Mrs. Henderson’s homemade raspberry jam and added it to the basket.

Robin took a loaf of bread from the cooling rack and wrapped it up. “There you go, little yellow riding hood! Of to Wayne’s you go! Don’t let the big bad goth eat you!”

Part 2

Tag List: TEN OPEN SLOT REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #witch steve harrington #witch au

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eu-nicola · 1 day ago

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not yours part 4

summary: Rafe Cameron is the perfect boyfriend… but not yours, but Sofia’s. However, fate plays against you when you become the only person capable of understanding him in his darkest moments. What begins as a dangerous friendship soon becomes an attraction impossible to deny.

warnings: nothing i think

word counter: 8734

author’s note: english is not my first language, final part

tags: @immyowndefender @luannemarureis @xcinnamonmalfoyx @fallout-girl219

The trip was over, and with it, you returned to the reality you had wanted to avoid. During the journey back, a mix of nervousness and anxiety had accompanied you. Rafe had promised you that he would leave Sofia. But now, days later, that promise seemed to have been forgotten.

Since they returned, everything had returned to normal for him. Or at least, that facade of normality. Sofia was still by his side, as always, smiling and unaware of everything that had happened. And Rafe… Rafe was still the same as always. Attentive to her in public, but seeking you out in private, as if nothing had changed, as if his life could be divided between both worlds without consequences.

At first, you wanted to give yourself time, to believe that maybe he needed a few days to sort things out. But every time Sofia posted a photo of them together or talked to you enthusiastically about how things were working out again, you felt a pang in your chest, a mix of anger and disappointment.

That day, after ignoring several of his messages, you ended up going to his house. Not because you wanted to, but because you needed answers. The atmosphere was tense from the moment you walked through the door. Rafe greeted you with a light smile, as if everything was fine, as if he didn’t know what you had come to tell him.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said casually as he led you into the living room. His tone was carefree, as if the last conversation you had hadn’t happened, as if the world wasn’t falling apart between you.

You sat on the couch, crossed your arms, and stared at him. He noticed your serious expression, but tried to ignore it, moving closer to you like so many other times. However, this time you didn’t allow it. You moved away slightly, keeping your distance.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, feigning innocence, but you knew he understood perfectly.

“What’s wrong?” you repeated, feeling frustration begin to boil inside you. Rafe, are you really asking me that?

He shrugged, as if he had no idea what you were referring to. That gesture bothered you more than it should have.

“You promised you would leave Sofia when we got back,” you finally said, your voice firm but restrained. You didn’t want to lose control, even though everything in you screamed for you to do so. “You told me this was going to end.”

Rafe sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and dropped into the chair in front of you. He looked tired, but you weren’t going to let that stop you.

“Things are more complicated than you think,” he finally answered, as if that sentence could justify everything. “I need time.”

“Time?” you asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “You had time. Days, weeks… and in the meantime, she still believes that everything is fine, that you are with her.”

Rafe leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his intense gaze locked on yours.

“It’s not that easy. I don’t want to hurt her.”

Those words hit you. He didn’t want to hurt her, but apparently, hurting you was a much easier option.

“You don’t want to hurt her?” you repeated, this time with a colder tone. “And what do you think you’re doing with me?”

Silence settled in the room. For the first time, Rafe seemed speechless, unable to respond.

“You promised me something, Rafe. You told me that I was the person you wanted, that all of this was going to change. And here we are, days later, and everything is still the same. You’re still the same.”

He stood up, as if he couldn’t stand the conversation from the couch. He paced the room, frustrated, but you couldn’t empathize with him. It was his decision, and so far, he hadn’t done anything.

“It's not that simple…” he said again, but this time his voice was softer, almost a whisper.

“Yes it is” you said firmly, standing up too. “If you really loved me, you would do the right thing. But it seems you'd rather stay with her, where you can have both of us.”

Your words hung in the air, raw and painful. Rafe looked at you with his lips pressed together, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words.

Finally, it was he who broke the silence:

“I don't want to lose you.”

It hurt you to hear it. Because he didn't want to lose you, but he didn't seem willing to do what was necessary to keep you either.

“You're already losing me, Rafe.”

You turned your back on him, ready to leave, because you knew that if you stayed, you would end up giving in, like so many other times. And this time, you didn't want to be the one who always forgave.

The air in the room was thick with tension, and your words still echoed in your mind as you began to walk towards the door. But before you could take another step, you felt a firm hand grab your arm, stopping you in your tracks. Without saying a word, Rafe turned you towards him, his face filled with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on: desperation, frustration, desire… maybe all of it.

Before you could react, his lips met yours in an urgent kiss, as if he needed to feel you close, as if he was trying to take back everything he had just said. It was a kiss full of contradictions, almost as if he wanted to ask for forgiveness and, at the same time, claim something he knew he had no right to ask for.

Your mind fought against your body, which responded with a mix of rage and desire. You were angry, yes, but you couldn’t deny what you felt when he touched you like that. Every part of you screamed to stop him, to pull away and not let things happen again, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. The desire was stronger, and before you could make a conscious decision, you found yourself beside him, back in his arms, kissing him with an intensity that surprised you.

He guided you towards the couch, and as upset as you were, you couldn’t pull away. The anger was still there, but somehow, that didn’t stop you from moving forward. Maybe it was the exhaustion of constantly fighting what you felt for him, or maybe it was the hope that things could change after this moment, but when the barriers you still held were stripped away, everything else fell away.

Anger and resentment mixed with the passion of the moment, an emotional chaos you couldn't escape. You knew it was wrong, you knew it was a surrender, but you didn't say no. As emotions and bodies intertwined, reality faded away, leaving you lost in desire, in the contradiction of being furious but unable to reject him.

When it was all over, silence settled in again, heavier than ever. You were exhausted, both emotionally and physically. He looked at you with a mix of guilt and satisfaction, and even though you knew what had just happened wouldn't change anything, you couldn't help but feel something inside you breaking.

And so, in the midst of that confusion, the words you hadn't wanted to say continued to float between you, without an answer that could ease what you felt. You got up and changed and before leaving you told him:

“Next time you look for me, make sure you've made a decision. Because I'm not going to continue being the option you keep in the shadows.”

And you left, leaving behind a Rafe who, for the first time, seemed to understand that things couldn't go on like this.

That same night, anxiety continued to vibrate in your chest. Every word you had said to him still echoed in your head, and although you knew you had done the right thing by facing him, you felt restless, uncomfortable, as if something was about to break.

You arrived home, exhausted both physically and emotionally. You didn't want to think about him anymore. You lay down on your bed and stared at the ceiling in the darkness. The silence was almost oppressive, and your mind kept replaying every detail of the conversation with Rafe.

Just as you were beginning to fall asleep, the sound of your phone lit up the room.

A message.

You reached out, feeling the cold of the device on your skin, and as you unlocked it, Sofia's name appeared on the screen. Your stomach immediately contracted. It was too late for her to text you something casual.

With a mix of nervousness and curiosity, you opened the message.

“Rafe dumped me.”

Three words that froze you completely.

You read the message over and over again, making sure you hadn’t misunderstood. But no, there it was, clear and direct. Sofia, your best friend, had just been dumped by Rafe… and with no explanation.

Your heart was pounding, and you felt a surge of conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was relief. Relief that Rafe had done what you had asked, what you had demanded of him. But there was also guilt. Because you knew you were the reason, even if Sofia didn’t know it.

Another message came seconds later.

“He didn’t say anything. He just… left me. Just like that, suddenly.”

Your mind filled with images of Sofia, alone, confused, wondering what she had done wrong, not knowing that the truth was much darker than she could imagine.

You wanted to respond, but you couldn’t find the right words. What could you say? How could you comfort her when you yourself were so involved in what had happened?

Several minutes passed before your fingers finally moved over the screen.

“Sof… I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

You knew it was an insufficient answer, but you had nothing better to offer. You felt like anything you said would be a lie or a betrayal.

Her response came quickly:

“No. I’m not okay. I don’t understand anything. We were okay… or at least I thought we were.”

You read her message with a heavy heart. You knew exactly what she felt. You had seen how Sofia struggled on the trip, how she tried to save a relationship that, for her, still had a future.

“I want to see you.”

The next message took you by surprise. Sofia wanted to see you, now. Your first instinct was to refuse, to look for an excuse, something that would allow you to avoid the inevitable confrontation. But how do you say no to your best friend at her worst moment?

“Of course. Tell me where you are.”

In less than fifteen minutes, you were at her front door. Sofia greeted you with swollen eyes and a tired face. There was no trace of the girl who just a few days ago was excited to save her relationship.

“Thanks for coming,” she whispered as she let you in.

You entered the living room, where the atmosphere was as heavy as Sofia’s gaze. She sat on the couch and you sat next to her, feeling the weight of guilt in every fiber of your body.

“I don’t understand what happened,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “We were fine… at least I thought we were fine.”

The sincerity in her voice broke you. You wanted to tell her the truth, but you knew that doing so would destroy everything: your friendship, your trust, everything you had built together. So you stayed silent, letting her vent.

“She didn’t even give me a reason,” she continued, nervously playing with her hands. “She just said she couldn’t go on. I don’t understand…

And you didn’t understand how you had gotten to this point either. How had you allowed everything to fall apart so quickly?

“Sof…” you began, but the words caught in your throat. What could you say that didn’t sound hollow? “Sometimes… people are cowards. They don’t know how to handle things and they end up running away.”

She looked at you with eyes full of tears.

“Do you think that’s it? That she just… didn’t know how to handle it?”

You nodded slowly, even though you knew the truth was much more complicated. It wasn’t just that. It was Rafe, it was desire, it was everything they had both done behind each other’s backs.

“Sofia, he doesn’t deserve you if he can’t be honest with you.” It was the most sincere thing you could offer her without giving yourself away.

She sighed, letting her head fall on your shoulder.

“Maybe you’re right. But… it hurts. It hurts so much.”

And as you comforted her, you felt your own heart break in two. Because you knew that Sofia’s pain was, in part, your fault.

The weeks following Sofia's breakup with Rafe became an emotional whirlwind that seemed impossible to escape. Sofia, devastated and confused, sought your comfort constantly. And you... you were there for her, like the loyal friend you had always been. But guilt slowly consumed you.

Every time she cried on your shoulder, every time she asked for advice, a part of you was torn apart. Because while you offered her words of support, while you told her everything would be okay, that she deserved better... you continued to secretly see Rafe.

Rafe, who had promised to leave her, who had said everything would be easier once he did. But nothing was easy. The guilt, the tension, the constant lying... it all weighed more than you had imagined.

One afternoon, Sofia showed up at your house with swollen eyes and a broken voice.

"I don't know what to do, I still love him. I can't stop thinking about him."

You stayed silent, biting your lip, trying to contain the torrent of emotions that was overwhelming you. You loved her so much, but you loved him too. It was a paradox that was tearing you apart from the inside.

“Maybe… maybe it’s best that you try to move on,” you finally said, your voice shaking.

She looked at you with eyes full of despair.

“Move on? I can’t. How do you move on when everything you wanted was with him?”

You didn’t know what to answer. Because you were living that same contradiction. You were trapped in something you didn’t want to let go of, but you knew it was destroying you.

Later that night, your phone vibrated on your nightstand. You knew who it was before you looked at the screen. Rafe.

The message was simple, direct.

“Come see me.”

You hesitated. You wanted to go. You wanted to see him, to feel the fleeting relief that being with him gave you, even if it was only for a few hours. But every time you did, the guilt sank deeper.

Finally, you gave in. You arrived at his house when the sky was already dark, and the warm light that illuminated the entrance seemed to mock you. You entered with a divided heart.

Rafe was waiting for you in the living room, leaning on the edge of the table, with that look that always managed to disarm you. The air tensed as soon as your eyes met.

“How is Sofia?” he asked, although he didn’t seem really interested in the answer.

“Bad,” you said frankly. “I have a hard time being around her… knowing what we’re doing.”

Rafe took a step towards you, his blue eyes fixed on yours, intense and challenging.

“Why do we keep hiding?” he asked, his voice low but firm. “She should know.”

The weight of his words fell on you like a stone. You took a step back, shaking your head.

“No. She can’t know. Not now. She’s broken, Rafe. If she finds out now… I’ll lose her forever.”

He frowned, frustrated.

“So what? Are we going to stay like this forever? I want you, not her.”

Your heart stopped for a second. There was something about the way he said it, with such certainty, such conviction, that for a moment you almost let yourself go. Almost.

“I can’t do that to her, Rafe,” you whispered, almost begging. “I can’t be the reason for her pain.”

“What about you?” he replied, moving closer, his hands finding yours.

You looked at him, caught between desire and guilt. Yes, you wanted to be happy. But at what cost?

“I can’t be happy at her expense,” you said, your voice breaking.

Rafe watched you in silence for a few seconds, his eyes assessing you, as if trying to understand the internal battle you were fighting. Finally, he sighed.

“I don’t want her. I want you.”

Your eyes filled with tears. You knew it. You had known it for a long time. But hearing it out loud, said so clearly, made it more real… and more impossible to ignore.

“It’s not that easy,” you murmured, looking away.

“It doesn’t have to be hard. Just tell me you love me too.”

You couldn't answer. Because your heart that was beating wildly, the way your hands trembled in his, and how, despite everything, you kept coming back to him, had already said it all for you.

"Don't make this any harder," you begged, your voice almost inaudible.

Rafe came even closer, his lips brushing your cheek in a gesture that was both soft and desperate.

"Sooner or later, he's going to find out. I can't keep pretending that I don't want to be with you."

The following days you felt trapped between the happiness of finally being with him and the anguish of what was to come. You knew that nothing good could come of this, but Rafe seemed to be in a different reality.

He wasted no time in integrating you into his world, a world that until then had been foreign to you. The first time he took you to one of those meetings with his friends was completely unexpected. He had insisted that you accompany him, assuring you that it would be something casual, just a relaxing afternoon. You had no choice but to accept, even though a part of you screamed that you shouldn't.

