#also the part in the same song where he says 'all of your imaginations are now running down your face'

[polaroidpascal]

paradise city || joel miller

AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE

pairing : guitarist!joel x f!reader

summary : when you and your friends go out to a bar to see a local band gig, you can’t help but notice how the guitarist’s eyes somehow keep finding you in the crowd.

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, no outbreak AU, i imagine joel is in his early 40s, no age gap mentioned, mention of reader’s breakup, mentions of alcohol consumption, joel starts off a little shy but truly there ain’t nothing shy about this man, size kink (kinda?? a little bit??) oral (f! and m! receiving), unprotected p in v sex, dom!joel, joel gets a little possessive (you’ll see what i mean…), praise kink, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie, aftercare ofc

fic playlist : https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0afpHjoOFylI01OTbV5jol (picture joel playing during the guitar solos in every single one of these songs 😁)

WC : 7.9k… (no one look at me. not a single soul.)

a/n : 100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL !! i apologize in advance for all the song lyrics i’ve scattered in this fic… i opted to make a playlist of the songs i think joel’s band would play but there were just too many good ones to pass up and i was losing it a little bit 🫠 also, shoutout to @joelsdagger for constantly yapping with me about this idea and letting me tease her about this absolute menace of a man and also @haileymorelikestupid for beta reading for me 🥹😭 it feels extremely fitting to post a joel fic on international women’s day where he fucks you so good, so i hope y’all enjoy !! <3

You and your friends have had a week. 

Deciding you all needed a night to let loose and have fun together, your friend Erica found out about this place hosting a local rock cover band called Fetters Whiskey and thought it might be nice to come see them.

Earlier, you had all piled into the Uber and were headed out, a low girly chatter filling the car. The three in the back harped on about their spouses and all the little things that annoyed them. 

“He left the dishes in the drying rack!” “She helped me clean a little too well and used all the cleaner, now we’re all out!”

The complaining did help them destress a bit.

You and Erica were in the second row captain’s chairs of the car, the three in the back doing their pregame de-stressing. “Makes you rethink the whole marriage fantasy, huh?” she jokes, looking over at you playing with the rings on your fingers. 

You look up and breathe a laugh. “Yeah, I guess so,” you say with a weak smile.

“Well… have you had any luck finding anyone?” she asks sweetly, sincerely. Genuinely hoping someone has caught your eye.

You had a pretty nasty breakup a while ago, probably about eight months by now. You two had been dating for a while and the breakup honestly seemed to come out of nowhere, like some switch flipped one day and nothing was really the same. Your friends stuck by you through every up and down you had. You felt really lucky to have them.

“No. not yet,” you tell her.

“Well, maybe tonight’s your night,” she says with a friendly smile. “You deserve to unwind and let loose a little, y’know what I mean?” You breathe another laugh. “You do!” she exclaims, hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see,” you say, the rest of the car ride seeming to fly by, a part of you kinda hoping she’s right.

The bar is crowded. 

You walk in, snaking the group between the crowd and making your way near the stage towards the back of the bar, men and women alike all brushing bodies the closer you get to the stage, drinks in hand, friends chattering away, everyone waiting for the show. 

Two of your coworkers disappear to fetch everyone a drink while you and the others stake claim on a little area near the stage. A couple of guys are on the stage setting up the instruments and making sure everything is plugged in right, the lights dimmed enough to not really draw much attention to them. It’s not long before the others join them on stage and start playing. The girls return just in time, handing out the drinks as the music starts.

The band is pretty good (you’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re more than pleased with how good they sound). They play some fan favorites like Wanted Dead or Alive and I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll, and they mix in some random fun songs like Play That Funky Music. 

The drummer is clearly in his own world, head moving at a velocity you would think could give him whiplash. And he’s absolutely killing it, hitting every beat with fervor. You can feel the strikes of the sticks on his drums in the center of your chest. 

Another guy seems to be the swiss army knife musician: pretty good at almost everything, filling in wherever he’s needed depending on the song. One minute, he’s playing his keyboard and the next, he’s busting out a trumpet, and the next, he’s busting out a guitar. And no matter what he’s playing, he’s playing it with passion. 

The lead singer clearly loves all of the attention he gets. He’s feeding off the crowd’s energy like a cat lounging in the sunlight, basking in every cheer and whistle and fist pumping in the air from the crowd. He practically lives at the edge of the stage, crouching down to sing with the girls but backing up to sing and dance with his bandmates too, bringing them in on some of the harmonies and tying the whole show together.

But by far the unsung hero of this group is the lead guitarist. He hides off to the corner, leg posted up on his amp with the body of his guitar resting slightly on his thigh. He looks down at the instrument carefully watching his fingers strum each cord perfectly, furrowing his brow in concentration during his solos and lifting his head up to the sky. He looks like he feels every note in his blood, expressing it through the expert strum of his fingertips on the strings. He doesn’t have a mic and the singer doesn’t make him sing alongside him very much, but you catch him mouthing all the words and getting into the singing as well. 

He’s a particularly pretty man and your eyes linger on him more than the others, always finding their way back to him, and always during the more raunchy lines of the different songs…

Well, I am imagining // A dark lit place // Or your place on my place

I’ma paint his town red // Then paint his wife white

But I got both hands on the wheel while you got both hands on my gears // By now, no doubt we’re heading south // I guess nobody ever taught her not to speak with a full mouth

…but who can blame you when he has such a reserved, cool vibe. Plus, did you mention that he’s really pretty too?

And maybe it’s the couple of drinks getting to you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just crazy, but it seems like every time you look at him, he’s looking away from you. Like he’d been staring and you caught him. You swear he starts to look ever so slightly more flushed, but it’s practically impossible to see with the colored lights flooding the scene. No, you think, that’s crazy. You’re standing in a crowd of people, there’s no way he—

“Hey, I think the guy on lead guitar keeps checking you out!” Erica exclaims over the loud music and singing crowd.

You turn and look at her, eyebrows raised before you turn back to the stage. He does it again, averting his gaze the second he sees you look and you feel a flutter in your chest. He really is checking me out, huh?

You keep staring at him, waiting for him to look back in hopes that you’re looking away. When he lets his eyes wander back to you, you’re still staring. This time, though, he doesn’t look away. His eyes won’t let him now that you’ve caught his attention — like a fly in a spider web.

He turns his body ever so slightly, facing your direction more than anyone else as he plays the rest of the song. The lights focus on him, colorful spotlights of red and blue illuminating his face as he positively shreds his guitar solo. His fingers expertly tap dance across the neck of his guitar, his other hand working double time to strum on beat and hit every single note. You watch in a complete daze as he finishes, sealing off his musical escapade with the smuggest wink right to you.

He put on a show. All just for you.

Something stirs in your belly, a low heat kindling as the band continues to play. Their next song — god, their next song… — really puts the icing on the cake.

The jack of all trades band member busts out a sound board, the sampled sound of a snare drum filling the space, a warped, funky-sounding instrumental following.

You let me violate you // You let me desecrate you // You let me penetrate you // You let me complicate you

The guitarist shares a mic with the guy on the sound board, offering back-up vocals for the song. He’s getting a little bold now, you think.

I broke apart my insides // (Help me) I’ve got no soul to sell // (Help me) the only thing that works for me // Help me get away from myself

He’s locked eyes with you the whole time, changing the tides of who is winning this staring battle for dominance. Each second his gaze stays on you, you feel smaller and smaller, completely at his mercy. He backs away from the mic, preparing to play and licking his lips in a manner obviously made to make you even dizzier than you already are.

I wanna fuck you like an animal  // I wanna feel you from the inside  // I wanna fuck you like an animal // My whole existence is flawed // You get me closer to God

He glances back at you from his guitar, a smirk decorating his face before he turns to keep playing the song. You’re in a complete daze. He’s clearly won this battle, and you don’t even know what to do with yourself anymore.

You have to have this man.

Erica caught a some of his little show for you, watching him wink at you and the way your features fell to a focused stare at him. “Girl, get a room next time!” she teases and all you can do is smile back.

When the set is over, you and your friends walk back towards the bar, not wanting to leave just yet. You claim a few of the tiny standing tables, again gathered with Erica at one while the other girls try to cluster around another.

“So…” she starts, giving you a look of anticipation.

“So…?”

“What the hell was going on between you and that guitarist?” she asks, her tone of voice high with excitement.

You laugh, looking down and shrugging your shoulders. “I honestly have no idea,” you say, shaking your head and blushing a little thinking about his little performance. “I thought I was crazy until you said something.”

“Well, whatever it was, you should go for him!” she encourages.

“Please,” you scoff and laugh, “you’re ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious! While you were having your little… whatever you were having, I was watching the whole band, and the other guys weren’t doing what he did. And he didn’t look at anyone else the way he looked at you.”

You stare at her, a blush creeping up on your cheeks and that small fire in your belly growing a little bigger, a little hotter.

Erica looks up over your shoulder, “Oh my gosh, there they are!”

As if on cue, the band walks through one of the back doors. Having just put away their instruments and whatever other equipment they brought. They saunter in, hair wet from the sweat of performing and lifting all their stuff back into their van. Trailing behind the rest is that damn guitarist. He scans the crowd before he sees you, his expression opening with a bit of an urgency as he quickly finds the bar to grab a beer.

You turn back to Erica, mouth dry and nervous. “Please, you have to go talk to him,” she practically begs.

“No, I- I can’t. I don’t even know what to say,” you plead. “I’m so out of practice.”

“Oh, quit it. I saw you looking at him first. You had him going before he got bold with you. You still have game, go get that man!” she says.

“I don’t know, Erica—” you start, but youre quickly caught off by a tap to your shoulder. You turn around and it’s him.

“Hi,” you say, desperately trying to hide the nerves threatening your vocal chords and smile genuinely at him.

“Hi there,” he says. God, his voice is so deep. You couldn’t hear it in all of its beauty before, but it has a bass to it that rumbles in your bones.

You stare blankly at him for a second before you finally pipe up, “Um, that was a good set you guys played.”

“Thank you,” he chuckles, looking down at his beer and leaning against the edge of the table.

Erica watches with wide eyes before announcing, “Well, I’m empty. I’m gonna go get a refill, okay?” She winks as she walks away leaving you and this mysterious guitarist alone together.

You turn your gaze back to him and fully take in his features now. His eyes have their own glow to them that persists even with the dim stage lights littered around this bar. His hair is patchy from sweat but still sits pretty. His strong features demand your eyes and you’re unable to look anywhere but him.

He extends his hand out to you, “Name’s Joel.”

“Hi, Joel,” you say, shaking his hand and telling him your name. He echoes it and it sounds beautiful off his tongue. “Listen, I--”

“Y’know, you’ve got one of those faces that stands out in a crowd, anyone ever told you that?”

You shake your head, “No, not necessarily.”

“Well trust me, we’ve played our share of shows and none of them had a pretty girl like you in the audience catchin’ my eye every two seconds.”

You blush, starting to gather your mind back from the sudden thrust into a conversation with who you think might be the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your life now that you’ve had time to really study his features up close. “You’re no different yourself,” you offer.

“How so?”

“I’m just saying, you’d think the prettiest member would be the one front and center, not tucked in a corner by an amp.”

His eyes bounce back and forth between your own not breaking contact as he takes another sip of his beer. “I don’t want just anyone lookin’ my way, I guess. You gotta work to see this pretty face.”

“Pretty, indeed,” you agree, stepping ever so slightly closer to him. “You put on quite a show up there.”

He leans down just a bit, closing the gap between the two of you even more, “Well, I did have quite the eager audience, didn’t I?” he asks.

You stare at each other for a moment before Joel starts, never breaking eye contact, “Listen, I don’t really do this… but I also don’t get distracted like I did tonight…”

You inch closer to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah… your friends bring you here?” he asks and you glance at the other table where Erica lingers around your other friends and they’re all looking your way, trying not to be obvious and failing miserably.

“No, we took an Uber.”

“Well, what do you say to savin’ that money you’d pay for an Uber and lettin’ me take you home instead?”

Am I really gonna do this?, you think. Call it a gut feeling or whatever you may want, but the way Joel is looking at you, the way he put on a show just for you, how he spotted you in the crowd to strike up a conversation… Erica did say I need to unwind and let loose…

You grin back at him, “Whose home are we talking about?” you ask.

“I think you know, darlin’,” his tone drops low and deep.

A shiver runs up your spine, that ever-growing fire in your belly burning hotter and hotter. “Come on,” he says, taking your hand in his, making it look miniscule in comparison, and walks you towards the back door he came through earlier. You glance back to the bar, the girls still watching and Erica flashing you a smile and a thumb’s up.

