#part of me wishes i never left austin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yellowharrington · 10 months ago

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wildflower and barley -- joel miller x reader

pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)

word count: 5k+ oops

warnings/notes: smut smut smut!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. age gap (it's implied reader is in her 20s while joel is 45) and mentions of joel being kinda perverted and liking it lol. drinking (both reader and joel, not excessive), use of a dating app like tinder but not specified, unprotected PIV w creampie and oral (m+f receiving), do not fuck your tinder hookups without protection i'm just horny and gross. excessive use of darlin' as a nickname. implied that reader likes men. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. if i missed anything lmk!

a/n: heavily inspired by this post by @yesttoheaven about joel's tinder profile!! it has been rotting my brain since i saw it which literally inspired me to write my first fic in the tlou fandom ever so please be gentle with me. i imagined show!joel because i've never played the game so do with that what you will. please reblog and leave comments if u enjoy it <3333

divider by @cafekitsune

summary: after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.

No one likes using dating apps.

Swiping left, left, left mindlessly at troves of men holding fish, showing off their trucks, or with deer heads mounted to the walls behind their selfies holding guns.

This was Texas, after all.

Having just moved here, it was a little shocking, to say the least. But you were getting used to the “eligible” bachelors that were your age generally looking and acting the same. When you did end up finding someone of interest, you were usually turned off pretty quickly by whatever shitty pick-up line they had chosen. Or, your personal favourite, “wanna fuck?”

No thanks.

It was an idyllic summer evening, the hot stuffy air of Austin flowing in through your windows. You laid in bed, propped up on the pillows against your headboard and sorting through the faces that adorned your screen. No one particularly interesting, as usual, and every profile was starting to melt together to look the same.

You sighed, looking into your settings, adjusting and increasing different metrics to hopefully change the pool just enough for there to be someone new or interesting.

Age range: 25-30

Your eyebrow cocked as you looked onto the screen, pulling the slider more to the right experimentally. No one was here to see you, and even though it was slightly embarassing to be interested in older men, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t pique your interest to imagine it. Even just to try, and see, if they ever really did grow up. You imagined it was wishful thinking, but increased the range anyways.

Age range: 35-45

Feeling the need to throw your phone across the room after doing that, you placed it face down under your pillow and slid out of bed. No use in swiping through them now, and you were getting tired of looking. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a new episode of your favourite show was waiting for you downstairs.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel Miller does not use dating apps.

He barely knows how to send a text on his phone, let alone navigate the world of online women. Not to say he didn’t explore the options, so to speak, but they usually were not ones that were single, his age, and in his area. Unless the ads on those sites were real, that is.

“It’s starting to get sad,” Sarah had remarked at breakfast, when they got on the topic, and Joel feigned hurt. Hand over his heart, he dropped his fork onto the plate. “It’s not sad, Jesus. I’m just busy, is all.”

“Busy not gettin’ busy,” Sarah remarked, and Joel’s eyes widened. “Hey now! None of that.”

A blush spread up his cheeks and ears as they continued to eat breakfast in slightly awkward silence, before Joel took his plate to the sink. “Okay, off to school, you. And no more conversations about my dating life. Ever.”

Sarah laughed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass. “I’m just saying, dad. You can if you want to. Might be nice for you.”

Joel planted a soft kiss to her head before she bounded out the door, rolling his eyes and calling out a ‘love you’ before she closed the door swiftly behind her. Joel stared at his cell phone on the table. Maybe it would be nice.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

The following evening, you were a little too excited to see the dating app specimens you had acquired. Not sure what to expect, really, and you went in with no expectations. It’s not like they’d magically all be tall, dark, and handsome, but some variety never killed anybody.

Paul, 41

Daddy, but not yours. No libs allowed. 6’ because that matters.

You sighed deeply. Some things never change.

After swiping through much of what you were used to, a profile managed to catch your eye among the sea of disappointment.

Joel, 45

Just a Southern gentleman trying this out for the first time. Contractor of over 10 years. I love my daughter, BBQ, strong coffee, and sleeping in.

Now that was the most interesting thing you’d seen in a while.

He didn’t look a day over 40. His eyes creased at the corners when he smiled wide in his photos. He looked tan, a product of the Texas heat and his job, you thought. His features were accompanied by salt-and-pepper facial hair and messy curls that looked soft and pliable. His photos showed off his physique incredibly, tight wash-worn t-shirts pulling over his arms and shoulders, looking big, broad. He was no doubt the most handsome man you’d seen on an app, maybe ever.

When you swiped right before you could think too hard, you were surprised to see the green “Match!” Flash across your screen.

Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard on your phone, thinking of a witty thing to say, probably for too long.

Your phone buzzed as you saw a notification pop up.

Joel has sent you a message.

Hey, darlin’. How are ya?

You felt your face warm at the sweet message, when was the last time someone had called you darlin’? Ever?

Hey cowboy. I’m great, how are you?

He was certainly an eager responder, taking only a few seconds to reply. You found yourself smiling down at your phone screen.

Cowboy… I like that. I’m better now that I’m talking to you.

Oh, Joel, who told you to say that? 😂

No good?

Not bad. 6/10.

Only 6/10? I’ll work on it. I like to think I’m better in person.

I would love to find out.

You found yourself emboldened by how easy the conversation was flowing. Joel was certainly easy to talk to, easier than the other matches you had going for you, and infinitely more handsome.

Oh, would you? Alright. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. If you don’t mind being seen with an old man such as myself in public. Or meeting a stranger from the internet.

He’s a very handsome stranger. I would love to go to dinner with you. Know any good spots? I’m new around here.

There’s a great barbecue spot in downtown Austin. If you’d prefer something fancier, let me know.

I love bbq. Just tell me where and when, cowboy.

Tomorrow, 7pm ok?

You sent him your phone number in the message. Fuck it.

Sounds great. Text me the address, I’ll be there. :)

Joel’s reply didn’t come. Instead, a text appeared at the top of your screen with an unknown number.

It’s Joel. This the right number?

Yup. You found me.

Great. Talk tomorrow sweetheart. Looking forward to it. :)

He texted you the address of the restaurant, right before you opened the contact card, saving his name as “cowboy ♡”.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Cowboy. Cowboy. Cowboy. It was playing over in his head like a broken fuckin’ record.

Joel was positively freaking out about this date.

Sarah had managed to secure a sleepover at her friend’s place, so the house would be empty for the night. He had been busying himself with cleaning the entirety of the house, even taking the time to mow the grass before work and vacuum the family room. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed anywhere.

Would she even make it back here? How does this work? Will she want to sleep over or hang out on the couch or should he be making a dessert for after?

His mind was brought out of it’s craze by Sarah jumping down the stairs. She plopped her bag down on the freshly wiped countertop.

“Careful,” he warned, putting a hand up. “I just cleaned that off.”

“I can tell. It smells like the cleaning aisle threw up in here.”

He smirked before patting her head with his hand, as she aggressively smoothed out her hair. “Dad! Don’t!”

“When do you wanna go to Ellie’s?” He asked, more gaging how long he has left to get ready than actually asking.

“Probably soon. Why? Tryna get rid of me?” she poked her dad in the side, but when she flinched away instead, a large smile spread across her face. He was tense.

“What’s your deal?” Joel hated the way she knew him so well sometimes.

“Nothing.“

“Are you going on a date?”

Silence fell over the kitchen between the two of them, as Joel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?”

“Oh my god, you actually took my advice,” Sarah laughed, watching her dad’s face burn red with embarrassment. “Just don’t do anything weird on communal surfaces, please.”

Joel shook his head at her suggestion, already becoming annoyed with the whole prospect. He was so nervous, about what to wear, how to act, what the expectation was… let alone, what would happen if they made it back to his place at all.

Although, when he was able to shake his nerves for a second, he was just really fucking excited.

“Wear those dark jeans, and that green shirt you wore to Tommy’s last week. Looks good on you.” Sarah smiled as she put her arms around Joel’s middle, while his worries melted away with her touch. “She’ll love you, I promise.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

It had been such a long time since you’d been on a proper date, you were starting to lose your mind at the simple process of deciding what to wear.

Clothes were strewn across every surface of your apartment, shoes matching with jeans that matched with cardigans, tops that matched with belts and jackets.

It’s 87 degrees at 5 o’clock, idiot. You’re not wearing a jacket. Relax.

Exhausted of picking out outfits and making decisions, you collapsed on your couch and took a look at your options. You landed on an easy sundress, putting the rest of your clothes back in their respective drawers, and pulling out all of the products you were expecting to use to get ready.

You scrolled through your phone aimlessly as a notification bubble popped up on the screen.

We still on for tonight darlin’? Or did you change your mind?

No worries if you did. I respect that.

You let out a cackle at the message, thinking about how he must look right now. Was he nervous? Scared? Was he just looking for a controversially young fuck?

You weren’t… completely against that.

Didn’t change my mind, wouldn’t in a million years :)

Meet you there. Can’t wait to see you.

His eagerness to meet up would’ve been a red flag if it were any other run of the mill guy, but something about Joel felt special. There didn’t seem to be any funny business with him; too sincere to try anything other than just a good old fashioned date.

You too, cowboy.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When Joel showed up at the restaurant, he clenched a small bouquet of pink peonies in his right hand and checked his watch obsessively. The minutes ticked away, as he kept a high alert for anyone who could be his potential date. He knew what you looked like, of course, but this being his first time doing anything of this sort is making him hyperaware of anything going awry.

When he does lay eyes on you, his whole gaze softens. A pink sundress, hair pristinely styled and a bounce in your step that reminded him of summer. You looked like an angel, the sunset behind you painting the sky tangerine, which reflected off of the shine against your supple skin. So young, beautiful, it was taking his breath away.

“Joel?”

Your voice matched your sweet demeanour, and he was taken out of his waking daydream.

“Hi,” is all he can say, letting his breath out as he relaxed. “Yes, hi, sorry. I’m Joel.”

“Hi,” you laugh back, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. They matched your dress.

“These are for you,” he gets the hint, extending his arm out, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearm. He looked so much stronger in person, it was making your knees go weak.

“Thank you, wow,” you held them up to your nose to smell the sweet aroma. “I love peonies.”

“Me too,” he smiled, showing off a string of pearly white teeth, that contrasted with the pink of his lips and the even tan of his skin.

“Shall we?” He extended his arm to you for you to grab onto, and you got to feel the warmth of his skin for yourself. Your hand wrapped around his forearm as he opened the door of the restaurant for you, leading you inside and catching a glimpse of the backs of your thighs as you walked in front of him.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

When you were finally sitting, the conversation flowed easily. He was truly a Southern gentleman, like he had said. It wasn’t normal for you to open up so quickly, but Joel was so easy going and smart, he asked the right questions and knew when to listen. He knew how to listen, a warm gaze and a nod along, asking follow up questions to your answers and easily getting to know you.

You asked about his daughter, his family, his work. He was happy to tell you.

“So, what’s a man like you doing being single in this city?” You take a sip of the wine in the glass in front of you, burgundy staining your bottom lip.

He takes a bite of the food in front of him, a napkin pressing to his lips quickly after. “Been busy,” he started to say, honey brown eyes meeting yours for a second. His gaze sent an electrifying pulse down your spine.

“And, well, when Sarah’s mom left there was a ton to do,” he says it nonchalantly, as if that should be something normal to happen. “House, work, school, she keeps my hands full. Hasn’t been a lot of time.” His syrupy drawl is pulling you in, you’re enticed by the way he speaks to you. So easy, warm, soft. You wonder what his hands feel like on your body, lips pressed to your neck, torso pressed against yours.

“Sorry, that’s a lot of information for a first date,” he laughs to cover the awkwardness, and quietly curses himself for going into so much detail about his precarious family situation and basically admitting to you that he hasn’t fucked anything other than his hand in the last 5 or so years.

“No, it’s okay,” you slide your hand across the table, palm up, urging him to slot his hand into it. He takes it, easily, enveloping yours. His fingers find the pulse point on your wrist. You let your eyes drift up to his, drinking in the way his chest fills out the shirt he chose.

“What’s your story?” He asks earnestly, giving your hand a squeeze. “Can’t imagine there isn’t a long line of people outside waiting to take my place, darlin’.”

You blush furiously at the nickname, and let your eyes meet his once again. “You have no idea the… mess that is out there,” the wine is calling your name to take another sip at the mere thought, but you refrain. “Certainly not too many I am interested in.”

“So, is that why you’re on a date with an old man on a beautiful summer night in Austin?”

You could tell Joel, in a twisted way, liked that you were younger than him. It made him feel younger by admission, that you’d want to spend time with him.

“You’re not that much older,” you laugh, not even believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “And I like to try new things. Don’t you like trying new things, sometimes?”

It was his turn to let his face go red at your insinuation. If only you knew how ‘new’ this really was for him, how much he was pushed out of his comfort zone right now.

You didn’t notice.

A little more polite small talk and exchanging of stories was all you could take before the tension was becoming too much. After another glass of wine and a shared plate of sky-high chocolate cake for dessert, you were enjoying his company and could tell he was enjoying yours all the same. When you met his gaze again, hands still intertwined, you could tell there was a question on the tip of his tongue.

“Would you want to…“ - a nervous pause, with a halo of lust - “come back to mine for a nightcap? I’ve got an empty house this evening.”

You couldn’t help but smirk, knowing in your heart that Joel must’ve made arrangements for his family not to be home in anticipation. He had to have planned for you, known in his heart you’d say yes.

“I’d love that.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾

Joel’s home is unmistakably him. It smells like a pine candle that sits near the front door and a faint aroma of laundry detergent. There’s photos everywhere, him and his daughter, his brother’s family. Big windows were letting in the twinkling lights of the city outside, the inky sky making them look brighter against its canvas.

“You have a beautiful home,” you say, although it seems a little formal for the situation. What else do you say to a grown-up in their house?

“Thank you,” he takes a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and pours two rock glasses, handing you one. He flicks on a lamp, ambient light filling the room and painting his skin amber orange, as he joins your side by his kitchen table.

“I did a lot of the construction myself, the decorations are my daughter.” He points lazily to the trinkets on the shelves and photos on the wall. “I don’t really have a good eye for that type of stuff.”

You take a sip from the drink and it coats your throat, burning down as you suppress a cough at the taste. You nod along as he explains the design choices he made in the home, and you play along, knowing it’s likely out of anxiety.

“What about upstairs?”

Your eyes are innocent as they meet his, although you understand the implication you’re making whole-heartedly. He puts his glass down on the kitchen table and you follow his lead, his strong hand around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs wordlessly.

“It’s not anything,” - he clears his throat - “special,” he shows you around the second floor, finishing at the door of his bedroom that has been left slightly ajar.

You step in quietly, leading him inside as you take in the bedroom. Neatly folded clothes, a made bed that looks well loved. Blue sheets and fluffy pillows, big bay windows that let the moonlight in.

“I think it’s nice,” you say simply, letting yourself turn around to meet his broad frame. He looks down at you slightly, eyes meeting yours as your hand drops from his grasp and snakes around his neck. His hands come up the sides of your dress, pulling it up slightly, but landing on your waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively in the dark of the room, his lips so close to yours already you can practically taste the whiskey on his lips for yourself. You answer him by pressing your tentative lips to his, slotting them together easily.

Joel’s grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he takes you in, pulling you as close as he possibly can. He can smell the perfume on your neck and the wine on your lips from earlier, and it’s making his need for you increase tenfold.

You pull him into you as you stumble back to let your knees hit his mattress, sitting down and letting your hands come to his belt buckle. Your hands came to undo it as he pulled his t-shirt off to throw onto the floor beside him, bending down to help you pull the dress over your shoulders to meet his t-shirt.

You made quick work of his jeans, pushing them to the ground and looking up at him with a keen glance. You could see the breath making his belly rise and fall, anticipating your touch on him any second.

When your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his breath hitched and his head rolled back. He was already half-hard only from kissing you, so a few pumps made him easily ready for your mouth.

“You’re so big,” is all you can think to say, head spinning from the sheer size of him right in front of your face. Your mouth watered at the way his hand palmed through your hair, pulling you in closer to him for some relief.

It was intoxicating to him, the way your mouth fit around his cock. Such a beautiful sight to see, your head licking and sucking at his tip, gathering spit there to lubricate him. His knees were going weak as he watched intently, no thought able to cross his mind, other than maybe how long it had been since he’d had anyone to do this with. He was going to have to pace himself if it was all like this.

Your mouth constrained around the length of him, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of your head. Filthy sounds were filling the room now, of your eager mouth pulling him in as best you could. His hand stayed steady at the back of your head, not pushing, just softly pressed there for support. His other hand found your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap.

“God, darlin’,” was all he could choke out, using his hand to pull you off of him. Your hand lazily stroked him as you looked up at him, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” his laugh eased some of the tension in the room, as you took your other hand and wiped the spit away.

He leaned down, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips before using his own hands to unclasp your bra and let your breasts free. His lips traveled to the side of your neck, before he was kneeled down between your legs, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He lapped at you, all consuming, as his hand came up to grasp the other breast that wasn’t being serviced. He moaned at the noises you were making, lewd whines into the night air that only encouraged him.

His lips made their way down your body to your clothed centre, your back against his soft sheets. You looked down at him intently, watching as he pulled your panties down your legs and immediately delved into your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue.

Your body jerked upwards at the contact, hand fisting the sheet beside you as he lapped at you, like a man starved. His expert tongue found your clit easily, sucking and licking at you for what felt like hours. You thought about his heavy cock between his legs, begging to be touched, hard as ever as he licked at you desperately.

“Joel,” you whined out, feeling your hand reach down to grab at his curls and push him deeper into you. That only made him moan, one hand lazily fisting his cock as the other came up to dip a finger into you, allowing you to see stars when you screwed your eyes shut.

His fingers were so large, pressed into your core as you fucked yourself on them and his tongue in tandem. He was groaning and grunting, and you hoped his neighbours couldn’t see into the window at the desperate filth that was going on in his bedroom.

“Fuck, Joel, please,” you begged, but he had no mercy, and your orgasm was creeping up on you. He was ready to watch you come undone, pushing a second finger into you and furiously sucking on your clit. His other hand left his own pleasure and wrapped around your breast, pressing and playing with the hard nub there, pinching to provide a little bit of sting to it. It was sending you into another dimension.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” and his voice is gravely and debauched, enough to send you into your first orgasm, chanting his name and pulling on his hair. He was happily licking at you, fingers still pressing in and out as to not mess up the rhythm, as you rode out your orgasm against his face.

When you started to come down, he finally detached himself from you before standing up between your legs and pressing his broad palms to your thighs. He stayed there for a moment, cock still hard and heavy between his legs as you gazed up at him, out of breath from his work.

“You’re really good at that,” was all you could think to say, head clouded with arousal. You moved up on the bed a little, opening your legs and pressing your knees apart to show your pussy to him again.

“Please fuck me, Joel,” you breathe out, letting your hand find your own clit to rub it teasingly for him. It was still so sensitive, but the way he was looking down at you, eyes dark and stormy with need, you could almost come again just from that.

He put a knee down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips finding yours once again as your hands found his face. You held him there, savouring the kiss as his tongue crashed against yours, all warmth and spit and the taste of you. His hand found your breast and continued to play with your nipples, softly, coaxing more moans into his mouth from yours.

He leaned back and slipped his cock inside of you, filling you up immediately and making you gasp. He groaned into the side of your neck, tonguing the side of your ear and kissing you feverishly as he pumped in and out of you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly close, your moans filling the room as he rocked in and out of you. He kissed your jaw and chest, before reaching down between your bodies and pressing his thick finger to your clit again, using the wetness there to draw circles around your sensitive nub.

“So pretty,” he smiles into your neck, your hand on the back of his, playing with the now-sweaty strands of hair on the nape. “So pretty for me, taking my cock,” the dirty talking is welcome as he continues to bring you closer to a second orgasm, your breath hitching once again.

“Come inside of me,” you say it like a whisper, a secret in the stillness of the room, and Joel is unsure he even heard you correctly.

“Are you sure?” He says it not accusingly, but in a way that conveys he feels like he just won the lottery.

“Yes, please, fill me up.”

You can see the way his eyes darken more, shifting so he’s on his knees and using your body to fuck himself on his thick cock. His hand continued to play with your clit, bringing you so close to your orgasm that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His cheeks were getting hot as he thrusted in and out furiously, and you could almost see the stress melt off of his face as he came close to his own undoing.

The white-hot feeling washes over you once again, eyes shutting before you’re back on your elbows and watching intently. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as his thrusts become sloppy, your name pouring out of his lips like a prayer. You’re clenching around him and letting him ride out his high alongside you, slowing after his hot cum coats your walls and leaves you full of him.

He collapses on top of you, cock softening inside as you both catch your breath together. Your chests are sticky with sweat as you breathe, taking in the smell of him, and the feel of his warmth on your body.

He pulls himself from you and flops beside you, still taking a moment to admire you. You look over at him, a lazy smile on your face as your hand reaches out to caress the skin of his chest. He takes the time to run his fingertips up your arms and back as you lay there in silence together, just soaking in the moment in a post-sex glow.

“I guess I should get going,” you say after a few beats, sitting up to grab your dress off the floor. You cringe at the thought of throwing your underwear on and leaving, this being just another random hookup for you that never lead to anything. Joel was sweet.

A confused look spreads across his features and his brows knit together, before sitting up next to you at the edge of the bed.

“I mean, I don’t know how these things usually go,” he laughs, as his hand finds your lower back. “But you don’t gotta run outta here like a scared animal or somethin’.”

You look up at him again, unsure of what to do next. In your, albeit limited, experience with dating app hookups, you were expected to leave pretty much right after.

“Oh, um,” you look around the room at the soft worn-in sheets and the TV across from Joel’s bed. You take a look at him again, your eyes meeting his to match his gaze, where you can tell he’s mentally begging that you’ll stay the night.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to stay.” Joel smiled lopsidedly and let his hand rub soothing circles at your lower back.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he laughs, stepping over to go into the bathroom and warm up a cloth for the mess spilling out from between your legs. “I wouldn’t mind wakin’ up and doing all that again tomorrow.”

You laugh and lay back onto his bed as he presses the warm cloth to your pussy, his lips once again finding yours to pull you in for a sweet kiss.

You nod, sliding between the comfortable sheets as Joel runs downstairs to grab your abandoned drinks as well as a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He slips into the sheets next to you, not bothering to throw on any pajamas (not that you were complaining), and settling in beside you. After a few gulps of water, you nestled into his chest and let your hand find his tummy, resting on it as you listened to the even pattern of his breath.

“We should do this again. Like, after tomorrow morning.” you say quietly as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. His fingertips continues to slide across your arm and give you goosebumps as you snuggled closer into him, hearing a laugh exhale out of his nose and feeling a kiss press to the top of your head.

In his sleepy, deep southern drawl, he replies. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.”

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic

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onlyangel4 · 5 months ago

Text

healing a heart i didn't break. LH44. MV1. SMAU. part two.

cheater! lewis hamilton x reader. max verstappen x reader.

when your boyfriend of three years fumbles, his rival is there to put the pieces of your heart back together bit by bit.

warnings: 14 year age gap with lewis. cursing. cheating. super super angsty.

author's note: this is still building up the angst the proper max fluff will be next. for context reader and lewis broke up eight weeks before the austin gp.

part one // part three

faceclaim: camilla morrone

f1wags

liked by user12, f1fan22, user 45 and 12,382 others

f1wags: y/n y/ln and alexandra saint mleux pictured on a dog walk out near y/n's childhood home. this is the first time y/n has been pictured in a week following the revelation that lewis hamilton had been cheating on her with y/exbff. no one knows how long they have been cheating but sources seem to think it did not start last weekend and has actually been going on longer. we hope that y/n is okay.

view all 439 comments

user12: oh how i would love to hear the goss

user45: alex looked angry in some of the other pictures. i just know y/n is sitting on business

f1fan22: alex flying out to see her is true friendship y/exbff could never.

y/ninsta

liked by maxverstappen, alexandrasaintmleux, charlesleclerc and 680,928 others

y/ninsta: i'll be okay. i've got my girl.

tagged alexandrasaintmleux

view all 9,720 comments

alexandrasaintmleux: my love, i am honestly amazed how strong you have been the past three weeks. i wish to be half the woman that you are.

y/ninsta: i would not have been this strong without you and charles alex. i love you both, thank you for taking me in before i found my new place.

y/nfan: lewis cheated on her with her best friend and took the house and roscoe (WHO THEY BROUGHT WHEN THEY WERE TOGETHER) all y/n got was her husky lilo and a broken heart. I HATE MEN

charlesleclerc: i took this photo

y/ninsta: yes charles you did. well done

user37: y/n is gentle parenting charles omg

maxverstappen: hope you have been okay y/n, been thinking of you recently, missing you around the paddock.

liked by y/ninsta

user17: omg even max in on her side

f1wags

liked by f1fan43, user48, y/nlover and 34,589 others

f1wags: y/n is in her revenge dress era. the ex wag has arrived at the austin gp. she came in and watched fp1 and fp2 with charles and alex and is in the ferrari garage. we here at f1wags are so happy to see her back in the paddock. also lewis and the other girl have arrived but i don't want to post about that.

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y/nlover: what a serve

f1fan43: THE OTHER GIRL even wag pages hate y/exbff

user48: lewis hamilton found screaming, crying, throwing up in the merc garage

user21: did you guys see max. he saw y/n walk in he stopped what he was doing jogged over to her and they had like a proper long conversation.

f1updates

liked by hamiltonupdates, f1fan, user23 and 34,5672 others

f1updates: a story in two pictures.

picture one: lewis and y/n were photographed arguing behind the mercedes motorhome. y/exbff was also there. the video shows them talking to y/n and then y/n running off crying.

picture two: a shaky video captures the moment max watched y/n run off crying and he jogged after her. she said something to him and then he pulled her into a hug while she sobbed on his shoulder. he led her inside but when she pulled away from the hug max's white shirt was almost see through. y/n is obviously going through it. we are left wondering what lewis and y/exbff told her.

view all 7,625 comments

f1fan: oh thank god for max, she looked so lost. looking around for someone to help her while paparazzi started calling her name when she was fucking sobbing.

hamiltonupdates: i am really questioning lewis rn

user23: y/n would not have gone to talk to him about just anything. this has to be big.

y/exbff

liked by lewishamilton, friendone, friendtwo and 342,837 others

y/exbff: sixteen weeks ago we made what we thought was a massive mistake that we vowed to never talk about but eight weeks ago we discovered it was the best thing ever to happen to us. baby coming march next year,

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taglist: @sinofwriting @toldyouitwasamelodrama @formulaal

@minkyungseokie @shrbehndwn @gr1mes-cc @nichmeddar

@liberty-barnes

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magpiepills · 7 months ago

Text

Downward Dog

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Joel Miller x f reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: Joel’s back in the window again.

Warnings: SMUT, voyeurism, creepy perv behavior, dirty talk, male masturbation, PWP, little sprinkle of daddy cause I love you.

A word from the author: 🤷‍♀️ idk, man. You tell me.

Read Part 1 Here 🧘‍♀️

Read Part 3 Here

Masterlist

For six days Joel watched you. Every afternoon at one o’clock your husband drove off and shortly after you’d saunter out to the yard in some skin tight little get-up and bend and twist your body in ways that were just between you and him. The sound of your husband’s truck became a Pavlovian bell, and Joel’s cock would rush with blood when he heard it.

Today he was ready and waiting when you made your appearance. He had switched off the light, dragged his two step stool into position, and sat perched in an old tshirt, shorts and boxers draped over the stair rail, and lube warming in the bottle between his big, paddle-like hands.

He had the perfect vantage point and a trusty routine.

Joel ignores his erection until you’re ready. He waits with anticipation prickling up his neck, silently urging you to get a move on.

It’s hot out and your yard doesn’t have much shade like Joel’s does. He wishes you’d come do your workout by his pool. Maybe he should mention it, he thinks.

Slowly you begin, as you often do, arms up, tits out. He likes that part. He likes it better when you bend forward onto your knees, hands outstretched and ass up. Joel imagines taking you from behind while you stay just like that. Naked and bouncing back onto his cock, crying out for him.

Joel pulls lazily at his cock as he watches you with interest. He can’t remember being so hard before. He isn’t a young man anymore, but your little display is like Viagra. He’s long and thick, never had any complaints from the ladies. Not about his cock, at least.

As you push your hips up into what looks like an upside down letter V, Joel reaches for the little bottle of lube that normally lives in his bedside drawer, but lately just sits on the bookshelf by the stairs.

Those big hands are good for a lot of things, but being good with small objects isn’t one of them. He fumbles the bottle and it rolls onto the stairs.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and tries to quickly weigh the pros and cons of tearing his eyes away from you to go after it.

He sighs, frustrated and impatient, but goes to get his lube. It’s easier to pretend his fist is your tight cunt with the added wetness.

Back in his seat, Joel quickly finds you again.

“Fuck me,” he complains, blinking.

His eyes must be deceiving him. He must be having a stroke, he thinks, it’s what he deserves.

He blinks hard and squints, cursing himself for not getting the binoculars so he can watch even more closely as you look around shyly at your empty, privacy fence-enclosed back yard, left to the Smith’s house, then right to his, never noticing your secret admirer. Apparently satisfied that you’re alone and hidden, you gather the fabric of your top and lift it over your head.

Joel thinks his heart may have stopped. He watches the bounce of your bare breasts as they drop from the tight fabric. Despite the warmth of the day and the sweat shimmering on your skin already, your nipples pebble when touched by the air. He wants so badly to take them in his hands, his mouth.

Joel’s mouth waters. He should look away, but his hand is already twisting up and down his shaft.

“Fuck baby. Yeah, get 'em out for me,” he mutters through clenched teeth.

You fan yourself with your hand, no match for the Austin heat, and flow through two more deep stretches. You’re moving slowly, and Joel matches the jerk of his fist to your pace, humming and groaning as he talks you through his fantasy.

“That’s it, spread those knees for daddy. Let me see that little pussy. Show daddy where you need his cock.”

He grunts, heavy breaths between ragged moans of your name and each new vulgar thought.

“You gonna take it all? You sure you can handle it? Suck it. Come on. Come on, show me how bad you want this big dick,” he speaks for no one to hear.

Joel knows how to get himself off. He knows how to edge himself just to the point of losing control then backing off to make the pleasure last. He breathes deeply and strokes gently around the thick base of his cock, cradling his balls.

It’s during this shift in momentum when Joel loses the battle. He can no longer be the good man he told himself he was. Not when you stand and shimmy out of your leggings, leaving nothing more to his imagination or his decency.

You’re barely into your lunge when his post is abandoned and he’s pulling his shorts on to dash down the stairs and opening the patio door as quietly as he can. He ducks down, skulking through his own yard to crouch down next to the fence, knees in the dirt, amongst the ornamental grass and the azaleas he planted for his ex wife.

Joel is hyper aware of every sound, every move he makes. He struggles to control his breathing as he leans his forehead against the fence, one crazed, lust-blackened eye peering between the slats to get a glimpse of you, barely ten feet away now.

Painfully hard, and smearing lube inside his shorts, he watches you. He will let himself feel guilt and shame later, right now all he wants to feel is the soft lips of your pussy dragging over his nose and mouth and chin. He wants you gushing over his face. You’re so close he swears he can smell you, sweet and damp, ready to be filled. On his hands and knees like a fucking dog, he thinks for a moment, then pulls his heavy cock back out to resume his torment.

You’re almost done. He can tell by the way you lie back on the mat, arms and legs loose and eyes closed. He can see the rise and fall of your belly with each breath, but his focus is on your cunt. He’s almost done.

His vision is tunneled, his mind is blank and when your hand drifts lazily to cup your pussy, tracing your fingertips up the seam. You lift one knee to open yourself to your own hand and Joel can’t stop the gasp that escaped him as he comes, painting the dirt below him with his spend.