When you arrived, the atmosphere was full of laughter, music, and carefree conversations. Rafe's friends, the same ones Sofia used to hang out with, greeted you with smiles and greetings as if everything was perfectly normal. But the most shocking moment came when, almost casually, Rafe introduced you as if nothing had happened:

“She's my girlfriend.”

Your heart stopped for a moment. You hadn't even talked about what you were. You hadn't defined anything. But he said it so naturally, with such confidence, that his words hung in the air. You felt everyone's gazes on you, evaluating you, judging you. Some seemed surprised, others simply accepted the information without further ado.

You tried to stay calm, smiling slightly as your mind raced. He had crossed a line without consulting you, and it left you baffled. However, you didn't say anything at that moment. You didn't want to make a scene, not there, not in front of everyone.

For the rest of the evening, you stayed out of the way, watching, analyzing every move, every glance. Rafe, on the other hand, seemed comfortable, unconcerned, as if there was nothing left to hide. Every now and then, he'd come up to you, put his arm around you, or give you a kiss on the cheek, marking his territory without caring who was watching.

But you knew this wasn't going to go unnoticed. Sofia and those friends shared circles, rumors spread quickly in that environment. Sooner or later, she was going to find out.

That night, when you returned home, you couldn't help but confront him.

"Why did you tell them I'm your girlfriend?" you asked, your voice tenser than you had planned.

Rafe looked at you calmly, as if he didn't understand your concern.

"Because you are."

“But we hadn't talked about it. You didn't ask me.”

He shrugged, as if it didn't matter.

“I didn't see the need to talk about it. You and I are together. That's all that matters.”

His words, though simple, didn't ease the anxiety that was eating away at you inside. Because you knew that for him it was easy to say it, easy to act as if there were no consequences. But for you, for Sofia... none of this would be easy.

That night, as you lay in your bed, the weight of the situation kept you awake. You wondered how many more days could pass before everything exploded, before Sofia discovered the truth and your whole world fell apart.

And as you had said, Sofia found out. You didn't know exactly how, if it was because of the rumors that spread like wildfire in that closed circle or if someone, perhaps with malicious intentions, decided to tell her the truth. But the result was the same: your friendship with her, the relationship you valued so much, was about to break.

It all happened one afternoon when Sofia, with a dry and direct message, asked you to go to her house. "We need to talk." Two words that already gave you an idea of what was to come. You felt a knot in your stomach as you headed to her house, as if every step you took brought you closer to the edge of a cliff.

When you arrived, Sofia was waiting for you in the living room. There was no trace of the kind and warm Sofia who always greeted you with a smile. Her eyes, usually full of sweetness, now shone with a mix of pain, anger and betrayal.

“How long?” she asked you without preamble, her voice cold, sharp.

You tried to stay calm, but your hands were shaking slightly.

“Sofia, I...”

“How long have you been with Rafe?” she repeated, this time with more force, her eyes fixed on yours as if they wanted to pierce you.

The silence that followed was deafening. You knew that lying was pointless, so you took a deep breath and confessed:

“For a while now… after the trip.”

Sofia’s expression changed in an instant. The pain turned into anger, an anger you had not seen in her before.

“After the trip?” she blurted out in disbelief, taking a step towards you. “While I was trying to save my relationship with him, you were with him behind my back?.”

You tried to explain yourself, but every word felt empty, useless.

“It wasn’t planned, Sofia. I didn’t want it to happen.”

“But it happened!” she interrupted you, her voice breaking. “You were my best friend, I trusted you. I thought you were on my side, that you supported me… and all this time you were with him.”

You felt her pain stab you like a dagger. It was true. You had betrayed her trust, something you never thought you would do, but now it was impossible to deny.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you said in a whisper, knowing that your words wouldn’t be enough.

Sofia laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh of joy. It was a bitter laugh, full of disappointment.

“You didn’t want to hurt me, but you did. You took away the person I loved, and not only that, you also took away my best friend.”

The truth of her words hit you hard. You had lost something irreplaceable: her friendship.

“Sofia, please… can we talk, can we…”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she interrupted you again. “Everything has already been said. I don’t know who you are. I don’t want to know anything more about you.”

Each word was like a stab. You wanted to hug her, to ask for forgiveness, but the wall that had been raised between the two of you was too high, too thick. Sofia looked at you one last time, her gaze full of resentment and pain, before turning and walking away.

You stayed there, alone in that room that had previously witnessed so much laughter, now empty of everything you had shared with her.

When you left her house, the weight of guilt and sadness became unbearable. You had lost Sofia, and the worst of all was that you knew there was no turning back. The lines you had crossed with Rafe had broken something that could not be repaired.

That night, Rafe texted you, as always, asking how you were. But this time, you didn't reply. Because nothing was right.

The next day, everything felt different. The breakup with Sofia still weighed on your chest, like an open wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. You'd barely slept, and when you finally opened your eyes, the first thing you felt was that emptiness that your friendship used to fill.

Rafe noticed it right away. You weren't the same. Your answers were short, your eyes avoided his, and your every move seemed laden with a sadness you couldn't hide. Still, he was there. He texted you early that morning, offering to spend the day with you, to which, after a moment's hesitation, you agreed.

When he got to your house, he didn't say much. He simply looked at you, understanding that there was something broken in you, something that he, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't fix. But that didn't stop him from trying.

“Come on, get out of here for a while,” he said softly, taking your hand with a gentleness unusual for him.

You went out together, and even though you didn’t feel like doing anything, he didn’t leave you alone. You walked along the beach, that same beach that had witnessed so many moments between you two, but that now seemed laden with a silent melancholy.

Rafe tried to distract you. He bought you coffee, he took you to a secluded place where you used to escape from the world, he even tried to make you laugh with jokes that normally would have worked. But not today. Today everything seemed out of place.

At one point, as you walked along a deserted path, you stopped.

“I shouldn’t be here with you, Rafe,” you murmured, looking at the ground, as if the words hurt to come out. “Not after what happened.”

He looked at you in silence for a few seconds, his face serious but not losing that touch of tenderness that he rarely showed.

“I know you’re sad,” he said finally. “And I'm not going to pretend that this isn't complicated… but I'm here because I want to be here. Because I want to be with you.”

You didn't know what to say. His presence was comforting, yes, but it was also the reason for your loss. You felt a constant struggle between guilt and desire, between what was right and what made you feel alive.

Later, when you both sat on the sand in front of the sea, the sun was beginning to set on the horizon. Rafe put an arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to him. You let yourself go, resting your head on his chest while you listened to his heartbeat, strong and constant, as if he were trying to transmit some of his own calm to you.

“You're not alone, you know that?,” he murmured.

“I feel alone.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

He didn't respond immediately. He just held you tighter, as if that was enough to keep you whole, even if inside you felt like you were broken.

You spent the rest of the day together. There were no big words or extravagant gestures, just the silent company of someone who wanted to be there, even if he knew everything was strange, complicated, almost impossible.

When you finally returned home, Rafe walked you to the door. Before saying goodbye, he looked at you with an intensity that made you tremble.

“If I could, I would fix everything for you,” he said, almost in a whisper. “But for now, just let me be here.”

And even though you knew that relationship was built on a fragile foundation, that night you decided that, at least for one more moment, you would accept his company.

As the days went by, things calmed down. Rafe was more present than ever, and even though you felt like your world had fallen apart, he was still there, constant, firm, and increasingly involved in your life. But the void that Sofia had left was still there, reminding you of everything you had lost.

One afternoon, while you were at his house, lost in your thoughts on the patio, Rafe appeared with that confidence he always had, as if everything in his world was under control. He sat in front of you, looking at you with a seriousness he rarely showed.

“We need to talk.” His voice was low, but firm.

You looked at him, somewhat nervous. There was something in his expression that made you tense.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, crossing your arms, trying to prepare yourself for whatever was coming.

Rafe leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours.

“I want you to be my girlfriend.”

The air seemed to have suddenly become thicker. You looked at him, surprised, not knowing how to react.

“Your… girlfriend?.” you repeated, as if you hadn’t quite understood.

He nodded, not looking away.

“Yes. I don’t want to keep hiding, I don’t want this to be something half-baked. I want you to be mine, and I want everyone to know it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had waited for this moment, somehow, but now that it was happening, a mix of emotions flooded over you. There was a part of you that wanted it, that wanted to accept and leave all the guilt and fear behind. But there was also that other part, the one that knew things weren’t that simple.

“Rafe… this isn’t easy.” You tried to find the right words, but he interrupted you.

“It doesn’t have to be easy,” he said, with that characteristic confidence. “It just has to be real. I love you, and you love me. What else matters?.”

You stayed silent. You knew he was partly right, but you also knew that accepting meant definitely giving up any chance of regaining your friendship with Sofia.

After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, you took a deep breath and nodded.

“Okay.” The words came out softly, almost shakily. “I accept.”

Rafe smiled, that smile that always made you feel like everything would be okay. He leaned in and kissed you, a soft kiss, full of a silent promise. You were his now, and he was yours.

The next day, you decided it was time to try something you had been avoiding: talking to Sofia. Now that you were with Rafe, you thought it was the right thing to do, to make things clear. Enough time had passed since everything fell apart, and although you knew it would be difficult, you wanted to, at least, try to fix things.

You called her first, but she didn’t answer. So, gathering your courage, you went straight to her house. When she opened the door for you, her face reflected surprise, but also a coldness that you had never seen in her before.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, without inviting you in.

“Sofia… I wanted to talk to you.”

She looked at you in silence for a few seconds, before crossing her arms.

“I don’t know what else there is to say.”

You felt the weight of her words, but you didn’t give up.

“I know I screwed up, and I know you probably don’t want to talk to me again, but… I miss you. You were my best friend, and I don’t want this to end like this.”

Sofia looked at you with a mix of hurt and anger.

“Do you miss me?” she repeated, her voice full of sarcasm. “Because I confided everything to you. I confided my relationship to you, I confided my problems to you, and you…” Her voice cracked a little, but she quickly recovered. “You were with him behind my back.”

You tried to explain, but she held up a hand to stop you.

“I don’t want to hear excuses.” She said it with a cold calm that hurt more than if she had shouted. “What you did… can’t be fixed with words.”

You stood there, feeling how every attempt to get closer was rejected. You knew you were right about many things, but you also knew there was no turning back.

“I just wanted you to know…” you said finally, your voice breaking. “That I’m sorry.”

Sofia didn’t answer right away. She simply looked at you, as if she was evaluating how sincere you were.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive you.” Her voice was firm, but there was a trace of sadness in her eyes. “But for now… I’d rather you didn’t come back.”

The words were a final blow. You turned around and walked out, feeling the door close behind you, marking the definitive end of something that was once important.

When you returned home, Rafe was there, waiting for you. He welcomed you with a hug, as if he understood without you saying anything.

“How was it?” he asked softly.

You didn’t answer. You just held onto him tightly, feeling the tears you had been holding back finally come out.

You had lost Sofia. But at least, for now, you had Rafe. And that, at that moment, had to be enough.

Despite everything you had lost and the pain that the breakup with Sofia had left you with, there was something that was beginning to heal inside you: your relationship with Rafe. Against all odds, he had become someone who made you feel safe, wanted, and, above all, loved.

The days with him were different. It didn’t matter how much chaos surrounded your lives, because when you were with him, everything seemed to make sense. Rafe, the boy who had previously seemed unattainable, focused on himself and his own world, was now yours completely. And he didn't just show it to you with words, but with constant actions that spoke louder than any promise.

There were the small, everyday gestures: he would show up at your house unannounced, with your favorite coffee in his hand, or some flower he had plucked from who knows where, just because he knew it would make you smile. The text messages at any time of the day, reminding you how much he loved you, how he thought of you even in the middle of his routine. He was always there, making sure you knew you were the most important thing in his life.

But there was something you never imagined he would do. Rafe Cameron, the boy who had always been reserved, even in his way of expressing himself, had gone above and beyond.

One afternoon, while you were at his house, both of you lying on the couch, he began to play with your hand, tracing soft circles on your skin. There was a calmness in the air, a peace that you both shared. Suddenly, he sat up and looked at you with a mischievous smile on his lips.

“I have something to show you,” he said, with that spark in his eyes that always intrigued you.

You looked at him, curious, as he stood up and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt a little, revealing the inside of his arm. And there it was: a small, delicate tattoo, just below the crook of his elbow. Your name. It wasn’t big or flashy, but it was perfect. The typography was simple, clean, elegant, almost like he was whispering rather than shouting.

You were speechless. You knew tattoos weren’t his thing. Rafe had always been more of a minimalist, averse to anything that could permanently alter his appearance. But there he was, with your name etched into his skin.

“You did it for me?” you asked, still taking in what you saw.

He smiled, that soft, genuine smile he rarely showed.

“For you,” he answered without hesitation. “Because I want you to know this is forever.”

You felt a warmth in your chest, a mix of happiness and excitement that you couldn’t contain. You gently stroked the skin around the tattoo, admiring the way it looked. It was something subtle, but meaningful, like he had found the perfect way to show you how much he loved you without losing his essence.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, still in disbelief. “You… weren’t into tattoos.”

Rafe shrugged, downplaying it.

“It wasn’t,” he admitted. “But some things are worth it. And you… you’re worth it.”

The words hit you hard, but in a sweet way. You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him, feeling his heart beat against your chest. At that moment, you knew that, despite everything, you had made the right decision.

From then on, every time you saw him, your eyes inevitably returned to that tattoo. It was a constant, a reminder of what you had built together, of how he had decided to bet on you. Even in his busiest moments, at meetings with his friends or in the busiest places, that little detail made you feel special, as if you were always present in his life, even when you weren't physically by his side.

You were fine with Rafe. It had been weeks since everything changed, since you crossed that line that you had so feared, but that now seemed to have been the best decision you had made. The relationship was moving at its own pace, neither too fast nor too slow, just the way you liked it. You didn't want to force anything, and Rafe seemed to understand that perfectly.