Joel leads you to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. You see the backseat loaded with what must be his personal equipment before his door creaks open and he sits inside, the whole truck bobbing from the sheer size of this man.

He pulls you closer across the bench seat until your legs are touching, his hand snaking around your waist as you relax against his figure and his hands trace your sides.

“I meant what I said, y’know. That you stand out in a crowd.”

You turn to look at him as he quickly glances at you and you slowly bring your arms up, one landing behind his neck while the other cups his face. You slowly, softly, tenderly kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck leaving open mouth kisses all over. He tilts his head to the side just a little, humming at the feeling and settling his hand right at the swell of your hip, pulling you even closer into his side and squeezing just a bit.

The drive isn’t long at all. He pulls into a parking spot lining the side of the road and once the car is safely in park, he grabs your face with both hands, kissing you deeply. You hum into his mouth, not expecting the sudden movement, and melt into his lips. His soft, warm lips. Your hands trace his body, the two of you unable to get where you want to be from sitting in this truck.

You pull away from him. “Take me inside.”

He immediately leaves the truck urging you to hop out on his side, offering a hand to help you out but not letting go even typing the code for his apartment and after you walk through the door.

You giggle as he pulls you up the stairs of his complex, the two of you itching to have your hands all over one another. You reach the top and he twirls you around in his grip, grabbing you with one hand by the hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He kisses you with an insatiable hunger, like his life absolutely depends on it, as he backs you up until you’re pinned to the door with his entire body pressed against you. 

He fumbles with his keys for the lock to his apartment door, lips locked onto you, eyes closed, lost in the soft sweetness of your lips. He snakes a hand behind the curve of your back to brace you as the door swings open and he pushes you inside.

Your hands tangle in his hair grabbing the soft, damp strands unable to pull him any closer but wanting every inch of him in your mouth, on your lips, practically in your skin. You bite his lower lip making him moan a little into your mouth and your hands reach around to his face, wanting to stay lost in the ocean of his tongue and cheeks forever.

He pulls you back and you whine, already missing the warmth and taste of his tongue, but your disappointment is short lived. “God, darlin’… Need to have you.” he says, voice low and completely feral as he grabs you under the swell of your ass and you jump into his embrace. Your hands wander back up to his hair, pulling and grabbing as he trails his kisses down your chin, your jaw, your neck, soft sounds escaping his lips with every tug and whimper you give him.

His legs mindlessly take him to his bedroom, knowing the pathway instinctively. His mouth leaves your body for just a moment when plops you down at the edge of the bed, but he’s right back on you in an instant, reaching down to the hem of your top. You lift your arms for him to pull it off and he removes it in one fluid motion. He moves his hands to the clasp of your bra next. “This okay?”

Your chest aches with these little moments of tender sweetness from him and you nod, letting him remove your bra and he does so with skill, not fumbling for even a second as he tosses it to the floor.

His eyes immediately dart down, taking you in. He’s all but drooling, his gaze burning hot against your skin. He sinks to his knees taking one tit in his mouth and sucking on your nipple. Your hands immediately run through his hair holding him onto you and humming at the feel of his mouth on you. His other hand grabs your other tit, massaging it and thumbing your growing bud before redirecting his mouth to the other side too.

His hands drop to your sides and run up along your ribcage trailing towards your back, closing you in and burying his face into your neck peppering kisses and licks and nips there. 

“I gotta have you, baby…” he mutters into your neck. “Lay back on my pillows up there.”

You do as you’re told, lounging against his pillows and the headboard of the bed as he pulls his shirt off over his head and crawls up to meet you, hooking his hands in the belt loops of your jeans. He looks up, his gaze silently asking for permission and you nod. He pulls them down along with your panties in one smooth motion.  

You didn’t think about how worked up you had gotten until your hot core, slick with your arousal, meets the cool air of the room sending a chill across your skin. You watch as Joel’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, subconsciously licking his lips and softly grunting at the thought of diving in.

You open your legs wider, inviting him in and he settles between your legs, his arms hooking under your thighs locking you right where he wants you, all spread and open for him.

He immediately gets to work, unable to hold back anymore and expertly licks through your folds. His warm, wet tongue feels amazing on you as it dances across every nerve ending down there, each one sending fireworks across your skin. You whine and lean back, lifting your hips up to meet his mouth and squirming under his face.

His hands gently rub your thighs while he drinks you down, his nose occasionally hitting your clit making you whine. He draws flattened circles with his tongue, the surface area hitting you just right. 

“Yes… fuck yes, that feels so good…” you moan.

He moans back, unwilling to leave you for even a moment and he keeps going. One hand falls from your thigh and you keep yourself open for him as best as you can when you feel his thick, calloused fingers teasing your entrance. He slides his middle finger in easily, so he adds his ring finger too, curling up and finding the softest parts of you. But God, are his fingers huge.

Your walls constrict squeezing his fingers and you leak more slick all over his palm. His other fingers flay across your lips and ass, gripping you slightly and he’s got you locked down. 

His tongue continues at your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, the tips curling up and stroking you perfectly. 

“Right there, Joel… right there… don’t stop… please, don’t stop…” You feel yourself getting closer and closer, the flame burning in your belly all night erupting into a wildfire and igniting every inch of your skin. You feel a tightness start to grow in your belly, inching down your insides as he keeps going, and going, and going, never letting up and reveling in each twitch of your body.

You look up and see him lying flat, his hips subconsciously moving against his boxers and jeans and sheets, getting himself off just from your taste. Finally, he opens his eyes, dark with lust and locks his gaze with you with one especially deep push and curl of his fingers and another wink. That fucking wink. 

“Fuck… fuck…!” It sends you over the edge. The coil snaps and a warm flood fills your body spilling out onto Joel’s hand and into his waiting mouth. He grunts and whines, his tongue never stopping, not even for a second, as he drinks every ounce of your slick getting drunk on your juices.

He only pulls away when you pull him off by his hair, a single line if your arousal still connecting him to you and a groan leaving his lips as he lets you go. You fall back onto the pillow, legs collapsing from their own weight and twitching from your orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Joel sits up licking his palm and bringing his fingers up to your mouth, jaw slacked and panting. Your mouth closes around his fingers and he groans, “That’s it, good girl,” he coos and you hum around his digits.

When you fully come back down to Earth, you can’t help but chuckle in the afterglow of your orgasm. Joel rests on his heels gently stroking your knees and you cover your eyes with your forearm, one big sigh leaving your lips. “I guess I should have expected a guitar player to have some skilled fingers,” you joke and Joel chuckles. “That was so fucking good.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not done with you just yet, pretty girl,” Joel teases, holding out his hand to help you sit up. You do and he meets you with a sweet kiss, his hands cupping almost all of your face as he kisses you sweetly.

When he pulls away and you open your eyes, you notice another amp sitting in the corner of the room. This one looks old, unused, and the cable management could use some work, to say the least.

Joel follows your eyeline. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“That’s a lot of cables for a little speaker like that,” you say, following the tangled mess of wires scattered on the floor. “Why don’t you use that one?”

“Jus’ got old. Bought a new one and I didnt need it anymore.”

A depraved idea pops in your head and the question leaves your lips before you can even fully think it through. “Those wires… how strong do you think they are?”

Joel looks back at your face, eyebrow cocked up slightly, “What d'ya mean?”

Your bashfulness catches up quick, a shy blush pricking your cheeks. “I mean… just the outside looks braided, almost… it kinda looks like… I don’t know, kinda like a rope…”

His face softens, a look of intrigue spreading across his gaze. “Go on,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, dripping with sultry tease.

You look up through your lashes feeling more vulnerable that you have to ask specifically (he seems to love it, though). “Well… I guess, how well do you think they’d hold a knot…?”

He bites back a smirk but can’t quite hide his excitement. “Kinky…” he says with a little nod. “I like it.”

He rises from the bed but he doesn’t turn to grab the wires. Instead, he reaches for his belt, the buckle clinking against itself. “But you gotta earn it first, sweet girl.” He pulls his belt out of the loops of his jeans and tosses it to the side. 

He pauses a second before reaching for the button and zipper, enough time for you to crawl to the foot of the bed and rest your hands on his. You slowly move them away and take over, undoing his button and slowly zipping his pants apart. 

You reach under his groin cupping his covered balls in your hand and he hums. He barely fits in your palm and you salivate at what could be beneath those boxers of his. You look up at him with another gentle squeeze before pulling both down, his cock springing out and up against his lower tummy as he steps out of his pants, the tip already red and leaking.

Your eyes widen when you really take in his size and you salivate. You wrap your hand around him and very slowly pump his length, getting a feel for his size and weight and staring at him the whole time.

He looks down at you, eyes still dark and mouth slightly open. “Go ‘head, baby. Kiss it.”

You feel a flutter in your belly again already and you do as he says, kissing the slit before taking the whole head into your mouth and circling your tongue around it. His eyes roll back and he lifts his head up to the ceiling with a groan, his hand tangling in the hair at the back of your head.

You slowly take him inch by inch making him slick with your spit and using your hand to pump whatever you cant reach. Your other hand gently squeezes his balls and you feel his grip on your hair tighten a bit.

“That’s it, baby… Mouth feels so good f’me…” He starts to slowly push you down his length, taking him deeper and deeper and being careful not to get ahead of himself. 

But then you moan around his length sending lightning up his spine and it feels so fucking good… A guttural groan booms from his chest and he starts to slip, pushing you a little too far a little too fast and you gag, pulling off until it just rests on your bottom lip, spit gathering at his tip and spilling over the corners of your mouth. 

Tears prick the sides of your eyes and his hand reaches down to wipe them away. “Shit— I’m sorry… are you alright?”

You cough and catch your breath, something new and hot burning through your veins. Something about the way he lost all control… “It’s okay, I’m okay,” you say when you pull yourself together a little bit. You wipe the corners of your mouth and reach up to slowly pump his length again. “Let me try again.”

“You sure, darlin’?”

“I’m sure,” you say, looking up through your tear-soaked lashes, a small smile ghosting your lips as you nod. 

He nods back and you take him in your mouth again, closing your eyes and breathing through it, trying to focus on taking as much of him down your throat as you can.

His hands find the back of your head again, not pushing anymore but tangling through your hair as you work.

He looks down and sees your eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration and taking him so well. He drops a hand back down to your jaw, “Eyes on me, gorgeous.”

You carefully open your eyes to look up at him and when you do, his brows furrow with desperation, unable to look away from you as you bob up and down his length, hands once again pumping the length you can’t reach and massaging his balls.

“Shit, baby… that’s it…” he moans, watching the way your cheeks hollow and lips flush red from taking him. He’s twitching in your mouth and you think you’ve got him, flattening your tongue when he touches the back of your throat and swirling up his length as you pull back.

His abs start to tighten and you taste the slightly salty precum leaking from his tip. You work up the nerve to suppress your gag reflex as best you can, taking a few deep breathes before pushing yourself all the way down, taking his cock up to the hilt.

You stay there, letting your protesting throat constrict around him and he whines, his hand in your hair tightening and making you moan, another bolt of lightning taking over his entire being. His cock jumps in your throat and you think he’s a goner for sure—

He pulls you off his length completely and you gasp for air while he catches his breath too. “Nuh uh, baby. It can’t be over yet,” he says breathlessly.

You pout up at him, your doe eyes almost black from how blown your pupils are.

“Get back on the bed,” he demands.

So you do, rising a little wobbly from your knees and crawling back up onto the bed. Joel walks to the corner of the room and unplugs some of the cords plugged into the old amp. 

He digs around in his nightstand and pulls out a condom before walking back over to the bed where you’re kneeling on the mattress. He sees you eyeing the little packet pinched between his fingers. “What’s th’ matter?”

You look at him, a blush forming on your face. “Oh, I…” Your mouth goes dry and you clear your throat. “…um, you don’t— I mean, I’m on the pill so, um… If you don’t wanna…” you ramble, trying to find your words but failing in your shyness.

He smiles smugly, tossing the condom to the side. “’S okay. I hear you loud and clear.”

You take a relieved breath and watch him stand there as he starts separating the wires. He twirls his finger in the air and you turn your body to face away from him.

“Gimme your hands, darling,” he says, firmly but gently.

You obey, reaching your hands behind your back. His giant hand easily fits both in one grip and he wraps one cable around your wrists.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, facing away from Joel so he can’t see, but you’re sure it’s audibly obvious when you ask “So this must be where the band name came from then, hm?” as he ties a comfortable knot around your wrists.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Fetters. Like restraints. Usually they’re on the ankles but I guess it’s the same principle.”