Shame sets in fast, it makes his belly ache as he catches his breath, softening cock against his thigh, mud on his knees. He’s quickly consumed by it, swears to never do this again, this isn’t who he is, he scolds himself.

He wishes he could convince you of the same when you appear suddenly over the fence, eyes wide with understandable alarm at having heard your neighbor groaning as if in pain, and run to his aid only to find him peeking through the fence, dick wet and face flushed.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller x neighbor #joel tlou #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal characters #smut #bat writes #pedro pascal

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covetyou · 7 days ago

Text

digital

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (like the wevibe jive or lovense lush/vulse), masturbation, phone sex, fluff, mild angst and serious yearning, novelty hats, Joel doesn't forget the balls, reader has a mom (inc. vague mentions of other family), no use of y/n word count: 4k summary: You're exhausted. The special kind. The kind that only comes with visiting your family for Thanksgiving. Still, the exhaustion can't keep that yearning ache at bay, the ache you've been fending off all day. So, in the dark of the night, you reach out to Joel in the only way you can.

A/N: we're ignoring that this is well over 2 weeks later than I planned. we're not ignoring that this is the penultimate fic in this accidental series. the final installment will be coming to you all sometime in the coming weeks, and I hope you can join me in seeing off these two lovebirds right where it all began. see you soon 💛

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

It's late when you fall into bed, sinking into the shape of yourself indented into a mattress you'd long left behind.

You're exhausted. The special kind. The kind that only comes with visiting your family for Thanksgiving.

It was stupid to have expected anything else really. Between the travelling, over indulgence, and endless socializing and catching up with family, there wasn't a chance you'd be anything other than bone tired and irritable. Wasn't that how these things always went?

In fact, from the moment you'd been welcomed by your mom with open arms and an it's good to have you home, you'd been annoyed. You couldn't even quite put your finger on why until Joel had sent his first message that morning; a picture of him and Sarah in matching holiday t-shirts, wearing matching squinting eyed grins, with a message that read wish you were here, and you wished you were too.

It wasn't until the fifth welcome home that day that you realized home hadn't been this place in a long time. Home, instead, was a million miles away, in Austin, Texas.

Home was sat on his couch, sharing a bag of chips with his daughter.

Home was chatting shit with his brother, cracking open a cold one on the patio.

Home was probably curled up in bed, holding a pillow close to himself to fill the empty space left by you.

Home was Joel Miller.

And home wasn't here.

At dinner, you'd made a decent effort to fill the Joel shaped void in your chest with mashed potatoes and stuffing, eating until your stomach ached so much that any other part of you couldn't possibly ache for any other reason. By the time dessert rolled around, the longing was back, clawing at you and pulling you toward a family that could be yours, if only you'd let it, until you filled that aching void again with too much pie and wine.

It was back now, that ache. Softer and gentler now that you were alone. More creeping than clawing as it worked its way back up your spine, latching at your throat with a squeeze rather than the bruising grip from earlier in the day.

It was that very same ache - that longing - that made you send maybe the most pathetic text you'd ever sent in your life.

you up?

He shouldn't be, you don't think. If it's late here it's even later there. He has a kid. Responsibilities you have been reminded over and over by "well meaning" family members that you don't have. At any rate, he had better things to do than to keep you company in the middle of the night, when the longing got too much to bear alone. Because you are alone, in this house filled with people - people you love - and you think that maybe you've never been more alone than now because, suddenly, alone feels a lot like lonely and -

The shrill ring of your phone stops your spiralling thoughts and, in a panic, you slap at the screen just to shut it up, rolling over until the brightness of it blinds you, and then you hear him.

His familiar drawl is softer than usual. He sounds tired, but content, almost like you can hear the smile in his voice and the crinkle in his eyes.

"Was hopin' I'd hear from you."

Your brain has stuttered to a stop. You're not breathing, not blinking, barely moving where you lie on your front, propped on your elbows, staring down at the too-bright screen of your phone where Joel stares back. It's just a picture - one you'd taken some weeks ago as you sat next to him on his couch and had looked at every day since. It was a good picture. He looked beautiful - soft and comfortable in his own home, looking right at you. Fuck, do you miss him.

"Hello? Y'ain't fallen asleep on me that quick, have you?"

You blink, shake yourself, and curse under your breath, catching Joel's raspy laugh as you fumble with your phone and smack it to the side of your head much harder than you meant to.

"Fuck, fuck, ow, yes, sorry. Hello," you garble, before taking a deep breath. "Hello. Hi."

"Hey there, darlin'," he says back, that smile so evident on his voice you're grinning right back at him in the dark. "You okay? Doze off for a little there?"

"Sorry it's - it's just your voice. Sounds better than I remember," you laugh softly. "Wasn't expecting it."

"Only been a couple days," he teases, and the familiar, comfortable ease of being with Joel blankets you. From what feels like so very far away he's managed to crawl back into your chest and illuminate the dark, empty cavern inside of it in a matter of moments. You never stood a chance.

"I know," you sigh as you roll over and flick on a bedside lamp to keep the creeping dark at bay. "I've missed you. Today was... not fun."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

By this point you knew him well enough to know he was running his tongue across his teeth, nodding in that gentle, understanding way he did whenever you'd complain about work, or how you'd kicked the kitchen cabinet by accident yet again. For as much as he'd barrelled into your life, he was always so very gentle with the parts you gave, and even gentler with the parts that you weren't yet ready for him to see. Fuck, do you love him.

He hums then, in just the way you'd expect, and you listen to the delicate sounds of each others breaths for a beat before he breaks the silence.

"Wanna tell me what that surprise you were teasin' me was instead?"

Shit. You'd forgotten about that. Sort of.

This morning you'd almost pulled it out, plan set to tease Joel with it all day. One look at the thing in your hand, and the idea of your cunt pulsing away while you tried to have a conversation with your mother turned you off from that idea entirely.

Now, it sat back in your bag, tucked away and hidden in the closet, away from the prying eyes of your family, and almost forgotten entirely by you.

"It can wait," you say hastily, flapping a hand in the air as if there was any chance he could see you.

"Now hold on a sec. You were teasin' me with that all week. Told me I couldn't have it at home, it was best to show me from all the way over there. Now, I don't know what you're plannin', but you got two days to show me what mischief you been makin', sweetheart, or all that fuss before was for nothin'."

You don't answer, instead eyeing the closet and weighing up your chances of waking anyone in the house if you did show Joel the little surprise you'd been planning on giving him for weeks.

"Think I can make a few guesses, don't you?"

"You could try," you scoff, knowing Joel's eyebrows are making a valiant attempt to meet his hairline right now.

"Try?" he asks, all too innocently. "Just tell me somethin', then. You doin' that thing where you touch yourself without even realizin' it?"

Your hand stops just at it's about to make another loop across your chest and down the softness of your stomach. "No."

He tuts down the line, and you can see the tick of his head behind your eyes, pinched shut as if he'd just caught you in the act in person.

"And you're gonna tell me your little surprise got nothin' to do with that."

That happened to be the way you always found yourself touching yourself in some way whenever you spoke to Joel, from whatever distance you found yourself from him. Not always in a sexy way either, though more often than not it was. Sometimes it was just soothing, you supposed. Listening to him talk while your hands played idly on your skin calmed you better than just about anything else, and here you were, soothing yourself with his voice from across the miles, your hands tracing the patterns you wished his could. It was nice - a connection to him even through the distance that wasn't just audible, but physical too.

Which was the exact point of your little surprise - a way to be with Joel without actually being with Joel.

"It might."

Joel's stubborn silence is about all you need to know the man isn't about to back down and let you off the hook any time soon. "Fine, but you've got to give me a second to grab it."

You huff in faux annoyance and haul your ass out of bed, tired bones creaking, but the weariness you'd felt all day slowly fading away as excitement creeps in to replace it.

"Can hear you movin' around."

You're glad for it. You hope he can hear every single thing - the soft click of the closet door, the thud of pillows propped up on the bed you spent years of your life sleeping in, the creak of springs as you settle yourself back into the unfamiliar sheets covering it, how you pull up your shirt just so and rest the surprise you'd stashed away across the miles right between your bare breasts. You hope he hears you fumble and tap at your phone as you take picture after picture, until you get one just right, and scramble to hit send.

It's a hope that's realized when you hear his breath hitch and the words get lost in his throat.

"Well," he says with a cough. "Don't quite know what the surprise for me is. Never hid those beauties from me before though, so I'm gonna have to say it's the pretty thing between 'em. Think I can guess where it goes. You gonna let me listen in?"

"Maybe," you say just as you hit send on another message to Joel. "Was kinda hoping you'd give me a hand though."

"What -"

He sounds muffled, but you can hear him mumbling to himself as his thick fingers tap away at his phone screen. And then, exactly as you hoped, the toy sitting on your chest rumbles to life and you could almost cry at the feeling. You grasp it in your fist, just as the other motor hums into action and starts gently thrusting against your palm. For a moment, the intensity gets so much your skin starts to tingle, until it dies down and then finally rumbles to a stop.

"This what I think it is? You really get this so I can play with you like this?" he asks, voice laced in disbelief.

"Yeah," you say, the toy in your hand purring into action again.

"You ain't put it in yet, have you?"

"Not yet," you murmur. "But I can feel you."

"Yeah?" he says, and a moment later the vibrations strengthen and weaken against your hand, like a wave coming in strong before pulling back out to sea. "Y'feel that?"

"Mhm."

The toy buzzes to life and quickly shuts off over and over, short stacatto bursts of vibrations tickling your hand, and you laugh at the silliness of it. "Joel. That's not gonna get anyone off. You're just gonna break it."

"What? It ain't nice like that?" he jokes.

"Feeling you is always nice."

"Know what'd be even nicer?" he asks. "Takin' off them panties and lettin' me really put this thing to use. Feel me where you really need it. Know you gotta be wet down there - your brain don't shut off like that when I'm talking to you if you ain't."

Your panties are flung across the room barely a moment later, your fingers skating gently along the edges of them before you yanked them down your legs. You are wet, panties soaked through in the middle, cunt sensitive and ready for a cock that isn't coming. Despite the obvious emptiness, and even more painfully obvious lack of Joel in the room, you know you're about to come quicker than you have in some time. You can barely swipe your own fingers through your slick folds, gathering your own wetness to smear it over the toy, without holding back a moan.

"That's it. Can hear you. Think we oughta start off nice 'n' gentle, huh?"

The air hitches in your lungs as the toy thrums to life. You guide the gentle buzz down your front, leaving a slick trail of your own wetness over the softness of your belly, before teasing down and down, between your legs and across already twitching thighs.

You circle your cunt with it, teasing with its vibrating tip, eyes pinched shut while Joel keeps it soft and steady for you as you slip it across slick coated skin and up to your clit.

"That good?"

He sounds so soft, almost breathless. You hope he's touching himself too, but you don't have the words to ask. If you open your mouth you're going to let out the moan you're so desperately holding back, your bottom lip sore with it, and the idea of anyone waking up, of ruining this for you now when it's just begun, is enough to keep your lips sealed tight.

"Mhm."

"S'good. Think you're playin' with that clit now, huh?"

You nod. Stupidly. Yet somehow he knows. He always knows. And the toy buzzes harder, intensity sliding up so gently as you were swirling it around yourself you almost didn't notice until the vibrations dancing past your clit forced the moan out of you, face turned into the pillow to stifle it.

"Gotta keep quiet," he says then. "Y'aint alone over there, darlin'. But I ain't with you to put that mouth to use either."

You groan again. You can't control it. It comes out low and strong, the phone you were grasping so tightly left forgotten against the pillow by your ear so you can clutch the plush pillow to your face instead, biting it.

"Too good," you say around a mouthful of pillow. "I need to put it in, Joel, it's gonna make me come too fast - shit - just knowing - knowing you're there, doing that and I - fuck..."

"Put it in. Slip it in that wet little hole for me. You feel that? Feel me in there?"

It's easy, sliding it into you. It's only small - you certainly have bigger - but so very powerful. Not the motor, no, but the way it, and Joel's control over it, have you a sopping mess already.

"I feel you," you say, Joel turning sliding on the other setting - the thrust you felt in your palm minutes ago - setting the toy wiggling and buzzing inside you. "Fuck, I feel you."

You dig your nails into your thighs, letting them bite into the soft, sensitive flesh to pull you back, to pull you down from whatever high you were going toward. It's too much and it's not enough all at once. You want him - need him - desperately, but he's so damn far away and somehow that makes this all the sweeter and all the more bitter, all in one.

"Wish I could be fuckin' you for real, feel you twitchin' on my cock. You twitchin'?" he asks, that breathlessness back in his voice again, and you just know he's joining you. You can see his hand gripped tight around his cock, his head slick and ruddy, squeezing more than stroking, holding back just like you were desperately trying to.

"Don't want to yet. Want this to last - ah - won't have you for days."

"Look at you," he mutters, the vibrations inside you kicking up a notch. "Can't go a few days without me."

And you never want to again.

"Touch that clit for me. Wish I could do it for you. Know how much y'need it."

At his guidance, your grip on your thighs releases. You stroke one quivering hand across your mound. You're so tense. From the day, sure, but from holding back too. All damn day you've held back. Held back looking at your phone in front of anyone. Held back saying Joel's name, mentioning the man who had you so distracted even from so far away. Held back talking about his amazing daughter, and the little family you'd accidentally and gladly fallen into. Held back telling everyone about the life you'd carved for yourself a million miles away from here, so different from the one you left behind. Held back, held back, held back.

Even now you're holding back, but fuck, are you ready to fly.

"Need to see you," you beg, a little too loudly, but you can't bring yourself to care. The combination of him working away in your cunt and your fingers stroking against your swollen clit are too much. You need to see him. "Please. I'm close. I'm -"

There's a shuffle and then the screen illuminates against your face just as the pulsing throb in your cunt gets stronger. You fumble, grabbing it just before it slips beneath your shoulder, and squint against the brightness, eyes adjusting until you see the beautiful face of Joel.

He's smiling. Face as flushed as you imagine yours is.

"Fuck -" you gasp. He looks better than you remember. Even at this terrible angle, the extreme close up of his face. He's shirtless. You can see his bare, tanned collarbones, the slope of his traps into his shoulders. "Fuck."

"You really that close?" you watch him say, your eyes fixated on the way his mouth moves around each word. So fixated, you barely notice him pull back the camera, or shift it upwards, until his full head is in view.

Including the turkey hat perched on top of it.

You almost stop swiping your fingers across your clit.

Almost.

"You asshole," you moan, as Joel's face lights up. He frowns then too, a look of concentration flicking over his face, tukey legs flapping by his ears, until you feel the damned thing rumbling inside you thrust wilder, wiggling against that very spot usually reserved for Joel's fingers. "Fu-uck. You - you just put that hat on. I heard you."

"This old thing?" he says with wobble of his head that sends the turkey flopping from side to side.

"Take it off. I'm close Joel, I-"

He shrugs. You watch him fucking shrug as you speed up the movement of your fingers, teasing yourself as he teases you in every sense of the word and, somehow, it does nothing but get you wetter, sends your legs quivering and your brain desperately trying to hold on for a little bit longer. "Don't think it's enough to stop you. Never had a problem comin' before. Think you can come no matter what I'm wearin'."

"Fuck," you say again, because it's true. And he smirks, because he knows it is too.

"You can do it. Keep rubbin' that thing for me, can tell you're so fuckin' close."

"Are you hard? Please. I need to know, I can't, I'm - I -"

"Where the fuck do you think my other hand is, huh? You wanna see 'im? Know you said you missed me but I bet you're really fuckin' missin' him right now, ain't you?"

"Please."

You're loud. You know you are. Even as you beg, you know it's too loud, and you know these walls are too damn thin for this. The only thing saving your ass right now is holiday exhaustion and too much pie.

When Joel flips his camera, you damn near come immediately. He's cupping his balls, massaging them while his solid cock desperately leaks. He's holding himself back for you - fuck, you love him - he's waited for you all this time, hoping to hear from you, thinking of you as he played with himself alone, so far away from you and your helping hands.

"Oh my god, I swear, I swear I've never wanted it more. I need it."

"I believe you," he breathes, jerking his cock in his massive hand. "You're gonna get it, darlin'. Second you're back here, gonna bend you over your kitchen counter and fuck you right there. Keep makin' them pretty noises for me now. That's it. Need more fuckin' hands..."

"I'm gonna, I'm gonna -"

And you do. Joel makes one last flick across his phone screen, the intensity rumbling in you reaching a peak, your fingers rub, rub, rubbing at your clit as you watch his heavy cock throb in his hand, and you come, clenching and fluttering around the unrelenting toy as you swear and moan right down the phoneline.

Joel isn't far behind. Even fucked out and exhausted, you somehow keep your eyes open, keep the toy lodged in you, buzzing away, pulling aftershocks out of you as you watch Joel work his cock until he's spilling all over his fist and thigh with a shakey groan.

"Shit."

You yank the toy from you when it becomes too much to bear, leaving it wet and rumbling on the sheets. Joel cleans up - a softly murmurred be right back, leaving you face down on his bed as you become a boneless sack filled with too much pie and longing in your own bed, so very far from his.

"You made me come in a turkey hat," you say sleepily when his face reappears on your phone screen, that very same hat still pulled tight on his head. You can see his own exhaustion now, each line and shadow on his face exacerbated by the late hour and low light.

"Think we both know you came with me wearin' weirder before. You like the weird."

"You like the weird."

"I love the weird."

He yawns. His massive hand covering his mouth, eyes closing in on themselves, rolling his head - and that stupid turkey hat - on his neck, and he's maybe never looked better. Silly, sleepy, content. Yours.

"I love you."

You don't know why you say it, exactly. You suppose you think it so loud it just slipped out. Fuck knows you'd toyed with it enough. Started saying how much you love his laugh or love his hair in the morning. Text him it. You love him. It should be easy. But it wasn't, even if he said it to you a thousand times over, a thousand different ways, without the many miles between you.

Joel doesn't hesitate, not even for a second. "Come say that to my face."

"I will," you say. "I promise, I will."

There's four days between you, and as many phonecalls. As many I love you's too. Practice makes perfect, they say. And you have a promise to keep.

You say another I love you to your mother when she pulls you in for one last hug, and you mean that just as much, even though that's never been easy either. Practice makes perfect.

She pulls away, pushing you toward something else, when you load your bags into the car, welcome home turned to safe journey home. From where home was to where home is. You know she sees it too.

Soft smiles, a kiss to your head. Whispers of I'm so happy for you, I can't wait to meet him, and you're off, away, longing for where love is.

She sees it too.

When you land in Austin that evening, you drive past the door with the lock that started it all, the key sat forgotten at the bottom of your bag. One knock is all it takes, and he's there.

"I love you."

next part

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trippinsorrows · 5 months ago

Text

looking through your eyes + five

authors note: soooo, i both hate and love this one. can't tell if i'm just being super hard on myself, but it feels flat and a bit boring, but i also know if i keep messing with it, i'll never feel wholly satisfied, so here is the best version i could come up with!

it does include more of roman's background though so....there's that at least lmao

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: sexual harassment, language, violence, ptsd episode (dissociation, avoidance, breakdown), torture

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 8k

Solana has come to the realization that training isn’t entirely awful.

Or maybe it’s the fact that along with training, she’s allowed the chance to socialize, to be around other people and learn to not be so nervous all of the time. Naomi is a great person for that, bubbly and naturally personable. She’s created such a welcoming space that has left Solana feeling less and less nervous.

A couple weeks into training, Solana also feels like she’s growing more comfortable in her learning. It’s still the very basics, a lot of focus on flexibility, but it feels good. It feels almost relieving to be able to learn certain skills and tips that she can use to maybe one day defend herself.

To maybe one day be able to take care of herself.

Or maybe some dreams are just too big to wish for.

It’s the end of her session with Naomi, and Solana is in the women’s locker rooms, having just finished her shower. She’s in her head a bit, mentally going over what she’s going to make Roman for dinner.

He’s been gone more often than not the past couple weeks, and she’s torn on that. On one hand, it’s nice not to be around a man who she’s supposed to be figuring out a way to kill, a man whose presence alone creates an additional layer of anxiety on top of the pre-existing baseline that is her everyday anxiety

But…..

But, there’s also a part of her that….that wouldn’t be too opposed if he was around more. Being alone in the big house also creates a space of anxiety. If…if he was present more, maybe she could learn how to interact with him.

Could learn him.

It’s this strange thought process that’s so confusing and almost overwhelming for her that it keeps her from noticing the pending danger lurking just steps away.

“Hey, Solana.”

Solana gasps loudly, spinning around, her eyes widening at Austin Theory who stands before her with that same predatory smile. She opens her mouth to scream, but she’s too slow.

Austin backs her against the lockers and slaps his hand over her mouth. His other hand moves to pin her hands over her hand. Instantly, her heart is beating out her fucking chest, an intense weight of dread anchoring her down.

Solana feels paralyzed. She is paralyzed.

“Always so damn jumpy. All we wanna do is get to know you....”

It’s almost perfect timing when another man appears, Grayson. But, it’s when he sees Austin and Solana that he frowns, walking over, “man, what the hell are you doing?”

Austin rolls his eyes, laughing. “Come on, don’t be a little bitch. It’s just a little fun.”

“This isn’t funny, Austin. If Reigns finds out—”

“What the fuck is he gonna do, huh?” Austin scoffs, gaze returning back on Solana who has her eyes clenched shut, tears threatening to spill over. “And you’re not going to say anything to him anyway, are you?”

Solana gasps, breathing uneven as Austin lowers his hand to tug on the knot of her towel just enough to loosen it but not enough to undo it. Regardless, it’s that one act that truly immobilizes her because she’s no longer standing before this man as a grown woman.

She’s that 12 year old little girl completely unaware of what night of horrors is about to be unleashed on her, the way an unspeakable act of evil perpetrated on an innocent child is going to lead her down a dark, depressing path.

And she’s frozen, frozen in time, forever stuck in that state of suffering.

Grayson’s eyes fall on Solana, seeing that she’s almost no longer present, dissociating, and that seemingly freaks him out even more. He tugs on Austin’s shoulder. “You had your fun, mate. Let’s fucking go.”

Austin has never been one to listen to others. Ever. But in a testament to his cruelty, Solana’s lack of reaction, lack of struggling and displaying helplessness in front of him wanes the enjoyment. He doesn’t get off as much, doesn’t feel as empowered as he does by making people feel small.

So with a scoff and not an ounce of influence from Grayson in his ear, he releases her, stepping back with a smirk as she instantly moves her arms over her chest.

“Relax, Mrs. Reigns.” She’s anything but, and it brings a smile to his face. It’s so fucking easy to get her unnerved. “Just messing with ya, that’s all.”

There’s more distant talking, snickering and combatting with someone speaking quietly but urgently. Solana can make out part of that as she gradually returns to a state of awareness. Enough to where she’s eventually cognizant of the fact that they’ve left, that she’s alone, that they no longer pose an immediate threat.

But, they do. They do, because what if they come back?

Chest still tightening, breathing still erratic, Solana rushes over to the door, shaking hands managing to shut it closed and locked. But, it’s not enough to just be alone, to know that no one can come in and try to hurt her.

Because she still feels it.

Still feels hands on her, restricting her, bounding her, and it makes her sick.

Hand over her mouth, Solana does her best to push back the nausea, rushing over to the showers, turning the knob so that it’s at full strength.

And heat too.

Shoving the towel off her body, she steps under the scalding water and grabs the soap, immediately scrubbing at her body. It’s unnecessary force, unnecessary heat, unnecessary altogether, but it’s the only thing that gives her a faux sense of comfort. She needs to wash the feeling of them off of her, scrub until her skin starts to look wrinkled and raw, her complexion tinging with redness from the heat of the water.

Eventually, the scrubbing stops feeling like enough. Nothing feels like enough, and she falls back against the wall of the shower, sliding down as she pulls her knees to her chest.

And she cries, the water blending seamlessly with the tears that filter out the drain in a way she wishes the heavy feelings wrecking her body would melt away.

Safe.....

It's a dream that she'll never achieve.

A wasted hope.

A lie.

—-----------

“The RKO proposal is pretty decent.”

“But not good enough.” Roman’s dismissal is swift and to the point. “I want 75% of all profits.”

Rikishi presses his lips together, calmly reminding, “that’s gonna be a hard sell.”

“Orton is desperate. He’s an imbecile who uses more products than he moves and is running Bob’s legacy into the ground.” Roman is a man who prides himself on always being on the up and up. He makes it his business to know what’s going on with all competitors and even partnerships. “He should consider my offer fucking mercy. 75% or nothing.”

Rikishi sits back in his chair, a proud smile growing on his face. “I’ve taught you well, Uce”

There’s a modicum of truth to his cousin’s words, but for the most part, Roman has learned more on his own than anything anyone could have ever taught him.

“What’s the status of the imports from Columbia?”

Jey leans forward, answering without pause. “Scheduled to arrive just on time, assuming nothing goes awry.”

“Who’s managing?”

“Tama.”

Roman nods. “It’ll be fine.” His distant cousin, Tama Tonga is a bit on the……eccentric side, but he’s never failed to see a successful shipment through from beginning to end.

“If…..” Paul’s low but firm voice enters the conversation, Roman’s lazy gaze falling on the man. “If I may, my Tribal Chief?” With the nod of approval from the Head of the Table, Paul clears his throat. “By my calculations, there’s a way for us to improve on the total time it currently takes for us to move product by over 40% with some minor….changes.”

Jimmy, who sits almost bored at the other side of the table, feet propped up, asks in a suspicion tone. “What kind of changes?”

Paul clears his throat. “If we were to have access to the Eastern harbor—”

At that, both Jimmy and Jey land eyes on their cousins head counsel. Jey is the first to speak though. “You know that’s Nightmare territory, correct?”

Paul’s voice is surprisingly calm. “I do.” A nervous set of blue eyes settle on the man who sits at the head of the table, the primary one who needs to be convinced of the possible benefits of what he’s about to suggest. “If we would just consider—”

“No.” Roman’s rejection is loud and echoes throughout the conference room. “How could you even fucking suggest that shit?”

“My Tribal Chief, if you could please hear out my—”

Roman’s fist banging against the table sends an alert to all members of this current meeting that the Tribal Chief word is final and unchanging. “I said…..no.”

Rikishi shakes his head, thankful that a stern rejection is the extent of his cousin’s reaction. He can’t believe Paul could even be stupid enough to even suggest such a thing to Roman. Perhaps he could be swayed over to see the business and financial benefits, but Roman…..no, that history runs too deep and bleeds too much red for Roman Reigns to ever consider some sort of ceasefire or let alone alliance with The Nightmare Factory.

“Well, that shit got awkward real fast,” Jey mutters, uncomfortable with the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Even if it makes all the sense in the world. “How about that marriage life?

Roman shuts his eyes. It’s jumping from one annoying topic to another. “What?”

“Man, Big Dog living good over there,” Jimmy’s smile is wide as he rubs his hands together. “Lil Soso can cook her ass off!”

“Stop calling her that.”

“Speaking of ass, she pregnant yet?”

This is why Roman didn’t want to get on this subject, because he knew where it would lead to, another road he’s not trying to go down right now.

Rikishi chimes in, “their delivery is trash, but the question is still fair. Is there a chance she’s pregnant?” A sly smile falls on his face as he teases, “I know you well enough, Uce, that I don’t need to remind you of the importance of trying.”

Jey snorts. “That ain’t never been a problem for any of us. Especially Roman. Man, I still don’t know how you don’t have a gaggle of lil mean mugging ass kids running around here.”

The answer is simple, and Roman expresses as such. “Because I know how to fucking use a condom unlike you idiots.”

“Hey. I don’t know what you talking about. All my kids by Nicki.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

At that, Jey jumps out the chair, Jimmy rolling his eyes as Paul shakes his head and sighs heavily. “Ayo, you the Tribal Chief and everything, but you not gon’ keep disrespecting my wife like that, aight?”

“Where did you sleep last night, Jey?” Roman’s tone is both bored and knowing, especially as Jey’s gaze drops the same way his ass does right back in his seat. “That’s what I thought.”

“Just…” Rikishi’s voice is louder, allowing him to realign the conversation. “Keep us updated, Roman. When she does get pregnant, you’ll need to up her security.”

“I’m aware.” Just like he’s aware of the fact that unless this girl is the virgin fucking Mary and will have an immaculate conception, there’s no need to worry about that right now.

Or ever.

His business phone lighting up with a familiar name across the screen is both a welcomed surprise as well as distraction for Roman. Without hesitation, he answers, watching the TV anchored on the wall light up.

Roman’s shoulder straightens as he leans back further into the soft Italian leather of his chair. “Dwayne.”

“Roman.” Dwayne removes the stereotypical dark glasses Roman always grew accustomed to seeing his cousin wear in any interaction. His smile beams. “Long time no fucking see, cousin.”

Roman shrugs, answering honestly, “been busy.”

“I saw that. Congratulations on the marriage. An invite would have been fucking nice.”

At that, Roman chuckles, calling out his bluff. “Like you would have come.”

Dwayne’s laughter echoes through the office. “Fair.” He then greets the rest of the men present, though it’s a surprise to no one that his initial exchange is solely with Roman. They’ve always had a great bond, even better business partnership, hence the position Roman has placed him in. “You know why I’m calling though”

And there goes the ‘fun’ while it lasted. Straight into business with his big cousin. He respects it immensely though. Dwayne is all about profit and efficiency and ensuring the smoothness of operations. “The same reason you always reach out, cause it’s not that often.”

“It’s been a couple years, cousin….”

“I’m aware.”

And he is.

6 years, to be precise.

“You need to fly out here.” Dwayne isn’t saying anything Roman doesn’t already know, hasn’t already heard. “They need to see your face.”

“They have you.”

Dwayne snorts. “They hate me almost as much as they hate you.” They being that other side of Roman’s family, the side that he could go on with the rest of his life without seeing or speaking to. The side that probably feels the same about him and his Tribal tattoos, long hair, and skin that is not like theirs.

Yeah….hate is definitely the right word.

“Do you care?”

“Hell no.” The answer is surprising, unlike Dwayne’s next statement. “But, I do care when shit starts to get more openly disrespectful.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re becoming bolder with questioning your leadership. Less subtle. More direct.”

At that, Roman’s attention is fully captured. He sits up in his seat. “Is that so?”

The twins, Rikishi, and Paul all exchange knowing glances, having been wisely quiet to allow the Head of the Table to conduct business as he sees fit. But this, they all know where this is going.

“Maybe it is time I remind them who the fuck is in charge here.” As much as Roman loathes the idea of having to be around and interact with these fuckers, nothing vexes him more than having his authority challenged.

Like he’s not the one, the two, and the three they’ve been looking for.

“I’ll see about flying out within the next week.”

Jey speaks up for the first time. “I can’t just leave on that short notice—”

“Did I say I needed you to come with me?” It’s a bit of a rhetorical question. “I can handle this on my own.”

As is his preference with most things, because in Roman’s opinion, most things are handled better and in the way that most pleases him when he does it himself. His expectations can only be set and maintained or exceeded by him.

“At least take Paul with you, Uce.” Rikishi suggests, and in the moment, it’s last thing he wants. Paul’s already pissed him off enough for the day. “They need to be straightened out, not taken out. Paul can help you keep that balance.”

Roman isn’t obstinate enough to disagree with that. Paul does have his uses, one of which being his ability to talk Roman down when the preference is to just kill motherfuckers the second he deems them annoying.

And that’s not the goal for this trip.

Not yet, anyway.

“Fine. Wise Man and I will go.” There are far too many other things on Roman’s plate for him to push back on a plus one. This is immaterial to the larger picture. “Dwayne, start the preparations.”