The days with him were a mix of tranquility and passion. They had found a balance. They went out together, shared moments in the privacy of their home or walked around the city, but always with that complicity that made them feel unique. There was no rush, nor expectations beyond what both of them could handle. You were fine, really fine.

You had tried to talk to Sofia again on more than one occasion. You tried because, despite everything, she had been your best friend. You knew you couldn't erase the shared history or the memories you still treasured.

The first time you looked for her, it was complicated. She didn't want to see you. She didn't answer your messages or your calls. It didn't surprise you, but it still hurt. The second time, you managed to meet her at an event that you were both invited to. You approached her, with every intention of explaining, of asking for forgiveness, of trying to save what little was left between you.

"Sofia," you called her cautiously, trying to get her attention. "Can we talk?"

She looked at you, her eyes cold, distant, nothing like the warmth they used to have when you were her confidant.

"There's nothing to talk about," she said bluntly, making it clear that there was no room for second chances.

You accepted her decision. You understood that some things simply couldn't be fixed, that there were wounds that wouldn't heal, and that the price you had paid for being with Rafe had been high. But, for the first time, you didn't feel guilty. You had done what you could, and now you just had to move on.

A few days after that last conversation with Sofia, you spoke to your mother. You needed to talk to someone, to get advice, or simply to feel the comfort that only she could offer.

You told her everything: how you had tried to repair the relationship with Sofia, how Rafe had become a fundamental part of your life, and how, despite everything, you were happy with him.

Your mother listened to you attentively, with that wise look she had always had. When you finished speaking, she put her cup aside and looked at you seriously.

“Did you do all this for a man?” she asked you, her tone firm but without judgment.

“Not just for him, Mom,” you answered. “I did it for me too. Because I love him.”

She nodded slowly, processing your words. Then, with that frankness that had always characterized her, she challenged you:

“So, if you love him so much and you have come this far, you better marry him.”

The phrase took you by surprise, but it didn’t bother you. It was typical of your mother to be direct, and deep down, you knew she was right. You stayed silent for a few seconds, thinking.

“You know what? I think I will,” you said with a soft smile. “I’m sure I’m going to marry him.”

And you were. Because, despite everything you had been through, the losses and the difficult decisions, Rafe was the man you wanted to build your future with.

Since that conversation with your mother, the idea of marrying Rafe stopped being just a fleeting thought. It became something tangible, something you saw in every gesture of his, in every look, in every moment you shared.

Rafe showed you that day after day. He was there for you on good days and bad, taking care of you, protecting you, making sure you knew how much he loved you. And you reciprocated that love with the same intensity. You had found in him a stability you never imagined having, a peace that made you feel complete.

You didn't know when or how it would happen, but you were sure that when the time came, you would be ready to say "yes."

And after so much, a year had passed. A year since everything changed, since you crossed that line you never thought you would cross, and since, with Rafe, everything took a new shape. You had learned so much in that time. Not only about him, but about yourself, about what love and complicity in a relationship meant. It had been a year full of intense moments, of ups and downs, of doubts and certainties. But now, looking back, you could only smile at everything you had experienced with him.

After a while, you had gone to live with him. Your parents had helped you move in and, strangely, they had gotten along very well with Rafe, being that your parents were somewhat peculiar and he was too. Now they were on the beach, a quiet afternoon, just before the sun set. The sound of the waves gently breaking on the shore and the fresh air caressing your face created the perfect atmosphere. They were sitting together on the sand, enjoying the peace, each other's company, without the need for words. Everything seemed to be in place.

Rafe, who had been looking at the horizon, looked at you with a different, more intense expression. He gently took your hands, as if he wanted to make sure you would feel it. His deep gaze left you speechless, and your heart beat faster at the seriousness on his face.

“You know I love you, right?” he asked you, as if he needed to confirm it, even though you knew you did.

You nodded, smiling tenderly. There was no doubt that you wanted him, that you loved him.

But what happened next took your breath away. Rafe stood up, gently put you down, and walked over to a small backpack he had left nearby. From there he pulled out a small box, and your heart skipped a beat. It had been a year full of hints, of little moments in which the two of you talked about the future, about the possibility of taking the next step. But you never thought it would be so soon, not so soon after everything that had happened.

Calmly, he walked back to your side, opening the box with a shaking hand, and inside, a ring gleamed in the evening light. It was delicate, perfect for you. It had a soft glow, but what made it truly special was its story: his mother’s ring, a jewel that had been passed down through generations of his family.

Rafe looked into your eyes, waiting for you to process what was happening. The sound of the waves was the only thing breaking the silence, but at that moment, everything else disappeared.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he said, his voice firm but charged with emotion. “I’ve asked you to be my girlfriend, and now I want you to be my wife.”

Your heart raced. Everything you had imagined, everything you had felt during that year, everything you had experienced with him, was condensed in that very moment. Rafe wanted to be with you, not just now, but always.

“Yes,” you answered, almost without thinking. Yes, because you loved him, yes, because you couldn't imagine your life without him, yes, because he had spent a whole year showing you what love really meant.

The sun was beginning to set behind him, tinting the sky in warm tones. At that moment, there was nothing more important than being there, next to him, knowing that the future they both dreamed of was within reach.

And even though it wasn’t the first time he had proposed to you, this was the most special. Rafe had done it before, a couple of times, but always in spontaneous moments, almost as if he said it without thinking. Each time, you had responded with a smile and a nervous laugh, because deep down, you knew you weren’t ready yet. It wasn’t that you didn’t love him, it wasn’t that you didn’t feel completely happy with him. It was just that, sometimes, the idea of getting married so quickly scared you. You wanted to be sure that it was the right thing to do, that you were both ready to take that step.

But as time went by, everything started to fall into place. You had shared moments so deep, so intense, that the commitment to get married didn’t seem so intimidating anymore. You accepted Rafe’s proposal not out of obligation, not because he was asking you to, but because you knew it was what you really wanted. You had been patient, and in those moments when you had questioned yourself, you had found the answer.

It was several minutes before you said anything. You just stared at him, the ring on your finger, feeling the weight of what it represented. Finally, you hugged him. You didn't need words, because everything was clear between the two of you. You knew that the rest of your life would be with Rafe, and that made you happier than you ever thought you would be.

You had lost a friendship, and although at first the idea of losing Sofia had torn you apart, as time went by you realized that you no longer regretted it. Everything that had happened between you, Rafe, and her was behind you, like a page in a book that now had nothing but scars and memories. It wasn't easy to say it, but in the end you knew that it had been necessary. The decisions you had made, although painful, had brought you to a place where you felt complete, to a place where you knew who you were and what you wanted.

You looked back only to realize that you had grown. The weight of loss no longer crushed you, not the way it once did. You had gotten over the pain of losing a friend you once considered almost a sister, but now you knew that in life, people change, and sometimes, those same people have to let you go so you can move on. Love, decisions, the paths you take... all of that comes with a price.

With Rafe at your side, you had found something new, something that completed you in a way you never thought possible. And what you had lost with Sofia, as much as it hurt, allowed you to open the door to what was yours, what you deserved.

You were there, sitting on the sand in silence, watching the waves gently crash against the shore. The sun was already beginning to disappear on the horizon, dyeing everything in orange and pink tones. Rafe broke the silence, his voice soft but full of intention.

“Do you know what I want most in life?” you asked him.

He looked at you, smiling softly.

“What is it?” he asked, curious.

“I want children. I want a family.” You took his hands, looking at the horizon as if you were visualizing that future. “I want our children to grow up and look like you, like us. And I want to be the best mother I can be.”

“And I want that,” he answered sincerely, squeezing your hands gently. “I want a family. I want our children to be more like you than me. I want to be the father they need, always.”

You looked at him tenderly, caressing his face with your fingertips.

“And I'm going to help you with that. We're going to do it together.” You smiled, feeling your heart beating hard, sure of what you were saying. “I already have everything planned in my mind. And I know it's going to be amazing. No matter what happens, we're going to do it together.”

Rafe smiled, a sparkle in his eyes, grateful and hopeful.

“I never thought I'd find someone like you” he said, his voice low, but full of emotion.

“Just you and me.” you said before giving him a kiss.

He hugged you, and for a moment, the world disappeared. There was only you and him, the sound of the waves, and that future that now felt so close, so real.

Now, standing there, with the ring on your finger and the promise of a future full of love and adventure, you knew that what was coming would be the best for you. The past was behind you, with all that it entailed. You no longer felt resentment or remorse. You had done what you thought was right at the time, and you had done it for yourself, for the love you had found.

Now you were going to do something new. It wasn't just a new beginning with Rafe, but a new chapter for yourself. You were no longer just the girl who had been caught in an emotional triangle, or the one who had had to choose between two people. You were now someone who knew what she wanted, who had learned to make difficult decisions, accept the consequences, and move forward with her head held high.

With Rafe, and with the commitment that your ring now represented, you were going to create something completely new. Something that didn't depend on what had happened, but on what was to come. No looking back, no regrets. Because in the end, only you knew what made you happy, and now you had the chance to live it.

THE END

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abluebirdsseaview · 2 days ago

Text

All New part 3

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

Part 1

Part 2

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

A/n: sorry for the wait, and I hope everyone has had a amazing Thanksgiving (if you celebrate)

This is a longer chapter to make up for the wait

Please reblog, like, comment

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

Text messages

You

Heyyyy

I had a really good time tonight

Would love to go out again

But like only if you want to

Drew

I would want nothing more

You looked beautiful tonight

You

Awww thank youuuu

You clean up nice

Drew

You got me blushing

Can't wait to see you again

Text messages with Mads

You

MADELINEEEE

The night was perfect and so is he

Mads

Awwww that's so sweet

My two favs are going to fall in loveee

You

Don't jinx it

I'm just scared about going out

I don't want any drama bc most of my fans are really defensive of tom

And like if I move on fast, people are going to be pissed

Mads

I know you love being chronically online

But you have healed and like the people in your life knows what Tom did to you

You deserve to be happy and not fearful of the public

You

True

I'm still going to try to keep drew and I private especially since this was only a first date

Okay I gtg but ilyyyyy

Mads

Love you more

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

A couple days later

Instagram

tomblyth

Liked by 327,918 users

tomblyth loml

12k comments

User1 well this is certainly a development !

User2 they way I thought I had a chance after the y/n breakup 😔

User3 I just know y/n's gc is going crazy

hole4drewstarkey

Liked by yourinstagram, drewstarkey, and 5,279 other users

hole4drewstarkey drew was asked on the Jimmy Kimmel show if he was open to dating and he blushed and answered definitely WHO IS THE GJRL DREWWWW WHO IS SHEE AND WHY NOT MEEEEEEEEE PLEASEES PLEAK

159 comments

User1 it's me, sorry guys

>user2 me when I'm manifesting

User2 DREW LIKED

>user3 so did y/n.... hmmm

User4 he is so sexyyyy

Instagram DM's

Yourinstagram sent hole4drewstarkey's post

Hmmm open to dating...

Good to know

drewstarkey

Yeah went on a date with a really cool girl last week

Yourinstagram

Lucky girl

drewstarkey

Hold up I just saw the user name and im dying

HOLE4DREWSTARKEY???? killer name

Yourinstagram

I love fan accounts

I started following this one #number1drewstarkeyfan

drewstarkey

Liked by 863,187

drewstarkey missing new york

9k comments

hole4drewstarkey who is behind the camera drew 🤬

>drewstarkey it's a secret

>hole4drewstarkey WTF YOU REPLIED

User1 I'm obsessed with the jacket

User2 thats bae

Madelinecline new york seems to be very popular...

Yourinstagram his favorite drink is a shirley temple btw

>drewstarkey this is confidential information and how dare you release it

Sabrinacarpenter

Liked by 1,278,492 users

sabrinacarpenter the girls are scheming @/yourinstagram

27k comments

Yourinstagram it's killing me to keep this a secret

User1 WHAT IS ITTT5

User2 these queens

Madelinecline the fur coats? I'm obsessed

Yourinstagram

Liked by 973,992 users

Yourinstagram in the city

8k comments

Madelinecline hmmm the fourth pic...

>user1 I feel like Madeline knows things we dont...

User1 the guy in the back of the fourth pic

User2 she's so hot omlllll

Sabrinacarpenter can we try some freaky positions

>yourinstagram how do you feel about wheelbarrow

>sabrinacarpenter yessss 😫

Drewstarkey fire caption

>yourinstagram a genius came up with it

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

Hi friends! If you have any ideas for blurbs or even new concepts, send them in I would love to write them!

Don't forget to like AND reblog

Taglist:

@mads-writes-vibes @xcinnamonmalfoyx @frankoceanluvr11 @willowpains @rafecameronsfan @mytimeiswaiting @aariahnaa @girl-detective16 @mrsjamespotterr @thepopcultureaddict @purplerose291

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spotsandsocks · 1 day ago

Text

A Place for You, Next to Me Chapt 1 and 2

Buck finds out that Eddie doesn’t really ‘do’ birthdays so what’s a best friend supposed to do, obviously he can’t let Eddie think he doesn't care. So he makes a plan to celebrate and it’s a good plan, it really is and is it really his fault if one little thing goes wrong with their booking.

It’s certainly not his fault that Eddie’s reaction to the unexpected problem would turn a pleasant weekend away into an agony of temptation.

A tale of pining and love and only one bed.

Fans of only one bed shenanigans - this one’s for you.🥹🌈🛏️🎂🛏️🥃🥃🥃🛏️🤯😍🌈❤️‍🔥 Chapt 1&2 today 3&4 tomorrow 💕

Now I was half way though writing this when @bobbysfirehose posted this stunning piece of art that blew my mind away (all their art is magnificent btw so go check out and shower with love) and with permission I tried to describe the pose towards at the end of the fic because it was just perfect for the situation, so you have a nice visual to go along with the words.

Eddie hadn’t expected any reaction at all, least of all the one he’s getting. Standing in his kitchen he watches Buck process the information he just casually mentioned as part of thier conversation about Chris’ next birthday.