He breathes a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t help with the name all that much, but I guess ya’ really do learn somethin’ new every day,” he says just as he tightens the loose, but still restrictive, knot around your wrists.

You shimmy in them a little, surprised at how well they hold together. His hands are still there, rubbing over the covering of the cords and brushing against the warmth of your skin.

“These look real pretty on you, y’know,” he mutters from behind you.

You chuckle and ask, “You tell all the groupies that?”

He grabs your chin to face him, eyes scanning over your face for a second and planting a kiss to your lips before a positively devious smirk spreads across his face. Before you know it, he puts his hand on your back gently pushing down so your chest hits the bed. 

“No, I don’t,” he says and you hear his footsteps fade. You sit there, face pressed against the mattress and ass in the air, desperately trying to crane your neck to see where in the world he’s going leaving you like this, all out in the open and exposed.

He treads back into the room and climbs back onto the bed right behind you, calves brushing up against the inside of your own as he grabs your hips to straighten them.

“I don’t tell the groupies nothin’,” he starts. “Usually jus’ ask if they want an autograph.”

The unmistakable click of a Sharpie cap rings in your ears and you feel the cold tip of the pen dragging along the skin right below the small of your back. You gasp, surprised at the unexpected feeling, completely shocked at the sheer audacity of this man, and you can’t help the butterflies it gives you, the way you mewl so quietly at the thought of him marking you with his name — his signature, no less — in such an intimate place.

You need to find a way to keep this man.

The pen trails off at the end and he recaps the marker, tossing it somewhere to the side before you feel his hands smoothing over your hips. He lets out a low toned, one-note whistle at you, staring at the dark ink branding your lower back. “Now, what a pretty view I have,” he says, a tantalizing, saccharine sweet tone lacing his words.

You can’t hold back the whimper that falls from your mouth at his teasing, his big warm hands rubbing big circles over each cheek. 

He sees you clenching around nothing. “Want me to fuck you now, sweet girl?”

“Yes, please,” you whine, earning you a light tap on your ass.

He pulls on the cords and wraps an arm around your torso, bringing you up flush to his torso and reaching a hand to your mouth. “Gimme some help.”

You spit into his hand and he hums in content. “Atta girl,” he says, gently laying you back down and pumping his length with the wetness. You feel the tip of his cock rub against your folds and you squirm. He grabs your hip with his free hand as he lines himself up to notch right at your entrance. He slowly pushes just the tip in, the pressure making you moan.

“I gotcha, baby. Jus’ relax f’me,” he coos, pushing inch by inch into you letting you adjust to his size. Your walls twitch at the intrusion and your breathing gets heavier, soft sounds escaping your lips. Eventually, he’s up to the hilt and you swear you can feel him in your lungs. You subconsciously swirl your hips, the movement inside making you whine.

“Shit, baby… so fuckin’ tight…” Joel breathes, squeezing your hips and trying not to lose his cool too quickly. His cock bounces and he grunts, taking a minute before slowly pulling out of you as you whine at the loss. It’s short lived, though, because he’s immediately pushing back into you, the stretch and burn pulling a desperate groan from your throat. 

“Fuck yeah, baby. You like how that feels?” he moans, picking up the pace slightly with each thrust. 

“Yes— fuck, feels so good…” you moan. The way his cock drags along your walls makes your belly burn hot. His grip on your hips tight and threatening to bruise if he squeezes any harder, but you couldn’t care less. Just another way for him to mark you as his.

“Squeezin’ my cock so good… she’s achin’, baby…” He’s very talkative, you think and decide to play into it. 

“She’s all yours, Joel. Pussy belongs to you,” you say as you squeeze him again, the pressure in your belly growing with each gentle kiss to your cervix that his tip gives you. 

You feel his pace falter for a second, his grip tightening at that. “Yeah? Say it again. Who’s she belong to?” he says, pounding into you now, unable to keep control of his pace anymore.

You whine loudly with one of his thrusts when he drags up a bit hitting something new inside of you, something your ex surely hadn’t ever found before. Something you definitely had on your own but never this deep…

“Theeere it is,” he coos, pressing your torso down some more to get the angle just right and he’s hitting that soft, spongy part of you with every snap of his hips. You can barely form the words to tell him how fucking good it feels, nonsense whimpers leaving your mouth instead.

“Answer me, baby… Belongs to who?” His pace doesn’t let up and you can’t get the words out. “C’mon, you can do it, gorgeous… tell me…” he insists, slowly rubbing his hand across his own signature that’s been staring back at him.

“Sh… fuck, oh my god… she belongs to you, Joel…”

“That’s my good girl,” he says, leaning down and planting kisses down your spine, snaking a hand around to your front and circling your clit.

You cry out in pleasure, all the sensations getting to be too much. A flood of wetness spills out with a twitch of your insides making Joel’s cock slippery, letting him push in and pull out easier than before. He picks up his pace again with ease, rapidly hurdling you towards the edge.

My good girl…

That one little word finally hits you after a minute. 

My.

His unrelenting fingers on your clit… the way his tip hits your cervix with every snap of his hips… my good girl… it’s all too much. “Fuck… fuck… fuck, ‘mgonnacome…” you mumble in a high pitched whine.

“Fuck yes, baby… come all over my cock, that’s it… feels so fuckin’ good, darlin’…” he moans from behind you, the grip on your hips definitely bruising now as he keeps pounding into you. Your back arches and your whole body writhes as your walls squeeze him impossibly tight. Your vision blurs and you have no control over the downright pornographic sounds escaping your mouth. All you feel is warmth everywhere.

“Holy shit—” you hear Joel but he sounds far away, your head still spinning with pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, baby…” When you feel like you can finally see again, you see a wet spot on the bed and your eyes go wide, quickly craning your head around as best you can and see Joel’s thighs soaked from you.

“Oh, shit— I-I’m sorry, oh my fucking god, I didn’t meant—” you stop mid sentence when Joel plows into you again bottoming out completely, your words trailing off into a wailing moan.

He drags out slowly but quickly regains his momentum. “Fuck, baby… Chokin’ my dick so good… So. Fucking. Hot,” he says, punctuating his words with the slap of his hips on your ass.

Your legs start to give out under you and it’s like Joel already knows you’re almost too gone to take anymore as he unties the knot at your wrists, your arms falling to the bed. He flips you over, managing to stay inside, and lays you on your back. Your hair lays messily on the pillow and Joel leans down to fix it, tracing his fingers along the side of your face and kissing you deeply.

When he pulls away, he stares at your fucked-out eyes, his own completely taken over by his pupils so much that you can barely tell what color they actually are anymore. “Baby, you gotta give me one more…” he begs.

You raise your eyebrows worriedly, unsure if you can actually take anymore. You whine at his ask and he gives you another quick kiss, resting his forehead against your own when he pulls away, your lips barely touching. He’s moving in and out of you at a snail’s pace, so close to his own orgasm that any extra movement would cause him to snap. “Please, baby, I know you can do it. Doin’ so good for me already, just one more…”

You nod weakly and stare through hooded eyes. “Thank you, angel,” he sighs, gently fucking into you a little quicker and peppering kisses at the corners of your mouth. Your hands trail up to his shoulders rubbing up and down on his soft skin. Forehead pressed to yours again, you feel him panting, small moans and whimpers filling your ears.

“Feel so good…” you use all your strength to whimper out, barely above a whisper. His eyes open, brows furrowed in desperation. You feel him twitching hard now, so close to his own orgasm but not wanting this to end.

“S’good, Joel… so big…” He whimpers at your words, his hips moving erratically, unpredictably. He’s close, you think. And it eggs you on.

“Want you to come for me… Please…”

“Yeah? You want it?” he breathes. 

“Please…” you say again in a whimper, grabbing his face in your hands.

“Where, baby? Want it inside?”

“Yes, inside… please, please, please…” you beg.

“Come with me baby… wanna feel you squeezin’ me… fuck— c-can you do that?”

You whine and nod, having been teetering on the edge of overstimulation with another orgasm growing in your belly. You roll your hips slightly into him, the extra movement sending shivers down your spine.

“So close, baby, I can feel it… ‘s right there, she’s chokin’ me…” he grunts out, painfully holding back his own until you come undone under him again.

Which doesn’t take long, a flutter of your heart and one big wave of arousal covering you from head to toe making you see stars. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, unable to even make a sound as you come on his length all over again.

“Fuck… fuck… good girl, ‘m gonna come—”

Joel’s breathing quickens, becoming ragged and broken as he grunts and whines and spills inside of you. His lips press to your forehead suppressing his noises with kisses there as he empties himself inside of you, filling you up completely.

Your hands scrape his back at his shoulders, your senses all blurring into one another. Joel’s weight falls on top of you as he moves his kisses down from your forehead to your nose and finally to your lips, his tongue licking into you as you feel his cock finally stop twitching. He sits back to pull out of you watching as his cum leaks out of you. You whine at the loss feeling empty but still so full from him, shivering as you feel it dripping down your body.

Joel wipes his sweat-ridden brow and sighs with a goofy smile as he looks down at you. Your body is still jolting from your last orgasm. Any more and you would have been overstimulated beyond belief.

“Now that I definitely don’t do with the groupies, sweetheart,” he teases.

You give him a playful glare and chuckle at him. “What about all that autograph nonsense, then?”

“Well, you got the first of its kind. Never signed anyone there before.”

You blush and stretch a little, suddenly feeling that damp spot from earlier. You sit up in panic and sit back leaning against his pillows again. “Shit, Joel. I’m so sorry. That’s never happened before, I—”

“Stop,” he cuts you off. “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. Sheets can be washed.”

“But I made a mess—”

“C’mere, baby,” he says, extending a hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you towards him, both of you on your knees facing each other as his arm snakes around your torso pulling you even closer into him. “‘M gonna get you cleaned up, ‘kay? Got a spare bedroom we can use anyway.”

You stare into his eyes, his words bouncing around in your head. We can use. “We?” you ask.

He scrunches his eyebrows, raising one at you. “What, you wanna run away already? Was it that bad?” he jokes.

“Oh, quit,” you say, playfully hitting his shoulder.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, standing up at the end of the bed and holding his arms out to you. “C’mon, pretty girl, how’s a warm bath sound, hm?”

“Sounds amazing, actually.” You grab his hands and stand up, taking a second to get your balance before following Joel to the bathroom.

When you’re all cleaned up, you walk into his living room wearing one of his t-shirts, a pair of his boxers, and some very oversized socks that he left in the bathroom for you to change into, towel drying the rest of your hair so it's not dripping everywhere. He sits on his couch, fresh pajamas on and dampened hair from the shower he took in the other smaller bathroom.

He taps the space next to him inviting you to sit, TV on and low, playing some random movie he found to fill the silence around him while waiting for you. You curl up into him, you warm from your bath and him warm from relaxing. He squeezes you close, planting a kiss to the top of your head.

Erica was right. You really did need this. Maybe it's stupid that you're growing so fond of this guy and you've known him for just a night, but there really is something about him. Something you can't quite explain...

You spend the rest of the night curled up next to Joel, your entire being content and you can only think one thing:

You’re not letting this one go easily. This one’s gonna be yours.

All yours.

a/n : thank y'all again so much for 100 followers, it means so much seriously 💜🫶🥹 and thank you for reading this fic that absolutely got away from me in the end, this idea tortured me for weeks and hopefully letting him out into the world will give me some peace finally 😭 but really, thank you guys so much and i hope everyone enjoys !!

#100 followers #100 followers special #thank you all so much !! #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou one shot #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #the voices keep getting louder and louder and louder

[landosjpg]

champagne problems | ln

the one where your boyfriend asks you to marry him, but you’re not on the same page.

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~1.1k

warnings: if you know what the song is about i don’t think this needs any warnings… but basically rejected marriage proposal, heartbreak and falling out of love

note: part one of this blurb series i’m doing right now. not proofread & also (it has nothing to do with this but) OMG NEW TAYLOR ALBUM THIS APRIL I’M SO EXCITED!!!!

you took a deep, shaky breath the moment the door slammed shut and you were left alone in the hotel room lando had booked for the weekend.

the weekend getaway he was so excited about now ruined, and you were the only one to blame.

he had decided to book the first train back to monaco that very same night, not wanting to spend one single second next to you. and as much as it hurt you, you couldn’t really blame him.

not after breaking his heart the way you did.

he had planned everything in detail, made sure it was perfect. after a triple header, he had insisted you two needed a little vacation from all the noise of the city.

but what you didn’t know at that moment is that he had been planning that getaway for months, with only one purpose.

and that’s how you found yourself all alone in the hotel he had booked, with your thoughts suffocating you and nowhere to go. and you guessed lando was sitting with his pain, surrounded by sleeping strangers that had no idea about the aching pain in his heart; on his way to what you had once called your home.