“You got it, brotha’. I’ll keep in touch.”

The screen goes dark as Dwayne ends the call. Roman reclines back in his chair, a mixture of muddy, dark, bleak emotions. The idea of having to be around his maternal family is quite literally sickening to him. He hates those sons of bitches almost as much as they hate and despise him.

But on another hand, the idea of getting away from all this, from this Solana dilemma, there could be some benefits. He’d be gone for a couple of weeks, perhaps even a month. Maybe in that space he’ll come back to a different kind of woman. A woman who knows how to fucking stand up for herself instead of being so scared all the time.

And as if reading his cousin’s mind, Jimmy breaks the silence, asking, “Ayo, Roman, you sure you should be leaving—”

A knock on the door seems to only exacerbate the tension as Roman snaps. “What?”

Alicia, his secretary, easy on the eyes and effective in what she does, opens the door just enough to stick her head through. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Reigns—”

“So why are you?” It’s well known that Roman is a man who hates interruptions, especially when he’s in the middle of a briefing meeting, and she knows this well. Might be time for a new secretary.

Alicia swallows and calmly explains, “your cousin, Nia, is on line one. She says she needs to speak to you immediately.”

“She can wait.”

“With….all due respect, sir, it sounds like an emergency. She’s been blowing up the lines all morning.”

Curious, Roman turns his personal phone over and sees his lock screen littered with missed calls, texts, and a voicemail all from one person.

Nia.

With a heavy sigh, Roman dismisses Alicia. “I’ll handle it.”

Quietly, she closes the door and he unlocks his phone to return the call. Nia never makes such an effort to get in contact with him. Some shit must have went down, though his mind still wonders what level of bullshit could have occurred that even she can’t handle.

Phone laid on the table, he dials and places it on speaker.

“It’s about fucking time, you asshole!” Her introduction is unsurprising. “I’ve been trying to call you for almost an hour.”

Roman is already tempted to hang up the phone and block her until further notice. “What do you want, Nia?”

“You need to get down here now.” He’s still not hearing anything that would warrant him moving an inch. “Your fucking Princess Peach wife—”

But at that, Roman’s interest is piqued. He sits forward in his chair. “What about her?”

“I don’t know, she had a mental breakdown or something and has locked herself in the locker rooms. We can’t get her to come out—”

Right away, Roman gets to blaming and accusing. “What the fuck did you do to her?” Nia can’t respond before he asks the next important question. “Where the fuck was Solo!”

“I didn’t do anything, Roman! And Solo can’t be with her in the fucking women’s locker room!” Nia’s defense is as sharp as his imputation. “I told you that girl isn’t made for this life. She’s a fucking problem! Come get her now, or I’m going to blow the damn doors off myself.”

Highly vexed with Nia’s smart ass mouth as well as the nature of the situation, Roman slams his finger on the end button and stands up from his chair, rolling his shoulders. “Fucking hell.”

Jey, just as confused as everyone else, decides to be the sacrificial lamb, asking, “Roman, what was that—”

“You two come with me. Wise Man. Rikishi. Finish and send out the response to Orton’s proposal.” Roman issues out indisputable commands as he marches out of the room, the twins not hesitating to hop up and follow suit. Confused or not, they know better than to question their cousin when he’s in one of these moods.

They don’t even say anything for the beginning portion of the ride to the Warehouse, a rarity for them considering they always have something to say. But this time, they wait for Roman to break the silence, and he eventually does, still just as angry.

“I don’t have time to be dealing with this shit!” To say Roman is pissed would be an understatement. He’s livid. For a lot of different reasons, really, maybe even mostly at the fact that his head counsel had the unmitigated gall to even utter Rhodes name around him.

Roman would see the entire empire go up in smoke and flames before he’d ever agree to any sort of alliance with that son of a bitch.

That only adds on top of the fact that the Italian faction of his empire seems to be questioning his ability to lead, as if the data doesn’t clearly support that business has never been better. The cash flow is endless. Numbers don’t lie.

But, Roman knows the real reason for their insubordination.

It’s because of his father, the Samoan blood that runs through his veins. His being afakasi. Mixed. They believe that following that night, the alliance between the Bloodline and the Guild, an alliance sealed by the marriage of his father and mother, should have been dissolved. That someone from his mother’s side, a full blooded Italian, should sit on that metaphorical throne.

But, that’s not the case.

Roman assumed power because it is his by birthright, and he’ll be damned if he lets some ignorant fucks try to take it from him.

So yes….there are a lot of different reasons for his anger.

But, it’s a lot easier to blame it on the reason he’s in an SUV now, heading to a place he didn’t even plan to attend today.

“I’m not going to keep dealing with this shit with her.” He’s not even entirely sure who he’s speaking to at this point, or if he’s directing his statements to anyone in particular. Just needing to vent and get it out.

“What do you mean keep dealing?” Jimmy is the first to pick up on his cousin’s wording. “Something like this happen before?”

The twins look between each other and then back at Roman who runs his hand over his face, realizing that if there’s anyone he can trust to keep this between them, it’s the twins. Annoying and sometimes dimwitted, they’re notoriously loyal and can sometimes provide sage advice.

“She had a complete meltdown on the wedding night. Panic attack, wouldn’t stop crying.” Roman conveniently leaves out the part of him talking her down from a panic attack. They don’t need to know that.

No one needs to know that.

“After ya’ll….”

“No.” He answers, honestly. “We didn’t even do it. She was too hysterical.”

“Wait a minute.” It doesn’t surprise Roman that Jimmy is the first to put two and two together. “So you ain’t even fucked her yet? But you said—”

“I know what I said.” He doesn’t need to be reminded of anything. Roman’s memory is long and sharp. “I also know what I do and don’t feel like dealing with right now.”

“Uce, the only reason you even married this girl was so that she could give you an heir. How the hell is that supposed to happen if she won’t even let you touch her?” As much as Roman wants to snap at his cousins, he can’t. He can’t because they’re right. It’s something he’s thought about on and off since the wedding night.

It’s painfully evident to him that Solana’s mental state is….fragile, to stay the least.

He doesn’t need fragility.

He doesn’t do fragility.

The same way he apparently can’t do her.

“Maybe you need to just annul the shit and cut your losses while it’s still early.” Jey suggests, and Roman can’t deny the idea has a level of appeal to it. Until the next part leaves his cousin’s mouth. “Send her back to her family.”

“No.” That’s an easy no. He’s not entirely opposed to the idea of annulment, but what’s not an option is sending her back to that house of horrors. The only way he can see himself doing that is if he’s put a bullet in both her brother and father’s head, which technically, is the plan anyway.

He would just be making some…..timeline adjustments.

“I won’t send her back there. That’s a death wish.”

Maybe set her up with some money and a house. Let her live out her days with her damn writing, reading, and cooking, the only three things she seems capable of doing without fear. But even thinking that, Roman wonders just how capable she is of living on her own.

Xavier kept the girl so damn sheltered. He’d have to keep a security detail on her at all times. Maybe keep Solo with her. She seems to have grown somewhat comfortable with him.

The same with Naomi.

Or, so he thought. People who are moving in the right direction don’t lock themselves in public fucking locker rooms.

Jimmy also points out, validly, “well, you obviously can’t keep her around if she literally can’t do the one job she has.”

“Let’s not be irrational, alright?” Jey, in a twist of faith, tries to be the voice of reason. “That girl can cook.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up. “Oh shit, I forgot about that.” Sure enough, he switches his tune. “Man, Soso ain’t even that bad, uce. You just gotta be patient with her.”

The change of tune doesn’t surprise Roman, but his suggestion is almost comical. If not for the fact that he’s already in a sour ass mood. “Do I look like a patient man?”

“No, but you do look like a man who could benefit from learning how to be patient,” Jimmy’s rebuff is quick and sharp. “That’s why you and Jey on high blood pressure medication right now. Both ya’ll hotheaded asses be getting yourselves all upset over nothing. Probably why you’re going gray too.”

There may be some element of truth to what he’s saying, but it’s also irrelevant to the issue at hand.

“I’ll figure something out,” he mutters, and it’s the truth, because that’s what Roman does. He figures shit out.

He always figures shit out.

The SUV is barely parked when Roman flings the door open, slamming it shut behind him, not knowing exactly what he’s about to walk into.

“What happened?” Roman’s demand is accompanied by his powerful stride into the Warehouse, Nia immediately rolling her eyes and pointing to Naomi.

“Ask her. She was the last one to interact with her.”

Naomi is unsurprised by both Nia throwing her under the bus as well as Roman directing his fury in her direction.

“What the fuck happened?”

As someone who’s been involved with the Bloodline and their family members for over a decade, she’s used to both Roman’s anger as well as being on the receiving end of said anger. So, her response is calm and to the point. “Like I told Nia, we trained, and she was fine. She actually did well today. I had another training session after her, so we agreed on the next date, and she left for the locker rooms. That’s it.”

Naomi’s answer is unhelpful, but he believes her. Knows she’s being honest. It’s just that her honesty doesn’t do shit for him.

“Clear the place.” It’s directed to Nia even if his focus is still on Naomi.

Nia steps forward, irritation undeniable. “Roman, seriously? We have matches lined up—”

“I don’t care. I want it cleared now, Nia.” She’s about to protest again, but he lifts his hand, warning, “I’m not in the mood, so don’t fucking test me.”

Nia isn’t stupid. She might be able to teeter the lines some days with her cousin, but this clearly isn’t one of those days. Grumbled protests stay within the confines of her inner dialogue as she turns on the edge of her heel to start emptying the Warehouse.

The twins step forward, asking, “what you need us to do?”

Nothing. He doesn’t want anyone to do anything aside from leaving him the hell alone, but that’s not an option. So, he moves quick to find a task for them. Naomi as well. “Check the cameras. Something happened, and I want to know what.”

“What if—”

“Check the cameras.” At this point, Roman’s about to kick them all out if people keep questioning him like he isn’t the fucking Tribal Chief.

Control has always been a big thing for Roman.

When one doesn’t have much, or any, as a child, they overcompensate, and then some, as an adult.

He recognizes that fully.

As all parties move to follow through on his orders, Roman heads toward the locker rooms, ignoring the complaining of the gym goers having to prematurely leave against their own volition. He’s not focused on that, just on the panel near the doors, a panel he’s never had to use until this day.

A panel only he can operate and use as its his biometrics and only his. Again, a man who likes control.

It takes less than a minute for him to gain access, the door automatically opening. Roman steps in and closes it behind him.

“Solana.” He’s certain she won’t answer him, won’t magically do a 180 and feel well enough to step out, but he does feel like at least making his presence known to her will minimize her fear and surprise.

Because one of the first things he notices and hones in on is sound, listening for any and all sounds that could lead him in her direction, and it’s a bit on the easy side considering there’s only the sound of running water coming from one area. And if he had to guess, one specific shower stall.

Carefully, his steps take him from one end of the room to the other, moving in the direction of the woman he needs to find.

And he does find her.

He finds her sitting on the floor of the shower, naked, enclosed in the corner, her legs pulled up to her chest, staring like she’s in a state of shock, like she’s not aware of where she is or what she’s doing. Like she’s not aware of the heat of the water bearing down on her body.

“What the hell?” Roman’s first reaction is a modicum of shock, the heat from the steam alone almost instantly suffocating him. Naturally, he moves toward her, to cut it off, but her scream of terror stops him prematurely.

“No!” It’s been a while since Roman has heard that level and depth of fear in someone’s voice, in the hefty depth of their sorrow. She’s petrified. “P–please don’t.”

It’s for that he actually hesitates, doing his best not to shout at her because that’s clearly the last thing she needs. “Solana, I’m not gonna fucking touch you, but you’re burning yourself!”

While he does his best to keep his eyes focused on non–inappropriate areas, he can already see the reddening of her arms and back. If she already hasn’t burned herself.

Again, he tries to reason with her, which is such a strange experience. Roman doesn’t negotiate with people. He does whatever the fuck he wants and cuts down anyone who has something to say about it. But this, this is a completely different experience he’s not entirely sure he knows how to navigate in a way that won’t fuck this girl up even more than she already is.

“I’m just going to shut the water off.” Announcing his intentions seems like the next best thing, even if it seems to do little to calm her. So, he bites the bullet and moves fast enough to where she can’t protest until it’s already done.

Which is exactly what happens.

“No! I—I need—I need to get clean. I need—” She starts crying again, hugging her legs closer to her body. “I can still feel—their hands—”

“Did someone touch you?” Interrupting her isn’t a good idea, especially with the way anger naturally floats into his tone. It’s almost impossible for it not to. If someone fucking touched her….“ Solana….what happened?”

She gasps, shaking her head, pleading almost. “Please….please don’t m–make me t–t–talk about it.”

There’s a distant look in her eyes, one that’s both uncomfortably but extremely familiar to Roman. He knows what it looks like for someone to be physically present but mentally elsewhere. That’s what Solana is right now.

She’s not talking about today but something else, something much darker that whatever happened today only triggered.

Roman slowly starts to crouch down in front of her but she jerks back. “I’m not going to touch you, Solana,” he again reiterates. “But you can’t stay in here.” He starts to remove his jacket, reaching it over to her. “We have to go back to the house.”

Again, she’s panicking, protesting. “I can’t—I can’t go out t–t–there.”

“I had the place cleared,” he explains. “There’s no one out there except for the twins, Naomi, and Nia.” Truthfully, he’s starting to wonder if he should have asked them to leave too. He didn’t know she'd be this frazzled.

“Come on," he encourages.

Eventually, she accepts his jacket, and Roman stands back up to his full height, turning around and allowing her the privacy he’s sure she’d want. She steps forward, Roman seeing she’s hugging herself keeping his jacket covering her body.

She keeps her head down, obviously still shaken up, still messed up from a lot of things. He honestly doesn’t know where the trauma stops and ends with this girl.

Roman directs her. “Get dressed. Meet me outside.” He looks down at her, needing some level of acknowledgement. “Okay?”

Solana surprises him by glancing up, nodding softly, walking away to what he would guess is the locker where her clothes are.

Pleased that she’s at least well enough to be left alone to follow through on a simple task, Roman exits the locker room. He approaches the desk, the twins immediately standing up. It’s not lost upon him that Naomi and Nia are nowhere to be seen. If he had to guess, Jimmy sent Naomi home, not wanting her to bear anymore of Roman’s wrath. And Nia left to avoid unleashing her wrath on Roman, neither of which he’s entirely upset about.

He has no interest in seeing either of them right now.

Jimmy speaks first. “We found something.”

“Send it to me.” Roman is smart. Always has been. It’s not difficult for him to connect the dots to see that someone clearly fucked with Solana. And he’s almost certain whatever footage the twins found will confirm and show exactly how she was fucked with. The same way he’s entirely certain that managing his anger seeing as such is damn near if not wholly impossible.

And she doesn’t need that right now. She’s already a hot mess. Being exposed to his explosive temper will only exacerbate that, so being sent the footage for him to view when he’s alone and can respond as violently as he wants is the best route.

Especially with his next order.

“Whoever it is, bring em’ to Asylum.” He adds, as if it needs to be specified. “Tonight.”

Jey nods, and Roman notices there’s an edge to his voice. The same way there’s an edge in Jimmy’s expression. They seem pissed. “You got it.” And for some reason, Roman has a burning guess that it has to do with whatever they found rather than it being directed toward him.

Waiting for Solana to exit the locker rooms, Roman blows out a deep breath and scratches his beard. This day has been a shitshow for a variety of reasons, but this reason in particular, this thing with Solana, it ranks pretty high up there.

He hasn’t a clue what he’s doing to do with this girl.

“Jimmy.”

“Whassup?”

“Text Paul. Tell him I want Solana’s medical records. All of them.”

Roman knows now he needs answers, specific answers regarding exactly what he’s dealing with. And Solana is clearly in no position to share these things with him, not that he’d even want her to.

She’d probably have to be admitted somewhere if he tried that shit.

Jimmy looks understandably confused but affirms, “I gotchu.”

And with that, Roman also pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts, selecting the thread and typing out a message he doesn’t really think twice about.

Roman: Dwayne. Change of plans. I’ll come when I can, but now’s not a good time. I have shit here I need to handle first.

Roman: In the meantime, take my name out their fucking mouths.

————

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

And just like that, Solana knows that he knows what happened. Knows about Austin and Grayson.

And it turns her stomach.

Roman took her back to the house. He left her alone, giving her time and space to come down from her breakdown. And even in sitting in her room, writing out her feelings about the day's events, she knew. Solana knew that it wasn’t that simple. That Roman wouldn’t just leave what happened today at that.

That he’d want to know what happened, what triggered it, but naively, she tried to convince herself he’s too busy of a man to deep dive and find out on his own. To push her for answers.

She’s wrong.

She’s wrong because that’s the first thing to leave his mouth when he finds her in the kitchen.

Roman’s question, however, is valid and understandable, even if just the thought alone of having this conversation makes Solana physically uncomfortable.

Still, given everything that’s happened today, she can’t blame him for wanting answers.

She just doesn’t have them to give.

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I—I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” His tone is full of mockery and frustration that she also can’t blame him for but physically finds herself feeling unsettled. “Bullshit. I want an answer, Solana.”

Her skin feels hot, stomach starting to knot. “I just—I don’t—”

“I can’t handle problems you have if you don’t fucking tell me that you have a problem in the first place.”

“I’m sorry—”

At that, Roman snaps, unintentionally, but also a build-up from all of the day’s events. “Stop fucking apologizing!”

What he doesn’t expect is for her to jump back away from him, so much so that she falls to the floor and hurriedly moves back against the cabinet, as she shouts in a panic, “I’m sorry!” Her arms are crossed in front of her body, a defensive position, like she’s waiting, bracing.

Waiting for him to hit her.

Roman’s been in this position countless times. Standing before people as they begged for mercy, begged for him to not enact his vengeance, to rule out his judgment as judge, juror, and executioner. And it’s always been a thrill for him, a boost to his ego, a reminder of his power.

And not once has he ever felt bad for causing such a reaction.

Not until this moment.

With slow, careful movements, Roman also moves to the floor, one leg outstretched, the other hiked so his foot is planted on the ground. His arm casually resting on his knee. “Solana….do you remember what I said to you that day at your job?”

She's still waiting for the inevitable, waiting for him to lash out, for him to hit her. But, she’s confused by the fact that instead of him doing so just yet, he's sitting on the floor opposite of her. And somehow, she finds it in her to focus on his question. He said a couple of noteworthy things that day, but somehow, she knows exactly what he’s referring to.

“My…..my clumsiness.” Clumsiness he told her she wouldn’t have to worry about, but she’s been more than worried about it, more waiting for it, expecting it at some point or another.

“And I meant that shit.” His head is leaned back against the cabinet, and Solana suddenly feels even worse. He seems so stressed out from all of this, from her. “You’re my wife now. I’m not going to let anyone lay a fucking hand on you. Not your dad. Not your brother. Not fucking Theory and Waller.” There’s a bit of a pause as he adds, almost quietly, “and especially not me.”

Solana is unsure what to make of what he’s saying to her. Not sure how to process and take it at face value. It’s hard for her to digest the fact that one of the most dangerous and violent men in the country wants her to believe that he’d never put his hands on her. That he’s not someone she needs to be scared of.

And she doesn't understand it, can’t comprehend how he can not be like every other man in her life. “W–why?”

“Cause unlike your piece of shit family, The Bloodline has morals. I’m not a good man, Solana, and I don’t pretend to be. But, I’ve never hit a woman, and I never will.” Roman never pictured himself having to explain to a woman why he has no desire to beat her. Yet, here he fucking is. “Real men don’t do that shit.”

Solana doesn’t know what to say to that, is still not sure what to say to any of it. But then, Roman is speaking again.

“It’s no secret. I have a temper, and that’s not going to change. I’m not going to change. Not for you, not for anyone.” Solana knows this, knows this very well, and understands it just as much. She would never expect him to change his ways, especially for the likes of her. “But, I—I’ll try to be mindful of it around you.”

That…..throws her for a loop. Why? Why would he do anything for her? What has she done to make him even feel like he should? Except stress him out and cause him unnecessary problems.

Roman continues, asserting, “but, you’ve gotta start fucking telling me shit. I need you to meet me halfway here. I need you to communicate with me. You can’t spend the rest of your life writing what you refuse to say out loud.”

She licks her lip, a nervous action, replying as best she can, “I’m not—I’m not used to—” She’s not used to people caring about her, caring about her wellbeing, and maybe that’s too strong and too inaccurate to describe what Roman is saying. It’s certainly how it feels though. “I—I’ll try.”

He seems pleased by this, probably not fully satisfied but enough for him to drop the subject. And she appreciates that, and is thankful for it. This day has already been a lot, too much. She’s so fucking tired.

Roman says nothing else, not that she needs him to, not that he needs to. But, as he stands up, turning to leave, she finds herself asking him, “where—where are you going?”

His answer is simple but ominous. “I told you. No one lays a hand on you.” He grabs his jacket off the sofa, sliding it on as he vows, “I’m gonna make sure everyone understands that shit from here on out.”

—-------

Asylums, historically, have been places of horror. Where the lives of so many end in cruel and undeserved ways. Screams and pleas falling on deaf ears, memories of terror forever etched in the walls and halls of a building that’s only seen suffering.

It’s a fitting name for Roman’s location for interrogation.

Torture. Because there is no being interrogated by the Tribal Chief. It’s just straight up, unadulterated torture. And truth be told, it’s a bit of a last, or maybe second resort. Killing someone in the moment is much easier, preferred. A shot to the head, a knife across the throat, even the snap of a neck. All much easier than methodical, drawn out ending of lives.

But some instances, some circumstances call for something more, something sinister, something lasting.

And that’s exactly what Theory and Waller are going to get.

By the time Roman walks into the building, sliding and tossing his jacket to the side, the twins have done a decent job roughing them up. One of them—he could never tell the difference—nor did he care or will it matter in a few hours, has a black eye that’s swollen shut. The other’s nose is crooked and bleeding, most likely broken. Their clothes are already stained with sweat, blood, and dirt.

They’re both tied down by their wrists and ankles that he can see have started to dig into their skin. Their chairs are situated opposite each other. Good. That’ll make this even better. Calmly, Roman walks over, snapping his finger as Jimmy and Jey step back, visibly pleased with their warm up.

He crouches down between them, looking back and forth between both with a smirk. “Gentleman, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” One of them, the taller of the two looks scared shitless while the other is glaring with idiotic defiance. Like he clearly thinks he and his friend are going to leave this building alive.

They’ll leave.

Just in pieces.

“I’m Roman.” His voice is slick ice. “Roman Reigns.” There’s a rush of adrenaline that soars through Roman’s big body seeing the fear flash in both sets of irises. Good. They should be fucking terrified. “But, I do know someone you have met.” His voice goes cold again. “My wife.”

“Actually, I saw you meet my wife, but you didn’t just meet her, did you?” Roman smiles, shaking his head. “Naw man….ya’ll did a hell of a lot more than that.”

Roman doesn’t need to have footage of just what happened in that locker room. He can paint the image all on his own, and it’s an image that makes his blood go cold. The footage of them in the hallway was damning enough. “You cornered her, didn’t you? You waited until she was alone and vulnerable and you harassed her. You sexually harassed her. My wife.”

Roman shrugs, looking between the two. “What ya’ll think should happen?” Their mumbled and grumbled voices are incoherent against the gags in their mouths. Laughing quietly, he continues, “now, now, I’m a fair Tribal Chief.” Roman stands up, walking over to the wall of tools and weapons laid out. He settles for the hunting knife. “So here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna let you tell me which body part goes first.”

He motions for the twins to remove their gags and upon that removal, the defiant punk is the first to speak, “what the fuck is wrong with you!”

The other one, however, is damn near in tears. “Pl—please. We–we’re sorry.”

“Shut up, Grayson! He–he’s bluffing.” Theory, he thinks, decides to prolong his torture even longer by reiterateing, “we didn’t even fucking touch her. The bitch is ly—”

Roman sees red, again, most likely a buildup of the day's events. But, it’s pure rage that fills him as he slams the Buck 119 down against Theory’s left hand, cleanly slicing off four of his fingers.

Theory’s screams fill the room as the twins chuckle, Jey taunting, “who’s the bitch now, huh?”

Roman grabs his chin, vowing, “I’m gonna make you suffer the longest.”

“We didn’t hurt her, I swear.” Grayson is now crying, clearly ready to beg, plead, and whatever else it takes to get him out of this hell. “Austin just—he had her up against the locker, he–he pinned her, but we didn’t rape her. I swear!”

Grayson unintentionally paints a picture in Roman’s head of what he already figured is what happened, what he figured is what sent Solana into her traumatized state.

Big mistake.

Roman brings the knife down on both of Grayson’s thighs, intentionally aiming for near the top of his knees, his quadriceps, effectively rendering him permanently paralyzed. His screams of pain are music to Roman’s ears. Roman grabs him by his jaw, screaming, “who the fuck do you think you are! She’s mine! You hurt her and think I’m not gon break every bone in your fucking body? You don’t ever fuckin touch what’s mine! You understand me!”

The younger man is practically hysterical at this point. “Please….” Roman looks down, hit with the stench of urine, seeing that the one with the accent has pissed himself. Disgusted, he backs away, hitting the pathetic son of a bitch with a blow across his cheek that sends teeth flying out his mouth.

He turns back around, eyes focused on a now teary eyed Theory. “I was going to be fair, let you decide in which order I dismember you, but now…now I’m just gonna make you watch as I kill you both, piece by fucking piece."

He looks over at his cousins who seem completely unaffected and almost indifferent to the gruesome scene unfolding before them. “Jimmy.” Roman doesn’t hesitate, a sadistic smile on his handsome face. “Give me the saw.”

—------

Blood is such a pain in the ass to get out of almost everything.

Roman showered a good twenty minutes before leaving the Asylum, and he can still see specks of dried blood, or maybe it’s bone, or flesh.

There’s a sense of satisfaction that fills him though, that almost calms him as he imagines the look of pure terror and fright on their faces as he methodically took their lives, piece by piece. Well fucking deserved in Roman’s opinion.

And he’d do it all over again if he could.

Minus the blood and guts and shit, because that's just fucking annoying. Roman readies to take another shower, hitting the light switch near his bedroom door when he immediately notices the brown journal sitting in the middle of the bed.

There’s a second to pause and another second for him to realize he’s seen a similar book before. Solana. He’s seen her writing in one very close to the one on his bed.

Less apprehensive, Roman walks over to see it’s open to a page filled with neat writing he knows must belong to Solana.

Lifting it, he reads what she’s written.

Roman,

I know you don’t want me saying sorry anymore, and I know you want me to talk to you, but it’s really hard for me. I’m not used to this. I don’t know how to talk to you.

And I know you said I can’t write, but writing has always been the only way I can express myself, so I will try to talk to you more, but….until then, can I just write?

Solana

Right off the bat, Roman’s first and initial response is no.

Because why the fuck would he write like something out of a damn movie when she could just fucking talk to him?

But, that’s the thing, that’s exactly what she’s trying to express to him, that she can’t, that it’s too hard for her. Right now, at least. Because there’s also a promise, a promise to try to transition to more verbal communication, Roman’s preference.

Granted, he hates talking to most people in general, but it’s preferred over writing damn letters like the 1700s.

And then he thinks about it, recalling earlier today and the pure terror in her voice, the fear wracking her body so much so that she didn’t even realize she was this close to third degree burns. He has to be realistic here, realistic about what she is and isn’t capable of.

As frustratingly slow as it is, she is trying, in her own way. He can’t fault her for that.

Regardless of how he feels about it, this is the best she can do. For now. And he’ll hold her to working towards that, because growth doesn’t happen in comfort zones. She has to get used to being uncomfortable with new things. That’s just how it is.

But this….he can meet her halfway.

Grabbing a pen out his nightstand, Roman writes out his response, taking and laying it out on the kitchen island for her to see first thing in the morning.

Solana,

I recognize communication is challenging for you. If this is what works for you, I’ll do it. For now.

Do you work this weekend? If so, call off.

I’m taking you somewhere.

Also, there's nothing you can't tell me.

I promise you that.

Roman

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

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batboyblog · 9 months ago

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My Super Gay/Queer Reading List

The Long Run by James Acker

Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli

Another Dimension of Us by Mike Albo

Wonders of the Invisible World by Christopher Barzak

Alan Cole Is Not a Coward by Eric Bell

Alan Cole Doesn’t Dance by Eric Bell

The Darkest Part of the Forest by Holly Black

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan

Felix Yz by Lisa Bunker

Last Bus to Everland by Sophie Cameron

Dragging Mason County by Curtis Campbell

The House of Impossible Beauties by Joseph Cassara

Peter Darling by Austin Chant

Carry the Ocean by Heidi Cullinan

The Love Interest by Cale Dietrich

Half Bad by Sally Green

Half Wild by Sally Green

Half Lost by Sally Green

Heartbreak Boys by Simon James Green

Gay Club by Simon James Green

You’re the One That I Want by Simon James Green

We Contain Multitudes by Sarah Henstra

Totally Joe by James Howe

After School Activities by Dirk Hunter

At the Edge of the Universe by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Past and Other Things That Should Stay Buried by Shaun David Hutchinson

We Are the Ants by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Five Stages of Andrew Brawley by Shaun David Hutchinson

A Complicated Love Story Set in Space by Shaun David Hutchinson

The Boy Who Couldn’t Fly Straight by Jeff Jacobson

Haffling by Caleb James

The Lightning-Struck Heart by T.J. Klune

A Destiny of Dragons by T.J. Klune

The Consumption of Magic by T.J. Klune

A Wish Upon the Stars by T.J. Klune

The Extraordinaries by T.J. Klune

Flash Fire by T.J. Klune

Heat Wave by T.J. Klune

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune

Openly Straight by Bill Konigsberg

The Bridge by Bill Konigsberg

Destination Unknown by Bill Konigsberg

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan

Every Day by David Levithan

Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan

Ryan and Avery by David Levithan

How to Repair a Mechanical Heart by J.C. Lillis

Take a Bow, Noah Mitchell by Tobias Madden

When Ryan Came Back by Devon McCormack

Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Fraternity by Andy Mientus

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

The Art of Starving by Sam J. Miller

Hero by Perry Moore

I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

More Than This by Patrick Ness

Junior Hero Blues by J.K. Pendragon

The City Beautiful by Aden Polydoros

When Everything Feels Like the Movies by Raziel Reid

Kens by Raziel Reid

Emmett by Lev A.C. Rosen

Jack of Hearts by Lev A.C. Rosen

Camp by Lev A.C. Rosen

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell

Wayward Son by Rainbow Rowell

Rainbow Boys by Alex Sanchez

Rainbow High by Alex Sanchez

Rainbow Road by Alex Sanchez

So Hard to Say by Alex Sanchez

The 99 Boyfriends of Micah Summers by Adam Sass

The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer

All Kinds of Other by James Sie

They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera

History Is All You Left Me by Adam Silvera

More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera

Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

Freak Show by James St. James

Ray of Sunlight by Brynn Stein

The Dangerous Art of Blending In by Angelo Surmelis

366 Days by Kiyoshi Tanaka

The Language of Seabirds by Will Taylor

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas

Wild and Crooked by Leah Thomas

Because You’ll Never Meet Me by Leah Thomas

Spin Me Right Round by David Valdes

Always the Almost by Edward Underhill

Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White

Tumblr got rid of yellow so I couldn't do pride colors, sorry!