“Are you serious?”

His best friend is standing there with his mouth hanging open, eyes wide, a puzzled frown on his brow, it’s adorable and amusing and God he loves this man so much. Eddie however is wise enough to look away and keep the sentiment out of his voice.

“Yes I’m serious, Buck. I’ve never done anything special to celebrate any of my birthdays.”

If anything that simple statement makes matters worse, Buck's mouth opens and shuts. He looks like a goldfish, apparently he’s managed to render him speechless and that’s quite an impressive feat.

Eddie takes another sip of beer to hide his smile as Buck flounders. The other man is looking horrified, “Your 15th? That’s special right?”

He shrugs. “Dad was away. We did some stuff at church, nothing big. I got a cake.”

“What about 18? Or or your 21st?”

He throws Buck a raised eyebrow, “Think about that for a second.”

A pained look crosses his friend’s face “Oh.” Then his nose crinkles “ Oh.. I don’t think I want to.”

Buck sounds upset. Eddie can just imagine what he’s thinking, how he’s comparing the life that he himself had between 16 and 21 with the one Eddie had. The tragic sympathy emanating out of sad pools of blue is a bit much though, it really wasn’t that bad. Yeah, he didn’t get a lot of time to be young but that’s ok he got other stuff instead. He ended up with the best kid in the world so he can’t really complain about missing birthday celebrations.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, so my life’s been a bit different than yours, but that’s ok . Still got cake, even got a balloon once.”

His joke falls flat, Buck looks devastated .

“Honestly, all completely normal, I promise, don’t freak out on me.”

He moves around him heading back to the couch and if he touches his arm on the way past, well it’s a tight space to squeeze through. Buck’s own fault really, for filling so much of it. His friend's voice follows him out of the kitchen.

“But nothing since you got old?”

Eddie turns just so Buck can appreciate the eye roll, “I'm not exactly old Buck, I’m the same age as you.”

“Are we sure about that?”

Abruptly Buck’s mood shifts and he’s teasing, humour replacing the tragic look that had been there only seconds ago.

“You do kinda look older than me. Pretty sure I spotted some gray hairs on you the other day.”

Eddie glares and throws a handy cushion without aiming. Buck catches it easily and grins, before taking another swig of beer. Eddie tries not to watch his lips or his throat too closely.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #911 abc #complete #but coming in two parts #today and tomorrow #911 fanfic #911 fanfiction #buddie fanfic #one bed trope #911 fic #911fic #love pinning idiots #the usual

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letstrip13 · 3 days ago

Text

💐 - stood up

summary: when you get stood up on your first date, you call your best friend to come pick you up. but instead of taking you home, he has a better plan.

warnings: none, just fluff!

word count: 1,571

author's note: reupload!! also new christmas acc theme!!

author's note 2: follow my bestie pinkfilipowicz on instagram, i'm trying to help her with her goal of getting 100 followers by the end of 2024!! she's the best info + style page for madi on insta imo and she's the absolute sweetest girl ever!! so please follow <3

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you bring your phone up to your ear, listening to it ring and waiting for him to pick up. you pace around a little in the parking lot of a small italian restaurant. the cold breeze makes you shiver in your dress and heels, and you regret even wanting to go on this date. you took the time applying your makeup and styling your hair to perfection.

but the date never happened. you got stood up. you waited around for almost twenty minutes before you got the text from your date. all it said was, “sorry, can't make it. something came up.” but you knew nothing came up. just a few minutes ago, he posted on his snapchat story. he was with another girl. he not only stood you up, but he stood you up for someone else.

one ring, two rings, three rings. finally, you hear chris’ voice on the other end. “hello?” he says in a confused tone. “i thought you were on your date.”

“not anymore,” you tell him, holding back tears. “can you come get me?” “yeah, of course. i'm on my way.” he hangs up and you send him your location.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

chris’ pov: i grab my keys and wallet before rushing out of the house, ignoring my brothers calling after me, asking why i’m leaving in such a hurry. you’re the only thing on my mind right now. it sounded like you were fighting tears. you’re my best friend and i want to do everything in my power to make you happy.

i drive to the location you sent me as fast as i can and i pull into the deserted parking lot. the only one there is you, sitting on the curb in your dress and heels, looking so sad yet so beautiful at the same time. i park and get out of the car, quickly coming over to sit next to you. i wrap my arm around you, gently rubbing your arm and shoulder. “hey, what happened?” the way you look up at me, your eyes glossing over with tears, makes my heart ache.

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you look up at him, trying your best not to cry. you know he hates to see you upset like this. you unlock your phone and open it to the “sorry, can't make it” text. he takes the phone from you, eyebrows furrowing as he reads it. “really? he didn't even give you a reason?” you take your phone back. “oh, it gets worse.” you go onto snapchat and open his story before passing it to chris. you watch as his jaw clenches, a subtle but clear sign that he's mad.

“i can't fucking believe this guy,” he exclaims as he hands your phone back to you. “i don't understand how he could do that to you. it's his loss though, you look beautiful.” you smile at chris, a genuine smile, he always knows how to cheer you up. “thank you. and you're right, i can do better.”

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

chris’ pov: there's a few moments of silence before i take a deep breath and speak up again. “listen, i have an idea. i know that neither of us have ever been on a real date, but i want to take you out on one.”

i watch as you shake your head. “no, it's okay. i think i should just go home. i just wasn't meant to go on a date tonight.” i run my hand through my hair. “please? you deserve to be taken out on a real date.”

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

you think it over for a moment before you end up agreeing. he takes your hand as the both of you stand up and he holds it the whole way to his car, only letting go to open the door for you. you both get in and get comfortable. “so, where are we going, princess?”

the nickname catches you off guard a little, but it's sweet that he's calling you that. “honestly, i kind of feel like just going to a drive-thru.” he chuckles as he starts the car, not expecting that to be your answer. “alright, whatever you want.” he starts the car and starts driving around the city.

he pulls into a drive-thru lineup of a place you both agreed on. the line moves fast and before you know it, you're holding the bag of food while he's driving to some sort of mystery spot.

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chris’ pov: i know the perfect spot to take you. i like coming here to have a moment alone with my thoughts, and it has an amazing view. by the time we get there, the sun has just started to set. it's completely deserted, not far from the beach. we eat our food, talking and laughing between bites. it seems like you completely forgot about the other guy and it puts me at ease to see that.

after we finish eating, we watch the sun go down, enjoying the comfortable silence between us. you check your phone and i don't pay any mind to it, deciding to check mine too. i glance over and notice that you're on snap, more specifically, his snap. i snatch your phone out of your hand before you can check his story. “nope, you're not doing that. forget about him. he's not good enough for you.”

“i wasn't even going to-” “shhh, i know what you were doing.” you're silent for a moment. “what if i get back at him?” “and how would we do that?” i ask with an amused smirk.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“i could post us on my story. he doesn't know who you are, so he'd think i'm on a real date.” he scoffs, pretending to be offended, “wow, not a real date, huh? i thought we had something, princess.” you nudge his shoulder with yours, causing him to smile after trying to hold it back.

you take your phone back from him and go onto snapchat to take the picture for your story. he leans in close to you as you get the camera angle just right. suddenly, he turns his head and plants a wet kiss on your cheek, just as you hit the button. you weren't expecting it, but it came out perfectly. “ew, chris, it's slobbery!” you giggle. he laughs too and posts the picture to your story for you.

“wanna go for a walk on the beach?” he asks. “sure, sounds fun.” he gets out of the car first and as he shuts his door, he notices your hand on the door handle. “wait!” he climbs over the hood of his car, almost falling in the process as you laugh at his ridiculous gesture. he opens the car door for you, a goofy grin on his face. you step out of the car, thanking him between fits of laughter. “you could've just went around, you know.” “i didn’t think of that.. it was more fun that way anyways.”

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chris’ pov: we make our way down to the beach and we walk along the shoreline, stopping every now and then to admire the clusters of stars that are appearing in the sky. as night falls, i notice you begin to shiver in your dress. i unzip my gray hoodie*, shrugging it off and draping it across your shoulders. “here, take this.” “thank you.” you slip your arms in and zip it up about three quarters of the way as we continue to walk.

*yes, that gray hoodie.

you suddenly stop, giving my arm a gentle tug as you do so to get my attention. i always thought it was so cute when you did that. “can we get ice cream?” i look to where you're pointing and there's a small ice cream shop. it's hidden, kind of tucked away but it looks open. “mhmm, whatever you want.”

we go in, ordering a bowl with two scoops, each getting a scoop of our favourite flavour. we sit across from each other in a booth and share the ice cream. we stay until the last workers are practically shoving us out the door so they can close up.

we walk along the beach together, back the way we came, hand in hand. it's nice to take our time, not having a worry or care in the world as we enjoy each other's company and the sounds of the waves.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

you eventually get to the parking lot and once we're in the car, he lets you pick the music. it's about a twenty minute drive to your house. when you're about five minutes away, he notices you starting to drift off a little. he places his hand on your knee, giving it a gentle shake to wake you up. “hey, don't fall asleep on me now,” he murmurs, “we're almost there.”

he parks in your driveway and turns the car off so you can both get out. you shoot him a confused look. “you don't have to walk me to the door, it's like 30 steps away,” you say with a light smile. “i know but i wanted to.” he walks to your door with you and you start to unzip his sweater. “no, it's fine. i'll get it another time.” he holds you tightly as you pull him into a hug. “thank you, chris. this was the best date ever.” you pull away and give him one last goodbye before going inside, shutting the door behind you.

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christmassavestheyear · 3 days ago

Text

hey besties! i talked about starting to do monthly recs, and i've decided to go through with that - in both the 911 and 1d fandoms! so here goes nothing, i guess... i based the formatting of these posts off of a few mutuals who do regular fic rec posts <3 much love to them. i read a lot of 911 fic this month! way more than i have in the past, so here goes nothing. this month we've got tevan, buddie, riaz, and a sprinkle of gen christopher!

🔥 Tricks and Treats (but mostly Treats) || @ninjatrashpanda evan buckley/tommy kinard || 3k While taking Jee-Yun trick or treating, Buck and Tommy are mistaken for being her parents. It causes them to have a conversation they’ve been putting off for a while.

🔥 Almost Cost It All || @sunnywithachanceofbi eddie diaz/josh russo || 3.7k Josh & Eddie run into one another a month after breaking up and hash it out. Jeddie Week Days 3/4: Double Dates & Missing You

🔥 Carry You Home (Alex Warren) || emaisnialleraf evan buckley/tommy kinard || 2.2k “Do you ever think about the future?”

🔥 through the good, the bad, and the gross || @wikiangela evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.7k Tommy assures his boyfriend that he doesn't look gross, even with the boils on his face.

🔥 you still love me anyway || @epiphainie evan buckley/tommy kinard || 43.5k But that was just him. Evan. He was too much, too smart, too impulsive, too earnest, and he was prickly, petty, bratty, unruly, redefining the phrase of high maintenance. He was Tommy’s favorite person. aka five times buck was being too much and one time tommy told him so

🔥 Made From Scratch || @inawickedlittletown evan buckley/tommy kinard & jee-yun han || 4k As soon as Maddie was gone, Buck turned to Jee-Yun. “Ready for some fun with your uncle Buck?” “Yes!” she cried out, smiling big. Buck grinned. “I thought you could help me out with something really important.” “Really?” She asked, head tilting to the left. “What?” “Well, we’re going to make a birthday cake.”

🔥 with you, i am home || @rosetterer evan buckley/tommy kinard || 3.6k The injured shoulder causes some issues during the night. Tommy takes care of it.

🔥 amber glow || @userautumn evan buckley/tommy kinard || 5.8k "I think I fucked up." “What did you do?” “I think I remember how Tommy Kinard knows me.” or; Buck is a down-on-his-luck photographer, and Tommy is the industry It-boy that just wants to help him out.

🔥 friendly neighbourhood firefighter || @sunnywithachanceofbi evan buckley/tommy kinard || 3.6k Tommy's adventurous Halloween role-play goes hilariously wrong when he gets himself stuck in a Spider-Man costume, only to end up with an injury. What was meant to be a playful, sexy surprise for Evan turns into an emergency rescue situation, with the 118 on the scene.

🔥 Pumpkins Scream In The Dead Of Night || Must_Love_Dogs evan buckley/tommy kinard || 2.3k Since Bobby and Athena's house is unavailable, Tommy offers his house for a Halloween Party. With a lot of help from Buck, and a bit from Maddie, and Chimney, they plan and decorate his house to perfection.

🔥 i'm haunted (by billy boils) || buckleymoons evan buckley/tommy kinard || 935w Tommy and the 217 hear two calls from dispatch during their shift. For some reason, both of these calls relate to one Evan Buckley. or: the 217 teasing Tommy for dating an idiot that carries corpses around

🔥 on purpose, i am going to care about you || @stardustvx evan buckley/tommy kinard || 2.1k Buck has a horrible migraine and Tommy takes care of him. Perhaps they also say I love you to each other for the first time.

🔥 The Favorite (Derogatory) || xanthippe74 evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.3k After golfing with Gerrard, Buck just wants comforting over a few drinks with his friends. But all he gets is a hard time.

🔥 Family Dinner || @sugdenlovesdingle evan buckley/tommy kinard & the 118 || 817w The first 118 family dinner at Bobby and Athena's new house

🔥 Lay Waste To Your Beliefs || thespeckledbandicoot evan buckley/tommy kinard & the 118 || 3.1k Buck gets cursed on the job. Luckily, Chimney knows a guy. For the Bucktommy Winter Fest Halloween prompt: Magical Realism

🔥 Save A Horse... || Must_Love_Dogs evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.7k What if Tommy had helped Buck decide which costume to wear for the "Firehouse Haunt Fest"? A season 8, episode 5 missing scene because I would have loved to see Tommy's reaction to Buck's cowboy costume.