୨୧

everything was right that very same morning.

you woke up late, wrapped in your boyfriend’s arms and nothing else mattered when he tenderly kissed your lips.

“i’m excited for today,” he whispered into your ear, making a shiver run down your spine.

he had told you his plan for the day a million times the previous night, and you weren’t sure why he was so excited about a simple date. but you didn’t think too much about it.

he’d had a tough couple of weeks, so maybe just the thought of having lunch with you somewhere by the sea was exciting enough for him.

and it was all going smoothly, just as he had planned.

you left the room with your hand in his and drove to the nice little restaurant with a pretty sea view. giggles and soft kisses were exchanged between the pasta and wine, and it was just perfect.

it was also perfect when, walking along the coast with your fingers intertwined, you found a lookout with the most beautiful sight of the city.

not that lando had planned that too, of course.

you dropped his hand and walked closer to the railing, admiring the breathtaking view in front of you. while he admired the view in front of him.

the skirt of your dress swayed in the breeze as his hand reached for his pocket. the ring his mum had gave him when he first told her his plans sitting patiently in the velvety box that his shaky fingers held.

he had dreamed about that moment a thousand times before, imagining every possible scenario.

but nothing could had prepared him for the expression on your face when you turned around and saw him in one knee.

you were speechless.

and he knew you well enough to know that it wasn’t a good kind of speechless. the shock on your face was clear, and his suspicions were confirmed when you tried to utter something, but nothing came out of your lips.

“love?” he cooed with a little smile, attempting to get you to say something.

he was trying to convince himself that he was just too nervous and most likely reading your silence wrong. but you could see the hurt in his eyes as he accepted your unspoken answer.

and you felt your heart break into pieces when he got on two knees and his free hand reached for your waist.

“please,” his voice was still low and gentle, hiding his true feelings.

he fucking begged, and you still couldn’t give him an answer.

not the answer he wanted, at least.

“i… i’m not ready,” you sighed after what felt like forever.

the walk back to the hotel was uncomfortably long. after your answer, he stood up and started walking away. you followed him, catching up to him and walking side by side in just a matter of minutes.

but your arms were now crossed under your chest, his hands on his pocket. it was nothing like a few hour before.

you felt like complete strangers, and with each step he could feel the love of his life slip further away. he knew by heart the speech he had repeated a million times in front of the mirror for when you said yes, but now he was left dazed, at a complete loss of words.

the silence broke as his phone rang in his pocket, and he quickly went to answer.

“how did it go?” you could overhear his mum’s excitement as he picked up.

“she said no,” he simply answered, his voice a murmur. and he sniffed, and that’s when you noticed that he had been crying all the way from the lookout. “can i call back later?”

he didn’t say another word as you got to the hotel, but neither did you. you checked your phone, only to find out that everyone was asking about it.

he had told everyone. and you weren’t brave enough to face the reality and break the news just yet.

you and lando had been dating since you two were just teenagers, and almost eight years later, marriage was clearly the next step.

you were made for each other, your friends and family were sure of that one thing; your relationship perfect to everyone’s eyes.

but you had never really considered the possibility of lando asking you to marry him. not so soon.

and when you saw him kneeling in front of you, it hit you.

lando was all you knew. you had grown together, and you had learned everything about love with him; the good and the bad. and maybe you had just grown used to the feeling. to him.

and perhaps it wasn’t that stirring feeling anymore, but just pure habit. you felt comfortable, so you stayed.

“why?” he asked in a whisper, loud enough for you to hear. lost in your own thoughts, you had no idea of how long the silence had been settled between you two.

you had curled yourself in the sofa in the corner of the room when you arrived, and lando was sitting in the edge of bed, teary eyes still looking at the ring.

“i don’t know,” was the only thing you could say.

you didn’t know what had happened, and you didn’t know when either. surely, you wouldn’t know why.

it just didn’t feel the same anymore.

“i’m going back tonight,” he sighed as he stood up and started packing his things back in his suitcase.

and you knew he was going back to your shared apartment, but it was no longer your home.

cause there was no more you.

#lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris blurb #lando norris drabble #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 fic

[fbfh]

tristin dugray relationship and intimacy hcs pt 2

wc: 1.1k

pairing: tristin x (implied fem) reader

genre: straight up smut with some mild feelings

warnings: brief mention of exhibitionism, debriefing with madison and louise, aftercare, cuddles, car sex, sex in a variety of places, cockwarming, nudes, brief mention of oral (m recieving)

song rec: mary - alex g (bc this is literally tristin's song. it's so fucking tristin coded.)

a/n: so good news I think my adhd medication is finally working lol

tags @yesv01 @magcon7280

As with all nsfw works all characters are aged up to 18+

WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU MORE TRISTIN SMUT BC I’M FOAMING AT THE FUCKING MOUTH

What’s fun about Tristin

Among many other things

Is his fixation with your hips

Seriously it was one of the first things this horny motherfucker noticed about you

Whenever you wear anything mildly form fitting he can’t take his goddamn eyes off your hips

Once you’re together it’s basically impossible for him to resist touching them

Sometimes it’s a playful squeeze

Or an affectionate rub

Other times it’s full on groping while he shoves his tongue into your mouth and makes you grind against his thigh

He could live like that for days and not get tired

Speaking of

Tristin has fucking stamina for DAYS

“Men can’t have multiple orgasms” tell that to him!!!!!!!!

He just… has a fixation with all of you honestly

Like there’s no part of you that he’s not going to eye the fuck up 

You know the looks he’s always giving Rory???? 

That’s just the tip of the iceberg babe

Or should I say tip of the penis lol

Anyway 

Tristin is vocal as FUCK

Like mans can’t shut up

Even when we’ve reached the previously mentioned dumbfucking point, he’s still going to be whining and grunting and panting nonstop

His moans have you gushing like niagara falls tbh 

There is a zero percent chance he’s not going to give you the most affectionate aftercare every time too

So much praise and kisses and cuddles

Like he’ll genuinely get upset if you try to just bounce afterwards

Or worse

If he wakes up the next morning and you’re not there

Maybe he could handle casual hookups with other girls

But not with you

He will absolutely pull you back into bed and demand kisses and cuddles

I’m not gonna lie

He does have a little bit of an exhibitionist streak

Just a tiny itty bitty one

Mostly just from the urge to prove that you’re his when other guys keep flirting with you

If the circumstances were right and you were down, he would be happy to put on a show for them, show them how good he treats you

If you’re still friends with madison and louise/go to the same college as them they will BEG you for details and live vicariously through you

The line where they saw Tristin and Summer making out in front of Rory’s locker and one of them (I forget which one) was like “if you’re dating Tristin you have the right to make out anywhere and everywhere”

…

Yeah

They will literally grill details out of you

Whatever they can get

And the way they look at him after

The little sighs and head tilts and staring off into space thinking about what you told them, letting their imaginations go wild

It would make you jealous

If you didn’t know how much he likes you

But yeah there’s no one that can take you away from Tristin 

He loves you

And he loves keeping things fresh and spicy and exciting

He absolutley fucks you in his car a lot

Like a lot lot 

There’s at least a few pairs of your panties that you’ve lost somewhere in the fancy leather seats

He’ll also happily fuck you in your car

And every room and surface of your apartment

And your apartment hallway

And in an elevator once 

And public bathrooms

And your bathroom

And pretty much anywhere he thinks yall can get away with

Seriously this boy is such a slut but he’s only a slut for you

You light him on fucking fire and he can’t cope

He needs you biblically,, like in a way that’s concerning to feminism.

You can tell how he feels just from the way he looks at you 

And it’s obvious as shit to everyone else too

Like literally everyone

He eye fucks you a lot lot lot

GOD this boy can seduce you so fast

He moans so loud for you too

Tristin will really give you a good show

He wants to impress you

Wants you to need him

(cough cough praise kink)

He wants to breathe the same air as you

He wants to wrap you up so tight in his arms that it feels like you’re merging into one person

Tristin is the “cuddling isn’t enough I need to climb inside your skin” kinda clingy

Solution is cockwarming

Which you both love a lot

Once he realizes cockwarming is an option????? 

It slowly increases in frequency

There’s a good chance you won’t be able to sleep without it at some point

Seriously he will hold you tight and rub your back and touch your soft skin and tell you all the lovey dovey things he feels about you

Most of it is lovey dovey

But don’t let that fool you 

He is the CEO of both his family company AND dirty thoughts about you

Seriously he’s set off so easily by you

9 times out of 10 he’s probably fantasizing about you

Remembering your touch

How you feel around him

God he can’t wait to get his hands on you again

Let me tell you

Tristin is a motherfucking MENACE when it comes to sexting

He will have you blushing over the phone in ways you didn’t know you could blush

He’s so shameless about it too

If you send him nudes??????

He will literally die

And he’ll happily, happily return the favor

Once he realizes how you react when he sends you nudes?????

He never wants to stop

He literally loves getting you all feral and worked up over him

Don’t let Madison and Louise find out Tristin sends you nudes or else they will steal your phone and make a copy of your fingerprint with sticky tape and face powder just to access them /hj

Speaking of going feral

Tristin’s happy trail?????????

Are we gonna talk about it??????

Are we gonna talk about how you want to fucking bite him and deep throat him until you memorize every vein whenever you see his lil happy trail????

Because you will

You’ll definitely want to

Okay putting myself down now lol

I need his cock immediately

Constantly covered in hickeys and unable to walk and he loves it so much

He loves when you need him and he loves fucking you so good that you’re out of commission the next day

It’s what you deserve

You think he’s a menace now???

God help you when he gets baby fever

#tristin dugray #tristin dugray smut #tristin dugray x reader #tristin dugray headcanons #tristan dugray smut #tristan dugray x reader #tristan dugray #gilmore girls smut #gilmore girls x reader #gilmore girls #he is so biteable #i want to bite him

[eveningepiphany]

something about the legs | h.s oneshot

summary: something about your best friends legs really does it for you, especially in skinny jeans…

warnings: besties with unexpected and very impulsive benefits, oral sex (mrec), lots and lots of talk about those mfing legs and thighs, dirty talk, h not expecting you to be like that until you are.

a/n: so it’s been a hot minute… hi again🤪 but something rlly just sent me spiralling with this pic of h’s fucking legs. look at them. anyways, enjoy me being a slut and channeling it into some fine literature, enjoy xoxo

———

Ovulation week is a curse. An absolute, utter curse.

Between the multitude of random fluctuating symptoms and skyrocketing hormones, you feel dreaded enough as it is. But the worst part, is every fucking month you become absolutely manic with need.

Some are increasingly better or worse than others, but this month is something off the charts.

There is no warrant for you to be this fucking horny at 9:32pm on a Thursday night. Yet here you are, squirming because you’re around someone that already riles you up enough as it is.

Harry is your best friend. Has been for years. Since the awkward starting phases of middle school. All braces paired with horrendous fashion choices. And into the ages of highschool throughout all the drama and predictable thematics. Into the present, where life throws you curveballs as you enter the world as young adults, and now that he’s in one direction. You can’t imagine going through all that with anyone else.

Actually, maybe it’s fit to mention you’re almost certain that this man never went through an awkward phase… despite the fact possibly everyone else on the planet did. Harry did not.

He was cute from the day he was born, it’s evident in the pictures, up until he hit puberty, then he became some ungodly mix of both cute and ridiculously hot.

It’s disgusting that someone can do both things at the same time. And also revolting that they can have no idea at all.

But tonight, he is all hot. Between the way he’s dressed, the way he’s walking, and the way he’s talking. It’s close to killing you where you’re sat.

Thighs clenched together like there’s a thousand dollar check between them, you sit on a outdoor couch at your family’s holiday house.

It’s just the two of you outside on the large decked patio. It’s a huge house by the lake that your parents and grandparents own, so you invited Harry to come stay for the week. Your family were thrilled you invited him, but have already turned in for an early night. Since they planned to be out on the lake for a day of water activities almost before the damn sun was even fully up.

Harry has a glass of alcohol in his hands— one that is completely dwarfed in his hold. It’s condensation forming small droplets over the ridges of his fingers.

He hasn’t realised the staring you’ve been doing, as he paces the deck talking about something to do with a recent song he’s been writing.