If you want help picking something out just send me an ask with what kind of thing you're looking for and I'll select something for you, and if you end up reading something because you saw this list, please let me know

#books #reading #book list #gay books #queer books #queer lit #red white and royal blue #love simon #Carry On

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daddyhausen · 2 years ago

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• acknowledgment — roman reigns •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlist } | { wwe masterlist } | { roman reigns masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ summary } — your job was simple, acknowledge your tribal chief

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact }, oral sex { male receiving }, power imbalance, power play, asphyxiation, hair pulling, face slapping, tit slapping, pussy slapping, throat fucking, cumshots, facials, throat pie, size difference, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, male + female orgasms, internal cumshots, vaginal creampie, squirting

{ word count } — 2.9k

{ pairing } — fem!reader x roman reigns

{ genre } — smut

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @stxrrlightwrites13 @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @legit9thlunaticwarrior @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @baybay-boom @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

it was a flurry of emotions after roman’s triumphant win over a now heartbroken cody rhodes. paul was spouting praises that fell on your deaf ears as you casually sauntered behind the pack of brothers known as jimmy, jay and solo, the youngest of the three remaining silent all with a brooding stare while his brothers cheered and celebrated their cousin’s big win.

“excellent job out there, my tribal chief! you were absolutely marvellous, cody did not stand a chance-“ paul’s albeit over the top praise of your tribal chief only offered an eye roll on your part. of course roman won, only your wished he had done it on his own instead of relying on the twins and solo to do his bidding. still…you were proud of him nonetheless and he was still champion of course and that’s all that mattered now.

yet roman remained stoic, barely acknowledging their presence for the time being, cody surely did put up a fight, even had you holding your breath in a mix of fear and anticipation, you’d never seen roman so desperate in a match before, and you knew that was eating away at your tribal chief.

“how should we celebrate, my tribal chief? i have a limousine parked out front, wherever you want to go it shall take you-“

“paul.” roman spoke sternly not even offering the wise man a mere glance in his direction, one that made mr. hayman’s blood run cold, his face had an unusual pallor to it, almost going grey in fear, the only word leaving his lips was a meek “yes”

“leave…” roman grumbled, placing his recently defended titles beside him onto the couch with a haphazard throw. “all of you”

you watched them all leave one by one. paul scurried out the door first, followed by the twins, jimmy first than jay. solo held back for a bit offering you a small parting glance as you held the door open for them.

“not you, y/n” roman’s voice shot up from the silence just as you were about to leave. his tone was stern and it left you, admittedly, a bit frightened. you closed the door behind you, quickly turning to face your tribal chief who had already made himself comfortable on the couch. his skin glowing under the warm lights of the locker room, still glazed over with perspiration, his hair slicked back into a haphazard bun, he sat back into the couch legs spread, his chest still heavy with laboured breaths. an inviting sight it surely was. you kept your head down to avoid his gaze, fearful of what your tribal chief’s next words.

“you seemed a bit quiet tonight.” roman simply remarked. eyeing you down curiously. “care to tell me why?”

you managed to gulp down the fear that rose in your throat, still avoiding your tribal chiefs stare.

“t-to be truthful, m-my tribal c-chief…” you began, already stuttering over your words “i was a bit worried that you would not retain tonight…”

“what do you mean by that? did you think that i wasn’t capable of beating some pathetic loser like cody?” roman’s demanded shifted slightly, he leaned forward, a single forearm upon his knee, staring you down, despite the distance in which he sat from you, it felt like his presence was looming over your figure

“no! that not what i meant at all, my tribal chief!-“ your words seemed panicked to roman’s ears which pricked up at your sudden hostility

“then what did you mean by it?” roman sneered, still feeling as if he was standing daggers through you. you stammered over your words, barely able to string a sentence together all in which made roman give up his interrogation with a scoff, resuming his original position on the couch.

“come to think of it, i don’t think i heard you acknowledge your tribal chief yet” he was right, you’d been so caught up today with all the cody drama that you had forgotten completely. you went to open your mouth to speak before roman cut you off again

“not like that, sweetheart” roman reached past the waistband of his ring gear, freeing his cock from the restraint of it. his half hard cock slapped against his stomach, tip glossy with pre-cum. your cheeks grew heated, never had you seen a more magnificent cock. roman was thick, much thicker than any you’ve encountered, his size was also impressive, an imposing nine inches at most, thick veins wrapped around his shaft.

“like this” he slowly began to stroke himself simply at the thought of ruining your throat, you gulped thickly, already feeling a tightness in your oesophagus.

“now…” be began, releasing the grip on his cock “come acknowledge me”

your movements were almost instinctual. just about to practically crawl on your hands and knees towards him if he so please before refraining for a moment. you gathered yourself, allowing yourself to collect your thoughts for a moment despite none of actual substance forming, your gaze merely fixated on roman’s size as he casually stroked the lower half of his shaft. you made slow, cautious strides towards him, his cocky gaze looming over your figure, a sliver of a smirk twitched on the corners of his lips. eventually you’d made your way between his thighs, kneeling before him as he stared down at you demeaningly.

“open your mouth for me” roman instructed, still lazily pumping his cock as you obliged. your tongue parted your lips, the appendage hanging out of your mouth, waiting for his next instruction. he shuffled his hips forward momentarily, hand still wrapped firmly around the base of his shaft, slapping the tip of his cock against the flat of your tongue a couple of times, droplets of his pre-cum mingling with your tastebuds.

his free hand snaked around the back of your head, fingers knotting in your hair, tugging at the roots as he pushed your throat down around his cock. you choked at the foreign feeling, a sound that only warmed his loins further. he gave a small gutteral moan, the vibrations of your throat caused such a delicious reverb around his cock.

“shit, babygirl…” roman muttered through clenched teeth as your lips enclosed around his being shaft “who knew you could suck cock this good…”

roman’s words were breathy and almost dreamlike as he continued to use your throat, not allowing you up for air for what felt like minutes at a time. he kept his hips still, the only movement being that of your head, he’d taken it between two hands effectively using your throat as a makeshift fleshlight, not that you cared you were just happy to please your tribal chief.

“mmm…such a good little whore for me…” roman’s eyes fluttered closed in his blissful state, simply basking in the feeling of your warm, wet mouth. the tips of his fingers, as rough as they held your hair, massaged your scalp with small circles. you peered up at him, the whites of your eyes slightly bloodshot and glazed over, the assault on your throat pricked them with tears, roman payed no mind to it, too wrapped up in his own pleasure to care. his cock stretched your lips, his thickness made it feel as if they were going to tear at the corners at any moment. they way he stuffed your throat, trapping the air in your lungs while you choked and gasped around him was nothing short of exhilarating.

“look at you…your little mouth can’t even take half my cock” roman mocked with a sly grin, an equally matched chuckle fell from his parted lips. he stood up, despite being flushed with exhaustion from his match, he’d obtained a sudden burst of energy, what from he dosen’t know, maybe it was the sight of you gagging around his length that got his adrenaline pumping. his grip still tangled in your hair, knuckles turning bone white at the tightness, without warning, he pushed your head further down, his cock sinking into the back of your throat, until the tip of your nose was nestled against the base of his shaft. he would not move, no matter how much you scratched and clawed at his thighs, so desperate for air.

“you need to acknowledge me, sweetheart” you stared up at him, almost a twinge of malaise in your glare but it was quickly dismissed by him. he knew you’d fall in line soon enough. he kept you there for a moment, simply enjoying your choked gasps and sputters, the sensation reverberating around his thick cock. he noticed your eyes beggining to flatter from your fixed gaze upon him, eyelashes starting to bat softly as unconsciousness was slowly taking over. you were just on the brink of passing out when he ripped his cock from your throat

you gasped and choked, finally able to get air into your lungs after what felt like hours, roman stared down at you with a malicious grin, his cock cascading a shadow over your form, his shaft glossed over and dripping with your spit.

“you gonna acknowledge me now?” his tone was dry yet, still held onto that sly flirtatious wit.

“fuck you-“ you did not mean to curse at him like that, let alone raise your voice at him. you hand reached around your throat to try and soothe the burning sensation within it. as much as you enjoyed the wonderful assault from his cock. roman’s gaze quickly turned cold, the once cocky smirk now replaced with a scowl, he barely gave you enough time to catch your breath before he interlocked both hands him your scalp, forcing his thick cock back down your throat for more lovely abuse to continue

“so you’re taking back to me now, huh? who gave you the fucking right to do that, you little whore?” roman’s cock slipped in and out of your throat with ease, desperate to ruin it, to make you choke on his cum.

“you’re only job is to acknowledge me, to take this cock like a good little slut, do you fucking understand me!?” of course you did, roman took the hint by the lack of claw marks in his thighs, the way you’d stopped resisting, not that you were resisting in the first place. the way you’d become completely absent to yourself, being completely subservient to him

roman came down your throat without warning, his hot seed filling your cheeks with warmth. you swallowed him greedily, an apology of sorts for speaking back to him, you showed him your tongue as he pulled out, an act of compliance of some sorts, he related what he had done previously, slapping the tip of his cock against your tongue some droplets fell atop your cheeks as he beckoned you to stand. you did, and with that he offered you a rough slap to your cheek, one that send shockwaves of arousal to your core. he cupped the skin as it began to redden, his thumb smoothing over the burning flesh

“don’t you ever speak to me like that again, otherwise i won’t be so easy on you” his fingers fell to the buttons of your blouse, unbuttoning the semi-sheer material all while keeping you’re gaze. you skin burned with heart, and no that was not the lingering effects of that previous slap, roman had a way of commanding people, making them feel small and helpless under him and by god it was surely working. he had removed your blouse with such ease that you had not even realised it happened before he reached around to unclasp your bra, not before groping your clothed breasts in his large palms.

he was quick to undo the clasps, letting the lace material fall to the floor, he admired your breasts for a moment, adoring them, he repeated the process, groping them, kneading the supple flesh, your nipples hardened at the contact, his calloused palms grazing against the swollen buds. without warning he slapped them both, the sensation made a small yelp of pain to leave your lips. he only chuckled at your reaction. he made his way behind you, impatient and needy as he unzipped your tight pencil skirt, throwing it across the room into the pile of clothes that slowly started to form near the door. roman stuck a large hand into your panties, his fingertips toying with your sensitive clit, marveling at just how wet he had made you.

“you’re such a little slut, you know that, y/n…” he smirked into the crook of your neck. “listen to how fucking wet this little pussy is for me”

he did not have to do much, simply part your folds with his fingers for you to hear that wet sloshing sound of your cunt, one that you adored so much. roman pried his fingertips from your panties bringing them to your lips for you to taste only for him to bypass your lips completely, bringing them to his own. he relished in your sweetness, a drawn out moan ripped through his throat as he licked his fingers clean.

“i might just have to devour you, babygirl” his words gave you a sliver of hope, a gasp help in your throat for a moment.

“but tonight is not about you. it’s about me” roman ripped your panties clean off, leaving your dripping cunt exposed to the elements roma have a harsh slap to your dripping cunt, one that made you wince in excitement. he grabbed your wrist, dragging you over to the couch once more. he took his seated position again, pulling you atop his lap, lining up his thick cock with you entrance. he gave you no time to adjust to your surroundings before he stuffed you full of him

“roman…” you whined, head thrown back in pleasure simply by being stretched out by him. he cocked an eyebrow accusingly at the use of his name.

“my tribal chief…” you corrected yourself quickly. noticing a satisfied smirk form across his lips. “y-you’re so big”

“i know” roman chuckled, beginning to move with slow, deep thrusts to set the pace. he kept his gaze on your breasts, loving the way they voiced and jiggled every time he fucked up into you, a singe hand place on your hip to guide your movements, the way you swirled and bucked against him, so needy and feverish to get him off.

“you look so fucking tiny on my cock” roman mocked, comparing your radical size difference. he took a mental note of the way his cock outlined in your stomach, each thrust made it bulge against your skin. your cunt was trembling around his size, taking each inch deeper and deeper until you were stuffed to the brim. as much as you did not want to admit, you enjoyed the way roman used you like this, his personal fuck toy. it beats doing his paperwork for sure.

your hips seemed to bounce absentmindedly, your mind too fixated in achieving orgasm that you completely forgot you have not acknowledged him yet. your body hummed with pleasure so close to the edge that you did not care if he didn’t cum, you just needed to.

“i acknowledge you, my tribal chief” you whimpered through small, breathless moans. he’d caught ear of your words, simply smirking to himself. he pulled your hips down with both hands, holding you down on his cock as he practically rearranged your insides. roman’s chest heaved with arousal, the force of his thrusts bucked you into his chest, your breasts pushed up against his solid frame. his large palms fell to your ass, gripping the pillowy flesh as he slammed into you with such delicious force. roman’s dementor shifted quite rapidly from before. at first he was insulting, demeaning, now he was attentive, respectful almost

“you gonna cum for me, babygirl” his words were soft against your skin, lips pressed into the crook of your neck. you meekly hummed in response, feeling the tightness of your stomach increase. he rested back into the couch, adoring the way your ass bounced back against his cock. he pried your face up for him to look at. he admired your beauty, they way you mouth hung open with breathless pants, eyes rolling into the back of your skull, completely fucked out

you came around him, the proverbial flood gates opening. nails clinging to his biceps, digging into the flesh as your slammed your hips down against his. he was quick to follow, pressing your hips against his, holding your waist tight as he emptied rope after rope of his cum deep inside you. his lips inches from yours, teasing you with faux kisses before planting open mouthed ones to the side and column of your throat.

“fuck-“ he groaned against your skin, still holding you still. his pupils were blown with a mix of adoration and lust. he peered down at you for a moment, noticing the redness still evident on your cheek, he cupped it again, your skin feeling so delicate in his palm.

“i’m sorry if i hurt you, babygirl…” he hummed softly against your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the burning skin. you did not expect such a sensitive and compassion side from roman

“why don’t i take you back to the hotel? eat you out for doing such a good job huh?, how does that sound?”

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

#{ my fics : 🤍 }#roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fanfic #wwe #wwe x reader #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fanfic #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut

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f14fun · 2 months ago

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A Cowgirl's Stars, Stripes, and Speed (!black-!cowgirl-!singer x dr3) (C1)

synopsis: in which case y/n, a bold African American country singer, crosses paths with Daniel, a charming Australian Formula 1 driver, both tipsy and unwound by the night.

prose + smau (20.6K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩z profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

author's note: i desperately had to write a daniel ff, because a) the austin grand prix is nearing and b) i'm terribly sad about his sudden departure. daniel, we all love you so much and wish the best for you! remember to #fea (f' 'em all) <3

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Austin, Texas had nothing on me.

The dingy little bar — well, to me it was dingy because it was the family bar — was dimly lit, with neon signs casting a faint, almost ghostly glow across the weathered wooden walls. The low hum of chatter mixed with the clink of glasses, and even though it was nearing midnight, the place had only gotten busier. Crowds swayed to the twang of a fiddle in the background, boots stomping across the sticky floor. Outside, the summer heat still clung to the air, making the inside feel close and hazy, like the walls were holding in the laughter and stories of the night.

I’d played more shows here than I could count, my boots leaving their mark on the same stage where my granddaddy used to strum his guitar. Most nights felt predictable, but this one felt different, like the air was charged with something I couldn’t put my finger on.

I wasn’t much for Formula 1 — Texas rodeos and horse racing were more my speed — but I knew every year when the race came through Austin, our little bar saw a wave of tourists eager for a taste of country. And tonight, as I leaned against the bar nursing my bourbon, the buzz of unfamiliar accents swirled around me, a reminder that the city had filled up with people from all over the world, looking for thrills in the dust and heat of Texas.

"Y/N, baby, why don’t you get up there and play a few songs?" my mom said, wiping her hands on a towel as she leaned over the bar. Her voice was soft, but that familiar nudge was behind it — the kind that never really left room for much argument.

I hesitated, swirling the last bit of bourbon in my glass. “I don’t know, Mama... it’s packed tonight,” I replied, glancing around at the sea of faces — mostly tourists, loud and unfamiliar. “Besides, they’re not here for me. Just here for a taste of Texas, right? A rodeo queen, not a country girl with a guitar.”

Mama raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You’ve got more than a taste of Texas in you. Those folks would be lucky to hear what you can do. You know that.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of her words settle in. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to play — hell, I’d been singing since I could talk and playing guitar since I was old enough to hold one. But growing up Black in a part of Texas where faces like ours weren’t the norm? That always added a little extra pressure.

Even though our family had earned our place here, built up the bar and our name through years of hard work and music passed down through generations, it never really felt like the eyes watching me were just listening to the music. They were measuring us.

But over the years, we’d carved out a space for ourselves. This bar wasn’t just another honky-tonk; it was ours, The Dusty Rose, and people knew us for more than the color of our skin. Mama’s voice, my granddaddy’s songs, and the family’s grit had earned us some respect in this town. Enough that people came back, year after year, to hear us sing, drink our whiskey, and pretend for a while that we were all part of the same big Texas story.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight, with so many new faces and voices in the crowd, I wasn’t sure I had the courage to step up. I glanced down at my guitar leaning against the wall, its strings worn and familiar, waiting for me like it always did.

Mama’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Y/N, you’ve got the talent and the heart. Don’t let anyone else tell you different. You’re gonna get up there and remind them why they keep coming back.”

I wanted to believe her, I really did. But I wasn’t sure if tonight was the night to take on the weight of all those eyes.

I took a deep breath, running my fingers along the worn edge of my glass before setting it down with a soft clink. “Alright, Mama,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Guess it’s time to remind these folks why The Dusty Rose has lasted this long.”

Mama smiled, that proud, knowing smile she always gave me. I stood up, the familiar click of my cowboy boots echoing on the wooden floor, a steady rhythm that matched my heartbeat. Without another word, I slung my guitar over my shoulder, the weight of it settling comfortably against my back, like an old friend. The crowd was a blur of faces as I walked toward the stage, my pulse steadying with every step.

As I stepped up, I saw Orville already seated behind his drum kit, twirling a stick between his fingers with that lazy confidence of his. His bright blonde hair stuck out in every direction, his face splashed with freckles that made him look like a mischievous kid, though he was older than me by a good ten years. He looked up, grinning wide. “Well, I’ll be damned, look who’s finally decided to grace us with her presence. You plannin’ on singin’ or just standin’ there lookin’ pretty, Y/N?” he teased, tapping his snare for effect.

“Could do both, Orville,” I shot back, my nerves melting a little under the familiar banter.

To the right of him, Clyde was leaning over the keys, his cowboy hat tipped low over his brow. With a name like Clyde and a deep Southern drawl that stretched out his words for days, he was about as country as they came. He looked up at me with a slow nod. “Ain’t no time like midnight for a little serenadin’, huh?” he drawled, cracking a toothy grin. “Folks gonna think you’re singin’ ‘em to bed.”

Then there was Gus, seated on the stool, strumming a lazy rhythm on the bass. He had a scruffy beard, worn jeans, and the kind of build that said he spent just as much time on a ranch as he did on stage. Gus tilted his head and gave me a half-smile. “Late night’s when the magic happens, darlin’. ‘Sides, these tourists don’t know country music 'til they hear it this time of night.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The boys had been with me long enough to know my patterns, and teasing me for wanting to sing so late was their way of easing my nerves. We’d known each other since grade school — back when Orville was the kid who drummed on lunch tables, Clyde would belt out country tunes during recess, and Gus would pluck at strings made of rubber bands, pretending he had a bass in his hands. Now that we were twenty-two, somehow, we still hadn’t split up. Through all the ups and downs, we stuck together, always finding our way back to this stage.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, strumming a few soft chords to tune my guitar, “you all just wait. We’re about to remind this bar why they keep coming back.”

Orville gave his drums a little roll, Clyde’s fingers hovered over the keys, and Gus plucked the bass with a steady beat, all of them waiting on me to start. It was like second nature, this rhythm we shared, a connection built over years of shared songs and late-night jams.

I took one more deep breath, feeling the energy of the room shift toward the stage, my nerves steadying under the soft glow of the spotlight. Time to show them what The Dusty Rose was really about — and remind myself why we never gave up on this.

I stomped my boots on the worn wooden floor, the solid thud cutting through the clamor of the bar. A few heads turned first, followed by more, until the low murmur of voices quieted down after a couple of cheerful whistles and claps from the regulars.

I stepped up to the mic, adjusting the strap of my guitar on my shoulder. “Hey y’all,” I started, my voice carrying over the room. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Y/N. I’m a small singer-songwriter, born and raised right here in Austin.”

Before I could say another word, Gus chuckled from his spot behind me. “Small, my ass. She’s an enigma, and she’s selling herself short, y’all!”

The room rumbled with a few laughs, and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I blushed, turning around to swat him gently on the shoulder. “Gus, you’re lucky I don’t throw my boot at you,” I teased, shaking my head before turning back to the crowd.

“Alright, alright, don’t listen to him,” I said with a smile. “I wanted to play a song tonight that’s a little personal. One I wrote not too long ago... when I found my boyfriend — who, funny enough, was also in the band — cheating on me with my best friend, who used to sing backup vocals.”

A few sympathetic murmurs rose from the crowd, and I could see people shift in their seats, intrigued. “Yeah, it was a mess,” I continued, smiling despite the sting of the memory. “Johnny and Carrie — yeah, those are their real names, y’all — are long gone now. They didn’t just break my heart, they broke the band up too.”

I glanced at Orville, Clyde, and Gus, the ones who’d stuck around. We’d been through hell and back, but we never let anyone tear us down. “But we bounced back. And so did I,” I added with a grin. “This song’s about all that, and how you pick yourself up when the people you trust let you down.”

The room was still, eyes fixed on me as I raised my guitar, fingers poised over the strings. “So, here’s one I like to call Blue.” I stomped my boots once more, giving the boys the cue to kick in. The first slow, mournful chords filled the air, and as I started to sing, the bar held its breath, waiting for the heartache in my voice to tell the rest of the story.

I took a deep breath and let the first notes roll off my tongue, the familiar melody filling the room as my fingers danced across the strings.

"Blue, oh, so lonesome for you Why can't you be blue over me..."

My voice lingered in the air, soft yet steady, as the boys followed in perfect harmony. The crowd had settled into the mood, quiet and still, as if they, too, were feeling the heartache threaded through the lyrics.

"Tears fill my eyes 'til I can't see Three o'clock in the mornin' Here am I, sittin' all alone..."

As I poured myself into the song, my gaze drifted across the room, and that’s when I spotted him. A ruggedly handsome man leaning against the far corner of the bar, his stubble-covered jaw catching the dim light just right, giving him an air of mystery. He had a full head of curls peeking out from under a cowboy hat that didn’t quite fit the way a Texan’s would. He might have been trying to blend in, but it was obvious he wasn’t from around here.

The way he carried himself — that casual yet calculated way of sitting, like he was at ease but somehow apart from it all — made me wonder who the hell he was. Something about him tugged at my attention, even as I sang the words that had been pulling at my heart for months.

"Now that it's over I realize Those weak words you whispered Were nothing but lies..."

My fingers faltered for the briefest second, but I recovered quickly, shaking off the distraction and forcing myself back into the song. Whoever he was, I wasn’t about to let some handsome stranger throw me off my game. Not tonight.

I kept going, but the thought of him lingered at the back of my mind, the heat of his presence warming the room just a little more than it had been before.

The gentle rhythm of Gus’s bass hummed through the room, a steady heartbeat that matched the soulful sway of the song. Each note he plucked seemed to cradle the sadness in my voice, grounding it in something deeper, something raw. Clyde’s fingers danced over the keys, soft and mournful, adding a kind of sweetness to the pain, like the last lingering memory of something you loved but had to let go. Orville’s light taps on the drums gave the song its slow, steady pulse, holding everything together in a rhythm that felt like the ticking of time, dragging me back through memories I’d rather forget.

"Blue, oh, so lonesome for you Why can't you be blue over me..."

The melody wrapped itself around the room, and I could feel the audience sinking into the sadness with me, the song casting a spell over the bar. I was in the zone, letting the music take over, but that rugged stranger in the corner was like a stubborn note I couldn’t shake. His presence tugged at me, even with the sweet sorrow of the keys flowing through the air. He wasn’t watching me like the others; he was studying me, eyes dark under the brim of that cowboy hat that didn’t quite belong.

As my voice rose for the next line, I couldn’t help but glance his way again. His stubbled jaw was clenched like he was thinking hard about something, but there was a glint of something else — maybe curiosity — in his eyes. It unnerved me and fascinated me all at once, the way he didn’t quite fit in, even though he was trying to. And those curls, barely contained by the hat, told me he wasn’t used to this kind of scene. Not here, not in Texas. Not in my bar.

"Now that it’s over I realize Those weak words you whispered Were nothing but lies..."

The bass thudded low, pulling me back into the music. Gus knew just when to make it heavy, the vibrations running through my chest like the ache of an old wound. The keys lifted the sorrow just enough to make it bearable, Clyde’s touch delicate but deliberate. Together, we made the heartache sound beautiful.

But no matter how much I tried to drown myself in the song, I kept catching glimpses of him. The stranger, leaning back casually, his body language saying he was here for the ride, but his eyes telling me there was more to him than that easy posture.

The lyrics fell from my lips, but my mind kept wandering to the question burning in the back of my head: Who was he?

As the final chords of the song rang out, the bar was quiet for a moment, letting the last notes settle before a soft wave of applause rippled through the crowd. I smiled, feeling a strange mix of relief and adrenaline, my heart still thudding in my chest. The boys gave me a few approving nods — Clyde even tipped his hat — and I turned back to the mic, clearing my throat.

“Well, uh, that was a little somethin’ I wrote not too long ago,” I said, feeling the warmth of the stage lights on my face. “If y’all liked it — or if you’re just in the mood to be sad for a bit — it’s out on Spotify, Apple Music, SoundCloud, or whatever platform folks are using these days,” I added with a grin. “I promise, I’ve got some happier stuff too. Probably should’ve started the night off with one of those, huh?”

A few chuckles broke out from the crowd, but one laugh stood out — low and warm, rolling through the room like a wave that hit me square in the chest. It wasn’t like the others. It had weight, something that settled in my stomach and made it twist in a way I wasn’t used to. Almost instinctively, I looked toward the sound, and there he was — the stranger in the corner. His cowboy hat was still tipped low, hiding just enough of his face to make him even more intriguing, but it was the way his eyes locked on mine that made me freeze.

His grin was lazy, like he had all the time in the world, and there was something about the ease of it that made my heart skip a beat. In the soft glow of the bar, it felt like the entire place faded into the background. For a split second, there was nothing but me and him, his gaze holding mine with an intensity I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just that he was watching me; it was like he saw me, past the stage, past the song, and right into that vulnerable place I tried so hard to guard.

And then, just like that, I became a complete mess. Heat rushed to my face, my skin prickling under the spotlight, and I felt my grip on my guitar falter. “Uh, yeah… so, anyway... that’s me,” I stammered, my voice coming out shaky, the words tumbling over each other as I tried to make a coherent sentence. I could feel the blush creeping up my neck, no matter how hard I willed it to stop, and I quickly looked away, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

But it was too late. The boys behind me noticed — of course they did. I could practically feel Gus grinning at my awkwardness, and Clyde was trying to suppress a chuckle. Orville tapped out a light rhythm on the edge of his drum, clearly enjoying my flustered state. I fumbled with the strap of my guitar, my hands suddenly too shaky to be of any use, my mind still stuck on the way that stranger had looked at me.

I’d performed hundreds of times, faced crowds far bigger than this one, but something about that single moment — that one look from him — had knocked me off balance. My pulse was still racing, and the heat in my cheeks refused to fade. He was just a man, I reminded myself, a guy sitting in the corner of a bar. But it didn’t feel that simple. It felt like he’d peeled back a layer of me in that one glance, leaving me bare under his eyes.

And as I fumbled my way off the stage, trying to get my act together, one thought kept running through my mind: Who the hell is this guy, and why is he making me feel like this?

I cleared my throat and leaned back into the mic with a grin, letting go of the last song’s weight. “Alright, y’all,” I started, flashing a playful smile, “that last one was for all the folks who like to sit and think about their exes at 2 AM — you know who you are,” I added, getting a few chuckles from the crowd.

“But this next one? It’s a little different. We’re gonna turn things up a notch. It’s got a bit of rock in it, so feel free to sing, cry, scream, yell—whatever your heart needs. And if you wanna dance, well, don’t hold back. Just don’t blame me if you’re out of breath by the end!”

The crowd laughed, and I winked. “This one’s called Indifferent, but don’t let the name fool you—it’s anything but.”

I strummed the first few chords, letting the energy shift in the room, and the boys picked up right behind me, Orville giving the drums a little more punch, Clyde leaning into the keys with a rock edge, and Gus keeping the rhythm solid with his bass. I was about to really get into the groove when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him.

The stranger — cowboy hat and all — stood up from his seat, shaking his curls free as he made his way toward a group of people who had started to sway with the beat. And then he started dancing. And I mean really dancing, not just swaying but full-on, carefree moves, like he didn’t give a damn who was watching.

I couldn’t help it — a laugh bubbled up from my chest, and I almost missed a chord as I watched him. He was good, I had to give him that, but there was something about the way he moved that told me he was trying to get my attention. The way he’d glance over every so often, like he wanted to see if I was watching — and yeah, I was watching.

The more he danced, the more I giggled, barely keeping my voice steady as I kept singing. His cowboy hat bobbed up and down as he spun around, clapping along with the beat, and I could tell he was putting on a show, just for me. My eyes met his again, and he shot me a grin, all cocky and playful, making my heart skip a beat.

I shook my head, trying to focus on the song, but the sight of him — carefree, handsome, and definitely showing off — made it hard to keep my cool. My voice caught just a little as I sang the next line, and I could feel my face heating up again, but this time, I was more amused than flustered.

Oh, he’s trying to impress me, I thought with a smirk. And I couldn’t lie, it was kinda working.

I leaned into the mic, my voice steady as I sang the next line, feeling the shift in energy from the crowd.

"I see your truck and I don't give a—"

Before I could even finish, the crowd roared in unison, screaming out the word I didn’t have to sing. “FUCK!” Their voices echoed off the walls, a mix of laughter and rebellion, and I grinned wide.

But the loudest voice? That came from him.

“FUCK!” he yelled, right along with the crowd, his grin even wider now as he danced like no one was watching — except everyone was. His cowboy hat tipped back as he threw his arms up, and I swear, he looked like he was having the time of his life.

I couldn’t help it — I laughed, nearly missing the next line as I watched him throw himself into the moment. My cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so hard, but I kept going, feeding off the energy around me.

"And it don't make my heart skip a beat," I sang, almost giggling through the words, but his eyes were on me again, catching mine as he clapped along with the beat. His dancing had turned into full-on jumping now, and I could see a few others joining in, all feeding off his wild, carefree energy. He was having a blast, and even though I was up on stage, I felt like I was right there with him, swept up in the fun.

I saw him glance at me again, this time with a playful wink, like he knew exactly what he was doing. My heart did that weird little flip again, and I almost tripped over the next verse, the heat creeping up my face once more.

He’s definitely showing off now, I thought, trying to keep my focus on the music. But I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped as I strummed through the chorus. His dance moves might’ve been reckless, but they were working. The crowd was loving him, and so, apparently, was I.

I sang the next line, my voice steady but my heart racing a little faster as his grin widened, his eyes locked on mine. I wasn’t sure what got into me, maybe it was the way he looked so carefree, so unbothered by the world around him, or maybe it was just the thrill of the moment — but before I could stop myself, I tilted my head toward the stage, beckoning him with a playful nod.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but that grin of his never wavered. The crowd cheered him on as he took a few exaggerated, swaggering steps toward the stage, his cowboy hat tipped back and curls bouncing with every step. I laughed, my own confidence rising, and held out my hand as he made his way up.

He took it, and in an instant, we were standing side by side, the crowd going wild as we started to sway together in time with the music. His hand found its way to the small of my back, and I could feel the warmth of it even through my shirt.

The moment felt... electric.