🔥 maybe together we can get somewhere || @the-amber-raven evan buckley/tommy kinard, tommy kinard & daniel buckley || 62k Tommy has always been able to see ghosts. Usually, they stick around for a few days or weeks, maybe several months before they get what they need to move on. There was one ghost, however, who appeared when Tommy was young and seemed to be unable to get the closure he needed to let go and so he just… never left. He got used to it, after a while, and Daniel became a consistent companion throughout his life. Or, the one where Tommy can see ghosts and is haunted by Daniel Buckley for reasons it takes him almost thirty years to understand.

🔥 Where All This Love Comes From || @carlos-in-glasses carlos reyes/tk strand || 107k A single tear slips from Carlos' eye. Years ago, there was a young man in New York City called TK Strand and he had no idea that in Austin, Texas, a stranger called Carlos Reyes was aching, yearning, pining for exactly him. He had no idea how loved he was going to be by someone he had yet to meet. He had no idea how wonderful he was as a person with or without a partner – but he was about to find out. That's why you have to keep living, Carlos thinks, so you can find out.

🔥 a moment of clarity || acollectionofdaydreams evan buckley/tommy kinard || 2.1k The morning after breaking up with Evan, Tommy opens his door to find an Eddie who has something to say about it.

🔥 go ahead, rip my heart out || @atimeofyourlife evan buckley & eddie diaz, evan buckley/tommy kinard || 2.6k After 8x06, Buck crashes on Eddie's couch for the night. Eddie finds him the next morning presenting with cardiac symptoms on his couch.

🔥 Pause || iwroteafictoday evan buckley/tommy kinard || 3.2k Sometimes you just need to put a conversation on pause and talk it out with a friend. Post 8x06 fix it fic

🔥 If You Really Love Someone You Don't Let Them Go || @black-and-whitecrow evan buckley/tommy kinard & eddie diaz || 4.3k There are things worth fighting for. Like love. There are people worth fighting for. Like Evan Buckley. There are idiots needing some sense talked into them. Like Tommy Kinard. Luckily, there are also good friends who can make idiots see what's worth fighting for. Like Eddie Diaz.

🔥 i choose us every time || @spacewinter evan buckley/tommy kinard || 3k Of course, Buck is angry. He got his heart shattered by a man who thought he could tell Buck what he should feel. He's hurt, he's angry, and he's not ready to let it go. Hen's words resonate - he should fight for this relationship if he wants a future with Tommy, so that's exactly what he does. He drives over full of righteous anger and hurt, only to be faced with a ruined, heartbroken man that he still loves They talk instead, they hug. Apologies are made, anger is expressed. They make a decision to build something stronger together.

🔥 Closet Conversations || @eyesonstars-feetonground evan buckley/tommy kinard || 10.6k Six months is a long time to stick around if he thought you’d dump him. OR After his boyfriend dumps him, Evan Buckley goes on a date, makes a new friend, has some conversations, and realizes he's queer. Tommy haunts him every step of the way.

🔥 Hold Your Tongue || @guardiandelacour evan buckley/tommy kinard || 4.5k The Buckley parents decide to pay a visit to their reluctant children, and Tommy is finally forced to meet the people who made his boyfriend believe that he is worthless.

🔥 A House is Built with Walls and Beams || fairytalegonewrong evan buckley/tommy kinard || 2.1k Tommy is ready to take the next step in his relationship with Evan as they celebrate their anniversary. After much thought, he plans to ask Evan to move in with him, marking a significant moment in their relationship.

🔥 excellent chemistry || @judymarch15 sal deluca/eddie diaz || 3k Sal wants to be a fire captain someday, but to do that he'll need to go back to school and earn an associates degree in fire science. Eddie shows his support.

🔥 Just Let Me Adore You || @inawickedlittletown evan buckley/tommy kinard || 35.7k What if...instead of Chimney taking the role of interim Captain of the 118, Tommy is asked to take on the role. Or, what happens when Buck meets Tommy in S2

🔥 I'd Love To Hear 'Bout How You Been || Snaptic evan buckley/eddie diaz || 10.5k Did you say Evan Buckley?” Eddie has to confirm because there’s no way he heard that correctly. “Yes, sir…” The lady says, continuing on, but Eddie hears none of it, his brain still stuck on the name. Evan Buckley. He hasn’t heard that name in years. His thoughts become a grainy slideshow of memories, fragmented from the years; a wicked smile on a dirty face, broad shoulders covered in camo, curly hair blowing in the breeze, piercing blue eyes gleaming in the sunshine. Or: two old friends from the desert reunite in an LA hospital room

🔥 time is shortening (down to the bone) || @calinaannehart evan buckley/tommy kinard || 8.3k (WIP) “Hey, excuse me,” Buck says to the nurse behind the desk. “I’m not sure who I’m-" The words die in his throat as his eyes land on a familiar form in a large wingback chair, the leg rest raised so he’s reclined with his head tipped back and eyes closed. He’s thinner than he was when Buck last saw him, deep shadows sit under his eyes and his hair, patchy in places, has been shaved short. There’s a port-a-cath in his upper arm and hanging on the drip stand above is a bag of fluid, the bright red chemotherapy label visible even at this distance. “Sir?” The nurse says, but Buck can’t look away from the man. “Tommy.”

🔥 It's Freakin' Bats! || writerdot evan buckley/tommy kinard || 3.8k He startles awake with a gasp, sitting straight in bed. He’s scared and he doesn’t know why so he closes his eyes, breathes deep, and feels himself start to relax. Once the feeling fades, he looks at the time, and sees it’s just after 2AM. Grabbing his phone, he opens his text thread with Tommy and sends a heart. Or: it's Buck and Tommy's first Halloween together and Buck's not quite feeling himself.

🔥 Where It Wasn't Supposed To Be || @princessfbi evan buckley/tommy kinard || 45.7k They’d kept it under wraps to an almost paranoid degree. They didn’t touch in public, not even on their hikes up the countless trails that were never short of people minding their own business as they took in the good weather. They sat on opposite sides of the table at dinner. Evan came over to his place instead of taking the risk with his roommates. Evan had even come up with a cover story if they ever ran into anyone: he was picking Tommy’s brain about the job. Nothing more. Nothing less. What if Buck and Tommy met the three months before Tommy transferred to Harbor and Buck started at the 118?

🔥 The Last Drop Spilled Over || @lucid-ao3 evan buckley/eddie diaz || 28k Eddie is having conflicting feelings now that Buck is in a relationship with Tommy. Why does it feel like time is running out? And why does Drunk Eddie keep giving him so much trouble?

🔥 Habitual Damage || @eggmacguffin evan buckley/eddie diaz || 9.1k About a week after starting back at the 118, and about three weeks before he was supposed to start getting a steady check again, Buck quietly moved out of his loft— —and into his jeep.

🔥 Led Me Here To You || @andthenshesaid-write carlos reyes/tk strand || 28k TK knows his life is going to change when Gwyn and Enzo die, leaving him with custody of his six-year-old brother Jonah, but he isn’t prepared for the rigours of parenting, the questions it raises in himself, or for Jonah’s new teacher, Carlos Reyes.

🔥 old flames, new fires || @jamesandanthony evan buckley/tommy kinard || 3.1k The picture round arrives with the interval, and they're hunched around the sheet, arguing over a country outline that has them a little stumped when a figure approaches their table hesitantly. "Tom?" he says, and Tommy looks up in surprise. "Oh my god, Mateo?" he says, eyes wide as he stands to greet him. "Yeah," Mateo replies, grinning, and Tommy doesn't miss the way he looks him up and down appreciatively. "Man, how long has it been?"

🔥 The feeling came late (I'm still glad I met you) || paleredheadinascifi evan buckley/eddie diaz || 4.6k Come on, Buck. Let it out. I hate this, too. I hate leaving you. Tell me how much you hate it. Yell at me, Buck. Come on, yell at me,” he begs. Buck snaps. He pushes off the couch and crowds into Eddie’s space. “Is this what you wanted?” He spits, pushing hard enough against Eddie’s chest that he takes a step backwards. “Hmm? You want me to lose it on you?” Or, Eddie cannot handle Buck pretending to be fine about his move to Texas. He, in fact, refuses to let him.

🔥 got nothing on my mind (but the two of us) || @tommybuckleys evan buckley/tommy kinard || 5.1k “You’re covered in flour. Why are you covered in flour?” Buck sighs, letting his eyes follow Tommy’s path down his form — and wow, yeah, okay, it’s somehow even worse than the small glimpse he caught earlier. The apron he threw on has protected most of his clothes, but he can already see the flakes getting matted in the hair on his arms. Buck can only imagine the state of his face and hair. Maybe he should have prioritized that shower, after all. “I had a, uh — baking mishap,” Buck admits, still wrong-footed from Tommy’s sudden appearance. “I didn’t know you baked.”

🔥 our love is spook-tacular || @aesthetictarlos evan buckley/tommy kinard & mara & jee-yun || 2.1k "Uh, I made a list.” That's when Tommy notices his dangerous smirk and the clipboard on the table, together with a notebook and a few pens. This screams trouble, so much trouble. “A list about what?” He asks curiously, bracing for the practically endless range of possibilities. “Halloween couples costumes we could wear,” Buck says enthusiastically. Or, the one where Buck and Tommy go trick or treating with Mara and Jee.

🔥 Half Agony, Half Hope || @livinginsunnyhell evan buckley/eddie diaz || 52.6k He should’ve known this was going to be a moment when Christopher says, “Then why don’t you date? If dad’s gay… Why don’t you get together?” Buck does choke on his water this time. Sputters droplets all over the table and coughs loud enough to draw the attention of everyone around them. “Why – why do you ask that?” Buck wheezes and coughs again. Or Buck goes through the five stages of grief when Eddie comes out and considers dating men.

🔥 Your Name, Forever The Name On My Lips || @911varietyposts evan buckley/tommy kinard || 2.6k He was a widow at the age of 35. His husband had been ripped from his life in a cruel joke. OR: Evan adjusts to life without Tommy after a helicopter crash takes his life.

🔥 It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything || @xjustlikeyou evan buckley/eddie diaz || 148k Chris leaves for Texas. Eddie tries to cope. Eddie fails. aka the Fight Club 2.0 fic

🔥 this love was once mine (please god, let it be us again || @xtarmanderx evan buckley/tommy kinard || 11.5k Buck's blue soulmark on his wrist is the thing that keeps him going after his breakup with Tommy. Somewhere out there, he may still have a soulmate who loves him. He holds onto that until the day his world is turned upside down and his mark turns black while he watches Tommy collapse to the ground.

🔥 Let the walls break down || @harmonic-intervention evan buckley/tommy kinard || 15.6k A whole month. That was how long Tommy could push his luck. bucktommy fix it, near-death experiences will force them to talk if nothing else will

🔥 never last (last) || Philipa_Moss (bsky) christopher diaz-centric || 15.2k Carla turned off the car and turned to him. “It’s just you and me,” she said. “What happened, baby?” Everyone said he’d been such a sweet kid. Every time he opened his mouth, he could hear himself pushing that kid farther away. “Nothing,” said Chris.

🔥 Darling, I Wanna Love You! || @rosyhoneydew evan buckley/tommy kinard || 2.4k “It’s no trouble at all,” Maddie jumps in. “Come on in, Tommy! You can just leave your shoes by the door there.” Buck turns his head slowly to give his sister a look that hopefully conveys the gravity of her duplicity, but she merely widens her eyes and tilts her head toward him in a motion that says get over it! He’ll do no such thing.

🔥 Bad Beer and Naked Rodents || @dashing-disaster evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.6k "My point is, you got scared of commitment for three seconds and tell Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley, to go off to frolic on Grindr? I’m sorry, but do you know how stupid that is? Do you have any idea what happens to guys like Evan Buckley on Grindr?” Or: after the break-up Tommy's friends are there for moral support and a much-needed reality check.

🔥 The Weight Of The Past || @acrownofstardustandbone evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.6k Sometimes the weight of the past is just too much to carry alone--and now, Tommy has Evan to help him shoulder this burden.

🔥 I Don't Want To Be Like This || Snaptic evan buckley/tommy kinard || 2.6k “Tommy?” Evan asks him gently, evidently noticing something is wrong. Tommy sighs, wondering if he’s really about to do this. If he’s really going to sit there and give Evan the ammunition to walk away from one of the best things that’s ever happened to Tommy. OR: Buck finds acceptance in his partner. Tommy shares his own secrets.

STATS: # of fics: 49 # of authors: 45 # of words read: 1,170,000~

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harrowing-of-hell · 2 hours ago

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to everyone in the replies who are arguing that he worded it this way for the sake of the argument, i do not believe that for the simple fact that he pushes back on literally everything ianthe claims except for this.

the accepted basis of the argument is that cavaliers are expected to die to protect their necromancers. palamedes does not believe that a necromancer should take actions that needlessly harm their cavalier, but generally he doesn’t push back against this claim in either the unwanted guest or in the rest of the series.

also to the person who says that the locked tomb doesn’t contain patriarchal standards: John Gaius and Augustine are literally right there. do you really think the way they treated Mercymorn wasn’t misogynistic?

do you think this misogyny somehow didn’t affect the culture of the nine houses at all? reading the book should be enough to clue you into this but Muir herself said in an interview that John has placed himself in the role of a divine patriarch and falls back on patriarchal hierarchies because they're familiar to him. his empire is shaped by this whether he wants it to be or not.

my argument isn’t even that Palamedes is a patriarchal figure or “bad because he’s a man” as some people in the replies seem to think. i don’t even think he’s a bad person and i like him as a character. this post is less a criticism of him directly and more a criticism of the idea that he is a radical, progressive figure.

in many ways he is radical in comparison to Ianthe “I ate my cavalier for lunch” Tridentarius, Silas Octakiseron, and all of the lyctors. but genuinely that isn’t saying much when you think about it. giving a fuck about camilla’s well being and not abusing her is literally the bare minimum.

i think he tried, near the end of his existence as palamedes, to give camilla more autonomy (specifically i’m thinking of their conversation in NtN where he poses the idea of a camilla hect that’s unburdened by her duty to him as cavalier), but overall i don’t think he pushed against “the cav should die for their necro” when it mattered. and that’s how we got paul. not to say it’s entirely pal’s fault or that there is really any “fault” to assign to anyone here.

and ultimately i think all of this is reflected in his pursuit of perfect lyctorhood, claiming that there is way to do lyctorhood "the right way", instead of questioning if lyctorhood is something anyone should even want, which would be the real radical stance for someone to take at this point in the series.

but no guys palamedes is one of the good ones he totally isn't upholding the fucked up social standards of the nine houses in his own way :)

he's not mad that tern died for ianthe because that's perfectly acceptable. he's mad because naberius died for what he views as the "wrong" thing.

palamedes often couches his rhetoric in more palatable terms but he and camilla could never have had a truly equal partnership because they've both fully bought into one of the crucial lines of thinking holding up the nine houses as an empire.

you can't use your cavalier's life as a battery because that's "bad practice" as palamedes would put it.

it's still perfectly okay for them to die for you, though.