You’re sliding in small hums of agreement at the appropriate times without even hearing what he’s saying. Only the pleasing lilt in his voice that tickles your ears as it enters them.

He’s got those black skinny jeans on, the pair that cling to his hips for dear life. And not only are they fit to his hips, but they hug every single curve on his legs. The thick of his thighs all the way down to the muscle of his calf.

And if anything was the killer for you tonight, it was those.

You’re surprised you’re not drooling on yourself. Which is fucking disgusting, but fact. As there is an over-production of saliva in your mouth right now just looking at his legs.

He is so muscly there. The presumed strength of his thighs makes you actually pant, and you never thought legs did it for you like this. But my god right now, they certainly are.

“But I jus’ dunno Y/N,” he turns to you, causing you to snap your gaze from the curve of his ass which you were shamelessly just staring at, back to his face.

It doesn’t get better for you anywhere you look. The man was built and sculpted by a god. Every feature was painstaking to look at, and not be able to touch.

“What d’ya reckon would sound better?” He asks, nonchalantly, unaware you were just eyeing him up.

You feel some shame now, as you scramble to find an answer for the question you don’t even know the context for.

“Well, i think whatever you feel flows better. Yknow?” You swallow, praying to god it’s diluted enough of an answer that he’ll just take it without question.

He nods, and relief floods through you, “i s’pose you’re right.”

However that relief hardly lasts long, because he’s not as clueless as you’d presumed, “You’re pretty good at giving advice even when you’re only half listening.”

He saunters over from the span of deck he’d been pacing the last 10 minutes, sitting down next to you with a smug look on his face. You feel the cushions dip with his body weight, and you’re so delusioned that even a part of you twinges with desire at the understanding of his weight. The idea of him pressing it down on top of you during—

“What’s on ya mind, love, why are you s’faraway lookin’?” He asks, sipping at his drink with a quirk of his dark eyebrows.

“I—“ Christ. He’s manspreading a bit right now… thighs pushed apart, “I’m just tired. Been a big few days.”

His curly, and boyishly-messy hair is cascading over his forehead and casting a shadow of his green gaze, the same one that’s nailing you where you’re sat right now.

He doesn’t look very convinced. And he’s watching your eyes flicker around, looking guilty of a lie, presumably the words that just came from your mouth.

“You don’t have t’lie, dove.” He laughs, a soft songbird-like chuckle that somewhat eases your tenseness.

You feel so dirty for thinking about him like this. When he can’t tell you it’s okay to be imagining absolutely sinful things you’d do… or let be done when it comes to him. However, you are so hormonal right now, that you don’t have it in yourself to stop.

He was just simply the wrong person, in the wrong place, at coincidentally the right time in your hormonal cycle.

And you feel even worse because there’s years of history behind the two of you. And friends are not meant to think of each other like this, it makes things quickly complicated. And this is not a hallmark film.

“I know.” You sigh out, “it’s not you, H. I’m just… hormonal.”

His first thought was that you were on your period, a look of tender concern flitting across his face.

“Oh, is your period making you feel sick?”

You could laugh at the irony. You are infact neither of the things he thinks. Not bleeding, and not ill.

He has looked after you before when you’ve been in the trenches with your period. He is always so willing to get you anything when you’re not feeling well.

And you can tell by the look on his pretty face he’s about to ask you he can get you anything to help— pain relief, water, snacks or simply a hug.

A gentleman, as always.

But if he asks you if you need anything, you only have one answer and that’s him. You need him, and not in a platonic way. So you interject before he can ask,

“No, quiet the opposite.” You shake your head, pursing your lips.

“But it’s fine,” you amend curtly, “just girl stuff.”

The two of you get consumed by a momentary silence, he was waiting for more information, which you simply were not giving. After a few seconds, he sputters out a sudden laugh.

“You can tell me, if you want, idiot.” He laughs, nudging you with his knee. His very attractive leg being left pressed into yours. “Gross details and personal stuff never usually stop us.”

Your whole body is burning up, overwhelmed. He is so fucking hot, and caring. You want him filling up your goddamn throat.

“No, trust me. This is all left best untold and ignored. I can’t help it, so we’re just ignoring it.” Your tone is certain, and to this he nods. Able to tell that’s as much of an answer he’d be getting for now, so he begrudgingly accepts it.

“Fine, fine, you’re just so stiff. Need t’relax.” He slides his free hand behind your back to pull him into his side.

Tugging you the small distance between you two, your head comes naturally to rest in the crook of his neck. Nose inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne, smelling like the refreshingly cool breeze on a muggy summer night.

His thumb strokes a delicate back and forth rhythm on the bare skin it’s found between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your fitted top.

It’s killing you, because he’s so gentle with you. Such a sweetheart really, but you’re breaking out a sweat at the feeling of his fingertips against your skin. You need a cold shower.

You try not to let your eyes wander down to the legs in those fucking jeans.

“S’long as ya alright,” he murmurs into your hair, “is there anything you need from me? ‘Cause if I can do anything for ya, yknow I would.”

Your stomach drops, how are you even supposed to answer that. Your face heats with even more guilt.

Your internal voice drops in her two cents on the question— your cock, she confidently stated. That was what she wanted.

“No, nothing you can do that’s reasonable, H.” You say, too dangerously close to him dragging the truth out of your needy mouth for your liking.

He tilts his head down to look at the profile of your face, curiously prodding further, “How unreasonable are we talking?”

“Ridiculously and foolishly unreasonable.”

“Why?”

“Sh. Don’t make me tell you, because I don’t want to.” You state defiantly, rolling away from his hold, since now you’re talking about it— although vaguely— it’s just making it worse.

Focusing on it is making the need more intense, your eyes feasting unintentionally on his muscled body relaxing on the couch.

He’s got this smirk on his lips. One you want to kiss off.

“You’re blushing, is it that bad?”

You scoff, “Yes, that bad.”

“Okay… so, it’s not your period, and it’s technically fixable— since you just said it’s unreasonable for me to do it… not impossible.” he’s wondering out loud, watching your every move.

Which now you’ve stood up and started pacing, trying to distract yourself from the pulsing between your legs and the begging voice in your head that wants to touch him so badly.

“Stop being nosey! God!” You frustratedly whine out, and he laughs at your sudden anger at not only him, but at seemingly just being a woman.

“Just trying to help, baby, don’t get mad.” He teases, and between his suddenly mocking mouth, your resolve snaps like a fickle twig.

“Fuck, I’m horny. Harry!” You groan out, covering your eyes over with the palms of your hands so you don’t have to see his likely disgusted face at your confession.

But now that you’ve started you can’t stop, “You just… your fucking legs and thighs are just… I don’t know! I’m ovulating and you’re just really sexy, it’s frustrating and I really want to die right now, H.”

In reality, his brows had just shot up with surprise, lips parting in shock. He could not believe you just admitted that.

He glanced down to his legs. He’s just in jeans, it wasn’t like he felt as though they were anything to write home about.

It shocked him that you even… well obviously the two of you are best friends. But it was rare that topics of sex came up, so all the sudden the conversation being about that and also about you is making his head spin.

Yet something comes over him, he doesn’t think as he speaks his next words, “Tha’s not as unreasonable as you made it out to be.”

You snap your hands down from your face, eyes locking onto his— he doesn’t look repulsed or uncomfortable as you had originally expected. He looks inexplicably open to the topic.

“I’ve got somethin’ you need, somethin’ that can fix it, love.” He states, shrugging his shoulders, his voice going almost sultry, “An’ yknow what I said, hm?”

At your silence— because you’re too stunned to even speak— he finishes the sentence for you, “Said I’d do anything for ya.”

Oh, is this quickly snowballing.

“Harry!” You shake your head, it feeling so wrong to be talking about this with him.

He abandons his drink on the small side table beside the couch, standing up and breaching the distance between you.

“Jus’ say the words, and then im yours.” He lowly whispers, and this is about to make you pass out. You’re clenching around nothing in your underwear, and the proposition is so tempting.

“We shouldn’t though. It’s not your responsibility to… satiate me.” You gulp out, nervous, yet body flaming with heat.

“Y/N, best friends help each other out… tha’s all it has to be, jus’ me making y’feel better.” he says, hand coming to run down your upper arm. And the second you started talking about this, his cock has been twitching where it’s confined his jeans.

“You can make all the decisions, all the calls, m’kay?” The statement was reassuring.

You lean into his touch, caving without anymore of a fight, “Okay… alright. Just… tell me if you change your mind. Please?”

His lips curl into a satisfied smile, feeling his hand get taken by yours. It’s much to risky to be fucking around with your best friend on the families patio, so you lead him down the steps into the dark, open backyard.

They have a pier, that’s lit with small solar lights, and that’s the first place you can that is reasonable enough to go. You tug him along the wooden decking it has, feet drumming against it.

Against a tree was too dark, and you at least want to see his cock if you’re getting the opportunity to touch it.

“On the pier, hey? That desperate.” He teases, and you push him with your free hand into one of its big wooden pillars.

“I want your cock down my throat, how’s that for desperate?” You scoff, pulling a laugh of pure shock from his own lips.

“I’m serious, H.” You look at him, stone cold expression. You are so riled up and ready to touch him that you need immediate confirmation this is something he wants.

“Go on, said you wanted it.”

Before you sink down onto your knees, you question him further, “you want this, though?”

A smile spreads over his mouth, “baby, you’re gonna be able to feel just how much i want this when you get down there. I was bricked the second you said you were horny.”

That was all you needed, dropping to the ground on your knees— now with his consent, your filter completely disappeared.

“Fuck me, Harry. I don’t think you understand how sexy you are.” Hands immediately coming up to squeeze the muscle of his thighs.

He hums a noise as he looks down at you on your knees, “Never thought legs would do it for you, but here we are.”

“Only thing i could think about is digging my nails into your thighs…”

You drag your hands back up to where the buckle of his belt laid, grabbing at it and undoing it. Slipping it out of the loops in his pants in a swift movement.

Leaning forward, you lift the hem of his black shirt, pressing your mouth against his happy trail.

You’re a slut for that little teasing patch of hair that dips below his low jeans. It causes you to whine out, a wordless sound of appreciation as you peck kisses over it.

The button and zipper quickly got undone by your nimble hands, and you finally brush over the prominent bulge that’s perked up in his boxers.

A realisation that you’re about to see your best friends dick for the first time kind of hits you, causing you to roll your lips between your teeth.

His suddenly strained voice comes from above you, “fuck, Y/N, don’t get shy with me. Y’can take me out.”

He’s almost ready to beg, even though this is all technically for you. But he didn’t anticipate how sensitive he would be when it’s a special girls hands running over his bulge.

However that’s exactly how it is, he’s already biting his lip as you cup him through his briefs, head tilted backwards with a sudden shared need.

You draw his jeans further down, “patience, im just enjoying you, pretty boy.”

The doting nickname earns a small groan from his lips, paired with the fact you’re now mouthing at his inner thighs. They’re warm and firm, dusted with dark hairs. You suck the most inner and upper part of his thigh into your mouth, causing him to grunt out.

You busy yourself with that particular part of his skin for a moment, rubbing the backs of your hands around the flesh of his ass. Still unfortunately covered by his briefs.

“So fuckin’ good to me, H.” You muttered into his soft skin, dragging your nose over to kiss the fabric covering his hard cock.

It makes him twitch, “letting me do this… and touch you where I want.”

You sound so out of it, replacing your mouth with your hand momentarily so you can go back to kissing his thighs, teeth impulsively barring over them. He shudders at the sensation.

After a bit more teasing, you finally start to pull the waistband of his black calvins down.

When his cock is fully out, you moan. You straight out moan at the sight of it. It’s glistening tip is a flushed red, beading out a sliver of precum for you, and it was safe to say he’s well equipped.

The two of you curse in sync as you hold him in your hand, feeling the weight as you stroke gently.

“Christ, tha’s good.” He curses out, hips stuttering forward slightly. You take a moment to look up at his face.

His cheeks have gone a slight red, and his lips are shiny from his teeth and tongue constantly running over them. Not to mention the way his lidded eyes are gazing down at you.

You hold eye contact as you lean in to lick over his tip in one solid stroke, watching his face twist in pleasure.

It makes your core drip. Seeing his cock, tasting it, watching him react to your touch. It fuels you to take his tip into your mouth, giving a gentle suck.

Your fingers take refugee digging into his thighs, and you are already loosing you mind with him between your lips. Somehow, you’re almost convinced you could come just from sucking on his dick.

Your self control is completely shattered now, you draw back and spit over his length, listening to him groan out as he watches the action.