We kept swaying, his towering frame almost comical next to mine, but somehow it worked. His eyes never left mine, and for a split second, it felt like we were the only two people in the room. The music kept going, but everything else seemed to blur into the background. I could see the playful glint in his eyes, the way he seemed to be daring me to look away — but I didn’t.

He leaned down just a bit, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke, his voice low and teasing. “Not bad for a country girl,” he said with a wink.

I giggled, blushing like a schoolgirl as I tried to keep my cool. “Not bad for a guy who’s clearly not from around here,” I shot back, but my voice wavered just a little, betraying how much his presence was throwing me off.

We kept swaying, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm, the lights catching the gleam in his eyes as we held each other's gaze. He towered over me, but I didn’t feel small — not with him, not in this moment. It felt like the rest of the world had faded away, and all that was left was the two of us, swaying together under the soft glow of the stage lights.

I took a deep breath, trying to refocus as the music carried me back into the song, but it wasn’t easy. His presence behind me was impossible to ignore, like he was right there, even though we weren’t touching anymore. My skin tingled with awareness, and I could feel the heat rising to my neck, warming me from the inside out. We were both tipsy, the drinks and the night making everything feel a little looser, a little more charged. But the way he was standing so close—his warmth practically wrapping around me—made it harder to concentrate.

"I'm indifferent, I'm just livin' When your mama calls, I'm reminded you exist And I wish that she didn't 'Cause all my 'give-a-damns', they've already been given..."

My voice stayed steady, but I could feel my heart thudding faster with every word. The crowd was clapping along, some of them singing the lyrics back to me, but all I could think about was him. I knew he was still behind me, standing tall, his presence so strong I could almost feel it on my skin.

As I sang, my breath caught just a little when I felt him shift closer, the slightest brush of his arm near my shoulder. It was nothing, really, just a subtle movement, but it sent a rush of heat up the back of my neck, making my pulse race. My voice wavered for just a second, and I bit my lip, hoping no one noticed how distracted I was.

But I knew he did. I could feel his gaze on me, even though I couldn’t see him.

I played a few more songs, each one building on the last, the energy in the room rising with every note. The crowd was alive now, swaying, clapping, and singing along. I felt a rush of adrenaline pumping through me, the nerves from earlier completely gone, replaced by this wild confidence I hadn’t felt in a long time. The music was in my veins, lifting me up, and for the first time all night, I felt completely at ease on stage.

But even with the thrill of the crowd, my thoughts kept drifting back to him. I could feel his presence in the room, like a constant hum just below the surface, and every time I caught a glimpse of his curls or that easy grin from across the bar, my pulse quickened.

As the final chord of my last song rang out, I stepped away from the mic, feeling a surge of applause wash over me. I grinned, tipping my hat to the crowd, but my eyes were searching for him. And then, there he was, standing near the bar, his gaze locked on mine. The cheers of the crowd faded into the background, everything else becoming a blur as I zeroed in on him.

Before I could even believe it, my feet started moving. It was like my body had a mind of its own, dragging me toward him before my brain could even catch up. Each step felt like I was crossing some invisible line, the adrenaline still coursing through me, making me feel bold, invincible.

I wasn’t thinking about anything else but the way his eyes held mine, steady and sure, as I made my way across the room. It was like gravity was pulling me toward him, and I wasn’t about to fight it. Before I knew it, I was standing right in front of him, close enough to catch the faint scent of cologne and the hint of whiskey on his breath.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel the heat rising to my face again, but I wasn’t about to turn back. Not now. He gave me that same lazy grin, tipping his hat just slightly as his eyes twinkled with amusement, like he knew exactly what I was feeling.

I opened my mouth to say something — anything — but the words got stuck somewhere between my head and my heart. All I knew was that I wasn’t leaving this bar without knowing who the hell this guy was.

He looked down at me, that lazy grin spreading wider as he tipped his hat back just a bit, giving me a full view of those mischievous eyes. “Well, if I knew your singing was that good, I would’ve pretended to break my heart a long time ago,” he said, his voice low and teasing, with just a hint of an accent that wasn’t from around here.

I blinked, caught completely off guard, and then burst into a laugh I hadn’t expected. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that to get a song out of me,” I shot back, still feeling the heat in my cheeks but trying to keep my cool.

He chuckled, leaning in just a little, close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off him. “Lucky for you, I’m not lookin’ to break any hearts tonight — just thought I’d make an impression.”

My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met again, and before I could help it, I smiled. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job of that,” I muttered, trying not to trip over my own words.

He straightened up, giving me a playful wink. “Well, I aim to please, darlin’.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling bolder than I had all night, and shot him a smirk. “You look like you love me,” I teased, the words slipping out with more confidence than I thought I had. The line from that song was on the tip of my tongue, and it felt just right for the moment.

His grin widened, and for a split second, he looked like I’d caught him off guard. But then he leaned in just a little, his voice low and smooth. “Well, maybe I do,” he said, the teasing tone still there but with just enough seriousness to make my heart skip.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I met his gaze, my smirk fading into something softer. “Careful,” I replied, my voice quieter now, “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

He chuckled, that lazy grin still in place. “Maybe I like the sound of that.”

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes at him with a playful smirk. “I saw you lookin’ me up and down from across the room,” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “You weren’t exactly being subtle.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he leaned a little closer, clearly enjoying the banter. “Subtle’s never been my strong suit,” he shot back, his voice low and smooth. “But hey, can you blame me? You were up there making it pretty hard not to look.”

I bit my lip, fighting back a laugh as I shook my head. “You got a lot of nerve saying that out loud, you know.”

He shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. “Just calling it like I see it. You’re the one who beckoned me up here, remember?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep my composure, but I could feel the heat in my cheeks again. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m not subtle either.”

He tilted his head, giving me that same cocky grin. “No complaints here, darlin’.”

I laughed, shaking my head at his audacity. “Alright, mystery man, you’ve been charming me for the last few minutes, but you haven’t even told me your name yet.”

He leaned back slightly, tipping his hat with a playful glint in his eyes. “Name’s Daniel,” he said, his accent wrapping around the words just right. “And you, miss, have definitely made this night a lot more interesting.”

“Well, Daniel,” I replied, giving him a once-over just like he had done to me earlier, “I think the feeling’s mutual.”

I raised an eyebrow, still grinning as I asked, “So, where’s that accent of yours from? I know it ain’t local.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before answering, “Perth. Australia.”

I blinked, genuinely surprised. “Australia, huh? Never been there before.” I paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “Heard it’s nice, though. Beaches and all that.”

Daniel nodded, his grin widening a bit. “Yeah, we’ve got the beaches. But it’s more than just that. You should visit sometime, I’d make a pretty good tour guide.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, I bet you would,” I said, trying to imagine what it would be like to visit a place so far from Texas. “Sounds like a whole world away from here.”

“It is,” he admitted, his eyes locking on mine again. “But I reckon you’d fit in just fine.”

I tilted my head, feeling a smirk pull at the corner of my lips. “Oh, you think so? I’m not exactly the ‘surf and sand’ kind of girl. I’m more boots and dirt roads.”

Daniel chuckled, his gaze still holding mine, like he was seeing straight through the sass and into something deeper. “I dunno, I think you could rock the Aussie lifestyle. Maybe even swap those boots for some thongs,” he teased, leaning in just enough to close the space between us a little more.

I blinked, the word catching me off guard, and then burst into laughter. “What the fuck are thongs?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You Aussies have some weird ideas about footwear.”

Daniel paused for a second, then laughed, realizing his mistake. “Oh, right... over here, thongs are something else entirely,” he said, his grin turning a little mischievous. “In Australia, they’re just flip-flops. But I like where your mind went.”

I felt my face flush, a mix of the whiskey and the sudden innuendo hitting me all at once. “Well, maybe you should clarify next time,” I shot back, trying to sound confident despite the warmth creeping up my neck. “I was starting to think you had some very bold ideas for this first conversation.”

He smirked, leaning in just a little closer. “Trust me, if I wanted to make a bold suggestion, I wouldn’t be talking about footwear.” His voice dropped low, teasing, as he let the words hang between us.

My heart skipped a beat, and I fought the urge to stammer. “Well, good to know,” I managed to reply, my voice quieter now, my gaze locked on his. “But for the record, boots are staying. Thongs or no thongs.”

He chuckled, the laughter low and warm, and I could feel the space between us shrink even more. “Noted,” he said, his eyes twinkling with that same playful spark. “But if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here to help you pick the right pair.”

I smirked, shaking my head, but before I could respond, he tilted his head, still grinning like he had a whole world of charm left to unleash.

“Well, if I can make it out here to a bar in Texas, maybe one day you could try Australia. I’d personally make sure it’s worth your while.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused by his confidence. “Big promises, Daniel from Perth. You must think pretty highly of your tour guide skills.”

He shrugged, a playful glint still in his eyes. “Just sayin’, you might find there’s more to life than boots and honky-tonks. Besides,” he added, his voice lowering slightly, “I’d make sure you’d never forget it.”

My heart skipped a beat, his words sending a rush of warmth through me. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck again, but I wasn’t about to back down. “Careful now,” I replied, my voice soft but steady, “I’m not so easily impressed.”

Daniel grinned, tipping his hat slightly as he leaned back. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to work a little harder then, won’t I?”

I grinned at him, crossing my arms as I leaned against the bar. “You’ve got a lot of confidence, Daniel from Perth. But I’ve been around enough smooth talkers to know when someone’s bluffing.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to keep the playful tension in the air. “Bluffing? I don’t bluff. Just telling it like it is.” He motioned to the bartender. “Let me prove it to you. First round’s on me.”

I laughed, shaking my head but not protesting as the bartender slid two drinks our way. “Fine, I’ll bite,” I said, taking the glass. “But I’ll have you know, Texans can hold their liquor, and I’m not easy to out-drink.”

Daniel’s grin only widened. “Oh, I’ve got my work cut out for me, then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

We clinked our glasses together, and before I knew it, the drinks were flowing just as easily as the conversation. Time seemed to blur, the crowd around us fading into the background as we swapped stories and traded teasing remarks. My guitar, once my only focus of the night, now sat forgotten against a pole near the bar, its case propped up and covered with old stickers and layers of chipped paint from the years of wear. But I didn’t care.

“Okay, I have to ask,” I said, my words slightly slurred from the whiskey but still full of curiosity. “How does a guy from Australia end up here, of all places? Texas isn’t exactly next door.”

He took a long sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine. “Racing,” he replied simply, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “I travel a lot for it. Came for the Austin Grand Prix. Thought I’d stop by a local bar, get a feel for the place. Lucky me, huh?”

I felt the warmth from the drinks spreading through me, loosening me up even more. “Racing, huh? So, what, you’re like a big-time driver?” I teased, nudging him with my elbow.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Something like that. But tonight, I’m just a guy trying to keep up with a Texas girl who’s got a pretty good whiskey tolerance.”

I grinned, feeling the heat in my cheeks and not just from the alcohol. “Well, you’re doing alright so far. But don’t think a few drinks and a smile are gonna get you off the hook that easy.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Daniel said, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes held mine for a moment longer than I expected, and I could feel my heart race a little faster.

We laughed together, leaning in closer, drinks in hand, the weight of the night slipping away. The bar around us blurred into the background, as if it didn’t matter anymore — just the two of us, the warmth of his touch, the easy rhythm of our conversation, as natural as the music I’d been playing hours ago. Our hands brushed more often, his arm finding its way around my shoulder, his fingers trailing down my back in moments that felt casual but were charged with something more.

Before I knew it, we were touching more than talking — my hand resting on his arm, his thumb grazing the small of my back. The buzz of the alcohol had me feeling light, and every time his fingertips lingered a little longer, a blush crept up my neck. I could feel the heat of his breath as he leaned closer to whisper something that had us both giggling again.

The next thing I knew, we were stumbling out of the bar, calling an Uber, the cool night air doing nothing to shake the warmth between us. The ride was a blur of drunken laughter, our legs pressing against each other as his arm wrapped snugly around my waist. The city lights flew by in a haze, but all I could focus on was the way his touch made my heart race. His grip on me tightened, pulling me closer, and I was too drunk and too tipsy to even pretend not to blush.

Then, suddenly, we were back at his hotel room. The door clicked shut behind us, and we both broke into a fit of giggles, stumbling inside like we were sneaking in after curfew. His arm never left my waist, and I couldn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach as he pulled me against him, the warmth of his body sending a shiver down my spine.

“Shhh,” I whispered between giggles, trying to stifle the sound, but it was impossible when he looked at me with that boyish grin, like he was having the time of his life.

“Quiet was never my strong suit,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke, sending another wave of heat through me. I blushed even harder, barely able to keep my composure as he pressed his forehead against mine, his hand resting on my hip like he never wanted to let go.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, every inch of me aware of his body so close, his touch gentle but firm, like he was holding back just enough. His breath was warm against my skin, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my side, and the more he touched me, the more I felt my resolve slipping.

I let out a soft, nervous laugh, trying to shake off the tension building between us, but it only made him grin wider. “You’re really bad at this whole ‘quiet’ thing,” I teased, my voice barely above a whisper as my hand slid up to rest against his chest. I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my palm, and the closeness of it all made my own pulse race.

He chuckled softly, his hand tightening just slightly on my hip. “Yeah, well, it’s hard to stay quiet when I’m this close to you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of something deeper than just the alcohol. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, everything else fell away. It was just us, standing there, barely holding it together in the haze of the night.

Before I could think about it, I found myself leaning in, my breath catching as his lips brushed against mine, soft and teasing. It wasn’t a full kiss — just the faintest touch — but it sent a jolt through me that made my knees weak. I blushed again, harder this time, but I didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

Instead, he smiled against my lips, his hand sliding up from my hip to gently cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheek. “You’re blushing again,” he whispered, and I could hear the teasing note in his voice.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, but there was no hiding the heat in my cheeks or the way I was leaning into him, my body betraying how much I wanted to be close.

We started kissing, and the night blurred together, in a mess of liquor, sticky kisses, and well what do you know, my guitar lay upright against a chair, watching the entire thing.

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

I didn’t know where the fuck I was.

I blinked, staring up at a ceiling that definitely wasn’t mine, with sheets that smelled way too expensive for my budget. My head was pounding like I’d been hit by a freight train, and as I tried to roll over, something — no, someone — stopped me.

That’s when I felt it.

An arm. A very muscular arm. Draped over me like we were starring in a rom-com, except I definitely didn’t remember signing up for this role.

I squinted around the room, trying to piece together the disaster that was my life. My shirt was flung haphazardly across a chair, my boots were tipped over near the door, and... was that his cowboy hat sitting on the dresser? Oh god.

Oh god, no.

And then it all came rushing back — the whiskey, the dancing, the flirting, the thongs conversation. And then, as if on cue, the faint sound of an alarm started buzzing on his phone, because apparently this guy sets alarms like a responsible adult after a night of drunken debauchery.

“Well, shit,” I muttered under my breath.

I lay there, trying to pretend I was still asleep, or dead, or invisible—any of which would be preferable to dealing with the fact that I had absolutely no idea what to do next. Daniel’s arm was still heavy around my waist, his slow, steady breathing telling me he hadn’t woken up yet.

Okay, Y/N, just stay calm. Maybe he won’t even remember… Or maybe you can just ninja your way out of this without waking him up.

I carefully, carefully shifted my leg, inching toward freedom, but the moment I tried to move, Daniel stirred. His arm tightened around me slightly, and I froze, heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to break free and escape the situation without me.

Please don’t wake up. Please just keep dreaming about kangaroos or whatever it is Australians dream about...

But then I felt him shift again. This time, he let out a low, sleepy groan. Oh god. He was waking up. I could feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my neck, and my entire body went stiff, like maybe if I played dead, he’d just go back to sleep.

But nope.

I heard him take a deep breath, and then his groggy voice cut through the awkward silence. “Morning, darlin’.”

Shit.

His voice was raspy, deep, and far too casual for someone who had a front-row seat to my current state of oh-my-god-what-have-I-done. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the ground to just swallow me whole, but apparently, the universe didn’t grant those kinds of wishes.

I cleared my throat, still trying to stay as still as possible, like maybe if I didn’t move or respond, this entire moment would cease to exist. “Uh… morning,” I finally muttered, my voice betraying me with a nervous crack.

I could feel him shift behind me, and then — to my absolute horror — he pulled me in closer, his arm still firmly wrapped around my waist. Great. Now I’m spooning a guy I barely know, and I don’t even have a shirt on. What a stellar life choice, Y/N.

“So… how’re you feelin’?” he asked, his voice low and way too smooth for a guy who probably didn’t have a hangover.

How am I feeling? Like I’ve just woken up in a rom-com, except the comedy is my life falling apart, I thought, but instead, I just blurted, “Fine. Totally fine.”

My face was heating up again. I was like a human tomato at this point. I could feel him smiling behind me, like he was enjoying the fact that I was internally combusting.

“You don’t sound fine,” he teased, his voice dipping into that playful tone that I was beginning to realize was very dangerous for me.

I finally turned my head just enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. He had that messy bedhead look going on — the kind that shouldn’t be attractive but somehow was, and that damn lazy grin hadn’t left his face.

“Listen,” I said, trying to inject some semblance of control into my voice, “we’re just gonna pretend like none of this happened, okay?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, sending a shiver down my spine. “You mean the part where you dragged me back to my room, or the part where you kept giggling every time I tried to be quiet?”

My eyes widened. “I did not drag you back here!”

“Yeah, I think the Uber driver might disagree with that,” he replied, his grin widening.

I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head. “I cannot believe this is happening.”

“You and me both, darlin’,” he said, chuckling again as he gave my waist a playful squeeze. “But I gotta say, I’m not exactly complaining’.”

I let out a nervous laugh from under the blanket, but inside, I was mortified. I wasn’t the type to have one-night stands—like, ever. The last time I had one was three years ago, before Johnny and I started dating. And even then, I’d sworn it off because of how awkward and weird the whole thing felt afterward.

And the last time I’d had sex? Six months ago. Six. I wasn’t even sure how I managed last night, let alone with someone as confident and charming as Daniel. I didn’t do this. I wasn’t that girl who woke up in a stranger’s bed with her shirt somewhere across the room and no memory of how she got there.

I peeked out from under the blanket, feeling my face burning hotter by the second. “I just… I don’t do this. Like, ever.”

Daniel propped himself up on one elbow, still grinning like this was the most entertaining morning he’d had in a while. “Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed like a pro last night.”

My eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god, don’t say that,” I groaned, burying my face back into the pillow. “This is so embarrassing.”

He laughed, his voice softening just a little. “Hey, no need to be embarrassed. We were both tipsy, had a good time, and now we’re just... waking up. Happens to the best of us.”

I peeked out from the pillow again, trying to gauge if he was just messing with me or being sincere. But the easygoing look on his face hadn’t changed. He didn’t seem fazed at all, while I was over here spiraling.

I let out a slow breath, trying to calm the chaotic thoughts running through my head. Okay, maybe I could play it cool too—pretend like I wasn’t freaking out. But as I shifted under the blanket, trying to figure out how to extract myself from this mess, I felt a sudden, horrifying realization.

No bra.

I stiffened, my eyes darting around the room, desperately trying to remember where the hell it went. My shirt was across the room, but no sign of the bra. Oh god.

I glanced at Daniel, who was watching me with that amused grin still plastered on his face. He noticed the moment I realized it—of course he did. His grin widened, and before I could even attempt to form a coherent excuse, he raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, “Looking for something, darlin’? Because I’m not sure it’s gonna walk back over here on its own.”

My face turned beet red. “I—uh—this is just…” I stammered, covering myself with the blanket more securely, like that would magically undo everything.

He let out a chuckle, clearly enjoying every second of my mortification. “Don’t worry, your shirt’s over there, and I think your bra… well, it might’ve decided to take an extended vacation,” he teased, pointing toward the floor, where it lay crumpled in the corner like some sort of defeated symbol of my night.

I buried my face in my hands, laughing despite myself. “This is so not how I thought my night would end,” I mumbled through my fingers.

Daniel leaned in, still grinning like the cat who got the cream. “If it helps, I think you handled yourself pretty damn well for someone who doesn’t ‘do this,’” he teased, his voice full of playful charm.

I groaned, unable to stop the embarrassed laughter bubbling out of me. “Oh my god, stop,” I muttered, half laughing, half dying inside. But there was something about his laid-back attitude, the way he wasn’t making this feel weird or awkward, that made me feel just a little better.

At least one of us was good at handling this kind of thing.

I couldn’t stop laughing now, even though every cell in my body wanted to melt into the mattress and disappear. But Daniel wasn’t letting up, his teasing coming in waves.

“You know,” he said with a grin, “I’ve heard of people losing their dignity after a night like this, but you managed to misplace your bra too. That’s impressive.”

I rolled my eyes, still hiding my face in my hands. “Oh, ha ha, very funny. Maybe I’ll just stay under this blanket forever.”

He chuckled again, sitting up slightly and stretching, looking way too comfortable considering the situation. “Can’t say I blame you. This bed is pretty damn nice. But I’m starting to think you’re just stalling because you don’t want to leave me.”

I shot him a glare, trying to smother the blush on my cheeks. “I’m not stalling. I’m just… regrouping.”

“Right,” he nodded sagely. “Regrouping. Take all the time you need, darlin’. I’ll just be over here, admiring your tactical approach to gathering your scattered clothing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, finally throwing the blanket off and clumsily scrambling out of bed. My hair was a mess, and I was pretty sure I looked like I’d just survived a tornado, but I was determined to reclaim some shred of dignity. As I stumbled over to where my shirt lay crumpled across the chair, Daniel’s voice piped up again.

“Wow,” he said, a little quieter this time, and I turned to see him watching me with an entirely different look—more serious, though still with that glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I gotta say, you’re even more beautiful in the morning.”

I paused, my hand halfway to my shirt, and felt my heart do a little flip. “Really?” I asked, trying not to sound too flustered as I glanced at him.

He nodded, that easy smile still on his face but softer now. “Yeah. Really.”

I stared at him for a second, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks again but in a different way this time. There was something about the way he said it, so casual and genuine, that made me stop caring so much about the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Well,” I said, finally grabbing my shirt and pulling it over my head, “you’re not too bad yourself… for someone who’s spent the night making terrible jokes at my expense.”

Daniel laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I can’t help it. You make it way too easy.”

I shook my head, still smiling, as I gathered the rest of my things. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking. I’ll be sure to remember all of this next time I decide to ‘misplace’ my bra.”

Daniel grinned, watching as I gathered up the last of my things, still laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Well, if you ever need help finding it again,” he said smoothly, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at me with that lazy smile, “you might wanna give me a way to contact you.”

I paused, looking over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you think you’re slick, huh?”

He shrugged, giving me an innocent look that was anything but. “Just thinking ahead. In case you lose any more important items in the future… like your phone, your hat—hell, your sense of direction, since you clearly needed help last night.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “You really think I’m gonna fall for that?”

He tilted his head, flashing a charming grin. “Darlin’, you already fell for it.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, but there was no denying the grin on my face as I grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “Fine, I’ll put my number in your phone. But if I get any messages about lost bras, I’m blocking you,” I teased, typing my number into his contacts and tossing the phone back to him.

He caught it effortlessly, grinning as he glanced down at the screen. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, winking. “Unless you’re the one sending me a distress call next time.”

I shook my head, smirking as I turned toward the door. “You wish.”

“Already do,” he called out behind me, his voice playful and teasing, but with just enough sincerity to make my heart skip a beat as I left the room.

As soon as I stepped out of the room and into the hallway, I let out a long breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Relief washed over me, but so did the heat rising up my neck and into my cheeks. Holy hell, I actually survived that.

I stood there for a moment, my heart still racing from the whirlwind of the morning. Daniel’s playful smirk, his damn smooth lines—it was all still buzzing in my head, and the fact that I’d somehow managed to walk away with my dignity (mostly) intact felt like a miracle.

But then I caught sight of myself in the mirror at the end of the hallway. Oh no.

I was a mess. My hair looked like it had been through a windstorm, and my shirt from last night was wrinkled beyond repair. The smudged mascara under my eyes was giving me a whole new level of “walk of shame,” and I couldn’t help but cringe at my reflection.

This is what I left the room looking like? Oh, great.

I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, trying to smooth out the wild tangles and make myself look at least halfway decent. I tugged at the hem of my shirt, trying to straighten it out, but no matter what I did, it still screamed “last night’s mistakes.” I wiped away the smudged mascara with the edge of my sleeve, doing my best to clean up the damage.

My cheeks were still flushed from the sheer embarrassment of it all, and no amount of quick fixes was going to change the fact that I had just walked out of a guy’s hotel room looking like a hot mess. I bit my lip, shaking my head at myself in the mirror, my heart still pounding in my chest.

“Well, this is a look,” I muttered to myself, giving my reflection one last, exasperated glance before squaring my shoulders and heading for the elevator. Just get out of here, Y/N. Fast.

I smoothed my hair down one last time, took a deep breath, and headed toward the elevator, praying no one else in the hallway had witnessed my tragic attempt at post-hookup self-repair. The faster I got out of this hotel, the better. I was already pressing the elevator button repeatedly like I could summon it faster through sheer desperation.

Come on, come on…

Finally, the doors slid open, and I practically leaped inside. But the universe had other plans for me, because standing right there, already in the elevator, were Carrie and Johnny.

My heart stopped. I almost crapped my panties.

Carrie, my ex-best friend. Johnny, my ex-boyfriend. Of course they were here. Of all the elevators in this damn hotel. My stomach dropped as the realization hit me like a freight train, and suddenly I was right back in the middle of the heartbreak they’d both caused, except this time I looked like I’d just rolled out of a frat party.

I stared at them, my mind racing, wondering if I could somehow reverse time and avoid stepping into this death trap. But it was too late. I was standing there, and they were looking at me. Johnny’s eyes flicked up and down, taking in my rumpled clothes and messy hair. Carrie’s smile faltered, and her eyes widened, like she was realizing exactly what kind of morning I was having.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“Y/N?” Carrie’s voice was soft but laced with that familiar fake concern. “Wow, it’s been a while.”

Johnny just stood there, staring, that stupid, unreadable look on his face. He didn’t say anything, but the awkward silence hung in the air like a thick cloud.

I forced a tight smile, trying not to visibly cringe. “Yeah, well... things have been... busy.”

The elevator doors closed with a quiet thud, sealing me in with them. It was, without a doubt, the longest elevator ride of my life. I could feel Johnny’s eyes on me, that same calculating gaze that used to make me second-guess everything I said. And Carrie? She had that look on her face—the one that said she was definitely going to gossip about this later.

I stared straight ahead, willing the elevator to move faster, trying to breathe through the tension. Every second felt like an eternity, the silence only broken by the soft hum of the elevator as it slowly, agonizingly descended.

My mind raced. Of all the mornings to run into them, this had to be the one where I was dressed in last night’s wrinkled shirt, and my hair looked like it had gone to war with a curling iron. The fact that I’d just come from Daniel’s hotel room made it worse. Much worse.

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck again, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment over Daniel. It was from pure mortification.

Finally—finally—the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to the lobby. I didn’t waste a second. “Well, this has been… fun,” I said, voice tight, and bolted out of the elevator like my life depended on it.

Behind me, I could feel their eyes still on me, and I could practically hear Carrie’s voice in my head already: Did you see Y/N this morning?

Kill me now.

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby, the reality of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart dropping into my stomach. Oh no. No, no, no.

This wasn’t just any hotel.

This was Carrie’s hotel. Her family’s pride and joy. The one I had spent countless summer nights in when we were best friends, long before everything fell apart. Out of all the hotels in Austin, Daniel had to be staying at the one owned by Carrie’s family.

I groaned internally, my mind reeling. Of course, this was how my morning would go. The universe just loved to test me, apparently. I could already imagine Carrie’s smug little face, probably telling her family all about how I’d been seen leaving some guy’s room at her family’s hotel, looking like a mess. And Johnny—ugh, Johnny—had been right there to see it all, too. The two of them were probably plotting how to make this even more humiliating for me.

I felt my cheeks burn again, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was from sheer frustration. Out of all the places Daniel could have stayed, this had to be the one. What were the odds?

I shook my head, trying to compose myself, but the realization only made me want to crawl under a rock even more. Not only did I have the most awkward elevator ride in history with my cheating ex and ex-best friend, but now I was in their territory. This was their turf, and I just walked straight into it with no idea.

This day just keeps getting better and better, I thought bitterly, glancing around to make sure neither of them had followed me out of the elevator.

I glanced back at the lobby, memories flooding back from when Carrie and I used to run around this very place, pretending we were in some grand adventure. Funny how things had changed. So much for avoiding drama.

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yourusername

liked by user1, user2, and 10,289 others

yourusername: t-3 days until my sophomore album "The Cowgirls, Guns, & Horses" comes out, can't wait for everyone to hear it #tcgh

user1: i'm wayyy too excited for #tcgh i just know ts is too good

user2: everyone say amen for y/n for dropping out of uni to bless us with amazing music

user3: yeah it's literally crazy too , like she was going to be an engineer and literally quit her last year...😦😦

user2: it's lowkey sad but AT LEAST WE HAVE MUSICCC YASSS

user4: guys...did we see her on twt last night w a certain someone....

user5: wait no??!?! hello please fill me in on the tea 📖

user4: basically some op saw her in a bar with a shit ton our tourists, turns out one of them was non other than F1 DRIVER DANIEL RICCIARDO

user5: THERES NO WAY???

user6: wait who's that... i'm so out of the loop for pop culture guys... 😭😭🙏🏽

user7: he's this super famous formula one driver (drives fast cars in weird shaped circles) from australia and he LOVES the country

user8: yeah... he wears a cowboy hat so much its kind of goofy

user9: yeah and allegedly, SOMEONE SAW THEM GO SOMEWHERE IN A CAR TOGETHER 😃💃🏻

user10: DAMNNNN @/yourusername.... was the d fire 🔥🚒🧯

user11: @/user10 LMFAO GTFOOO

user12: wait so i know this album is gonna be lowkey sad but like what if she pops up w some suprise songs about daniel's cowboy...

user13: i'm DEAD what if she actually reads the comments

user12: i would simply pass tf away!!

danielricciardo

liked by user1, user2, and 109,110 others

danielricciardo: Save a horse, ride a cowboy #austingp

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I slid into the backseat of my Uber, letting out a long, frustrated sigh as I slumped against the door. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, but I waved off any small talk with a quick, “Rough morning.”

As we pulled away from the hotel, I scoffed, shaking my head at myself. Did I seriously just spend money to Uber to and from a booty call? The thought made me cringe. Out of all the impulsive decisions I’d made in my life, this one was quickly climbing the ranks. I mean, come on—Ubering to a random hotel was bad enough, but having to ride back in shame after? That was a whole new level of poor life choices.

By the time the Uber pulled up to my house, I was already mentally preparing to face the walk of shame into my own home. I quietly slipped inside, trying to be as stealthy as possible, when suddenly—

“Boo!”

I jumped a mile high, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest as my younger sister, Maddie, popped out of nowhere, grinning like a cat who caught a canary.

“Jesus, Maddie!” I whisper-yelled, clutching my chest. “What is wrong with you?”

Maddie raised an eyebrow, eyes immediately trailing up and down my disheveled outfit. “Uh, is that the same thing you wore yesterday?” she asked, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk. “Did you... seriously just come back from—”

I slapped my hand over her mouth before she could finish the sentence, my eyes wide. “Shh! Keep it down!” I hissed. “We are not having this conversation out here.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously, but she nodded under my hand, so I let her go. I grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the hall, sneaking into my room like we were plotting a heist. Once inside, I shut the door behind us and turned to face her, arms crossed.

Maddie sat on the edge of my bed, looking way too pleased with herself. “Spill,” she said, not even bothering with a polite lead-in.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Fine. But you cannot tell anyone.”