#and even if he was just using “cavs should die for their necros” as a basis to get through to ianthe i think it's still wrong #there are just some things you don't feed into even while trying to argue and understand someone's point of view #he has no reason to try and convert ianthe to his line of thinking here when he's really just trying to get control of bab's body #so why soften his argument at all? what's the benefit?#vixen.txt

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almostempty · 12 hours ago

Text

Something in your mouth

(joel miller x f!reader)

The third installment of Never made it as a wise man aka creed!joel

WC: 8.4k | Part 1 | Part 2 | Other fics | Rating: 18+

Summary: post hand job and phone sex; it’s the leadup and part 1 of these horny bishes goin’ on a date

Note: heyyyyy it’s me and i’m back on my bs . i know i promised the fuckening, but that was summer me and now it’s winter me.. so instead of hiding and never updating, i remembered i have free will so u get the full week lead-up and the first half of the date.. and then i’ll brb with the fuckfest okay? i promise. (also it’s actually almost done this time so it won’t take months). again, i am still merely a vessel for the spirit of buttrock joel. hopefully this part 3 is girthy enough to sate your appetite a lil bit

Tags: au no outbreak modern joel, divorced dad rock dilf joel x f!reader, picks up right where pt 2 ended, alternating pov, dirty talk, horny yearning, blowjob in the truck, still crackish, but i am still dead serious about it being hot so idc, mistakes are all mine

Thanks to Nickelback for having non stop horny bangerz to quote such as Something in your mouth

major thanks to @hoelaris for this moodboard that made me weep tears of joy bc is it so perfect

thanks to @magneticecstasy for date joel thots to be ft in this pt and the next, @auteurdelabre for telling me to let them have their happy ending so i can get back to the paris boys faster, to @syd-djarin for support, horny thots, song suggestions etc, and @itwasntimethatdidit40 for the nickelback pedro tiktok edit inspo

it really takes a village or whatever they say <3

*if u forgot what this is bc i took so long give Part 1 and Part 2 a read for a refresh <3

*if i missed ur tag or u want off this ride lemme know

okay, it's starting now:

You wake up in Joel’s shirt. It smells more like you than him already, but it still makes you grin devilishly just the same. You go about your day, a few errands and some chores, the whole time with a little more energy than usual.

When you’re back home and settled in to have a lazy afternoon, you get a little restless. Itchy fingers. It’s hard not to pick up your phone and check your messages again and again. You’re drawn to looking at the picture he sent, the pictures you took, and you can’t help wondering…

Did he wake up thinking of you? Hard, aching, and leaking at the memory of your voice.

Did he dream of all the nasty things he said he wanted to do to you? Waking up throbbing and frustrated, grinding his cock into the mattress as if you were beneath him.

Did he wake up and check his phone to confirm you were real? Making it all the way to the shower before surrendering, wishing it was your soft cunt he was fucking instead of his fist.

You know you’re fucked when just thinking about him thinking about you has you so turned on. It’s so tempting to send him something else. Another picture? An audio message? A thinking of you 😘 text?

No. No, no, no.

You can wait him out. Make him work for it a little. He’s a full-grown man. You’ve already given him enough to work with. Plus, you wanna know what he’s gonna come up with next. Right?

The lazy Sunday ends all too soon and before you know it you’re back to work. Dragging ass into the office with the biggest iced coffee you could buy. You deserve a treat to get through your Monday anyway.

A little warning bell chimes in the back of your mind as you drop your things on your desk. Ellie grumbles a good morning that matches your enthusiasm for fluorescent lights at 8 am. A little seed of guilt sprouts within you.

Is it fucked up of you to mess around with Joel? It’s not like it’s something serious. Or, does that make it even worse? There’s no way he would say anything to her about it.

“Heard you saw Joel again,” she says before you’ve even sat down. Great.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “Still didn’t feel right that he wouldn’t accept anything for helping with my car.” You sink into your chair, hesitating to say more. It’s too early to have a good poker face.

“So you made him a lasagna?” She questions, staring you down.

“Men love my meat sauce,” you say with a shrug.

“Gross,” Ellie grimaces at that, “please, don’t ever say that again.”

You buy her off with the rest of the cookies you had baked. She’s happy to take the entire container from you and happier to enjoy them all immediately. If she’s suspicious she’s either good at hiding it or you really don’t know how to read her.

You carry on with your morning catching up on mindless tasks, swirling your coffee around as the ice starts to melt, and trying to stay focused. Ellie turns on her music and you can’t help thinking of Joel again. It’s like he’s infected your mind and every shitty 2000s post-grunge alt-rock song conjures him up.

You can’t help wondering what exactly he would’ve told Ellie about your surprise visit. Would he have asked about you? Implied anything? You can’t stop yourself from asking.

“What did he say?”

Ellie’s head swivels towards you immediately.

“Who?”

Instantly you know you messed up. You didn’t realize how much time had passed. You shouldn’t still be thinking of him. She prods you about what you said and what you meant. Not accepting a nothing or a never mind. An uncomfortable wave of embarrassment twists in your stomach, heat blooms in your cheeks, and your hands are fidgety.

You shouldn’t have brought it up, you shouldn't be so defensive. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t.

Ellie is sharp–cutthroat–reading your every move. You stare at the empty Tupperware on her desk, hoping it will reveal some sort of escape plan. A strategy to deflect. It’s too late. Her eyes narrow just the slightest bit and she follows your gaze. It clicks.

“Oh, you meant Joel?”

You’re so busted. “I..uh,” you don’t know how to finish that thought.

“Why?” She gives you such a blank-faced look that it’s unsettling. You’re an adult. Why does this feel like you got caught sneaking out to see a boy on a school night?

You try to brush it off, but it sounds more defensive, making it worse. You focus on cracking your knuckles and trying to feign a more casual air. For some reason that means you keep talking. Broken sentences pouring out of you and trailing off into a stiff laugh.

Mercifully, Ellie cuts you off. Tells you it was Tommy who mentioned it.

So, he was the one who showed up while you had your legs spread open on Joel’s kitchen counter. The catalyst to your shirt heist and hasty getaway. That makes your face hot for a different reason.

“Oh. Gross.” Ellie groans.

“What?”

“You’ve got that look on your face.”

You snort at that. Only slightly horrified that she’s so adept at picking up the tells on your face. “What look?”

You suck down the last of your iced coffee, stalling, until you’re just sucking in air. You toss it in the tiny trash bin between the two of you and decide to be honest no matter what she says. You’d rather get ahead of it.

“Was it a sex lasagna?” Her mouth is pulled into a look of disgust.

You snort at that before shaking your head, preparing to get it all out.

“Okay, look. It was a thank-you lasagna.” You pause, trying to figure out exactly how much to share. “I didn’t plan the rest of it. It just…happened. And, fuck, it was so hot.”

Her face wrinkles with confusion, then disgust, then laughter. It makes your heart rate speed up.

“I’m sorry,” your words come out like a waterfall. “I don’t want to make things weird. I want us to be friends. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure it wasn’t serious. I’ll tell you whatever you want. It was my fault. I showed up without letting him know. I made the first move—”

“You fold quick,” Ellie notes, interrupting you. She throws her hands up and you shut your mouth, “Look, you’re both adults, I don’t care what you do. Just, please, don’t tell me any of the sex details.”

“Do you really not care? Or like, you say I don’t care and then treat me like Cheryl in the front office?” you ask.

“No. I genuinely don’t give a shit. Well, I mean, if you break his heart I’ll have to kill you.”

“Naturally,” you agree with a solemn nod.

“But,” she pauses to take a breath, tilting her head before continuing, “it would probably be good for him, don’t think he’s had a real date in a while. But don’t come back to me broken-hearted if he’s a dick—that’s just his face.”

“A date?” you echo.

She groans and rolls her eyes at you, but it’s too late.

Your mind starts to wander. With Ellie’s blessing, you don’t have a reason not to give it a shot.

The harps are already strumming as you float off into your cloud of dissociation. Your favorite daydream flickers into focus as your eyes glaze over and a dazed grin curls on your face. It’s always that same slo-mo Baywatch-style memory. That one where you caught Joel wiping the sweat off his forehead with the bottom of his t-shirt. The original temptation that led you back to him.

Somehow, every time it replays, there’s a new easter egg just for you. The ghost of a knowing smirk or a sparkly-eyed wink when he catches your eye, like a wicked little tease to pull you deeper into the dream world.

Sometimes it’s all too visceral. In the privacy of your mind, you’re free to direct the scene how you’d like. Slowly panning over the peek of soft skin and the trail of hair you can see. You can still feel the warmth on your fingertips from when you slipped your hand beneath the waistband of those navy blue boxers.

Sometimes, you create something new. You’d like to take one of his sun-faded plastic green lawn chairs, drag it to the front porch, and sit yourself down for a show. You wanna watch him mow the grass in the evening heat.

You can see the sweat beads dotted along his neck and the contour of his marble-sculpted arms as he serpentines along your fantasy world front lawn.

You can smell the fresh-cut grass and the specific blend of sweaty man pheromones that Aphrodite concocted just for you.

Your chest swells, lungs expanding, as you breathe slowly and deeply. The illusory scents fill your lungs until you release a deep, yearnful sigh. The imaginary lawn mower almost drowns out the imaginary Fred Durst bellering, It’s just one of those days, from that little stereo on the workbench.

Before you can transition into another scenario—something bounces off your face, and you flinch with a loud yelp.

“That was your warning,” Ellie glares at you. “Next time I’m throwing something sharp.”

“Okay, okay, message received.” You offer a sheepish smile, and she turns around. It seems the Limp Bizkit song was very much not a figment of your imagination. Ellie mutters along to the lyrics behind you, barely audible, as you spin in your chair to get back to work.

It’s not even five minutes later when you swivel in your chair again with another question for Ellie.

There’s nothing like having a crush on a man you barely know to truly make you delusional. You know you’ve got it bad, but it’s unfortunately just so much fun to daydream and let your mind run wild with the very limited info you know about the man.

You don’t want to worry about anything that could go wrong.

Except for, well, everything.

You still fret over texting him first or waiting. Should you send another picture with no context? Should you call? Should you wait another day?

When you notice your chest feeling tight you give yourself a reality check. It’s Monday morning. You’re at work. He’s probably at work. You can figure it out later. A future you problem.

Joel’s text comes through late in the evening.

Joel: You wearing my shirt to bed again?

You’re grinning immediately. At hearing from him first and because he fucking clocked you. You snap a quick photo. Despite being on the spot, it’s thoughtfully crafted. Just enough to show the logo and only your mouth, not your face, no extra skin, no sexy tease. Just a confirmation. You send it off, and his reply buzzes seconds later.

Joel: More

You try to bite back the grin still stuck on your face as your fingers dance across the screen. You want to tell him off for being so blunt, but for some reason, it feels like such a compliment. You’ve definitely got it bad if a thirsty one-word text feels like high praise.

You aren’t going to give in this time. You’ve still got Ellie’s words echoing in your mind. A date. You type back one line.

You: Gonna have to earn it if you want more

Your phone rings shortly after your message is delivered. Joel’s name flashes on the screen and your stomach flips. You thought maybe he’d send another dick pic, but now he’s calling you? It does check out that he wouldn’t be the texting type, to be fair.

“Hey,” you answer, voice soft, a little tentative.

“You’re gonna make me work for it, huh?” His drawl is low, rough around the edges and so stupidly sexy it makes your nipples hard. You can just tell he’s already on edge. Delight floods your veins at the idea of him thinking of you all day.

“You could use a lesson in patience,” your voice is remarkably steady, despite the way your body is lit up. You chew at your lower lip. “Thought I told you that last time we were on the phone,” you chide.

A deep chuckle rumbles through the phone. “Patience,” he repeats. There’s a pause that has you holding your breath. “I don’t think you’re playin’ fair, baby. Knowing you’re in bed with my shirt on, teasin’ me with another picture.” His voice takes on a husky, knowing tone. “Don’t think it’s patience you’re lookin’ for. Bet I know what you really want.”

Your breath catches, loud enough he wouldn’t miss it even with his busted phone. You weren’t prepared to be so affected by just the timbre of his voice. It’s fucked up the way he’s got you breathless for no damn good reason.

You can picture him in his bed. The trademark navy blue sheets. Is he fresh out of the shower? Damp hair and the overpowering scent of whatever 10 in 1 man soap was on sale at the grocery store—

“Okay. Enlighten me then. What do I want?” you finally reply.

“You want to hear it,” he continues, smooth and smug, radiating a cocky smirk right through the phone that makes your skin tingle. “You want to hear how you’ve got me hard, sittin’ here thinkin’ about you,” Joel growls, his voice thick with heat. “Thinkin’ about you wearing just my shirt.”

You bite down on your lip to stay quiet. Maybe he’s not in bed at all. Maybe he’s still out in his shop, locked in the office, a couple beers down before he dared to text you. His hair a mess from running his fingers through it, in those faded jeans that cling to him perfectly.

Either way, it seems almost cruel to stop him with a mouth like that.