“Drool on me, darling.” He says, the gentle demand makes you eager to impress him. You liked the idea of him telling you what to do… maybe even forcing you.

Fuck, you are sick and twisted, you scoffed internally at your self. Yet proceeding to gather your saliva and let it dribble down onto him.

“Thank you, thank you…” you murmur against him, and he twitches at your still airy voice. He would kill to know just how wet you were between your legs.

It was such a sight for you though, seeing him start to get slicked up with your own spit. Your mouth reconnected with him, sliding further down, hand coming up to massage his balls.

You’re whining around him now, starting to move in a sort of rhythm over his cock. You can’t help it, you were becoming frantic at him filling your throat.

The vibration of your mouth sends his hand flying into your hair, drawing a cuss from his lips, “fuck, Y/N…”

You get his cock as far as you can into your mouth without gagging— you’ll leave that for a little later— stroking the remainder. There’s something about the way he takes up the space between your lips, the feeling of his thick cock atop your tongue.

You glance up at him, fingertips teasing the inner parts of his thigh. Just as you look up, you give a harsh suck, hollowing out your mouth and lathing your tongue on the underside of him. Feeling the vein that runs along him.

His head almost bangs back against the wooden beam he’s leaning on, you feel the slight stutter of his hips.

A moan reverberated around you, filling your ears pleasingly. You draw back for a breathe, “you taste so good.”

His hand curls in your hair, panting out, “You’re such a needy girl…”

“Like that?” He asks at the whimper that come from you, “like being told that I see how desperate y’becoming?”

You nod immediately, “please…”

At your way of asking for more dirty talk he smiles, “becoming my little slut? Warming my cock with your mouth just because you’re so horny for it.”

When you don’t reply with words, and only a senseless moan, he taps your mouth with his fingers gently.

“Show me, baby.”

You part your lips almost instantly at his command, jutting your wet tongue out, ready to take him back into your mouth.

He guides his cock back between your lips, and that’s about as far as he gets before you have to take over from him again. All he can register is how hot and warm you’re mouth is as it wraps around him again.

You start to bob your head, taking him all the way down your throat with a slight gag. You’re whining without warrant now, all over his spit slicked cock.

It’s paired with his own moans of pleasure and words of praise as you suddenly draw back, flicking over his wet tip with your tongue, teasing it and making him grunt.

Your soul existence quickly slips to being just about his cock and hearing his noises. Being able to look up at him and see the sweat beginning to sheen over his forehead, and the mess of his soft hair.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he has to forcibly open them every so often to see you. A reality check for himself that down on her knees, is his best friend. Drooling all over his prick with a insatiable need.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He states as you take him all the way down your throat again.

“Taking me like the slut y’are. Might ‘ave to fuck you like one later, how’s that sound?” His mouth has gone loose now, brain muddled with only thoughts of you in it.

You suck and nod over him, brain rioting with a yes at his question.

“Probably so wet, so warm.” He mutters in half thought, and the idea of him even thinking of you like that makes you clench multiple times in your panties.

You roll you hips against nothing which he is grateful he caught with his half lidded eyes. The look of sheer desperation that crossed your face.

Moving faster, you starting taking his cock at a pace that immediately made his hand coil tighter in your hair.

“Fuck… im gon’ come faster than I’d like if y’keep— shit— doing that.” He moans, and you draw back quickly.

“Need to taste it… please, Harry.” You beg, forcing your throat back down around him once you’d got a breathe.

You gagged around him in full this time, earning his hips bucking against you.

Strings of dirty talk and cusses were flying out of his mouth, like a litany being repeated over and over. He kept praising you.

“That warm mouth…fuck… fucking me so good baby. Want to keep y’down there for hours, like m’personal little cockslut.”

Your nails dug into the backs of his meaty thighs, making you moan around him. Spit was covering your chin as you moved hastily over his hard prick.

“Like that idea?” He asked gruffly, “making you drool all over me like this until I’m empty, an’ y’ve come in y’panties to the point you’re dripping.”

You feverishly bob your head, sucking hard against him. If his bucking hips and loose mouth are any indicator, he’s getting close.

A few more minutes of your mouth, and he’s swearing, “im gonna come, dove— fuck— where do y’want it?”

Trying not to stop to long, looking up at his flushed face and blown out eyes, you lowly plead, “on my tongue, please…”

“Good slut, good fucking girl!” He slurs out.

You draw back to his tip, eager to taste him properly. You spit messily over his pulsing red head, kitten licking over it while your hand fucks the rest of his length at a fast pace.

It has him a wreck, and before he know it, he’s moaning out so loud he’s almost scared he woke someone in the house up.

“Fuck! I’m going to come, baby, im gonna come!”

You watch in completely infatuation as his eyes screw shut and his mouth drops into a gasp for air. You feel his hips stutter, and his cock pulse and twitch as it releases onto your awaiting tongue.

He tastes so good. You feel ashamed for even liking it that much, but as it spurts out his tip and drips onto your lower lip, your insane over it.

You rub it in with his tip, coating it over your tongue, and he pants as he opens his eyes to watch you.

It’s a sight etched into his mind forevermore. The fact his come is painted all over your tongue right now.

“Swallow it, pretty girl, let me watch.” He exhaustedly instructs you, voice raspy and deep in his post orgasm haze.

You do as told, and realising some has spilt even onto the corner of his thigh now that you’ve let him go.

Not letting it go to waste, you clean it off with a lick of your still eager mouth. Gently kissing over the spot as well.

“Taste so good, H.” You whisper against him, moving over to kiss his tip a final time.

“Thank you, again. For letting me do that…” You almost feel more satisfied than you would have if you had gotten to come as well.

“Made me feel amazing, baby.”

Or so you thought, because once he raised the point again… “If you want, since I can only imagine how desperate your little cunt is, I can return the favour somehow?”

And it was impossible to say no when he looked like that, boxers still half down his beautiful legs and face flushed that sexy shade of red.

You were in for a night, that was for sure. So much for an early morning.

———

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #he’s so #fuck me I need him so bad #anyways #hope you enjoyed #ily #last oneshot of 2023

[daisyblog]

Zane Lowe

Our Story Masterlist Summary: YN is mentioned in Harry’s interview with Zane Lowe.

Based on this request.

“Nice nails” Zane compliments Harry who’s sitting in the seat opposite.

“Thanks” Harry politely replies as he glances down at his turquoise nails sitting on his lap. “Thanks for having me”.

After discussing Pleasing and he loved the idea of It, Zane asked “What made you want to do that?”.

“I think for me like…a big part of it is…like I really like making stuff and I really like..kind of coming up with ideas and collaborating with other…especially YN who again is very creative…I feel like I’m really lucky with people around me both personally and professionally that I get to work with are really fun to work with and…you know working’s like my favourite thing to do so..based on the fact that I think obviously it begins as a hobby so then like getting to make stuff for work I feel like is a real gift. I think if I didn’t think about it too much I would be making music and putting out music constantly…but I’m also aware that I’m a total control freak and I want everything to be perfect..so the idea of like oh I made these four songs I’m just going to put out an EP…It’s just not how I think of it”.

---

“You're faced with a time when you can’t do that…and the great leveller of like it doesn’t matter how much money you have, doesn’t matter where you live, doesn’t matter this doesn’t matter that…you can’t travel you can’t do this, you can’t go outside your house..It’s like suddenly you’re forced to not be this musician guy, you’re forced to be like a boyfriend, brother and a son…and all of those things..and actually I feel like I..you know kind of had a little bit of a chance to focus on that at least for a moment..umm and just stop and kind of take in a lot of stuff and…remember things, you’re kind of gifted this stolen time” Harry explained his view on the world pandemic.

“You mentioned being all these roles…you mentioned being a boyfriend, what was it like during these times?” Zane quizzed. “Because I imagine you got a taste of what it’s like being a “normal” couple”.

Twisting and playing with his rings on his fingers, Harry explains “Umm…YN has always been my comfort you know and I’d like to think I’m hers too…she’s been a big part of my life and…we’ve been through so much tougher…that it was kind of nice to just stop and take that in.” Zane nodded, an indication for Harry to continue “So when the pandemic hit..we isolated in LA for a while..I saw it as a time for us to be just us…but YN did find it hard because she has such a big family…and umm she just wanted to be closer to them…especially her grandparents and siblings”.

“Yeah I can imagine that being hard..being so far away” Zane sympathised “I don’t mean to pry into your personal life but what do you mean by time for just you two?”

“Like..we’ve never known anything other than travelling..or just being surrounded by other people and just having to plan everything in so much detail..to like not be seen you know…so we kind of got to see what a normal like would be like, whatever a normal life is..if that makes sense?”. 

“Yeah it makes total sense”. Zane agreed and could see that Harry craved a little normality in his personal life. 

“I suppose..I’m just like really lucky..because YN just gets it. She got put into the limelight the same as us..you know..so yeah she just gets it and I’m just so lucky” Harry continued with a slight giggle as he repeated how lucky he was. “I think what I’m trying to say is…I hit gold when it came to YN…she really is my best friend too and yeah…it was nice to be just a couple without the added pressures.”. 

---

“We have to acknowledge this because..you know we at one point we were going to this in the United Kingdom”. Harry nodded in agreement “But there’s something wonderful about being in this afterglow of Palm Springs..which is I'm sure is how you feel a little bit after these two amazing headline shows…you seem so chilled you know” Zane laughed but continue “There must have been a relief that you did it?”.

“I just..you know I knew I was going to put something out…whether it’s a show or an album or a song I want it to be perfect..and umm…I think like that’s why I take so much stress on I think around something like Coachella..cause I feel like I want it to be good..like if it’s not going to be good I’d rather not do it..so you know in that kind of setting, no matter what it is kind of…you know the dust or the wind or however many things, it's like so many things can go wrong in that situation..and it's not your show and it's my first festival so…you know I’m kind of going out to the crowd and I like knowing what I’m stepping out to” Harry rambled with a nervous chuckle at the end.

Harry continued “and that was really terrifying”.

“What was your instinct when they asked you to do it?” Zane interrupted.

“That’s too scary and I’m gonna say no” Harry laughed “But..uh YN was like you need to say yes and was just so encouraging and supportive..you know…plus she’s like my biggest fan so of course she wanted me to do it!”. 

“So..would you say YN helps with the nerves?” Zane asked curiously.

“I was so nervous..like so nervous..and I remember YN being on facetime to Louis before the show..and them both saying just to be myself and to enjoy…and when I was out there I just focused on being me and nothing else”. Harry spoke freely. “Their advice definitely helped…’cause I had the best time!”. 

“Late Night Talking?” Zane stated.

Harry let out a shy chuckle “Uhh…yeah” Harry leans his head on his hand to try and hide is cheeky smile “It’s about YN…well I don’t think it’s a shock to anyone”.

“So…would you say the whole album is about YN?” Zane asked confidently.

“Uhh..most of it..yeah pretty much” Harry smiled “She’s just been a constant in my life..since like we were what..sixteen or seventeen..you know..she’s my life..and I don’t have to pretend to be anyone other than myself around her you know…it’s just easy and I love that about our relationship.” Harry explained.

---

“Matilda really shows emotional intelligence and how you were thinking about someone at that time.”. Zane begins to talk about the middle song on Harry’s album. 

“Uh…yeah…I actually didn’t write Matilda”. Harry revealed, causing Zane to looked shocked. “YN had this conversation with someone…and she was getting to know them…and they opened up to her and she was like that’s not normal…so she was almost like writing down what she wanted to say to them…and I was like how many people could relate to this you know…and we agreed that it would make a beautiful song for those who needed to hear it”.

“Waw! It holds a real powerful message and I think even if people don’t feel those things…I think it definitely makes them feel something.”. Zane spoke with passion in his voice. 

“It definitely does….and it was just about saying I was listening….that was YN’s purpose to it”. 

---

“Boyfriends” Zane began “It is a great song..It’s from a male perspective, it’s a very knowing song..and It’s a very self-aware song..you have to have some self-awareness to write from that perspective surely”.

Harry answered immediately “Yeah for sure…Boyfriends was written right at the end of Fine Line” Harry explained “Boyfriends is about like…we’re all flawed you know..and I think pretending like we’re not, I just don’t get it..It’s acknowledging my own behaviour, it’s looking at the behaviour I’ve witnessed..I grew up with a sister so it’s like watching her date people and watching friends…but at the same time admitting I’ve not been a perfect boyfriend either”.