She mimed zipping her lips and leaned in, ready for the juicy details.

“So…” I began, pacing the room. “Last night was a complete disaster. I ended up—well, you know—at some guy’s hotel room.”

Maddie’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You? Miss ‘I Don’t Do Hookups’?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I muttered, flopping down beside her on the bed. “I don’t even know how it happened. We were drinking, flirting… one thing led to another, and next thing I know, I wake up in his bed.”

Maddie let out a low whistle. “Damn. And?”

“And…” I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair. “It gets worse. Guess who I ran into on the elevator this morning?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh no, who?”

“Carrie. And Johnny,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

Maddie’s mouth dropped open in shock. “No way. You ran into both of them? At the hotel?”

I nodded miserably. “Yup. Turns out the hotel I was in? Carrie’s family’s hotel. Of course.”

She gasped dramatically, covering her mouth. “Oh my god, Y/N, that’s… that’s awful but kind of hilarious.”

I shot her a glare, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “Yeah, hilarious for you maybe. For me? Literal nightmare.”

Maddie giggled, clearly enjoying the chaos of my morning. “So, did they say anything?”

“Not really. Just awkward stares and Carrie’s fake concern. The whole thing was a disaster. I swear, I am never doing this again,” I said, shaking my head.

She grinned, nudging me with her elbow. “Never say never. But hey, at least you’ve got a hell of a story now.”

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “Trust me, I could’ve done without this particular story.”

I stared at the ceiling, still trying to process the absolute train wreck of a morning I’d just experienced, when Maddie’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“So, who’s this mystery guy you hooked up with?” she asked, nudging me again with a smirk.

I bit my lip, hesitating. Should I even say it? It felt surreal—like it wasn’t even real life—but what the hell, I was already in deep. “You’re not gonna believe this,” I muttered, sitting up and bracing myself. “His name’s Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Maddie’s jaw dropped so fast I thought it might hit the floor. “WHAT?!” she practically screamed, her eyes going wide with excitement. “THE Daniel Ricciardo? You slept with Daniel Ricciardo? As in F1 driver Daniel Ricciardo?”

I blinked, confused at her over-the-top reaction. “Uh, yeah? I mean, he said he’s a driver or something, but... I don’t really follow racing, so I didn’t think much of it.”

Maddie grabbed my shoulders, shaking me like I was the one losing my mind. “Y/N, are you serious? How did you not know who that was? He’s super famous! Like, ridiculously famous!”

I blinked, completely taken aback. “Wait, what? Famous famous?”

Maddie rolled her eyes, like I was the most clueless person on the planet. “Yes, famous famous! He’s one of the most popular Formula 1 drivers in the world! You know, the sport where they race the fastest cars? And, uh, hello, the Austin Grand Prix is in like five days! How do you not know this?”

My mouth dropped open as I tried to wrap my brain around what she was saying. “The Austin Grand Prix? You mean that thing that brings in all those tourists every year?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Maddie threw her hands up in the air, looking like she couldn’t believe my ignorance. “F1 is huge, Y/N. There are races all over the world, and Daniel Ricciardo is, like, one of the biggest personalities in the sport. People love him. He’s been racing for years, and he’s known for being super charismatic and... oh my god, you really didn’t know?”

I shook my head, completely floored. “I mean, he did say something about racing, but I didn’t realize it was that kind of racing. I just thought he meant, like, NASCAR or something.”

Maddie smacked her forehead. “Oh my god, you’re killing me. F1 is way bigger than NASCAR! It’s like the most elite motorsport in the world. And Daniel’s been racing for some of the top teams. How did you not realize you were with an actual celebrity?”

I stared at her, my mind reeling. “So, you’re telling me I just… slept with a world-famous driver and didn’t even realize it?”

Maddie nodded emphatically, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Yup! And honestly, I’m a little jealous. I mean, Daniel Ricciardo, Y/N! He’s a big deal! Girls all over the world would kill to be in your position.”

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed, my hands covering my face. “Oh my god, I cannot believe this. I slept with a celebrity, and I didn’t even know it. What is my life?”

Maddie giggled, clearly having way too much fun with this. She flopped down next to me on the bed, her grin as wide as Texas. “Girl, don’t even stress. You’re a celebrity now too! You and Daniel Ricciardo? That’s some next-level, power couple stuff right there.”

I groaned louder, pressing my palms against my face. “Maddie, stop. I’m not a celebrity. I’m a girl who just had a really, really embarrassing one-night stand.”

She nudged me with her elbow, smirking. “Nah, you’re thinkin’ too small, sis. Just picture it! You’re up on stage with your guitar, singin’ your heart out, and Daniel’s out there in the crowd, front and center, lookin’ all fine and proud of his lil’ cowgirl.”

I rolled over onto my side, staring at her in disbelief. “Maddie, please. You’re daydreamin’ way too hard right now.”

But she wasn’t even listening, lost in her own fantasy. “Y’all could be, like, the ultimate couple. Country singer and an F1 driver? Hell, people would eat that up! He’d be all, ‘This here’s my gal, Y/N,’ and you’d be sittin’ there in the paddock, rockin’ those fancy hats like a boss. Shoot, you two would be in all the magazines!”

I shot her a look. “Maddie, we’re not even dating. It was one night, and I barely knew who he was until five minutes ago.”

She waved her hand, brushing off my concerns like dust off a pair of boots. “Psh, technicalities. I’m just sayin’, y’all could make waves. You’d be the talk of Texas and everywhere else too. Like a regular old-fashioned Bonnie and Clyde, but with less crime and more racin’.”

I laughed despite myself. “Yeah, sure. A cowgirl and a race car driver. That’ll be the day.”

Maddie wiggled her eyebrows. “Hey, you never know! Y’all could be splittin’ your time between the racetrack and the rodeo. And if anyone can pull off being a celebrity couple, it’s my big sis.”

I sat up, shaking my head but unable to keep the smile off my face. “You’re ridiculous.”

She grinned wide, leaning back on her elbows. “I know, but tell me I’m wrong.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to push away the ridiculous idea. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Maddie’s wild daydreams weren’t entirely out of reach.

Just as Maddie was about to launch into another wild daydream about me and Daniel conquering the world, there was a sharp knock on my door.

“Y/N? Maddie? What are y’all doin’ in there?” my mom’s voice called out from the hallway.

My eyes widened in horror. “Oh, crap,” I whispered, looking down at my crumpled shirt and yesterday’s jeans. No way could Mom see me like this. Not after last night.

Maddie, ever the quick thinker, jumped up, eyes wide. “You gotta change! Quick, or she’ll know!”

I scrambled off the bed, frantically grabbing the first pair of sweatpants I could find and yanking off my wrinkled jeans. “Uh, we’re just—hold on, Mom! Give us a sec!” I yelled back, pulling on the sweats and trying to find a shirt that didn’t scream ‘walk of shame.’

Mom knocked again, louder this time, sounding more impatient. “What’s takin’ so long? Y’all up to no good in there?”

Maddie shot me a panicked look, then, in true Maddie fashion, she came up with the most absurd lie possible. “Mom, we’re—uh—just checking if Y/N has a wart down there!”

My head snapped up so fast I nearly fell over. “WHAT?”

Maddie’s eyes were wide with mischief as she mouthed, Just go with it!

Mom was silent for a second, and then I heard a heavy sigh. “A wart? Y’all expect me to believe that?”

Maddie waved her arms around frantically, trying to sell the lie. “Yeah! You know, like, one of those really weird ones! We didn’t wanna make a fuss about it, so we’re handling it ourselves.”

I threw on a hoodie, pulling it over my head as fast as I could, all while glaring at Maddie. “Are you kidding me?” I whispered through gritted teeth, but she just gave me a thumbs-up.

Mom’s patience was clearly wearing thin. “Well, can’t this wait until later? I need y’all downstairs now.”

Maddie’s eyes darted around, looking for an escape. “Uh, well, it’s kind of urgent, Mom! You don’t just leave a wart alone, right? It could get... worse! Way worse!”

I buried my face in my hands, trying not to burst out laughing at how ridiculous this had become. But Maddie wasn’t letting up, and my mom, bless her, was clearly not buying it.

“Alright, enough. I don’t care if there’s a whole forest of warts down there! Get your butts downstairs in two minutes or I’m coming in!” Mom’s voice was firm now, and I could hear her foot tapping impatiently outside the door.

Maddie shot me a guilty look as I finally finished pulling myself together. “Okay, okay, we’re coming!” I yelled back, exasperated but unable to stop giggling at how absurd this situation had become.

As soon as we heard Mom walk away from the door, I turned to Maddie, shaking my head. “A wart? Really? That’s your best lie?”

Maddie grinned, completely unbothered. “Hey, I had to think fast! Besides, you know Mom was gonna barge in here if we didn’t come up with something good.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “I swear, if I ever have to explain to her that I don’t have warts, you’re taking the blame.”

“Deal,” Maddie said with a grin, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the door. “Now let’s go before she drags us down there herself.”

Maddie and I hurried downstairs, trying our best to look normal — like we hadn’t just staged a ridiculous wart-related lie to keep Mom from barging into my room. As soon as we hit the bottom step, Mom was standing there with her arms crossed, eyeing us with that mom look that said she knew something was up but was choosing to let it slide for now.

She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Y’all got those warts handled? Need me to call a doctor or somethin’?”

I groaned, rolling my eyes as Maddie snickered beside me. “We’re fine, Mom,” I muttered, trying not to blush all over again. “No doctor necessary.”

Mom chuckled and shook her head. “Alright, then. I need you two to run to the mart for me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a grocery list, handing it over. “Just a few things I need for tonight. Don’t dilly-dally.”

I took the list and scanned it, my mind still racing from the chaos of the morning. Eggs, milk, sugar—normal stuff. But then I spotted cilantro circled three times with a little note that said, “Don’t forget this time!!!”

I sighed, folding the list up and sticking it in my pocket. “Got it, Mom. Anything else? Want us to pick up some wart cream while we’re at it?” I teased, shooting Maddie a glance.

Maddie snorted, and Mom swatted me lightly on the arm. “Just get what’s on the list, smart mouth.”

We headed out the door and into the driveway, where Maddie tossed me the keys to my truck. “Your turn to drive,” she said, hopping into the passenger seat with a grin. “I’m still recovering from your fashion disaster this morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, climbing into the driver’s seat. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she said, smirking as I started the engine. The truck roared to life, and we pulled out of the driveway, heading toward the mart.

As we cruised down the road, the Texas sun beating down on us, I finally started to relax. The insanity of the morning was starting to fade, and it felt good to just drive, even if it was for groceries.

“Cilantro, huh?” Maddie said, glancing at the list as we pulled into the parking lot of the mart. “You better not forget that, or Mom’s gonna throw a fit.”

I parked the truck and unbuckled my seatbelt. “Yeah, I know. We’re on a cilantro mission now.”

We hopped out of the truck, laughing about the morning's chaos as we headed inside. At least now, it was just me, Maddie, and a simple grocery list to tackle.

Maddie and I wandered through the grocery store aisles, chatting about nothing in particular as we grabbed the items on Mom’s list. Everything was going smoothly until I remembered the cilantro.

“Maddie, I can’t forget the cilantro. Mom will kill me if I come back without it.” I scanned the store like I was hunting for buried treasure, and then—out of the corner of my eye—I spotted it. The last bunch of cilantro.

“There!” I practically shouted, pointing across the produce section. Without thinking, I made a mad dash for it, leaving Maddie behind as I zeroed in on my target. Nothing was going to stop me from getting this cilantro—not after what happened last time.

But just as I reached for it, my hand collided with someone else’s.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” a familiar voice said, as our hands both grabbed for the same bunch. “In a rush, are we?”

I looked up and found myself staring directly into Daniel’s mischievous eyes. My heart skipped a beat—of all people.

“You?” I blurted, both annoyed and surprised.

Daniel grinned, raising an eyebrow as his hand still held onto the cilantro. “What, you didn’t think you’d see me again?”

I blinked, trying to recover from the sudden collision, both physically and mentally. “I—uh—no, I just didn’t expect to be fighting you over a bunch of cilantro,” I said, still clutching the herb in one hand as he held the other end.

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, if you’d been a little slower, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him. “Slower? I was practically flying over here. I saw it first.”

“Oh, really?” He tilted his head, that playful smirk of his back in full force. “I’m pretty sure I had my hand on it before you did.”

“Dream on, Ricciardo,” I shot back, trying to yank the cilantro from his grip. “It’s mine.”

He tightened his hold, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Tell you what—we’ll share it.”

“Share?” I raised an eyebrow. “What, you want to split a bunch of cilantro? What are we, in preschool?”

Daniel laughed, pulling it toward him slightly. “I mean, it’s either that or you admit defeat.”

“Admit defeat?” I shot him a glare. “I don’t lose at grocery shopping.”

“Is that so?” His grin widened as he leaned in closer, his face just a little too close for comfort. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re losing.”

My cheeks flushed, and I yanked the cilantro again, this time breaking the bunch in half. “There. Now we’re both losers.”

He burst out laughing, holding up his half of the cilantro. “Fair enough. You really don’t like losing, do you?”

I crossed my arms, trying to hide the fact that I was blushing. “Not when I’m up against people who think they can out-shop me.”

Daniel leaned against the cart, still grinning like he was having the time of his life. “Alright, you win this round, but I’m telling you—next time, I’m taking the whole bunch.”

I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “Good luck with that.”

Just then, Maddie appeared behind me, her eyes going wide when she realized who I was standing next to. “Uh, Y/N? What’s going on here?”

I turned to Maddie, holding up my half of the cilantro. “Just winning a fight, that’s all.”

Daniel winked at Maddie before looking back at me. “More like a draw, if we’re being honest.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ricciardo.”

Maddie raised her eyebrows, her grin spreading. “Oh, this is definitely going in my scrapbook.”

Daniel chuckled, still holding his half of the cilantro like it was a prize. Just as I was about to turn away, he slipped something into my hand, so smooth I almost didn’t realize he’d done it.

I blinked, glancing down at the small folded piece of paper. “What’s this?” I asked, unfolding it carefully, my curiosity piqued.

Before I could even figure it out, Maddie was already craning her neck to see. Her eyes widened in excitement the second she caught a glimpse. “Oh my god, Y/N, do you even know what these are?!”

I looked at her, completely confused. “What do you mean?”

She pointed excitedly at the paper in my hands. “Those are paddock passes! For the Austin GP! You’ve got three-day passes to the entire race weekend! Do you even understand how hard these are to get?”

I stared down at the passes, my jaw practically hitting the floor. “Wait, what?”

Daniel smirked, casually leaning against his cart, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Yeah, figured you might want to see what all this F1 fuss is about, and I happened to have an extra pass. So, you know, if you’re not too busy fighting over cilantro.”

I looked up at him, completely floored. “You... got me paddock passes? For three days?”

He shrugged, looking way too casual about the whole thing. “What can I say? I’m glad I grabbed an extra one just in case.” His eyes flickered with that familiar playful glint. “And now, I’m even gladder.”

Maddie, still buzzing with excitement, suddenly stepped forward, grinning ear to ear. “Oh, where are my manners?” She extended her hand. “I’m Maddie, by the way. You know, the better sister.”

Daniel burst into laughter, shaking her hand. “Well, if you’re anything like your sister, I think I’m in for trouble.”

Maddie winked at him. “Trouble’s our middle name. But really, she’s the one you’ve gotta watch out for.”

I shot Maddie a glare, trying to keep my cool even though my heart was still racing. “Maddie, stop.”

Daniel grinned, turning his attention back to me. “I dunno, I kind of like trouble. Keeps things interesting.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up my neck. “You just like making everything a competition.”

He tilted his head, that infuriatingly charming smirk still on his face. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing how far I can push you.”

Maddie laughed, nudging me with her elbow. “Oh, he’s good, Y/N. Better watch out, or you’re gonna find yourself in the middle of a Grand Prix.”

Daniel grinned, leaning in just a little. “Well, with those passes, you might just end up front and center.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head at how ridiculous this had all become. “You seriously just carry extra paddock passes around?”

“Only when I think they might come in handy,” he said, eyes glinting. “And I had a feeling you’d appreciate them more than anyone else here.”

I raised an eyebrow, still not entirely sure how this was my life. “You’re something else, you know that?”

He smiled, holding up his half of the cilantro. “Takes one to know one.”

I stared at the paddock passes in my hand, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Daniel Ricciardo—actual Formula 1 driver—had just handed me access to the most exclusive part of the Austin GP like it was no big deal. Meanwhile, Maddie looked like she was about to combust from excitement.

“I mean, front and center at a Grand Prix?” Maddie piped up, clearly having the time of her life with this. “Y/N, do you even understand how cool that is? You’re basically about to be part of the elite crowd. And you didn’t even know who he was two days ago.”

I shot her a look, trying not to blush as I turned back to Daniel. “I feel like I should be saying thanks, but... are you sure? This feels a little...”

“Too good to be true?” Daniel finished with a smirk, crossing his arms. “I get that a lot. But trust me, I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. Plus, I didn’t want to go through the weekend wondering if you’d ever stop fighting over cilantro.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re really gonna hang onto that, aren’t you?”

“Only as long as it keeps you on your toes.” He grinned, his gaze holding mine a second longer than necessary. “Besides, now you’ve got no excuse not to come.”

Maddie, never one to miss an opportunity, jumped in with a grin. “Oh, she’ll be there. I’ll make sure of it. You’re looking at the world’s most stubborn person right here, but once she commits, she’s all in.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Is that so?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at my lips. “I wouldn’t listen to her. She’s just trying to recruit me into her fantasy F1 life.”

Maddie snorted. “Uh, you slept with Daniel Ricciardo, and now you’ve got paddock passes. I think that fantasy is turning into reality, sis.”

I groaned, rubbing my face in embarrassment. “Maddie, please.”

Daniel chuckled, glancing between the two of us. “You two are something else. This is probably the most fun I’ve had at a grocery store in... ever.”

I crossed my arms, half smiling despite myself. “Well, I guess we know who to thank for that. You’re really making a habit of surprising me, aren’t you?”

He leaned in just slightly, his grin widening. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Just wait ‘til you see what surprises I’ve got lined up for the weekend.”

Maddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooh, mysterious. I like it.”

I shot her a look but couldn’t help laughing. “Alright, fine. You win. I’ll come to the race.”

Daniel winked, clearly satisfied. “Knew you would. See you in the paddock, then.” He tipped his imaginary hat and turned to walk away, but not before flashing one last grin. “Don’t forget to bring your competitive spirit. You’re gonna need it.”

I watched him go, my heart still racing as Maddie practically squealed beside me. “Oh my god, Y/N! This is insane!”

I shook my head, laughing. “Yeah, it is. I can’t believe I’m actually going to an F1 race.”

Maddie grinned, nudging me again. “Not just any race. You’re going with Daniel freaking Ricciardo. Girl, this is like something out of a movie.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small part of me couldn’t deny how surreal—and thrilling—it all felt.

After successfully scouring the back of the store and miraculously finding one last bunch of cilantro hidden behind some parsley, Maddie and I made our way to the checkout. I could barely keep my head straight, still reeling from my unexpected run-in with Daniel, while Maddie was practically bouncing with excitement, shooting me side-glances the entire time we loaded up the cart.

Once we were through the checkout and back in the truck, Maddie wasted no time. As soon as I turned the ignition, she turned toward me, eyes wide with anticipation. "Okay, enough stalling. You have to give me details about the one-night stand. I mean, come on. It's Daniel Ricciardo! Spill it!"

I groaned, gripping the steering wheel and backing out of the parking spot. “Maddie, please.”

She crossed her arms, giving me her best "I’m-not-letting-this-go" look. “Oh, no, no. You’re not getting out of this one. I need the full rundown. Like, what happened? How did it happen? How is he? Is he a good—”

“Maddie!” I cut her off, feeling the heat rise to my face. “I am not telling you that.”

She smirked, not even remotely phased by my protests. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you weren’t just as shocked to wake up next to him. I mean, how does someone like you,” she gestured to me dramatically, “end up in bed with someone like him?”

I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. “Trust me, I was just as surprised as you are. It wasn’t even planned! We were both tipsy, flirting at the bar... and, well, you know how those things go.”

Maddie practically squealed. “So, was it... like, really good?”

I groaned again, my face probably a bright shade of red by now. “Maddie, I’m not talking about that. Just know that... it was fine, okay? We were both drunk, and it happened. End of story.”

She pouted but kept pushing. “Ugh, fine. But was he sweet? Was he funny in the morning? Or did he just roll over and pretend like nothing happened?”

I snorted, shaking my head as I turned onto the road. “No, actually, he was... really chill about it. We joked around a bit, and he didn’t make it awkward. I mean, we even fought over cilantro in the grocery store, and he’s still as annoyingly charming as ever.”

Maddie let out a dreamy sigh. “Of course, he’s charming. Ugh, I bet that smile of his could get you to do anything. No wonder you ended up in his hotel room.”

I shot her a look. “Can you not make me sound like a complete pushover?”

She giggled, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying! You gotta admit, he’s got some serious game.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, he’s definitely got something. But honestly, I don’t even know what to make of it all. One minute, I’m waking up in his bed, and the next, I’ve got paddock passes for a whole race weekend.”

Maddie leaned back in her seat, eyes wide with curiosity. “Okay, okay, but I have to ask the important question.” She paused for dramatic effect, smirking like she was about to drop the most scandalous question of all time.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What now?”

She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “Is it... big?”

I nearly choked on my own laughter, my face instantly heating up. “Maddie!” I exclaimed, giving her a light shove. “Oh my god, you can’t just ask that!”

She burst out laughing, completely unfazed. “Come on! You hooked up with a famous race car driver! You know I had to ask!”

I covered my face, shaking my head. “This is not happening right now.”

Maddie nudged me again, still giggling. “I’m just sayin’, you can’t drop all these details about Daniel freakin’ Ricciardo and expect me to not be curious! It’s, like, basic sister requirements.”

I sighed, laughing despite the embarrassment. “I’m not telling you that. Besides, some things are meant to be kept private!”

She threw her hands up in surrender, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Fine, fine. But I’m just gonna assume the answer’s yes based on how flustered you are right now.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing the grocery bags. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

She beamed at me, completely proud of herself. “It’s part of my charm. Now let’s go inside before Mom gets suspicious.”

We stepped out of the truck, and as we made our way toward the house, Maddie shot me one last teasing glance. “I still can’t believe this. You’re living the dream, sis. Now we just have to get you through the race without tripping over yourself.”

I laughed, shaking my head as we walked inside. “Easier said than done, trust me.”

Maddie winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to keep you grounded. And, you know, ask more questions about... size later.”

I groaned. “Maddie, I swear, if you bring that up again—”

She cut me off with a giggle. “Relax, I’ll save it for after the race. Maybe Daniel will answer it for me.”

I gave her a mock-serious glare as we stepped into the kitchen. “If you ask him anything remotely like that, I’ll personally disown you as my sister.”

Maddie just grinned, completely unfazed by my threat. “Oh, come on! You know you’re curious too. I bet Daniel’s the type to joke right back—he seems like he’s got that smooth banter down.”

I rolled my eyes, setting the grocery bags down on the counter. “Yeah, well, I’d rather not find out in front of you.”

She grabbed a bunch of cilantro, holding it up like it was a victory flag. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave at the race... but no promises if the opportunity presents itself.”

I groaned again, shaking my head. “You will kill me one day, you know?”

Maddie smirked as she placed the cilantro in the fridge, turning to me with a wink. “Hey, if you’re gonna be dating an F1 driver, you better get used to me asking all the embarrassing questions. It’s a sister’s job to keep things interesting.”

I felt my face flush at the mention of “dating” Daniel, quickly brushing it off. “Who said anything about dating? This was just a one-time thing.”

Maddie raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “Uh-huh, sure. You just happened to have a ‘one-time thing’ with Daniel Ricciardo, and now you’ve got three-day paddock passes? Girl, please.”

I crossed my arms, trying to sound firm. “We’re not dating.”

She gave me a knowing smile. “Maybe not yet, but trust me, once you’re up close and personal at that race, things might change. I mean, the man gave you paddock passes, Y/N. He’s clearly not done with you.”

I rolled my eyes again, but I couldn’t deny the flutter in my chest at her words. “Whatever, Maddie. Let’s just focus on surviving this weekend without you embarrassing me in front of him.”

Maddie grinned, stepping closer and nudging me with her elbow. “I make no promises. But I will say this—you better have fun. It’s not every day you get to hang out with a superstar. Just... remember to breathe when you see him again.”

I laughed, despite the butterflies in my stomach. “Yeah, yeah. Now help me finish putting these groceries away before Mom comes in and asks what’s taking so long.”

Maddie threw me a playful wink as she grabbed the rest of the groceries. “You got it. But I’m definitely asking for more details after the race.”

I groaned, but there was no hiding my smile. As much as Maddie drove me crazy, I couldn’t deny that having her along for this wild ride was exactly what I needed.

Maddie and I stepped into the kitchen, laughing and joking about who could embarrass me more at the race when we both suddenly stopped dead in our tracks.

Sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea like it was the most casual thing in the world, were Carrie and her mother, Savannah.

I froze, my heart sinking to my stomach. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

My mom glanced up, clearly trying to keep the peace with a polite smile, but there was no missing the tension in the air. “Oh, hey girls,” she said, in a tone that was way too casual for the situation. “We’re just having a little afternoon tea.”

Savannah gave us a small wave, her southern charm still as present as ever. “Hi, Y/N. Maddie. It’s been a while.”

Carrie glanced up at me, and for a second, I saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes. I could tell she was remembering the hotel elevator, just like I was. The awkward tension between us stretched out as thin as it could go.

In my head, a thousand thoughts ran wild. Why are they here? I knew the answer, though. My mom and Savannah had been cordial for years, mostly because they had to be. Both of them were rodeo managers for the same rodeo company, which meant they had to stay civil for the sake of work. The whole town knew their friendship was... well, strained at best. But here they were, playing nice over afternoon tea like it was some kind of forced social obligation.

Maddie, always the one to break awkward silences, cleared her throat. “Uh... hey, Mrs. Summers. Carrie.”

Carrie’s mom, Savannah, smiled politely, her perfect rodeo-queen hair barely moving as she lifted her teacup. “It’s lovely to see you two. Your mother and I were just catching up on the rodeo business.”

Of course you were, I thought bitterly. The rodeo world was so small, and no matter how much I wanted to avoid it—or Carrie—I couldn’t escape it.

My mom, sensing the tension, glanced between us. “Savannah and I were talking about the upcoming event. Looks like it’s going to be a busy season.”

Maddie shifted uncomfortably beside me. “Yeah, busy. Fun.” Her usual energy was suddenly subdued, which I knew was her way of trying to keep things from getting too awkward. Not that it was working.

Carrie, ever the queen of awkward stares, finally spoke, her tone as polite as ever. “It’s... good to see you, Y/N.” She hesitated, glancing at her mother before continuing. “How have you been?”

I forced a smile, trying not to let the awkwardness show on my face. “Great. Just, you know, busy.” Really busy fighting you in elevators and trying to forget you even exist.

Carrie nodded, sipping her tea, and the silence between us stretched even further. I could feel the weight of Savannah’s eyes on me, like she was silently assessing everything—our strained friendship, my disheveled appearance from running errands, everything.

Maddie, never one to let tension linger, piped up again. “Well, we just got back from the mart. You know, had to get that cilantro Mom keeps losing her mind over.”

Savannah smiled tightly. “Ah, yes. Cilantro can be tricky.”

I almost laughed at the absurdity of the moment, but I managed to hold it in, keeping the strained smile on my face. I just wanted this impromptu tea party from hell to be over with.

The silence in the kitchen stretched on, thick and awkward, like we were all waiting for something to break it but hoping it wouldn’t be us. I could feel Maddie’s discomfort beside me, her usual spark dimmed in the presence of Carrie and her mom. My mind raced with a mix of irritation and embarrassment—of all the days for them to be here, this had to be it.

Carrie set her teacup down gently, the soft clink of porcelain against porcelain filling the room like a final punctuation to the unbearable silence. She gave me a tight-lipped smile, that same fake pleasantness I’d grown used to over the years. “Well, it sounds like you’ve been keeping busy.”

Busy avoiding you, I thought, but instead I just nodded. “Yeah, something like that.” I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

Savannah, ever the poised and perfect woman she was, glanced at my mom and then back at us, her hands wrapped neatly around her teacup. “It’s important to stay productive. Especially with everything going on in the rodeo season. You girls must be a big help around here.”

I bit back the urge to laugh. My mom might be cordial with Savannah for the sake of their professional lives as rodeo managers, but the subtext was loud and clear. They barely tolerated each other, both knowing that competition was part of their work, and now that tension had trickled down to Carrie and me—and Maddie by default.

Maddie, bless her, tried to keep things light. “Oh, we’re great at helping out... with, uh, grocery shopping.” She flashed a smile, holding up the cilantro like it was some grand prize. “Mom’s got us on strict cilantro duty these days.”

Mom shot Maddie a look, clearly not in the mood for her humor right now. “Thank you, Maddie.”

Savannah raised an eyebrow at Maddie’s comment, but kept her voice smooth. “Cilantro can make or break a meal, I suppose.”

Carrie glanced at me again, her eyes flicking up and down, probably still processing our awkward encounter in the hotel elevator. “You know,” she said, her voice too casual, “I think I saw you at the Hilton the other day, Y/N. Were you there for something special?”

My stomach dropped. Of course she’d bring it up.

“Yeah, I... had some errands downtown,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. No way was I going to let her know about Daniel, not with her mother sitting right there.

Maddie, though, being Maddie, had no such reservations about subtlety. “Oh, you know, just casually bumping into Formula 1 drivers. No big deal.”

Carrie’s eyes widened slightly, and I saw her mom’s eyebrows lift in surprise.

“Formula 1 drivers?” Savannah asked, her tone suddenly more interested than it had been for the entire tea party.

I shot Maddie a seriously? look, but she just grinned like she’d been waiting to drop this bomb the entire time. “Yeah, we ran into Daniel Ricciardo. Real nice guy.”

Carrie’s jaw tightened just slightly, and I could tell she was piecing it all together. She probably knew exactly what had happened in that elevator. “Wow, Daniel Ricciardo,” she said, her voice cool. “That’s... interesting.”

Savannah, ever the picture of elegance, nodded approvingly. “Well, that’s quite a meeting. Formula 1 is certainly prestigious. You must have made quite the impression.”

I resisted the urge to laugh. Yeah, I made an impression, alright. But instead, I shrugged, trying to play it off. “It was... unexpected.”

Carrie’s eyes flickered with something—maybe curiosity, maybe envy—but her lips pressed together in a tight line. “Unexpected, huh?” she said, her voice a little too casual. “I’m sure it was.”

I could tell she wasn’t buying my attempt to downplay the situation. She knew. She’d probably already started piecing together the story from the elevator and was likely imagining a whole different version of events—one where she could twist it into something more dramatic.

Savannah, on the other hand, smiled that perfectly polished smile she always had, but I could see a glint of interest in her eyes. “Well, you’re certainly moving in impressive circles these days, Y/N. Formula 1 drivers... that’s a step up from the usual rodeo crowd, don’t you think?”

I bit back a smirk. “I guess you could say that.”

Carrie’s jaw tightened a little more, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She had that look on her face—the one that said she was already planning how to bring this up the next time she was with her friends. She’d never admit it, but the idea of me bumping into someone like Daniel Ricciardo clearly irked her.

She straightened up in her seat, brushing a lock of perfectly styled hair behind her ear. “Well, it must’ve been nice to meet someone so... prestigious,” she said, her tone dripping with false politeness. “I’m sure it was a brief encounter.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep my cool. “Yeah, brief.” I decided it was better not to mention the three-day paddock passes in my back pocket. The less ammunition Carrie had, the better.