“Thinking about what I’d do if you were here,” he carries on. “You look good in my shirt.” His voice drops even lower. “You’d let me push it up though, wouldn’t you? Just enough so I can see how wet you are for me.”

You can’t help pressing your thighs together at that thought. If he hears how turned on you are already, you’re definitely going to end up acting out his fantasy over the phone.

“Fuck.” he mutters, his voice breaking. “You’d let me take my time. Get my hands on those perfect tits again. Soak my fingers with that sweet pussy. Have you so worked up you’d be begging for my cock.”

He says it like it’s a fact, as if he could come over right now and you’d drag him straight to your bed—or no, like you’d be on him before he could shut the front door.

It’s so filthy, so confident. You’re so tempted to keep him going, but you pull yourself together. Biting back the whimper stuck in your throat.

“Well, damn, Joel,” you swallow down the urge to ask for more details. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out then,” you tease with a heavy dash of sarcasm in your tone.

“Not all of you,” he replies, with a suggestive edge. “Not yet.”

You let out a breath you were holding. “Look, you can’t just get your dick out on the phone, tell me how you wanna touch me, and get your way,” you manage, steady and a little sharp. “Not this time.”

“Not this time?” he echoes, half-laughing, clearly amused. “Alright. Sure. What do you want then?”

There’s a flicker of nervousness that tightens in your chest. You don’t want him to think you’re rejecting him, don’t want to risk losing the momentum of whatever this is. “I’m saying…I do want you. But, if you want more you’re going to have to do more. Show me you mean it. Like…a date.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and your heart skips as you imagine his reaction. He’s quiet, but you can hear his breathing—measured, like he’s weighing something.

“Shit. You’re serious?” he asks, and there’s a softness now, laced with just enough curiosity to make you think he’s intrigued.

“Dead serious,” you say, adding, “But if you’re not interested in me like that—”

“Oh, I’m interested.” The words come quick, a little sharper than you expect, and they make you beam. “Fine. A date,” he says, like he’s letting the word settle on his tongue. “Friday?”

“Friday.” You confirm and stretch your neck. Your muscles are tense. Shoulders tight. All from his filthy words getting you worked up in half a second and the anxiety of your demand. “Come up with something good,” you tease, your voice slipping into something sultrier, “and maybe we’ll both get what we want.”

There’s a low growl on the other end of the line, tinged with frustration and desire. It makes your pulse throb in your clit. You almost wish you had let him talk you through it before suggesting the date. Hear how worked up he’s been over you.

“Jesus,” he grumbles.

Oh, you would’ve turned into a mess and completely forgotten to bring it up. Now you’ve essentially cock blocked yourself until the end of the week. Ugh.

“You’re gonna drive me mad.” He says. But there’s no animosity in it. Instead, there’s something new in his voice that gives you butterflies.

“Yep.”

You’re the one who hangs up first before you can hear anything else that might tempt you to stray from your plan.

……..

It’s late morning when your phone buzzes on your desk the next day, interrupting your excellent cosplay of a ‘productive employee’. You glance at the screen and your heart trips when you see Joel’s name.

You answer, trying to sound casual despite the fluttery feeling in your chest. “Calling me during business hours, Mr. Miller? You’re going to get me in trouble.”

Joel snorts softly. “Think we both know you’re the one that likes cousin’ trouble.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

His voice drops lower, quieter. “You need a reminder? Cause I’ve been replaying exactly how much trouble you caused in my kitchen…”

“Don’t.” You nearly hiss into the phone, trying to cut him off before he starts with any graphic retellings. You spin in your chair, grateful when you confirm Ellie has headphones on for once.

“Right.” His voice is back to a slightly less devastatingly erotic tone. “Wouldn’t want to get carried away while you’re at work.

“Well,” he drawls, the grin evident in his voice now. “You said you wanted a date, so I was thinking.”

You hum, leaning into the teasing tone. “If it’s a chain restaurant I’m canceling right now.”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who’d take you to Applebee’s?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly?” you quip, laughing at the soft groan he makes in response. “No Applebee’s, no Chili’s, and if you’re thinking about taking me to whatever the fanciest Italian place is in this town, don’t. I’m not going on a first date where you used to take your ex-wife for anniversary dinners.”

There’s a beat of silence, then a grumbled, “It was Valentine’s, actually.”

You cackle, delighted at your guess. He huffs. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re predictable,” you shoot back, grinning as you cross your legs under your desk. “Or maybe it’s just ‘cause nobody has been challenging you.”

“S’that what you are?” he asks, “A challenge?”

You shift in your chair, the grin on your face is going to make your cheeks burn if he keeps this up. You soften the teasing as you admit. “Maybe a little.”

“Mm,” he grunts, clearly not convinced.

“If you’re up for it,” you add. Nerves flutter in your stomach now. Maybe he doesn’t want a challenge at all. It’s not like you’ve been hard to get. The silence stretches just long enough to make you wonder if you’ve pushed too far.

His exasperated sigh crackles through the phone, but it’s laced with something warmer. “Yeah.” But then he exhales, soft and almost self-conscious. “Ain’t a bad thing.”

The words are simple, but they settle somewhere deep, curling warm in your chest. For a moment, the flirty defense falls, and you catch the subtle weight in his voice.

“You’re full of surprises, Joel,” you say finally, your tone gentle.

“Guess you’ll find out,” he murmurs, the words quiet like he’s not sure he’s meant to say them.

Your stomach flutters at the unexpected softness. You knew there was more to him than his bold mouth when his dick is hard or the stoic lone wolf look he wears in his garage. You weren’t expecting him to be…whatever this is now.

The line goes quiet again, his breathing soft on the other end. “Friday at seven,” he says after a moment, his voice steady but quieter than before. “There’s a brewery that Tommy suggested. I’ll pick you up.”

“That sounds nice,” you reply, smiling into the phone.

“Alright,” he mutters. There’s a brief pause, like he’s hesitating, before he says, “See you then.”

He hangs up before you can say anything else, and for a moment, you’re left staring at your phone like an idiot. A grin stuck on your face. Possibly permanently.

It’s not just the idea of the date. It’s the thought of Joel making a plan, asking for recommendations, and thinking of what you might like. You figured it’d be fun to give him a hard time and all, but you didn’t have real expectations.

The week stretches on and you’re not sure if it’s moving too fast or too slow. Having a crush is wicked enough, but having a date planned makes you feel slightly insane. It’s like you’re in a cartoon where the world is suddenly brighter and the birds sing just for you.

You find yourself constantly daydreaming at work. Every Creed song Ellie plays somehow sends you into a fugue state. Snippets of Joel’s voice replay in your head.

There’s something about the way he said, “Ain’t a bad thing,” that keeps sneaking up on you when you least expect it. It wasn’t even what he said—it was how he said it. Quiet, like he wasn’t used to admitting something like that out loud. It makes you smile like a fool every time you think about it.

The worst is the evenings. At home in your room. Nothing to distract you. Alone with his t-shirt. Re-reading your brief texts. Lingering wistfully over the dick pic he sent like it’s a letter from your long-distance lover. You’ve got to get it together.

And Joel? He’s just as distracted, though he’d never admit it. At least not to anyone but you.

At work, his usual rhythm is thrown completely out of whack. He catches himself staring at the same invoice three times before finally filing it away. Tommy catches him with his Breaking Benjamin t-shirt inside out.

You’re in his head and it’s driving him nuts. He tried to minimize it. Deciding it was just the impulsive way you crashed into his world. You spread like a wildfire in his mind. The kindness in you to deliver a homemade meal. The audaciousness you have to go after what you want.

He goes weak for a confident woman and you’re so sharp and quick with him. It’s a rush, but not just because of the sexual chemistry. Not just because you’re a novelty or a break in his routine.

It’s you. It’s the way you’ve got the passion and sharpness with your words, but you’re still soft on the edges. He thinks about the way your voice had dipped when you said, “If you’re up for it,” like you weren’t just teasing but testing something, seeing if he’d push you away.

He’s not used to this. Not the nerves, not the anticipation, and definitely not the way he’s spending too much time wondering what to wear on Friday. Not that he’d ever admit it, but he even dug through the back of his closet, holding up a button-down shirt Ellie had bought him last Christmas like it might bite him. He ends up tossing it back in favor of flannel—it’s still a step up from a faded band t-shirt.

By Thursday you’re nearly useless. You drive Ellie crazy all morning, spacing out and jumping when she asks you a question. To be respectful, you haven’t mentioned the date and she hasn’t asked. Would Joel have told her? Does she know you’re losing your mind over a man who probably has holes in his sweatpants? Are you equally as pathetic?

You’re still stuck on that thought when she kicks your chair, startling you back to reality. “Come on,” she demands. “We’re outta here and you’re coming to the Main Street with me. I’ll buy.”

Turns out you’re a cheap date. The dive bar has strong cocktails and a very limited menu of fried foods to choose from. You sit outside at a picnic table enjoying the warmth of the early summer evening.

Ellie is easy to get along with. Talking animatedly about her friends. Sharing the hot goss about Cheryl and her divorce. Trying to recruit you to join the company rec league kickball team. It’s all a welcome distraction even though you still have Joel on the brain.

You do your best not to bring him up but when she mentions him you know you perk up like a heart-eyed fool. Begrudgingly, but with sincerity, Ellie asks if the date is what’s got you so distracted.

“How did you know?”

“You’re both worse than teenagers.” She rolls her eyes. “Thought bringing you here might take your mind off it.”

You snap to attention at her choice of words. “Both?”

“Don’t.”

She’s a good friend. You did need the distraction. You’re still smiling about that thought as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom at the bar. There’s a poster taped to the paper towel dispenser for the cover band that plays Saturday nights that catches your eye before you slip your phone out of your pocket.

You’d blame it on the drinks but the truth is only had one. You hover over the messages. Wondering if he’s really as nervous as you. Fuck it, you decide before sending what you’ve been wondering.

You: You been thinking about me?

His message comes through so fast it’s more revealing than the words he typed.

Joel: Maybe

Fuck, why does one word have you feeling giddy already?

Joel: Have you?

He asks shortly after. You wonder if he’s second guessing himself. Is Joel nervous?

You: A little

You figure you’ll give him the same treatment.

Joel: Haven’t been able to stop, if I’m honest baby

Heat floods your face as you stare at the screen, and his next message comes before you can respond.

Joel: Friday’s been feeling real far away

That has you shaking your head.

You: Patience is a virtue

He’s quick to respond again.

Joel: Never claimed to be a saintly man

That makes you genuinely laugh.

You: Good

……

By the time Friday night rolls around, you’ve fully spiraled into a mess of anxiety and excitement. You’re not really the type to overthink a date, but there’s something about the whole scenario that feels different. It’s not just because Joel’s hot—hotter than he has any right to be—but he’s trying. For you. It’s disarming in a way you weren’t expecting.

You know that the worst-case scenario for the night isn’t bad. You know how to have a good time wherever you are and you are confident that he’s a horny bastard that will put out even if you actively try to sabotage the date. It’s that flickering sensation in your chest that hopes for more. That’s what makes you nervous.

You’re startled when Joel knocks at your front door. You check your reflection one last time before heading to the door. You figure it’s casual enough for a first date at a brewery.

Despite everything inside of you that screamed to put your tits on display again—you couldn’t resist wearing the Creed shirt. You tied it up in the front so it accentuates your figure and paired it with a faux leather skirt with a matching black lace set underneath.

It’s gotta be enough to play at the alt-rock vibe he’s still living in. You look good. Really good.

But when you open the door he isn’t the only one who’s world gets rocked. Joel stands in front of you like he was plucked from your fantasy. Freshly showered, his damp curls just starting to dry in soft waves. A plaid button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those strong, tan forearms. His dark jeans are markedly not as worn down as the last pair you saw him in, yet the effect on you is just as dastardly.

It’s unfair, really, how good he looks. You’re left blinking as your mouth goes a little dry while you drink him in. Who’s idea was it to have a date? In public? Fuck. He shifts, a sly smile growing on his face as he rests his hip against the door jam.

“Hi,” you mumble, still ogling him.

“You look… real nice,” he says, voice so low and velvety it should be registered as a weapon.

You know you had a smart-ass remark about the shirt on the tip of your tongue, but it’s gone. Gone… along with your morals. All you’ve got left is the intense, primal desire to do something inappropriate with his arms? Yes! Yes! Yes! The horny gremlins like your idea despite having no logistics or master plan.

They seem to have no coherent plan of attack at all, to be honest. Bite! Lick! Suck! All you know is that you need him in your mouth until your jaw is sore.

Joel huffs softly. Amused that you seem speechless. “Didn’t think flannel was all that special baby, you alright?”

“It’s not the flannel,” you mutter under your breath, but you don't let him hear the rest of that thought: Arms! Arms! Arms!

You grab your bag and follow him out to the truck, stealing glances at him as he walks ahead of you. You can’t help it. He’s so…solid. Sturdy. Sure of himself. Even when he’s out of his comfort zone. It’s doing something sinful to you.

The inside of the truck smells faintly like a Black Ice air freshener, a Home Depot on a Sunday morning, and Armor All. The distinctly Joel aesthetic lives up to your imagination. It’s lived in. Comfortable.

There’s the catchall cupholder of change, receipts, and literal nuts and bolts. The caseless CDs in the storage divider strapped to the sun visor—you recognize a couple like Seether and Three Days Grace.

Before you can take in every detail though, you’re distracted by just the sight of him driving. It’s absurd, but why does he look this good just driving? Most people can manage to operate a vehicle, but most people don’t look as fuckable as Joel does, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Hand! Thigh! Neck! Fingers!

You’re reduced to only being able to name anatomical features when you’re this close to him, apparently. Like an alien learning about a man for the first time. An extraterrestrial explorer propelled by the most curious desire to taste and touch every part of Joel—for research.

You’re so caught up that it takes a while to register the song that’s playing. Of course, it’s more Nickelback.