---

“Love of My Life..I’d always wanted to write a song about like home and loving England…and all of that kind of stuff..and it’s kind of hard to do that you know”

“So Love of Love My Life is about home and England?” Zane asked with a slight smirk on his face.

“As I started making them album…I realised it wasn’t about the kind of geographical location…it was more of an internal thing” Harry tried to hide his bashful smile by rubbing his finger under his nose.

“Do I see Harry Styles blushing?” Zane began to tease Harry.

Harry lets out a loud chuckle and tries to hide his face in his hands “You know..I’ll admit that I blush sometimes…especially when it comes to YN!”. 

Tag List:

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#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles writing #one direction #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x tomlinson!reader #harry styles x oc #harry x reader #harry x yn #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles fic #harry styles series masterlist #harry styles masterlist #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn malik #liam payne #harry 1d #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction #tomlinson!yn

[straykeedz]

day 5: han + mommy kink

©straykeedz

tw: touching over clothes; nipple play (both m and f); brief handjob; brief blowjob; mention of noona kink; fingering (f receiving); cum swallowing (m); unprotected piv sex (don’t do that at home 🤨); creampie; ♡

wc: 3k♡

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

author’s note [⚠️ friends tv series spoiler alert ⚠️]: basically i got this idea from the episode in which ross & rachel call each other ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ whenever they’re around emma lol;

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

❈

“Is Jisue asleep?”, you ask your husband as soon as he comes back in the bedroom. 

Jisung nods, closing the door of your bedroom only halfway, so that you’ll hear if your daughter wakes up and starts crying - something she does a lot these days. 

“Yeah, I feel like I sang a million songs to help her fall asleep.” Jisung sighs defeated, practically throwing himself on the bed. “I sang Youtiful and Silent Cry and all the softest songs we recorded and what song does she fall asleep to? 3racha.”, he chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m telling you - she’s a baddie.”

“Well, isn’t she lucky?”, you place a kiss on his temple, then pull him closer for a hug. “She gets her own private concert for free - I had to pay almost a thousand bucks to hear you guys live.”, you chuckle, running one hand through his soft hair. 

“Only because you wanted those VIP tickets at all costs.” Jisung remarks with a smile. 

“Yeah, but look where my stubbornness brought us.”, you cuddle to his chest, and he puts his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Hadn’t I bought so tickets we wouldn’t have met - and you wouldn’t have fallen for me.”, you boop his nose with the pad of your index. “And we wouldn’t have gotten married and Jisue wouldn’t be here.”

A thought Jisung doesn’t like - he doesn’t want to imagine a life without you and his daughter, the loves of his life.

“Mh, true.” Jisung nuzzles your forehead. “But don’t think I forgot you used to be biased by Changbin-hyung.”, he teases, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

“What can I say? I’m a baddie too, just like our daughter.”, you chuckle. “Speaking of whom…”, you bury your face in the crook of Jisung’s neck, then place a series of soft, chaste kisses on the skin of his neck, not missing the way it makes him get goosebumps all over his skin. “On a scale of one to ten - how asleep you think she is?”, you let one hand wander though his chest. 

“Seeping like a log.” Jisung whispers, biting on his lower lip as he feels you slipping your hand under his t-shirt. 

“Mhh, good.”, you whisper against his skin, this time placing a wet kiss on his collarbone that has him shutting his eyes closed and hold back a moan. “Because I really wanna have some fun with you tonight.”, your voice is low as you speak. At the same time, your hand makes its way under the waistband of his pajama pants, but not his boxers.  

“Oh, you- you do?” Jisung lets out a desperate sigh when he feels your hand wrapping around his clothed cock - already semi-hard and warm around your fingers, yearning to be touched properly. 

“Mh-hm.”, you hum, squeezing his length a little bit tighter, knowing it drives him crazy. Then, another kiss on his collarbone, this time you even let your tongue run over his sensitive skin, and he fists the sheets beneath him. “It’s been a while since we had some time for ourselves.”, you comment. 

“True.”, he murmurs. “I miss you.”, the hand that was resting on your hip starts to travel to your inner thigh, fingers brushing against your groin and now it’s your turn to suck in a breath. 

“Me too.”, you bite his neck gently, teeth scraping his skin. “I miss feeling you inside of me.”, you whisper in his ear, and he twitches inside his underwear. You squeeze him even tighter, but don’t show any intention of touching him properly - of slipping your hand under the waistband of his boxers and wrap your hand around his tip or his base, whichever you prefer. 

He whines in protest, hoping it’d get you to just undress him already and give him what he wants - but you don’t. You seem to be enjoying the way he’s squirming in his place, desperate. “Mhh - you can have me.” Jisung whimpers, hoping his words would convince you to stop teasing him. 

He’s a weak man and has a desperate need to feel you wrapped around him - it’s been so long since the last time you’d done it. Properly, at least. These days it’s mostly quickies, but even those rarely happened in the past weeks. Moreover, he’s pretty sure that if you keep on teasing him, he’ll cum in his boxers - and it’s not exactly what he has in mind for tonight. 

Tonight, he wants to cum in his favorite place - inside of you. 

“I know.”, you peck his lips, then smile at him. “I just want to have some fun before the real deal.”

“If you- fuck.”, he sucks in a breath when you start to jerk him off over the fabric of his underwear. “If you keep teasing me like that I’ll finish before the real deal.”, he shamelessly confesses. 

“Oh, really?”, you giggle, placing an open-mouthed kiss on his Adam apple, then down his neck, then on his collar bone, until you place your lips on top of his nipple, still covered by the thin layer of his pajama t-shirt. He lets out a choked moan when you do so, and you smirk cockily - you know it’s his weakness. Jisung loves nipple play, but he loves it even more when it’s his nipples the one being played with. Not that you’re complaining, of course, you love to suck on his nipples as you jerk him off, or brush them with the pads of your fingers as you ride him, or tease them in literally any other way. 

“I-I’m not joking.” Jisung practically whines. “You’re such a tease.”

“Yeah, but you love it.”, you whisper as you start to leave a series of kisses all over his clothed stomach and lower abdomen, stopping right before the hem of his pants. 

It’s true, he does love it. Even if sometimes he likes to pretend he doesn’t. 

You decide to end his suffering, and hook both of your thumbs on the hem of both his pants and boxers this time, and begin to slowly pull them down his thighs, finally freeing his hard cock and letting it slap on his abdomen - heavy and thick and absolutely mouthwatering. You can’t wait to wrap your lips around him, feel his pre-cum leak on your tongue as you let your tongue swirl around his tip. 

When you wrap your fingers around him, it sends a shiver down his spine, and he lets his head fall back on the soft pillow underneath him, eyes closed shut and lips parted as you begin to slowly stroke his length with your hand. This seems to be the perfect moment to surprise him by taking him into your mouth, doesn’t it? When you do, a whimper escapes from his lips as his grip on the bedsheets tightens, his other hand finding its way to your hair - not pulling it, just gently stroking it as you take him deeper. 

When you take all of him inside your mouth, his tip reaching the back of your throat, he can practically feel his brain short-circuiting. “Like that, m-mommy.”, he moans. 

You nearly choke on his cock out of surprise, releasing him from your mouth only to catch your breath, and that’s when his brain processes what he just said. He immediately props himself up on his elbows and looks at you with wide eyes. 

“I-I…”, he stutters, speechless, mortified. 

You see - this is not the first time you hear Jisung calling you ‘mommy’ - it’s the first time he does it in a sexual way, tho. You and him came up with the idea of calling each other ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ around your daughter, as to encourage her to say her first word, figuring it’d be easier for her. 

“Han Jisung.”, you call his name, resulting in him looking at you like an abandoned puppy. “I was well aware of your noona kink, but this…This is new.”, you chuckle. 

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to-“, he stops mid-sentence to look at you. He looks confused, eyebrows now furrowed as he looks at you. “You’re not… mad?”, he asks in a whisper. 

“Why would I be mad?”, now it’s your turn to be confused. “I called you daddy, too, one time.”

“Yeah but we weren’t doing anything remotely sexual. You were drunk and being a brat, and said it after I slapped your butt. Playfully.”, he remarks. 

“True.”, you shrug. “But really - I’m not mad.”, you promise, intertwining your fingers with his, looking him in the eye. “To be honest… I find it hot.”, you whisper, leaning in to kiss his lips. 

“You do?” Jisung isn’t really sure whether you’re being serious or making fun of him. 

“Mh-hm.”, you hum, wrapping your fingers around his cock once again, taking in the sight of him biting his lower lip, trying to hold back the sounds that threaten to escape his mouth. “Wanna feel how much I liked it?”, you rhetorically asked, because you know damn well Jisung would never turn such an offer down. 

He nods eagerly and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand under the waistband of your pajamas and panties. His fingers immediately find their way to your slit, wet with your arousal - you’re practically dripping. “See how wet you made mommy?”

Jisung gulps as soon as he hears your words, and nearly chokes on his own spit. Tho, he has to admit, he finds it hot - so hot his dick instantly twitches. “So wet.”, he whispers, coating his fingers in your arousal. 

“Mh, right, so wet.”, you peck his lips. “Only for you.”, you bite on his lower lip. “You wanna be a good boy for mommy?”, you look him in the eyes as you whisper those words to him. 

He nods without hesitation, fingers still touching your naked cunt. 

“Touch mommy.”, you bite your lip. “Make mommy cum on your fingers. If you’re good - mommy’s gonna let you cum in her pussy.”

Jisung gets goosebumps all over his body as he closes his eyes and bites his lip - just the thought of filling you up drives him crazy, even though he’s done it plenty of times before, the living proof of it only a room away from you, peacefully sleeping in her crib. 

He nods, letting his fingers spread your arousal all over your pussy, just how you like it, wet and messy, before the pads of his fingers tap at your entrance, ready to enter you. You moan when he pushes them inside, stretching you out gently, before slowly bending them - making it easier for him to know when he brushes against your g-spot. He finds it soon after, of course - he knows your body and he knows it well. 

You moan, kicking your head back and arching your back as he fucks you with his fingers, looking at you as he thrusts them inside of you. “Good boy.”, you praise him, and a choked sound escapes his throat. You chuckle. “Do you like being called a ‘good boy’?”, you ask him. 

“Yes.”, he answers, but it’s not enough. 

“Yes…?”, you quirk an eyebrow at him, encouraging him to say the word. 

His cheeks flush red as he breaks the eye contact, not stopping his movements, tho. “Yes, mommy.” His words come out in a whisper, but they resonate loudly in the silence of your bedroom, of your house. 

You instinctively clench around his fingers when he says the magic word, suddenly feeling on the edge of your orgasm. You cum around him not long after, when he places the pad of his thumb on your clit and starts rubbing it fast, his fingers stimulating your g-spot in the meantime. A whimper of his name leaves your mouth when you cum, releasing all over his digits, heart hammering in your chest. 

Before Jisung entered your life - you never thought sex could feel this good. 

“You’ve been so good…”, you praise him, running one hand through his hair as he retrieves his hand from your pants. Your fingers wrap around his wrist once again, as you bring his hand to his mouth. “Now suck ‘em clean.”, you demand - however your tone is gentle. 

He nods, wrapping his plump lips around his own digits, pushing his fingers deep in his mouth as he licks your release off of them with a pleased hum. Once he’s done, he releases them from his mouth and wipes them on his t-shirt to dry them. “You taste so good, mommy.”, he whimpers, looking you in the eyes. 

You should feel ashamed of how much him calling you mommy is turning you on, but right now - you don’t care. Right now, it’s okay. You’re just a young married couple who’s enjoying some free time after a long while without properly pleasuring each other. Right now, you’re allowed to feel good. 

“Fuck.”, you curse under your breath, your cheeks red as well. “It’s your turn now - you deserve it.”

You pull your t-shirt over your head, then take it off completely, revealing your naked chest to your husband. He’s seen your breasts hundreds, if not thousands, of times, but it always feels like the first time to him, and you absolutely adore the expression on his face each time his eyes take in the sight of your nipples. 

“Can I…”, he cups one of your tits with his hand. “Can I suck your tits, mommy?”

You’re, like, impossibly wet by now. Even though you’re the one who’s supposed to be in charge, it’s pretty obvious that he’s got you wrapped around his fingers, always saying the right thing at the right time. 

You don’t answer him, you simply nod and arch your back, giving him full access to your naked breasts. An obscene whine leaves your parted mouth when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, letting his tongue swirl around it - gentle and slow, as he hums against your skin. Then, he releases your nipple - the sudden contact with the cold air makes you shiver. 