Savannah, still smiling, added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw him again at some point. Those kinds of connections have a way of resurfacing.”

I nodded, doing my best to seem nonchalant, but I couldn’t help glancing at Carrie, who was staring at me with just a little too much interest.

Carrie leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing just a bit. “So, what did you two talk about? I mean, you don’t exactly strike me as the F1 type.”

I could feel Maddie practically vibrating with excitement beside me, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable Carrie was. “Oh, we talked about racing. Rodeo. Life,” I said, keeping my response vague. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing more.

Carrie raised her eyebrow, sensing I wasn’t going to give her more details, but she couldn’t resist pushing a little further. “Rodeo, huh? That’s cute. I bet he found all of that... fascinating.”

Before I could respond, Maddie jumped in, her voice sweet but sharp. “Actually, he seemed really interested. You know, not everyone can handle a fast-paced life like Y/N’s. Some people are more into... exciting things.”

I shot Maddie a look, barely suppressing my grin as she winked at me.

Carrie’s smile faltered for just a second before she regained her composure. “Well, good for you, Y/N,” she said, her tone cold enough to send a chill through the room. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in with the race car crowd.”

Carrie’s words hung in the air like a challenge, her eyes flicking over me, searching for any sign of discomfort. But I wasn’t about to let her get the upper hand—not today.

I smiled, my voice steady. “I’m sure I will. After all, fast-paced lives aren’t for everyone.” I kept my tone light, but there was no missing the underlying message.

Carrie’s smile tightened, her fingers twitching slightly as she adjusted the strap of her designer bag. “Well, best of luck keeping up. Those kinds of people tend to leave others in the dust if they can’t handle the speed.”

Maddie, ever the bold one, didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, Y/N can handle anything. Don’t you worry about that.”

Carrie’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she forced another smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

I could practically hear Maddie holding back a giggle beside me. Carrie’s frustration was almost palpable, and I knew we were getting to her. She was always one to hold her cards close, but right now, the fact that I’d spent time with someone like Daniel Ricciardo—a man from a world far beyond Carrie’s reach—had clearly rattled her.

Savannah, ever the picture of grace, stepped in before things could escalate any further. “Alright, girls. We really must be going.” She placed a hand on Carrie’s shoulder, guiding her toward the door, but not before giving me one last glance. “You’ll have to tell us more about your Formula 1 adventures next time, Y/N.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “We’ll see how the weekend goes.”

Carrie shot me one last look as they turned to leave, her voice almost too casual. “Enjoy the race. Let’s hope it’s as exciting as you’re expecting.”

I held her gaze, giving her the smallest of smirks. “Oh, I’m sure it will be.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Maddie let out the loudest laugh, finally letting go of all the tension that had been bubbling up during that excruciatingly polite exchange.

“Did you see her face?” Maddie said, practically bouncing with glee. “She’s absolutely livid. I can’t believe you kept your cool like that!”

I exhaled, leaning against the counter. “Barely. She almost had me when she started pushing about Daniel.”

Maddie waved her hand dismissively. “Nah, you handled that like a champ. I mean, did you see how she tried to act all nonchalant? She’s probably seething inside.”

I grinned, shaking my head. “Well, let’s hope she stews on it for a while. Maybe she’ll back off.”

Maddie laughed, grabbing a soda from the fridge. “Or maybe she’ll just get more competitive. Either way, you’re the one with the paddock passes and a date with Daniel Ricciardo.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s not a date.”

She gave me a mischievous look. “We’ll see about that.”

As Maddie and I were still laughing about the showdown with Carrie, my mom suddenly cleared her throat from the kitchen doorway. “Oh,” she said, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms, “so that’s where you were. I was wondering why you came back home looking like you’d been wrestling a tornado. Turns out you were just... banging some famous Formula 1 driver, huh?”

I froze, mid-laugh, and Maddie immediately burst into giggles, almost choking on her soda.

“MOM!” I spluttered, my face burning red. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Oh, honey,” my mom interrupted, waving a hand. “I don’t need the details. I’m just surprised you didn’t even bother to sneak in quietly after all that ‘looking for warts business’” She put heavy air quotes around her later statement, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

I rubbed my temples, feeling the embarrassment crawl up my neck. “It wasn’t... like that.”

Maddie, still giggling, jumped in. “Oh, it was exactly like that. Just wait until you hear about the cilantro.”

Mom raised an eyebrow, her smirk not fading. “Cilantro, huh? Sounds like that’s code for something else entirely.”

I groaned. “Mom! I am not having this conversation with you right now.”

She laughed, coming over and placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, sweetie. But next time, try to sneak in a little less obviously. And maybe let your poor mother know if you plan on... running into celebrities in the future.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Maddie quickly jumped in, still laughing. “Oh, don’t worry, Mom. If she ever brings Daniel Ricciardo home, you’ll be the first to know.”

My mom winked at me. “You better believe it. Just make sure to feed the poor boy—don’t want him leaving hungry after all that... grocery shopping.” She gave me a teasing smile, clearly enjoying every second of my discomfort.

I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Maddie leaned over, patting me on the back with a grin. “Welcome to the family, sis. Nothing stays secret here.”

After the chaos with Carrie, my mom’s teasing, and Maddie’s relentless jokes about Daniel, I finally retreated to my room, grateful for some peace and quiet. I had a big task ahead of me, one that had been on my mind for weeks—finalizing my album. The release date was just around the corner, and there were still a few loose ends to tie up.

I sat at my desk, flipping through the notebook that held all my song lyrics. Most of the album was finished, a mix of country ballads, heartbreak anthems, and some upbeat tracks about the wild, unpredictable life of a cowgirl. But something was missing. As I strummed my guitar absentmindedly, my thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the last couple of days—the bar, the unexpected encounter with Daniel, the flirting, the way he made me feel more alive than I’d felt in a long time.

Without even thinking, I started jotting down lyrics. The melody came first, soft and steady, like a heartbeat. The words followed, spilling out onto the page as I replayed that night in my mind. The tequila, the banter, the way he leaned in close with that lazy smile, and how I’d felt—nervous, excited, like I was diving into something new and unexpected.

Before I knew it, I had a full song written about that night. The lyrics were a little cheeky, playful, and flirty, with just enough emotional undertones to make it feel real. It wasn’t like the other songs on my album, but somehow, it fit. It felt right. It felt like something I needed to include.

I sat back, looking at the lyrics on the page, and let out a breath. “Okay,” I whispered to myself, “this might actually work.”

But there was one hurdle left—convincing my manager.

I picked up my phone and called them. It didn’t take long for the line to click, and my manager’s voice came through, warm but business-like as always. “Y/N! We’re almost there. Everything’s looking good for the album release. What’s up?”

I took a deep breath. “Hey, I’ve been thinking... I wrote a new song today. It’s about something that just happened recently, and I feel like it needs to be on the album.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I could hear them flipping through notes. “A new song? Y/N, we’re cutting it pretty close to the release date. Is it finished?”

“Yeah, it’s finished. I can send you a rough cut tonight,” I said, my heart pounding a little faster now. “I know it’s last minute, but this song... it’s important. It’s different from the other tracks, but it feels like the missing piece. I don’t want it on the physical CDs or anything—we can just add it to the online release.”

Another pause, and I held my breath, waiting.

Finally, my manager spoke, their tone thoughtful. “Send it over. I’ll take a listen. If it’s as good as you’re saying, we can make it work for the digital release. But no promises until I hear it.”

A wave of relief washed over me. “Thanks, I’ll send it over in an hour.”

I hung up the phone and got to work, recording a rough version of the song. It wasn’t polished, but the emotion was there, raw and real, just like that night with Daniel. When I listened back, I smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction settle over me. This song wasn’t planned, but it felt like it was meant to be there, like it had been waiting for the right moment to come out.

Once the recording was done, I sent it off to my manager and leaned back in my chair, guitar still resting in my lap. The day had started out so wild, but now, here I was, about to add a brand-new track to my album because of an unexpected encounter at a bar with a Formula 1 driver.

It was crazy, sure—but it was my kind of crazy. The kind that made life interesting, that made music worth creating.

As soon as I hit send on the rough cut of the song to my manager, my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down and, to my surprise, saw Daniel’s name lighting up my screen. My heart skipped a beat—I wasn’t expecting to hear from him so soon, if at all. I swiped the notification open, and his message popped up.

Daniel: 👀 So… did I win the cilantro war or what?

I snorted, shaking my head. Of course he’d bring that up.

Me: you wish... i think we agreed it was a draw, remember?

A few moments passed, and another message popped up.

Daniel: Sure, sure. I’ll let you keep telling yourself that. But really, I let you have it. Gentleman and all. 😏

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile as I typed back.

Me: oh, you let me win, huh? that’s the story you’re going with??!

Daniel: Obviously. Wouldn’t want to start a feud over herbs. You Texans can be dangerous when you don’t get your cilantro.

I chuckled to myself, feeling the tension from earlier slip away as we fell into easy banter.

Me: you’re totally right. we don’t mess around with cilantro here. it’s practically sacred!! 😭

Daniel: I’m starting to see that. 😅 So, how’s your day been, besides our grocery aisle showdown?

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Should I tell him about the song? About Carrie and the whole awkward tea party? I decided to keep it light for now.

Me: oh, you know... just the usual—running errands, finalizing some stuff for my album release. nothing too exciting, what about you?

His response came quickly.

Daniel: Not as exciting as your day, I’m sure. Just some press stuff and getting ready for the race. Though I guess that means I’m busy dodging questions about why I’m spending so much time in the grocery store lately. 😏

I laughed, imagining him charming his way through whatever interviews he had lined up, somehow making even his grocery shopping sound interesting.

Me: yeah, i’m sure the twitter is DYING to know all about your cilantro preferences.

Daniel: Oh, absolutely. “Ricciardo spotted in aisle five—what does this mean for the upcoming race?” 😆

Me: groundbreaking stuff😣😣. we’re really pushing the boundaries here.

His next text came through quickly, and I could almost hear the teasing in his voice.

Daniel: Speaking of groundbreaking... any chance this album’s got a song about a certain Aussie driver in it? 😏

I froze for a second, staring at his message. He had no idea how close he was to the truth.

Me: actually… funny you mention that. i may or may not have written something inspired by a recent bar encounter. 😉

There was a brief pause before his reply, and I imagined him raising an eyebrow on the other end.

Daniel: Oh? Inspired by, huh? Now you’ve got my attention. Do I get to hear this masterpiece before the rest of the world does?

I grinned, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. I wasn’t sure how he’d react, but something told me he’d find it amusing.

Me: maybe... but only if you promise not to make fun of me. i just wrote it today, so it’s still fresh. it's my newborn baby 💗💗💗

Daniel: Promise. I’m intrigued now. What’s it called?

I paused, biting my lip before typing.

Me: i haven’t decided on a title yet, but let’s just say it has a lot to do with flirting, tequila, and someone wearing a cowboy hat...😏

His response came quickly, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Daniel: Well, that narrows it down. Sounds like a banger already. 😎 When do I get to hear it?

I hesitated, unsure if I was really ready to let him listen to something so personal so soon. But then again, the whole point of the song was how unexpected and spontaneous things had been with him.

Me: soon...maybe if you behave yourself at the race. 😏

Daniel: Behave? Me? I’ll do my best, but no promises. 😉

I rolled my eyes, grinning at the screen. He had a way of keeping things light, but there was still something underneath all the teasing that felt... real.

Me: alright alright cowboy, well, you’ll have to wait just like everyone else then. patience is a virtue, right?!

Daniel: Patience is overrated, but for you, I guess I can try. 😎

I laughed, shaking my head. This was getting too fun.

Me: good. now go prepare for your race before you get too distracted.

Daniel: Oh, trust me, I’m already distracted. You’re making it hard to focus on track times, you know that?

I felt a blush creep up my neck at his words, though I tried to brush it off with my usual sarcasm.

Me: well, o wouldn’t want to be responsible for messing up your race. just remember to keep it on track. 😏

His response came with a playful challenge.

Daniel: Challenge accepted. Just don’t be surprised when I win—and not just on the track. 😉

I let out a laugh, shaking my head in disbelief.

Me: we’ll see about that, Ricciardo.

Daniel: Count on it.

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author's note: comment to be added to the taglist! i'll probably update in 1-2 weeks after i get a few more chapters out in my op81 lay all your love on me fic...stay tuned xx <3

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creedslove · 1 year ago

Text

WHO KNEW? 💍💔 - PART THREE

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

"You took my hand, you showed me how

You promised me you'd be around (...)

I took your words and I believed in everything you said to me (...)

If someone said three years from now, you'd be long gone, I'd stand up and punch them out, 'cause they're all wrong

I know better, 'cause you said forever, and ever, who knew?"

Summary: you and Joel try to handle what happens after you both slept together and a revelation brings the truth about the nature of your relationship with Joel

• This is the third part of the small series: Who Knew? 💍💔 (PART ONE | PART TWO) which was also inspired by this amazing HEADCANON request

Warnings: angst, broken hearts, mentions of divorce, mentions of infidelity, fluff, age gap (Joel is four to five years older than reader and the time skip is 12 to 14 years (Sarah's age) but feel free to imagine whatever you want), smut, oral sex (f! receiving/m!receiving) piv, dirty talking, discussions of relationships

A/N: alright besties, I really don't know where this chapter came from, I had sworn I wouldn't write continuations of this story, but here I am, with a serious case of Joel Miller brain rot and all I could think of was him! I love this story with all my heart and I don't know if this chapter is consistent or not, as it was written through several days and I poured my feelings into it, but days change and so do feelings so hehehe, also, I may or may not have been a little too horny for Joel xD, anyway, I hope you beautiful besties like the story ❤️

12.3k words

Waking up by Joel's side was something you could've sworn it would never happen, it would only become a distant memory as the years advanced after the divorce; you thought maybe you would think about it every so often, when nostalgia got the best of you, if you felt lonely at times or maybe even the moments you would spend next to your ideal future husband, a man worthy of you and your love, someone who would actually treat you exactly how you deserved it, who wouldn't run away with the first willing whore he could find and build a life with her, the life that used to be yours, and was supposed to. No, that ideal husband would never steal from you, not your happiness, your beauty or your youth, as much as you closed your eyes and tried picturing this ideal, ethereal man, you were haunted by your ex-husband. It was his smile that came to your mind when you thought of this bittersweet fantasy; his hands that gripped your body, it was him. You realized your deepest wish was to have Joel as that husband; in an alternative universe where he wasn't a jerk, instead, he would be the perfect, sweet and hard-working husband, just like he used to in the beginning, and you both would love and support each other, building up a life, a family and a home together. That was how things were supposed to go, but everyone knew the end of that story.

What nobody except you and Joel knew, was the plot-twisted epilogue of your story with Joel. Very often, you thought of your relationship as a closed book, a shitty, depressing romance novel that had its indignant ending written and done, with no space to fix things up… until your return to Austin and things simply started to happen. You refused to believe it was a new chapter or a new beginning, quite the opposite, as much as your rational said had begged and screamed not to do it, not to get close to Joel and you simply went there and did it, now it begged you to put an end to it, your mind told you the night you'd spent together was just scratching that maddening itch and nothing more. It would be easy to pretend nothing had happened: Tommy had left shortly after the cops arrived at your place and headed to his girlfriend's, according to Joel. Sarah was absolutely clueless and had no idea what was going on, especially after both you and her dad had put an end to her efforts of setting you both up. All you had to do was to convince Joel of the same: it was a mistake, it shouldn't happen again.

But then, at the same time, why was it so good to wake up next to him? In fact, next to him was an understatement, as you were all over him. Safely tucked into his arms during the night, you had switched positions several times like you often did when you slept, but Joel always kept you at arms length, refusing to let go of you no matter what. It shouldn't feel this good, but it did, and even when morning came and it was time to get up, you pretended you didn't really have to. It was your secret, no one would know nor judge you if you stayed a little longer in his bed, what was the worst that could happen, after all? So the moment you felt Joel stirring right behind you, your eyes closed shut and you relaxed your body as best as you could so he would think you were asleep. It was quite stupid, you were aware, but suddenly you felt shy to be awake in his presence?! It was odd, but you didn't know how to act exactly… were you supposed to kiss? Act as a continuation of the night before or straight up pretend nothing happened? Should you begin ‘the talk' with Joel?! You didn't even know what you were going to say, so instead, pretending to be dead, well actually, asleep, was definitely a better plan. Joel hadn't changed in all those years, you recognized and anticipated every single move he would make; it started by his soft groans the moment he fully woke up, the hesitation he probably felt the moment he eyed you there and quickly the memories of the night before filled him entirely. His morning erection was hard pressed against your ass and that was another difficult part of the equation taking place in your mind at that moment; all it would take you was wiggling your ass a little and you both could start your day in a very fun way. It was tempting, and while you baffled yourself whether to do it or not, you felt Joel again. The way he gently placed his hand on your arm, caressing it up and down, almost in a ghostly touch, a bit afraid of scaring you away; to Joel, you were like a beautiful, delicate butterfly flying into his life, making things prettier for him, but also so easily scared off. He couldn't afford to have you fly away from him once more, not that time. His hand went to your naked stomach, stroking it softly, he enjoyed the butter-like feel of your skin under his hand. After all the cuts, bruises and dirt from hard work, it was a nice change to be able to touch you. He'd had his fair share of touching beautiful women, but none of them would ever compare to you. You were naked under his touch, entirely for himself, a dream that came true at that moment and yet it seemed way too good to be real. Hands that stroked your body leaving a trail of goosebumps over your sensitive skin, as he nuzzled your shoulder, taking some strands of hair away from your neck, he let his stubble beard scratch it softly, lips connecting to your skin, in gentle and silent pecks, ones that made you bite your lips not to moan too loud, even if the goosebumps insisted on appearing, hardening your nipples and sending a wave of lust down your core. Joel had his good ear to the mattress, not hearing if you were letting out small, sexy sounds but he could see the visible signs of his caress on you. He wanted more of it, he woke up with hunger, more like starvation and it was for you, your body, your touch, your presence. He wanted you, and he would have you, not only that morning, but forever, by his side.

“I know you're awake” Joel mumbled against your skin, you could feel his teeth nibbling you, making you squeal softly and moan at his touch, you turned around facing him and raised your eyebrow, heart melting at how adorable Joel's messy bed hair was, even if it was a little grayer now, it still made him look so handsome, you couldn't hold yourself back but caress his curls gently.

“How did you know I was awake?” You questioned him and felt his teeth scraping your collarbone instead of actually answering your question. It didn't take very long for Joel to straddle you, pinning you against the mattress as he took in all of you. You were beautiful, gorgeous, you were his. At least that was what he wanted to tell himself, but it didn't matter the future, not then, because at that very moment you belonged to him and only him. You lay under Joel, your breathing accelerating as you didn't know exactly what to do or what to expect, crashing your lips together, you tugged at his hair - you loved Joel's hair so much - and felt his rough hands running even more freely through your body. One knee on each side of you, preventing you from moving as he stared down at you, your body being the most beautiful piece of art he'd ever laid eyes on. Joel Miller was a man sinking deep further into his passions and he couldn't even hide it or pretend it otherwise. His mouth went for your neck, then down your collarbone, your breasts, so beautiful and tempting as they'd always been, time he'd been so kind to you, and now he appreciated it. He kissed your breasts gently at first, getting to your nipples, they were always so hard and sensitive and it was all for him. Lips wrapping around them, his tongue flicking then gently as you tugged even harder and pulled his curls gently. The way Joel made you feel was always something else, it was so stupid to try to fight that, at least while you were pinned down by his strong, sexy body. When he finally let go of your breasts, he kept moving his tortuous path south down you. His lips were dancing over your stomach, he loved that part of you and had lost track of how many times he'd daydreamed about your figure looking round while you carried his baby Miller inside. He enjoyed picturing it, another life coming out of you, a baby that would be half you and half him, that would bring Sarah the title of ‘big sister’ and seal the happy ending of your story in which you would become Mrs.Miller once more, for real and above all for the rest of your lives. Deep down he knew that wouldn't go further than a simple fantasy, something to lose himself in before falling asleep before bed every night, and yet, it always brought him such joy, comfort and affection within his body, and at that moment, when he was kissing your womb, his hands holding you legs spread as he took his time in kissing and nibbling your lower stomach, he closed his eyes and made that irrational wish, practically, that wouldn't do, not in real life, not with your history weighing heavily on the two of you, nor with your life styles that were so different from each other's. He worked too much, Sarah was already growing into a teenager, you were inexperienced at that matter at the same time he was getting older and was certain that having to watch a baby and later on a toddler would absolutely kill his back. But if it was so impractical, it should be so sweet at the same time. It would be a lot easier for him to keep those stupid thoughts out of his mind. When Joel got closer to your core, you wanted to tell him to stop, to remind him that you didn't use protection at all and you'd been missing up the pills, warn him there was maybe some probability of you both making that situation even more of a mess than it already was, but the words died out in your mouth, the moment Joel's eyes matched yours, the pool of brown warmth making your heart skip a beat at the same time he parted your legs, giving your inner thighs each a love bite, and your breathing accelerating once more in the anticipation of what was about to happen.

“Relax, baby girl” he purred against your skin, he was so close to your core you could feel his breath fanning your sensitive area, his hands gripping the outside of your legs in a way it was clear he was claiming his power over you. You were about to be devoured by a hungry man and at that, your heart raced like no other, just as Joel reached you.

His lips ghosted over your slit, loving how shaky and sensitive you were at that moment, head shoved between your legs he took his hands into action, using them to spread your lips wide and groaned in approval of how sexy that view was. Ever since you married Joel, being intimate with your husband was something normal and natural, expected even, and whereas you weren't a prude by any means, the way Joel touched you or how filthy that mouth could be always made you go red from head to toes, especially when he simply stopped at stared at your body like that.

“Fuck baby, you still got the same pretty pussy I remember, it's the best one I've ever seen, you taste so fucking good, this sweet clit of yours had always made my mouth water” he teased as you could barely hear his voice through the adrenaline making all that blood pumped so loud into your ear. He spread your pussy lips open, his cock was already twitching to see your cunt twitching for him. The way your clit twitched in anticipation and your hole clenched at the air, how your wetness simply pooled in your entrance and it was all for Joel, because of Joel and he wasn't going to waste another minute before having you. You closed your eyes the moment he kissed your clit, kissing it as he would with your lips, all you could do was whimper and once more grip your hands into his hair pulling his head against your pussy, wanting more and more. At your touch, Joel stopped playing around, he simply sank his face into you, devouring you, licking, suckling and flicking your sensitive clit, lapping at your juices so hungrily, like a madman having his favorite meal. Joel's hands were large and his fingers were thick, so the moment he inserted two digits inside, you were already filled with him, the way he ate your pussy and fingered you, the knot forming down your lower belly, you barely had time to warn him, but it wasn't necessary, Joel knew your body well enough to know you were cumming, getting so nice and ready for him he continued, until you exploded into an intense and long orgasm, in which he tried to make it last for you as much as he could.

After your bliss, it didn't take very long for him to slip inside, now that you were all wet and stretched for him, you wrapped your legs around his waist and closed your eyes in pleasure. Your nails scratching down his broad back, his skin warm and sweaty on top of you. You wanted more of him, at that moment that was you favorite place in the world, primal, obscene, his grunts into your ear as he fucked you like he would any whore. At that moment you couldn't hold back your desires, your lustful thoughts took the best of you. If Joel asked you to be his personal cum dumpster, you would say yes. And at that realization, he came inside, once more, just like he did the night before and you loved it.

Suddenly the exhaustion took over you, your body and your thoughts and it seemed like an impossible task to keep your eyes open.

“Sleep, baby girl, relax” Joel whispered against your ear once more, pulling you closer, the two of you appreciating the lovely bliss you shared after your orgasms. It felt right, even if it shouldn't.

•••

When Joel woke up that morning for the second time with you tangled in his arms, he smiled at himself, wondering how lucky a motherfucker like himself could actually be. The past hours replayed in his mind, over and over, and he still didn't believe they were true, simply because they were too good to be true in the first place, still the reminders of how true it all had been were there: the pink fading lines you left all over his skin were still apparent, your clothes scattered around the bedroom floor, the way your hair invaded his pillow and now you smell lingered all over his bedsheets. It was real, and he couldn't be happier. Watching as you exhaustively slept, he dragged himself out of bed, not really wanting to leave but knowing he needed to start his day somehow. So he just planted a soft kiss on your forehead and headed to shower before going downstairs, as he needed to get breakfast ready for his girl.

You on the other hand, slept without even noticing you, being so exhausted after another steamy session with Joel; when you woke up nearly an hour later, you felt his side of the bed empty and for a split second you sighed disappointed at the impression it'd been just a dream, which only lasted until you could feel that bittersweet soreness between your legs, the mess Joel's room was in and how sticky you were with sweat and some of your juices mixed up together. You bit your lips and giggled, you thought you'd wake up full of regret, feeling guilty and upset about what happened, but turns out you felt great, perhaps, all you needed to decrease that upsetting feeling of melancholy you often grew inside was a good fuck provided by the best man you'd ever tried.

You yawned big and stretched, getting up and feeling that familiar sting between your legs, a reminder of Joel's virility and size. As you weren't sure what to do or where Joel could be, or even worse: if Sarah was home at all, you decided to be as silent as possible, your wish was just getting dressed and going downstairs, but the moment you saw your reflection in the mirror you knew you had to shower. It didn't take too long to find Joel's bathroom, you got yourself under the shower stream, groaning at how your muscles relaxed under it, the way the knots on your hair seemed to undo themselves. You chuckled while soaping your body in Joel's soap, shampooing your hair with his shampoo, smelling entirely like him, as if he'd marked you like an animal would. Perhaps you shouldn't enjoy this obscene thought as much as you did, but at that point that ship had sailed and you couldn't care less about it. Stepping outside the shower, you dried yourself and went through Joel's drawers just enough to find something comfortable to wear - one of his boxers and an old shirt.

“Joel?!” You called him at the top of the stairs, hoping you two were still alone there, as you really didn't want to risk being seen in those - lack of - clothes by Tommy or god forbid, Sarah.

“In here” Joel replied, his voice coming from the kitchen and as soon as you got downstairs you were hit by the delicious smell of coffee, and just as your stomach growled in hunger you realized you couldn't even remember your last meal.

You followed the delicious smell and smiled when you saw him flipping a bunch of pancakes, frowning softly at the image, it was so odd to see Joel being so domestic, cooking breakfast when in reality, you were the one who usually got to do all the cooking and chores, not to mention the choice of menu for the breakfast.

“You don't like pancakes!” you said surprised as you approached the stove to confirm if you weren't seeing things, being surprised by the way Joel wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer, greeting you with a peck on the lips, which you didn't expect but you couldn't complain either.

“I don't, but you do, and you deserve it, baby girl” he stroked your sides as he kept flipping pancakes with his free hand like a damn pro. You could only imagine how many times he had to step in and make his daughter pancakes until he got that skilled at that. You looked at him and as if he'd read your mind, he pecked your forehead this time

“Sarah is at her friend's which means she's only coming in the afternoon, you can hang out, maybe we can grab lunch together and then I'll drive you home, fix your door and all..” he said and stared lovingly at you “if you wanna go, otherwise you can stay here” he winked and made you chuckle.

“Joel, about us, about what happened-”

“Don't do that now, darling, let's not upset ourselves, let's have breakfast together and we can talk about it later”

You could tell Joel was postponing the subject, it was simply inevitable to talk about your future together or lack of it, due to your history, what happened between the two of you should be addressed, and even if you had been as willing as he was, it was a fact you weren't so easy to convince that perhaps being together was a good idea. However, he was also right: you could discuss things later, because at that moment you just wanted to have breakfast with Joel; damage had already been done, so what if you two continued to act the way you were? If anything, if you two parted ways, you would simply still have a nice time to cherish, to balance the ups and downs of your relationship together.

You two walked to the table, Joel placed the pancakes down and got comfortable on the chair, taken by surprise as you simply sat on his lap, instead of taking the seat next to him. You looked at him with a grin and stole a peck from his lips

“What?! You said we should have breakfast first” you giggled and started eating, at the same time his arm wrapped around your frame and he pulled you even closer. You couldn't really complain about that breakfast, it was the best you've ever had in so long, and it had nothing to do with pancakes.

•••

During daylight it was possible to see the damage the thieves left in your home; not only did they steal valuable things, but they also left a trail of mess and dirt through the floors, making you feel so angry at the shit hole they'd left your house. As soon as you got off Joel's truck, you could see cleaning, fixing and buying things again would take a long time, and even if you had the best contractor around town next to you, you still had to do chores. He placed his hands on his waist, furrowing his brows while he scanned the room, thinking of what he should do. You quickly changed into more comfortable clothes, grabbing a mop and a bucket and began cleaning up everything you had to, you reminded Joel he could make himself at home and grab drinks or snacks, since it was the least you could do after he'd been so kind to help you - and fuck you raw morning and night.

Once you'd finished your chores and showered quickly to get rid of the sweat, you went downstairs, looking for Joel. He had fixed a few things here and there, things you hadn't even noticed, but the moment you walked down the stairs, he was fixing your door.

And you were not prepared for that sight, at all.

Not with how Joel's shirt was clinging tight to his body, damp with sweat, the way his jeans looked so good around his thighs and his butt, or how he flexed his biceps unconsciously while he forced the warped wood forwards, the soft grunt he let out and how his huge hand wiped the forehead off his forehead was enough to set your core on fire. You stood there, at the bottom of the stairs, gripping the handrail and wondering when you'd become that thirsty for a man. Even when you had relationships after your divorce, you couldn't remember being that easily turned on, but at that moment, a mere display of Joel's roughness was enough to pool your wetness on your panties. He was just so mainly, so strong, something primal and intense about that man's body, he was different from any man you'd met, and the years only added to it, you were so tired of fighting your urges and feelings. Yes, Joel had been the worst husband a woman could've asked for, but just because you wanted to crazily ride on his cock, it didn't mean you would have to marry him again, definitely not. Joel wasn't a good husband, but he was a damn fine lover.

“I didn't see you there” you jumped at Joel's voice, distracted by it as he snapped you out of your lustful thoughts, nodding at him and smiling nervously. He cleared his throat “I'm guessing you want to talk, don't you?” There was a slight hint of disappointment in his voice and you thought for a while

“Yeah, we need to talk, just… take a seat, I'll get you some water” you pointed at your couch and disappeared into the kitchen, finding Joel standing still when you returned with a fresh bottle of water for him. He hadn't moved, something inside of him telling him not to, some kind of superstition, that maybe if he sat down he would go back to the poor reality of his life, a life without you, your touch, your caress. As long as he stood up, he could always find something to do around your home and then spend a little longer by your side. He took the bottle with a nod in gratitude and took a big sip of it, at the same time it seemed you were watching an erotic movie just by the way your body reacted to the image of his neck, the way his veins pumped as he swallowed his water, showing his thirst, and to think just a few hours before he was eating your pussy with the same ferocity, made you press your thighs together. You needed that man, and you were going to have him, no matter what. To hell with needing to have a serious chat, to move on with your life and not forgetting the past, you needed him carnally. Joel finished his water and finally walked to your couch, taking a seat and spreading his legs, just like he often did to find a comfortable position. You hated when men did that, taking up space and being rude, but not Joel, the way he did it was hot, it reminded you of how big he was, his long legs, big, strong thighs, so perfect to ride, and his frowny face, you could tell he was worried, probably thinking you would just thank him for the help, tell him what happened between the two of you couldn't happen again and ask him to leave. Hiding the heartbreak under his mean face, little did he know that conversation would have to be postponed, because your mouth was about to be too busy to talk.