You're so much cooler

When you never pull it out

Cause you look so much cuter

With something in your mouth

It breaks the spell he has on you and you laugh, really laugh. Joel looks slightly horrified, having no idea what led to your outburst. When you’ve recovered enough, you let him in on it.

“Nice first date song. You really know how to set the mood.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t change the song, and you let yourself glance at him again as he drives. His profile glows in the evening sun, and you can’t help thinking how easy it would be to reach over and drag your hand down his chest, and make him pull over so you could climb into his lap. The thought has you pressing your thighs together, your pulse thrumming in your ears. At this rate you’re not going to make it through the night.

…..

The brewery is trendy. Joel hopes it’s something you like. He tries to focus on the menu, but feels like his brain is short-circuiting. It’s not the overpriced burgers or the craft beers with descriptors that don’t sound like flavors. It’s the way you're leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your hand, smile tugging at your lips.

The shirt is unfair. The way you’ve got it tied, hugging your body in ways that make his palms itch. Knowing you were touching yourself in the same shirt to the sound of his voice. He’s trying not to stare, trying to be polite, but it’s damn near impossible with you sitting across from him like that.

“How about this one?” you say, pointing to an option on the menu. “Probably the closest thing to what you’ve got stocked in the shop fridge.” He’d wonder how you knew what he had in the fridge, but his eyes are glued to your finger pointing at the menu and it’s consuming all of his thoughts.

You ramble on about a few other choices but he doesn’t hear the words. He’s still stuck on your hand. He swears he can still feel the ghost of your touch from the kitchen last week. Shit. His jeans are already feeling tighter than they should.

He clears his throat, trying to pull it together. “I’ll trust you.”

You smile wide at that. He’s so fucked. “You know a lot about fancy beer.” Yikes. “You got a favorite on here?” Get it together, he begs himself.

“Nah, I don’t really like beer,” you say casually. You give him a shrug and point out a cider you’re thinking about trying. His stomach twists.

“You don’t like beer,” he repeats. “But, you let me take you to a brewery?” His chest feels tight, and he shifts uncomfortably.

“They have food, too.” you counter.

“Right.” Why does he feel like he’s so out of his element? He’s been second-guessing everything about this date. He feels his gaze drifting as his eyes shift out of focus, his fingers toy with his bottom lip as he gets lost in his head.

He knows he can get you worked up just as bad as him over the phone, knows he can make you sing for him with just his fingers, but this? He doesn’t know what you want from him now. Is the date some kind of test? He knows he’s overthinking all of it.

“Hey.” Your voice brings him back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I like that you planned something.”

It seems genuine. The way you look at him with bright eyes and a smirk like you’ve got something to tease him about on the tip of your tongue. “Now ask me a boring first date question,” you instruct with a nod like you’re giving him some kind of permission.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You snort laughing at him. If you’re half as nervous as him you don’t show it.

….

It works. Mostly. Your drinks arrive. The conversation flows more easily. He still gets tripped up here and there but doesn’t disappear on you again. He asks about your job, your family, about where you moved from, and you give him enough to keep things light but still playfully dodge some of his questions.

Every time he gets flustered, you catch yourself smiling, a little surprised at how much you’re enjoying this. It’s the way he watches you like he’s trying to figure you out. The way he tries. He seems to relax a little and for a moment, you think he might settle into the evening.

Then he reaches for his water, and it all goes sideways. The dangerously full glass wobbles, tilting just enough to spill halfway across the table. Joel jerks back, cursing dejectedly under his breath as he grabs a napkin to clean it up.

You can’t help it. The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Just loud enough for him to hear. “Trying to get me wet already?”

His eyes snap to yours. You grin, adding, “Don’t worry, been dripping for you since you showed up at my front door.”

He makes a sound between a cough and a choke. Stunned. The faintest blush creeps up his neck, reaching all the way to his ears. For a second, he looks like he might say something, but all he manages to get out is a gruff, “Jesus.”

You lean back in your chair, grinning triumphantly. You didn’t expect him to get so rattled by your comment. Not with how vulgar he’s been on the phone or when he had his hand between your legs. It’s an ego boost to know you’ve got the upper hand at first.

“Relax,” you purr.

Then you catch the way he discreetly tries to adjust himself under the table. Clearly unable to relieve the pressure. Knowing the effect you have on him is more intoxicating than the alcohol. An idea strikes you. You know exactly how to get him to relax.

“Do you have cash?” you ask.

“What? Yeah.” He looks at you confused.

You nod like he proved a point by saying yes. That confuses him further, a deep line forming between his brows.

“‘Course you do. That’s like, Dad 101 ‘carry cash in case of emergency’.

You stand and grab your bag. “We’re not staying,” you say simply.

“What?” He frowns, sitting up straighter.

You flash him a smile. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on. You said you trust me.”

“To choose a beer,” he grumbles, dropping enough cash for a generous tip on the table before letting you lead. He doesn’t argue as you walk back to the truck, just trying to catch up with your words. He opens the passenger door for you, his hand brushing yours briefly as you climb into the truck. It’s a small thing, but the innocence makes your pulse skip all the same.

Once he’s in the driver’s seat, the tension between you shifts. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s charged. You glance at him, taking in the way his hands grip the steering wheel so tightly, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he shifts.

The truck rumbles to life and another one of the horniest Nickelback songs plays—barely loud enough to recognize.

I’m loving what you wanna wear

I wonder what’s up under there

Wonder if I’ll ever have it under my tongue

You bite back another laugh as the vocals float through the cab, perfectly at odds with the vibe of the place you just left. Joel shifts, mouth twitching like he knows how ridiculous it is. “You wanna tell me where we’re headed?” he asks, voice cutting through your thoughts.

You tell him where to drive and settle back in your seat. Again your thoughts drift. Infatuated with his fingers curling and uncurling like he’s trying to distract himself. He hasn’t said much since you’ve left, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. Heavy and thick.

You catch his gaze flicker to you for the third time in as many minutes. His eyes trail over the curve of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up. It’s subtle, but enough to make you feel bold.

You smirk, pulling the visor down to check your reflection in the mirror. Fishing a lip gloss out from your bag, you swipe it over your lips, smoothing the edges with your fingertip. Joel doesn’t say anything, but you don’t miss the deep steadying breath that fills his lungs or the crack of his knuckles.

Satisfied with your lips, you tug lightly at the t-shirt, adjusting the knot, shifting the fabric to lay how you like and slipping a hand beneath it to adjust your tits in your lacy bra. You hear Joel exhale sharply, a low, throaty sound that makes heat curl low in your stomach.

“You okay?” you ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. Your voice is softer now, more knowing, and when he doesn’t answer right away, you grin. “You seem tense.”

Joel mutters something under his breath. His jaw tightens. Finally, he glances at you, his eyes dark. “You keep doin’ that, and we’re gonna have a problem, baby.”

“Doing what?” you ask, your voice all innocence, though his threat gives you a prickly rush.

Joel huffs a laugh, low and rough. “You know damn well.” His voice dips, a rasp of heat that whips down your spine. “The lips and the shirt, just messin’ with me like you want me to lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Your grin widens as you meet his gaze. “And what if I do?”

“Jesus,” he mutters, his voice strained, his hand flexing against the wheel. “Trying to get me to crash into a ditch or something?”

The tension between you is unbearable now, the air thick and buzzing. Joel’s jaw is clenched tightly. You unabashedly linger on the way his hips press forward slightly like he’s trying to relieve the ache between his legs. It shouldn’t drive you fucking wild with need, but you’re gripped mind, pussy, and soul.

“Pull over,” you say suddenly, your tone steady.

Joel’s head snaps toward you, incredulous.

“Pull over,” you repeat, your voice softer now, more insistent. “Please.”

He hesitates for only a second before caving, steering the truck onto the shoulder. The tires crunch against the gravel as he shifts into park, the engine idling low as he turns to look at you. His eyes are dark, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him—wrecked and barely holding it together—makes you rabid.

“You’re gonna kill me,” his voice is rough and quiet. Infused with lust and awe.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning closer. “But you’ll enjoy it.”

Joel groans softly, his hand flying to your thigh, the heat of his palm searing against your skin. “Torturing me,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “Sitting there lookin’ like that, knowing damn well what you’re doin’ to me.”

“Yeah?” you ask, your breath hitching as his fingers slide higher. “What am I doing to you, Joel?”

He exhales sharply, his grip on your thigh tightening. Why are his hands that big? Like, how are you supposed to know what they feel like and ever leave his grasp?

Your heart is pounding now, the heat in your veins making it hard to think straight. Joel’s voice drops lower, his hand sliding further up your thigh as he leans closer.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about it,” he mutters, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “The way you’d taste, the way you’d sound, begging me to fuck you harder, deeper—”

“Joel,” you whisper, cutting him off. Your voice is shaky, your hands gripping his arm as you try to ground yourself. “Please.”

He groans again, the sound rough and desperate, and his hand moves higher, his fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. “Yeah, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “That’s what I wanna hear.”

It makes you shudder. You feel him smile at your body's obvious responses, as his nose grazes your skin just below your ear.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs into your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you all damn week. Every time I close my eyes, it’s you.”

His words hit like a match to dry kindling, and your breath stutters as his fingers trace the seam of your panties.

“You know how hard it was to sit there at that table?” he mutters, his voice turning darker. “With you looking like this, wearing my clothes, teasin’ me.”

“We didn’t even make it to the actual dinner part,” you giggle as you trail off.

His fingers press more firmly, dragging slowly over the thin fabric, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips. Joel groans at the sound, his free hand gripping your thigh to hold you steady.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with heat. “You’re already soaked. Bet I could make you come like this, right here, without even tryin’.”

Your hips shift instinctively, grinding against his hand as he works you with deliberate precision. The friction is maddening, just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to send you over. Every filthy word he says in your ear has you burning up.

“Jesus, you’re gonna sound so fuckin’ sweet for me,” he says, more to himself. “Can’t wait to bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name until your throat’s raw.”

“Joel,” you whisper, your voice shaky, your hand flying to his wrist as his fingers dip lower, brushing just beneath the edge of your panties. “Wait.”

He freezes instantly, his brow furrowing as he looks at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, your cheeks flushed, your body still trembling under his touch. “Not now,” you assert, your voice soft but steady. “Let me take care of you.”

Joel blinks, his pupils blown wide as your words sink in. His mouth parts to say something but the words disappear. You don’t let him argue.

Sliding your hand down to his belt, you undo it hastily, fingers working open the button of his jeans before he can protest. It’s for him. You want to do this for him. Help him relax so you can enjoy the rest of your date.

But, fuck, it’s also for you. You’ve been riding a high just from a shoddy dick pic and your muscle memory, but you’ve been patient long enough. You’ve got to see it in person and you need it in your mouth, asap. You deserve that much, right?

You slide down the zipper and fuss with the waistband until you get what you wanted. His breath catches as you free his cock. It’s heavy and hard against your palm. Radiating heat and weeping for you.

“Oh, fuck,” he starts, his voice breaking.

You hum softly, pleased, leaning in to kiss him as your hand strokes him slowly, deliberately. Joel groans against your mouth, his hips jerking slightly into your hand.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” you murmur against his lips. “All week.”

“Yeah,” he rasps, voice raw with want. “Can’t stop thinking about you. How you’d feel, how you’d look, how you’d sound.”

“Show me,” you whisper, lowering your head to taste for yourself. You like a hot stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue around the head.

Joel’s breath stutters, his hand flying to the back of your head as he watches you. “You’re so fucking good, baby. Like a fucking dream.”

You hollow your cheeks, tongue gliding along his length as you take him into the heat of your mouth. You have to use your hands to work the rest of him, still slowly and deliberately. Every sound he makes, every twitch against your tongue, every flex of his core, and tightening of his fingers, it all drives you wild.

It has you moaning with need around him. Your cunt soaked and pulsing, begging for attention between your legs as you focus all on him. It’s just as much for you as it is for him.

His head tips back against the seat, a rumbling grown spilling from his lips as his hips shift beneath you.

“Shit.” he pants, voice cracking. “You’re gonna make come so fuckin’ hard. Bet you’d look so pretty with my come on your tongue.”

The sheer filth of his words spurs you on, your movements quickening as you savor every groan, curse, and sharp inhale from him. “Fuck—just like that.” He encourages you, adding firm pressure to the back of your head as his hips jerk and he loses control.

“You want it?” he asks desperately as you moan in affirmation. You’re voice is still vibrating through him as he starts to come, hot and heavy on your tongue. You don’t stop until his body goes slack beneath you, his chest heaving as you finally pull back.

He looks wrecked, mouth hanging open, sweat on his brow. You give him a devilish smile before opening your mouth to show him. He stares at you, eyes dark and hazy, before cupping your jaw in his palm as you swallow.

“Told you,” he huffs, “so fucking pretty with my come on your tongue.” A bright, satisfied smile spreads on your face at his praise. He pulls you in closer for a kiss. When you pull back a frown pulls at your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks hurriedly.

“I didn’t get to see,” you muse. “Will you take a picture next time?”

“Fuck,” he looks at you with awe and pride. “Yeah, baby, of course.”

“Good,” you nod, readjusting and settling back into your seat. “You think you can relax a little now?” you ask, tone teasing.

Joel lets out a breathless laugh. He drags his hand down his face. “You’re unreal,” he mutters, voice still hoarse. The phrase makes you beam with pride. It’s the same remark he made over the phone last week…right before he said ‘got me shooting loads like a fucking teenager’.”

The gratification just from seeing him this wrecked is like a drug. He’s every bit as enticing and addicting as you hoped and feared. You squeeze your thighs together once more and take a deep breath. Committed to the rest of your idea for saving your first date with the divorced DILF of your dreams.

“Back on the road. We’ve got places to be.”

Joel blinks at you, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re serious?”

“Yep,” you smile lazily, tugging gently at his arm. “Drive.”

He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about you being the death of him, but he shifts the truck into gear, his hand lingering on your thigh as he pulls back onto the road.

THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU ENJOYED OR HATED ANY OF IT <3

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

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