“You want to talk, right?” He asked, nervously running his hands through his jeans, watching as you took another step closer and nodded.

“Yeah, but we can't talk right now… I'd rather use my mouth for something else” you winked at him, falling onto his knees and began caressing his thighs over his rough jean, smirking at his surprised face, hands fiddling his pants as you opened his fly and bit your lips

“I need your cock now, Joel, I need you in my mouth”

He was taken aback by your sudden change of behavior, he'd sat down expecting to be told to leave, but now he had you on your knees begging for his cock and that was something he couldn't deny. His left hand gripped your hair, tilting your head up a little, while his right hand stroked your cheek gently, his thumb ghosted over your lips, tracing an invisible path on it as he nodded. Suddenly, roles were reversed: he wasn't waiting for you to stop and decide what he should do, instead, he was in charge and he was about to make you choke on his cock.

“So pretty, baby girl…” Joel's voice wasn't much more than a whisper “you want my cock, don't you? Just like a filthy little slut, you wanna choke on it? Want my cum down your pretty throat?”

All you could was nod at his filthy words, Joel's mouth could drive any woman inside without any physical touch, just his dirty choice of words was enough to cause a turmoil of feelings and increase the pool in your panties. He lifted his hips and pulled his pants down, freeing his cock, already hard and held it by the base, while you licked your lips. You could see his tip glistening and closing your eyes as Joel rubbed his tip against your lips, before you opened it and took his cock into your mouth. Joel threw his head back and groaned in pleasure, he could feel his balls quivering while both hands flew to your hair, gripping it as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft, your hand squeezing and stroking his cock up and down where you couldn't reach his length. You'd always loved Joel's groans, the way he sounded so voracious, you clenched your thighs together, trying to give your throbbing clit some sort of relief. He guided you through his blowjob, he hadn't gotten a good one like that in years; of course he'd had his affairs, nightstands and such, but no mouth in the world compared to yours at all. He praised you, reminded you were his favorite cock slut and he wouldn't have any other than you.

You could feel by the way he clenched in your mouth his release was close, he was about to unload and you wanted to swallow all of him. So you continued, even when Joel tried to lift your head gently and warn you, you didn't need any warnings, you simply continued blowing him until he was cumming into your mouth. He reached his orgasm with another grunt, at the same time you worked your magic and swallowed every single drop of him. The way his cock pulsed inside of your mouth, how his breathing got rapid, his chest raising up and down at a fast pace, it was the sexiest thing you'd ever seen. Joel Miller was a strong, manly man, and you loved it.

He finally rested his eyes on you, his hell and heaven on earth, and he just needed more of you, convinced that whatever he had of you just wasn't enough. He helped you up, then pulled you to his lap, making you squeak in surprise as you landed right on top of him. You rested your forehead against his, while he pressed your body closer, never wanting to let go. He pulled you for a kiss, your lips tasting like him, sent Joel another wave of lust and need; he kissed your neck, his hands fiddling with your clothes, getting rid of them as he wanted you bare for him, your body on his, naked; he wanted to take you inside your house, not just some dirty, rushed secret locked in his room, but instead, claim you in any room of your home, if you ever wanted to break with him and decide he shouldn't be part of your life any longer, then at least he would leave his mark knowing each time you walked into any room, you would think of him, reminded of the time Joel fucked you and emptied himself inside of your tight juicy cunt.

“Come on, darling, ride my cock” his rough voice commanded you at the exact time Joel's hand pulled your shorts and your panties down. He went for your ass, massaging it, squeezing your cheeks and slapping it a couple of times, seeing it wiggle softly

“You're so fucking hot, you know that, sugar? Only you can make my cock throb the way you do” he praised you. His fingers traveled to your cunt, caressing it for the second time that day, making you spread your legs as wide as you could over him. He stroked your clit, feeling your arousal pooled in your entrance, it was intoxicating to him, he needed you every single day for the rest of his life. He gripped your hips, helping you lift yourself up and as held his cock in place and sank down onto it.

“Just like that, gorgeous, take that cock baby girl” he praised you.

You spent the rest of your afternoon riding Joel on your couch, not giving a single shit if any of the neighbors could see it through the curtains or the mere fact Joel had given you the worst heartbreak of your life; you needed him as much as he needed you, and it seemed neither of you could let go.

•••

The following days went by exactly the same way they usually did: you either worked from home or you went to the office a few times a week, you went grocery shopping, led a quiet, normal life, received Sarah's visits almost daily with the exception you were also seeing her dad without her having any idea. In fact, no one apart from you and Joel knew what was going on, and neither of you had any intention of changing that. Being completely honest, you should have broken things up with Joel the morning after, but each time you decided to do so, you simply couldn't get it done, the mere thought of standing in front of Joel and asking him to stay away from you was devastating, even if you turned to your memories of the day you found out Joel was in love with Angela and didn't want to be with you any longer couldn't help you. Of course they were as painful as if they were fresh, but at the same time it also felt like it happened between two completely different people rather than you and Joel. It was so difficult to process that Joel and your current Joel were the same, because deep down your heart claimed they weren't; the Joel you were constantly hooking up with was a hardworking, a great father, he was caring, sweet, he was passionate and he treated you as if you were the best thing he'd ever seen in the whole world. He'd become a closed man to relationships due to the guilt he felt for treating you the way he did and the abandonment he suffered from Angela. As much as that sounded twisted, the fact you were both abandoned by people you loved, also brought you closer, especially because he got to know exactly how you felt, which increased his guilt. It was terrible, but he was aware he was probably going to carry that for the rest of his life; even if he watched you smile and laugh, or if you wrapped your arms around him, underneath the joy and excitement he felt within, there would always be a tad of guilt just like a bitter taste in his mouth, reminding him of his coward attitude and how much better than him you truly were. As you had told Joel while you still hadn't crossed the line of how far your relationship should go, the problem wasn't the fact he fell in love with Angela, that could've happened to anyone, even if the sting of rejection hurt, being tricked and lied to was way worse than that. Even if it was hard to recover from the pain - if you had even recovered at all, after all, more than a decade went by without you being able to have a commitment to anyone, unable to stay in a relationship for more than other a few months, - you could only imagine Joel's experience was even worse; not only his relationship with Angela ended, but she also cut her ties with her own baby daughter. The disappointment he felt to realize his daughter would have to grow up without her mom, the paralyzing fear of being on his own to raise a baby, must've been intense. And even if some people could actually laugh at how funny life can be and swear there was still some kind of divine justice lurking around and he was simply paying for everything he'd done to you, you couldn't find the amusement in that situation, it was so sad, you could only feel pity. It seemed to you the years had turned Joel into a silent companion of pain, and not so much into the villain you'd projected onto him.

And all that was only the rational side of the story, because if you left it all to your feelings and desires, you wouldn't be able to leave his bed. Perhaps you were both feeling an overloaded amount of everything you had repressed for each other over the years; being able to externalize it was addictive, at first it was thought to be an inch you both needed to scratch, but soon enough it became obvious it was way more than that, which caused you to fall into his arms whenever you tried to make things easier for the two of you and simply let this condemned relationship go.

As you closed your laptop and watched Sarah's brows furrowing at the paper in front of her, in a mixture of focused and cranky for not being able to solve another math problem easily, she reminded you of Joel and how he would get the same way and have the same expression whenever he got frustrated with something not going according planned. You gently placed your hand on top of hers and offered her a reassuring smile, Sarah had had her nails done by you earlier, proud to see how pretty the sparkly color got on contracts with her skin. She was such a beautiful girl and you enjoyed being able to help her discover that, by introducing simple things like that, which meant the world to her, since she didn't have a mom around, it was nice doing stuff like that with someone experienced who could give her advice on school, friends and boys. She really appreciated it and if it were for Sarah, she would find a way to set you up with her dad and become one small family.

“you should have a break, you've been stuck in this question for a long time, try again later” you advised her and even if she sighed in a gruff way, - again, so Joel Miller coded - she nodded, closing her notebook and checking up her nails discreetly, which brought a warmth into your heart.

“So…” you started, hoping you would sound convincing enough and not raise any kind of suspicions from her, after all, that girl was smart “...you told me your dad is coming to pick you up, right? When he does, invite him inside so you guys can have dinner with me” you suggested, even if you and Joel had already agreed on it. You hadn't been able to see each other in a few days let alone touch each other, which was actually what you both really wanted, so all the options you got were texting like a bunch of horny teenagers. Now, sending nudes to a guy was something you would strongly disagree several months ago, but now? Each time your phone buzzed, you rushed to it, in hopes to get yet another picture of Joel's big hand holding his cock by its base, so you could lock yourself in any room and pull down your bra and panties, exactly the way he liked it. So spending some time around Joel even if you both had to play it cool was better than nothing. Sarah agreed but still felt a little puzzled at your suggestion.

“Alright… but why? You're regretting saying no when I tried to set you up?” She chuckled and you rolled your eyes, hoping you weren't so obvious. You moved to the kitchen and invited her to come along, so she could help you with dinner. You opened the fridge and had your back to Sarah, while you picked the meat and the vegetables.

“No, it's just that your dad was so nice to me, he fixed my front door after the break in, it would be a nice way to repay” you said “why do you even say that?”

“I think dad has a girlfriend or something…” she shrugged and you stopped, looking at her and trying to control the shock over your face.

“Y-yeah? And how do you know it?”

“Well, dad's different now, he seems happier, more cheerful, he's very often texting on his phone…”

“And what do you think of that?”

“It's nice, I guess” Sarah licked her lips “dad deserves to be happy, he's been lonely for a long time, ever since my mom left…” she said “but uncle Tommy says dad was sad before that, apparently there was another girl before mom, it didn't work between them or dad made her go away, I don't know why, but uncle Tommy told me once that even when he was with my mom, he couldn't forget about her an-”

“What happened then?” Only after you said it you realized you interrupted Sarah and sounded a little crazy, she didn't understand why you were so into that story after all, but seeing how eager you were to hear the ending of it, she continued.

“Well, according to uncle Tommy dad never forgot that girl, but she was way out of his league by the time my mom had left, so my dad sort of gave up dating” she shrugged “then my dad got home and interrupted uncle Tommy when he was about to tell me the full story, and he never spoke about it since” she replied with a simple shrug and pointed at the meat you were about to roast

“Hey, that's my dad's favorite!” She said amused at the coincidence of menus which you knew damn well that wasn't a coincidence, but your treat to Joel. As you kept cooking with Sarah's help, you also thought about the story she'd told you, too many things happening at once: finding out Joel had never forgotten you while his daughter was sure he had a mysterious girlfriend, which of course, was also you.

During dinner, you tried your best to forget about all of that, the way Joel and Sarah fit so well in that scene, the three of you at the table, eating and sharing how your days had been seemed like a beautiful painting of a perfect little family. A portrait of what things could've been like, or should have been like, and you enjoyed it, you couldn't deny it at all. Your gaze met Joel's and you shared a smile, silently agreeing you were spending a family time; you wondered if some day that would actually happen and if you would indeed be a family with Joel, sometimes you thought you would like it, and sometimes you would brush it off as some momentary lapse. But when he reached for your hand under the table and held it, caressing your knuckles with his thumb, your heart raced one more time and you couldn't help but allow yourself to picture a life by his and Sarah's side.

When you were all finished, Joel gladly dismissed his daughter from having to help with the dishes and the moment you two noticed she was fairly entertained with the new books you'd bought, he stole a kiss from you. It was quick but sweet and as much as it left you all giggly and blushing, it wasn't enough. Your need for Joel was overpowering, it was addictive, and you needed to touch him. Nothing would happen between the two of you while Sarah stood just a few feet away, Joel would never risk being caught that way, he respected his daughter too much, but he would kill to have his hands all over your body. He thought of asking you on a escapade with him, but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea, not with Sarah being a little suspicious of how friendly you were acting towards each other. He wondered if he could actually call you his girlfriend, if he could admit he was dating you, because that's what it felt like, but then, if you both came clean about the situation, it would get complicated, not only for him because of Sarah, but he was well aware you would be in a tricky situation with your family, since he knew for a fact your parents hated him, - with plenty reasons to do so - eventually, you would two would have to have the talk. Now, Joel didn't fear not being with you any longer, he knew that wouldn't happen, you were as attached to him as he was to you, but eventually, you would have to define that situation. He knew he could be cold and distant, but it was so damn hard for him to hide his passion, the way he leaned against the doorframe and watched as you carefully put the dishes away, looking every bit of sexy as you could be, not that young and naive little wife he kept at home before he screwed things up, but instead, the powerful, beautiful woman you grew to be.

Sarah was incredibly smart, but she was also naive at some level, which caused her to be oblivious to the fact you called Joel into the backyard at some point, asking him to check something up you wanted it fixed, only to pull him closer and kiss him deeply, gripping his body, wanting him to engulf you like he always did, your nails gently scratching down his back while his lips ravished yours.

“I want to spend the night with you so bad, baby girl” he whispered against your lips “you're so good to me, you treat Sarah like a princess, you cooked us my favorite meal, all I want is to show my gratitude by getting lost between these beautiful thighs” he teased and for a split second you felt like telling him to stay the night, to come clean and tell Sarah you were dating, dating as if you two were pretty much a decade younger and so eager to be in each other's arms, but it couldn't happen that way, not like that, and not at that moment. You nibbled his bottom lip a couple of times before letting go, your body tingled for him, aching for his touch and as he told you he would call Sarah to go home, you felt unannounced tears flooding your eyes for no reason. Why did things have to be so complicated, why Joel couldn't have been this good from the beginning? You could've lived more than a decade of happiness together, if it weren't for that.

As they said their goodbyes, you watched Joel's truck disappear from your eyesight, a pang in your chest insisting on saying it was your family leaving while you played too hard to get.

•••

You had never seen Sarah smile that wide as she did while you two walked around the mall; side by side, a bunch of bags in hands as you spent such a simple, and yet incredible quality time together. For her, it was like hanging out with the mom she never had, and you felt as if you were shopping around for the daughter you could never conceive. It didn't matter where you were going, which stores you were checking and not even exactly what you were buying, just the fact you were doing that together felt incredibly special. It all began when Sarah complained about not having what to wear to the Harry Styles concert in the upcoming week; after months of begging her dad and uncle Tommy, she was given a ticket to the presentation she'd been dreaming of watching, under the condition she wasn't going to drag her dad along. Joel was an amazing dad, and he would do almost about anything for her, but standing in line for hours and then having to watch that guy performing while an entire stadium of hysterical teenage girls would be screaming at the top of their lungs which would probably cause Joel to go deaf in his good ear was a hard pass, that he wouldn't do. In fact, he would. The moment she gave him her puppy eyes and asked him to take her, he would do it, even if he tried tricking himself, however, luck seemed to be standing by his side, as Tommy happened to start dating this chick who was also obsessed with that Harry guy and when she got herself and Tommy a ticket, Sarah was all set. And so was Joel, because without anyone knowing, he managed to get a free night with you. And in the blink of an eye, you and Joel seemed way more excited for the Harry Styles concert than Sarah.

So when she complained she didn't actually have anything nice to wear, you thought of doing that for her, it would be fun, a change of just staying inside reading books, you could spend some girl time together and while you were out with her, you could really watch Sarah, the way she behaved, how she talked and acted, it reminded you so much of Joel, you wondered if she'd taken anything from Angela at all, deep inside, you wish she didn't, even if it was a petty thing to do. The idea of Sarah being similar only to her dad was nothing but comforting and sweet to you, it was the easiest way to see the evolution he went through, unfortunately, he had to learn how to be a better person through the pain, but he had succeeded and that was what it really mattered. You didn't really care if you'd spent a lot on Sarah, you had the money after all, and she deserved it. She was happy, talking excitedly about several things, to the point she barely noticed when Joel walked towards the two of you. He had his jacket on, hair a little messy from the wind as he grinned shyly at the sight of you, his heart skipping a beat as it felt to him he was meeting his daughter and wife at the mall.

Sarah frowned, amused to see her dad, walking towards him, she hugged him, which surprised Joel a little, not expecting that gesture at that very moment.

“What are you doing here, dad?” She asked curiously as Joel greeted you by giving you a peck on the cheek, trying so hard not to seem he was practically drooling over you.

“Tommy needed to buy his girlfriend whatever and asked me for a ride, so while he disappeared into the crowd I was trying to find him” he explained and stared at you “you girls are having fun, I see?” He raised his eyebrow and Sarah eagerly nodded, lifting her bags a little and showing him everything you'd bought her. He was so thankful for everything you were doing for his daughter, especially because he was sure you did it out of kindness and the fact you care about her. You watched their interaction and bit your lips in anticipation, you felt a sudden urge to kiss Joel in front of everyone and walk around the mall holding hands with him, you had never discussed that before, but the thought of it made your heart race. Sarah exchanged a few words with her dad before her eyes went wide as she spotted one of her best friends a couple of stores ahead and smiled big

“Dad, can I go show Nat the things I got? Please?! I'll be right back!” She asked with her sweet eyes and Joel agreed, telling her you two would be around as he intended to keep you company. As you walked towards another store with Joel following you, Sarah soon got entertained with her friend in an ice cream booth nearby. You both chuckled at the scene and he quickly placed his hand on the small of your back.

“Is Tommy really shopping around for his girlfriend or were you just stalking us?” You teased Joel, entering the lingerie store, earning a gasp from him before he could actually answer your question.

“Don't even think about it, Miller, I'm here just to buy some sports bra to go to the gym and nothing more” you added but the mischievous look in his eyes was extremely well-known.

“That's a shame, because this one would look so good on you” he pointed at a lilac lacey pair of underwear, his mouth watering at how beautiful you would certainly get in it, and how stripping you out of all that lace would feel like unwrapping a Christmas gift. You frowned at him, reminding him you were just there to buy a couple of things and leave, in fact, you shouldn't have even let Joel get inside the store with you, it wouldn't be appropriate and how would he explain to Sarah what the hell he was doing there in the first place. Joel, on the other hand, was pretty much entertained by all the beautiful colors and shapes the tiny pieces of fabric came with; he could picture every inch of your body in them, trying to guess which ones would look better. He knew all of them would be just perfect, but he was a guy who was simply drawn to the traditional good old red lacey; it was gorgeous, and it would be a nice gift for the two of you. As he looked around to find you and show you what he'd decided to treat you to, you were nowhere to be seen; the sales clerk already busy with the new customers walking into the store, he decided to wander after you. He was thankful no one seemed to mind nor notice him there, too worried to be seen as a creep, but determined to find you nonetheless; as he got to the fitting room area, he quickly called your name.

“What now, Joel?!” You immediately replied from the one in the corner, slightly annoyed at the fact he'd followed you there, sometimes Joel was a little like a stray puppy, coming after you with those big sad brown eyes, and even if you wanted to shop for freaking sports bras on your own, you couldn't help but enjoy the fact he was just so needy of you.

When Joel opened the door and got inside, you even tried to argue and ask him what the heck he was doing there, but instead, he smirked, gripping your sides and kissing you as a way to keep you silent. You wanted to push him away and tell him to fuck off, but the rushing adrenaline you felt through your veins made you feel alive, and as always, Joel's touch set you on fire. He broke the kiss dragging his lips over to your neck and then your collarbone, his hands climbing up your sides and going to your breasts, squeezing them softly

“This sports bra ain't bad, but I'd say a work of art like your body should have more lace, or glitter or whatever shit you like” he said in a grunt and lowered your top, even against your protests that weren't much more than just some whimpers that couldn't convince you, let alone Joel. You could feel his beard scratching down your chest and going straight to your breasts, lips wrapping around your nipples as he suckled on it gently at first, flicking it with his tongue before moving to your other breast and working the same magic. Your heart raced to the point you could feel your blood rushing through your ears, the fact you both could be caught at any moment and kicked out of the store, or even worse: be arrested for public indecency, added a hint of fear to the traditional lust you had for Joel; that man would be the dead of you, that much you were sure of.

“We can't Joel…” you mumbled against his curls, his head on your chest as his fingers found their way down your belly, getting so close to your sweet spot, he was so needy of you, wanting all of you to the point it felt he would go crazy. His digits toyed with the hem of your panties, while you pulled his curls a little, making him groan.

“Sorry honey” you whispered and kissed this temple, which made him smile. Joel was about to finger you in a fitting room in the middle of a store and you were so sweet to him, it made his heart ache a little, at the realization he definitely didn't deserve you. He kissed you once more and nibbled your lower lips the moment his fingers reached your core, spreading your lips apart and finding your needy clit, already so hard and wet, just for him to enjoy. He wasn't going to tease you, you both didn't have time for it, so instead, he played with your wetness, before shoving his fingers inside of you, stretching you up the way you both knew and enjoyed it, he thumbed with your clit before focusing all his ministrations into your tight cunt, feeling your muscles squeezing and clenching around him. He'd kill to have his cock inside of you instead of his fingers, but that would have to wait. He felt your teeth on his shoulder, while your pussy gushed at the same time you came for him. He felt your body going limp, sustaining your weight with his free hand

“Taste yourself, princess” he whispered against your ear and held his fingers up, waiting for you to wrap your devilish lips around them and lick them clean. Joel felt the urge to take you right there and then, but he was a patient man and knew things would have to wait. He kissed your lips goodbye and exited the fitting room after making sure no one was around to see him.

The sales clerk was a little confused when she saw Joel walking towards the register with a blood red pair of lacey lingerie, she couldn't remember seeing him walk into the store and let alone hang around, but the work policy forced her to smile at him and be helpful, especially when he got his wallet out and extended his credit card.

“I'd like you to gift wrap this and give it to the beautiful lady who's trying sports bra in the fitting room, tell her it's my treat” he winked at the woman, aware he could use his charms in his own favor. She agreed to his request and he left the store just like any other ordinary customer, at the same time you received the package as a present the moment you tried paying for your stuff.

•••

After waiting what it seemed like forever, the Harry Styles concert was about to happen, which caused Joel to have a break from his brother, his girlfriend Maria and Sarah, who insisted they all spend hours waiting in line. His heart was full of joy and pride to see how happy his precious daughter was, the way she could barely sleep at night and that guy was the only thing she ever talked about. It was amusing to him, even if he ran out of patience from time to time, it was amazing to see his little girl looking like a beautiful young woman in her new outfit bursting with happiness. Joel couldn't also complain about the fact he managed to enjoy a full day by himself and get ready to receive you through the night. He'd gone grocery shopping, buying all the kinds of treats he knew you loved - or used to, as people could often change their personal taste over the years, but instead of seeing that with sadness, he felt glad to be able to learn something new about the woman he was madly in love with. He was going to go for some beer, but Joel thought again and decided to pick some wine, he just thought you were more of a wine kind of woman, more elegant than just cheap beer.

What you both hadn't counted on, was how hot the weather was, even if the sun had set down, it was still uncomfortable to remain inside, which made Joel suggest you both should move your date night to the swimming pool. At first you thought he was joking, but the stern look on his face told you he was being completely serious, and you thought it was a nice change. The way Joel took the bottle of wine, the glasses and simply began undressing without a word made you puzzled, until he turned around and told you to take off your clothes as well.

One skinny-dipping adventure and a quicky in his pool later, you both took sips of your wine, as you pressed yourself against him; Joel's arms were tight around your body as you rested your head on his chest, kissing it gently, and listening to his heartbeats, it was scary how out of the sudden, his arms became your favorite place in the world. You were far too deep into this story, and there was no way out without getting hurt, but that wasn't the time to think of that, you didn't want to have those kinds of thoughts, you wanted to spend your time with Joel and get lost into him, just as he was into you.

“Sarah told me you have a girlfriend” you blurted out, making Joel raise his eyebrow at you and looking down at you

“What?!”

“Well, she said you seemed happier lately, always texting someone, sneaking out here and there…” you chuckled “I wonder who that bitch is” Joel laughed at your comment, his hand sliding down your back and resting on your ass, squeezing it and then pecking your lips.

“She ain't no bitch, I can assure you that much” he said gently and nuzzled your neck “she's gorgeous, she's the best thing that's ever happened to me, well, after Sarah, of course, but still, and she was so kind to forgive me after everything I've done” his lips were back on your cheek and then on your lips “and I love her very much”

For a moment your whole world stopped. Joel loved you. He admitted it out loud, it wasn't just a matter of simple assumptions, but rather a concrete, explicit feeling. You opened your mouth looking at him hesitantly, what exactly should you say? What could you tell Joel? Did you love him back? If so, were you ready to admit it and face the consequences of getting back together with the man who caused the biggest emotional trauma of your life. Joel took his hands off your body and looked at you with a hint of disappointment, even if he didn't want to admit it, he was disappointed, he thought you shared the same feeling as he did, so he sighed and nodded.

“It's fine, you don't have to say it back…” he cleared his throat and swam to the ladder of the pool “it's getting a little chilly, I think we should get inside”

•••

A few days later, your conversation with Joel simply wouldn't leave your mind; you were in love with him, it was impossible for anyone not to notice, him included, and yet, you didn't understand why it was so hard for you to simply admit it. Perhaps, if you did it, then it would become real, and your relationship with him would stop being a fun, little secret shared by the two of you, but rather a concrete relationship between two adults, where you'd eventually have to come clean and open up to family, friends, you would celebrate birthdays and holidays, anniversaries and face several, typical questions coming from all sides, wondering if you would both remarry or have kids. It was overwhelming, but not as bad as how you were feeling at that moment. You felt guilty and embarrassed, and the paranoid side of you was convinced Joel had been avoiding you for the past week, whereas Sarah was at your place nearly everyday, still talking about Harry Styles and showing you countless pictures of the concert, he wouldn't text much nor insist to see you, even when you suggested him to sneak out late at night and go to yours, he politely declined by saying Tommy and him got a new big client and work was rushed and soul crushing. Of course he could be telling you the truth, he did sound exhausted on the phone and Sarah had mentioned Joel and Tommy had been arriving late most days, both of them covered in sweat and in such a bad mood due to the unbelievable amount of work they were having. Yet, what should make you feel calm and at ease, didn't help one bit, it was uncomfortable and depressing not having Joel around, you missed him, his touch, his body but mostly his presence. He'd been a constant in your life for the past months, and it was only taking a week for you to feel abandoned. It wasn't fair to you, and yet, it wasn't fair to him either, not when he declared his love for you and you couldn't even say it back. You placed your living room, not sure whether you should drive to his home or not, in fact, you knew you shouldn't, but you wanted to, because that particular day, not even Sarah showed up, and it made you sad. You were so attached to the little family destiny set apart for you, simply a day or two away from them was enough to cause a large wound in your heart. You looked around, looking for an excuse to show up at the Miller's household; until your eyes widened and you grinned to see Sarah's history book lying around your coffee table. It was the perfect excuse to go and see them! Perhaps you could even end up having dinner with them, and then make up an excuse about a flat tire or whatever, have Joel giving you a ride home and end up being railed by him in the back of his truck. The longing for Joel was increasing and all you wanted was to make things right by explaining him you did have feelings for him and you needed some time, but you were willing to make sacrifices in order to be with him, because you wanted to and it was important for you that he saw how appreciated he was by you.

On your way to Joel's, you stopped at a bakery you knew Sarah loved, thinking of all the delicious treats you could take so you'd keep your family spoiled, at least a little. You smiled at yourself the moment you chose a couple of cupcakes, cookies and the chicken pie Joel loved, thinking of how you were already addressing them as your family. The truth is that they were indeed your family, the connection you three had was strong, the bond you created with Sarah without even knowing for a fact who she was and later on all that passion for Joel surfacing after spending a decade buried deep inside of you. It was a waste of time fighting that, and you wanted to get to them as soon as possible, you'd been alone far too long, it was about time to yourself have one good thing, to break free and admit how happy you were next to the Millers. You loved them just as they loved you, and it made no sense to fight that feeling and pretend it didn't exist.

The ride wasn't long, there was hardly any traffic in the suburbs, most families were already inside, having dinner together as the sun had set and the street lights were all lit up, as you parked your car, you saw Joel's truck in the driveway and felt your chest tightening in anxiety and fear; if he was already home why didn't he call or text you? Maybe he was indeed avoiding you?! Joel wouldn't make the same mistake twice and push you away, would he? You shook your head, you had faith in him, faith you both had matured and were able to handle things by talking and being honest with each other; you licked your lips and sighed, knowing that whatever was going on could be solved by the two of you as two functional adults, besides, there were a bunch of explanations to why he hadn't talked to you that day yet, you shouldn't jump to conclusions and let your paranoia win once more. You got out of the car with the bag full of treats and walked to the front door, you knocked a couple of times and waited for an answer but nobody came. It was odd, as you could hear Joel's and Sarah's voices coming from inside, and even if you couldn't tell what they were saying your heart raced, your gut feeling telling you something was up and you couldn't wait any longer, silently opening the door and getting inside. You placed the bag of food down the coffee table as you could clearly hear what they were saying. It seemed Joel and Sarah were arguing, which was extremely odd, since you had never seen them have any kind of disagreement, they just had a real nice and healthy father and daughter relationship in which they both listened to each other and acted with respect. As you approached, you heard Sarah's cries and you were taken by worry, perhaps someone had died? You couldn't wait any longer, you rushed and got into the kitchen, confused at first at what had happened between them, Joel looked so overwhelmed, his face was red and he desperately tried to make a point while telling Sarah a bunch of information she could barely cope with, as she cried in disappointment and shook her head, not believing anything her dad was saying. Her heart was shattered with disappointment and sadness, she couldn't believe her dad, her hero, the man she loved and admired the most in her life had done such a thing.

On the kitchen table, a photograph taken on your wedding day was lying around. A younger version of yourself hugged a much younger Joel as you both stood in front of the courthouse, smiling widely at the camera. There was no way to deny it nor hide it. Sarah had found out about your previous connection god knows how and Joel seemed desperate as he wanted to explain himself to his daughter, he couldn't bear having her so disappointed in him like that, it shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“Sarah…” you whispered and tried touching her cheek, wanting to caress it gently and assure her everything was fine now, that what had happened was in the past and that her dad was still the best father a girl could ever wish for. But Sarah moved her face away from your touch, her eyes were glistening with tears as she seemed so heartbroken

“You both lied to me! Why did you lie?” She asked and you looked at Joel wanting to have some kind of support in order to reply to her question.

“Sarah, we are both sorry, but your dad and I have made up after what happened, I know it's a lot to take now but don't be upset please” you asked her, Joel nodded and wrapped his arm around your waist in order to show her things were fine between the two of you. He promised to talk to her and explain everything to her in detail, but she was just so upset, feeling betrayed by the person she admired and loved the most in the whole world. You knew there was nothing you both could do at that moment, not with Sarah being so nervous and upset, instead, you asked Joel to call Tommy and suggested that he took her out for ice cream or something, maybe have a little chat with his niece while you and Joel could sit down and figure the best way to tell her everything. It didn't take more than twenty minutes for his younger brother to arrive, Sarah had drunk some water and washed her face, leaving with Tommy as you sat next to Joel. You took his hand and caressed it, while he refused to look you in the eye, the guilt and shame once more eating him alive, and now it had become even worse, as his precious little Sarah had found out the truth about him in the worst way possible. All she needed was an old picture for her school project and going through Joel's old memory box should be enough, and then she came across the pictures of his wedding day. Not to her mom, but to you instead, and then it all made sense: why you were never willing to be around her dad, or how you decided to keep yourself away from any kind of relationship. Because the asshole you told her you'd married once, was simply her father. The good old Joel Miller, the man who had to raise his baby daughter on his own after she left him, and then, Sarah had found out her dad had been really bad to someone so dearly to her. You, you could've been married to her dad, you could've been her mom, she could've had a family all along.

You looked at Joel and wiped a single tear that rolled down his cheek, even if he tried to hide it.

“What are we doing now, Joel?”

“I don't know…”

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A/N: what a ride, right besties? Remember, feedback is life ❤️

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