“Your tits taste good, mommy.”, he takes it back into his mouth, this time he even uses his teeth to gently scrape your skin, knowing it drives you crazy. 

You’ve had enough - you need him inside of you. Now. 

You gently push him by the shoulder, and he immediately lets go of your nipple, looking at you with a confused look. “You’ve been a good boy for mommy.”, you run your fingers through his dark hair, not missing the way he lets out a shaky breath after you praise him. “Don’t you want your reward?”, you ask. 

“Fuck- yes.”, he bites his lip. “I want it, mommy.”

He gets rid of his t-shirt at the speed of light, as you climb off his lap to pull your pajama and panties down your legs, getting rid of them completely as Jisung does the same. Seconds later, you’re back on his lap, legs spread to accommodate his body. For a couple of seconds, you take into consideration the idea of teasing him some more by maybe grinding your naked cunt against his cock, but ultimately choose not to. After all, he was a good boy to you. 

So, you take his cock and lift your hips, positioning its tip at your entrance. Jisung has one hand on your hip and the other laying flat on the mattress, and you don’t miss the way his grips on you tightens when you start to sink onto his length. The stretch his fingers provided you earlier is not comparable to how deliciously his cock is breaching you right now, filling you up completely as your walls squeeze him. 

“Oh, fuck.”, you mutter under your breath once he’s fully inside of you.

“You- you like it, mommy?”, he whimpers - his length twitching inside of you. 

You nod, placing your hands on his chest. “Yes- you’re so good. So good to mommy.”, you moan, before you slowly start to ride him just how he likes it. 

“I-I don’t think I’ll last much longer, mommy.” Jisung shamefully admits, cheeks flushing red once again.

You don’t stop riding him, and you don’t slow down either. You don’t care if he cums fast, it just means you’ll go at it again once he’s ready for round two. You lift your hips and then sink on him, repeating the motion over and over again until he’s a panting mess beneath you, the grip on your hip and the bedsheets incredibly tight. 

“Fuck, I’m so close.”, he whimpers, not taking his eyes off from where your bodies meet. 

“You can cum, baby boy.”, your words send a shiver down his spine, and he snaps his head up in your direction. You look gorgeous - lips parted as you ride him, tits bouncing at every movement. “Cum inside me, fill mommy up.”

His head fall back on the pillow as he cums hard, shooting his load inside of you with a grunt. His body lies flat on the mattress as he tries to regain his breath, eyes closed and heart beating fast in his chest. Then, he feels you cuddle up to his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck - his softening dick still inside of you, and he can feel his cum slowly dripping out of you, leaking on his balls. It doesn’t matter, he likes it messy. 

“It was -“, he starts. 

“Amazing.”, you interrupt him, still panting. 

A smile spreads on his face, knowing you’re on the same page and that you enjoyed it as much as he did. He wraps his arms around your figure, holding you tight against his chest, nuzzling your hair with his nose as he places a series of pecks on top of your head. 

Then, the loud cry of your daughter brings you back to reality. 

Round two will have to wait. 

❈

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#han #han jisung smut #han jisung hard thoughts #han jisung hard hours #stray kids smut #skz smut #skz kinktober #han smut #han hard hours #han hard thoughts #han x reader #han jisung x you #jisung smut #jisung hard hours #jisung hard thoughts #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #skz han #stray kids han #stray kids imagines #stray kids masterlist #skz masterlist #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x reader

[ln444]

1D songs as f1 drivers prompts

included: lando norris, oscar piastri, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lewis hamilton, george russell, max verstappen.

cw: slight angst.

note: i spent days making this omg 😭 i'm so glad it's finally out bc i'm a huge fan of one direction's songs (had my directioner era lol) i really hope you guys enjoy it ! also i was thinking about making it a serie, let me know if you're interested by any of the prompts !

click on the title to play the song!

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lando norris ☆ stole my heart (bestfriends in love)

“under the lights tonight, you turned around and you stole my heart with just one look, when i saw your face, i fell in love„

lando really tried. he attempted to bury his feelings as deeply as he could, but you make it so difficult. the way you're the only one who laughs at his silly jokes, the way you try not to miss any of his races (and send him a good luck text when you can't be there), the way you randomly smile down at him – he could talk about everything you do for hours because he loves and knows every single details about you. sometimes he hates how you make him feel because he just wants to say, 'fuck it,' and kiss you for hours and hours. he can't even count the number of times he's thought about kissing you or the countless times the three words almost slipped out of his mouth out of nowhere. but the thought of losing you forever hold him back everytime, he can't even imagine his life without you. he doesn't know how, but lando has fallen for you, really, really hard and it just keeps going, he just can't get enough of you.

oscar piastri ☆ 18 (teenage love)

“i have loved you since we were 18, long before we both thought the same thing, to be loved and to be in love„

oscar initially watched you from a distance, even memorizing your schedule to see you as often as possible. he'd daydream about finding excuses to start conversations with you, sometimes getting so lost in thought during class that he'd lose track of the lesson. then, one day, he finally gathered the courage to talk to you, pretending to need notes from a shared class. since that day, you began exchanging daily messages, making oscar dumbly smiling. you started having study sessions, eating lunch together, sitting together in your shared classes and he'd even wait to walk you home. and just like that, oscar start falling for you. he found himself daydreaming about you more often, imagining how it would feel to hold your hand and how your lips would feel on his. those thoughts would fluster him, but deep down, he hoped they might come true.

charles leclerc ☆ summer love

“you were my summer love, you'll always will be my summer love„

midnight swims, picnics, sneaking out to watch the stars, late-night talks, sharing earphones while lying on the beach, biking, taking pictures of each other with your old camera, whispering sweet words to each other when no one's watching. that's what makes summer your favorite season, because you get to be with charles. but why does being in love with charles have to be so complicated? why do you have to part ways when the summer ends? most importantly, what makes you hold onto this love, so complicated? maybe the fact that charles always promises to be there next summer and keep this promise — or the fact that you're madly in love with this boy—. the craziest part of all of this is how your love for each other never fades, to the point where charles promises to marry you and get a beach house where you can spend all your summers together when you grow up. charles always keeps his promises.

carlos sainz ☆ change your ticket (long distance)

“you should probably stay, probably stay a couple more days, come on let me change your ticket home, don't go, it's not the same when you go„

you never imagined that having an f1 driver as your boyfriend would be so challenging and that you'd have to spend half the year far from him. at first, it wasn't a big problem, and you got used to it quickly. but at times, it really tugged at your heart. carlos always makes sure to call you when he is free and send you texts at random times of the day to ask how's your day going and tell you how much he misses you, but it's not the same. carlos had asked you more than to join the venture, assuring you that his income would be more than enough for both of you. you thought about it—a lot—but the idea of making such significant changes held you back. now, when you think about it, you realize that losing carlos over a simple matter of distance would be a mistake, especially when there's a solution within reach. perhaps traveling the world with your f1 driver boyfriend isn't such a bad idea after all.

lewis hamilton ☆ heart attack (bestfriend's sister)

“got your voice in my head, sayin' «let's just be friends» [...] never thought it'd hurt so bad, getting over you„

lewis doesn't even know how he fell in love with you. perhaps it was the way your smile warms his heart or how you effortlessly make the most boring conversation so captivating. it seems so absurd that, out of all of the people, he fell for his bestfriend's sister. lewis never imagined that it will be this hard to fight his love for you and act like his mind is not filled with thoughts of you 24/7. how could he possibly get over you when just being in the same room as you drives him crazy? he thought about telling your brother, he really did but the thought of losing his long time friend and you along the way held him back. so he decided to bury his feelings deep in his heart and keep his thoughts in the back of his head. yet, with every echo of your laughter from the next room or just the sight of you, his heart would go crazy.

george russell ☆ loved you first

“i've been waiting all this time to finally say it but now i see your heart's been taken, and nothing could be worse, baby i loved you first„

george can't help but think about the stupid mistake he made a few months ago— not confessing his love for you. he had so many chances to do it, to tell you that he fell hard for you and he can't stop thinking about you. but the day he finally decided to do it, he didn't expect to find you arm in arm with another guy, totally breaking his heart. he just couldn't take it anymore, seeing you with him every day and acting like it was fine, as if the looks and smiles you gave him didn't warm his heart and make him want to take your hand and run as far as he could. because george, he's deeply in love, and it's getting deeper every single day. it's so unfair— he was there first, he loved you first. the worst part is that you know how george feels, and you might even feel the same way. george loved you first, and he's going to make sure that you know that.

max verstappen ☆ still the one (ex lovers)

“you're all i think about baby, i was so stupid for letting you go, you still the one„

max tried to date other girls, multiple times. however, it never felt the same. how is he supposed to move on when he's consumed by thoughts of you 24/7? he can't even engage in meaningful conversations with his dates because his mind always drifts back to you. he spends countless nights trying to erase you from his thoughts, to convince himself that it's truly over. yet, deep down, a flicker of hope for your love still lingers. max thought about the endless nights he's spent replaying your conversations and wondering what went wrong. he's haunted by the way your smile lit up his world and the warmth of your hand in his. even though he's tried to move forward, the heartache is still here, reminding him that sometimes, love refuses to fade.

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requests open!

#f1 x reader #f1 #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #george russell x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 angst #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

[sugar-coat-it]

Body piercer! Matty part three 

Part 1, Part 2

I missed writing for this man so much my god he is my everything. If you haven’t read the other parts, go ahead and do that first for context perhaps! 

Fem! Reader

Contains: Mutual pining, cutie newly established relationship, mention of marijuana, proud concert bf Matty, him being protective of girlie at the show, exhibitionism (light petting in the crowd), rough quickie (unprotected), public sex (bathroom), fingering and fucking on the counter, Matty puts his hand over her mouth, mirror sex, choking (with jewelry)

WC: ~6.3k

—-------------------------------------

PART THREE- Your new boyfriend takes you to a punk show, ending with a quickie in the venue bathroom

—-------------------------------------

Both you and Matty knew in your hearts that this wasn’t just a fling. Flings didn’t stay up for endless hours on the phone, knowing damn well that you both had work the next morning. Flings also didn’t think about each other for every waking minute, always sending each other sentimental messages when things reminded them of each other. And, they certainly don’t touch you the way Matty touches you: like he’s like he’s been starved of you his entire life. He’d frankly been losing his mind, constantly daydreaming at work as he stared at the Polaroid of the two of you he kept at the front desk, knowing he couldn’t stand not calling you his girlfriend much longer. Not after the past couple of weeks you’d been seeing each other had been some of the best of his life. He was so antsy over the fact that he couldn’t actually call you his that it was eating him alive, where else would he ever find someone as perfect for him as you? His work friends teased him endlessly for being so head over his platform boot heels, telling him how he needed to lock you down as soon as possible. He endearingly calls you his “favorite client”, but you’ve quickly become his favorite everything (“No. You don’t even get it, mate,” he’d said, rambling on to some poor guy whose ears he was piercing, “she's like… the light of my life, really”). But, considering that you couldn’t close your eyes without picturing his pretty brown irises staring back at you, his eyes crinkling at the edges with all his twinkling, wild mirth, you weren’t faring much better.

 Just as you’d hoped from that first night together, his sleepy eyes were in fact now a constant in your life. He asked you to be his girlfriend after taking you back to the same cafe where you’d had your blind date. Needless to say, it was an enthusiastic yes on your part, and everything has been so much brighter since, you can hardly imagine your life without all of his ruckus. Your days with him are long and lazy, and the nights are even longer, often spent wrapped up in his sheets or giggling while curled up on his couch after a smoke session.

You’ve learned a lot about Matty in the time you’ve been together. Like his tendency to leave things in your flat, his ungodly marijuana tolerance levels, and his love for his puppy Mayhem. You’ve also found that he takes his music very seriously. Listening to music is like a ritual to him, one that he refuses to partake in with “trashy” music. You call it snobbery, he calls it having good taste, and lately, he’s been trying to share that taste with you. He’s almost been subtly brainwashing you into getting into his bands, playing their songs in his car, burning some of their tracks on his CD mixtapes for you (always scrawled with cute Sharpie doodles and bad handwriting), humming the melodies of his favorite songs to you while cuddling. Honestly, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working, you’ve found yourself adding his music to your playlists, combining your styles much like how the mohawked man has slowly rooted his way into every corner of your life. 

So of course, words couldn’t describe how thrilled he was when you agreed to see one of his favorite bands play at a punk rock show. He’d approached you with the idea tentatively, explaining that it was fine if you didn’t want to go, he’d just take one of his mates from work if so. The way his face lit up when you said yes, your heart could have burst as you watched his eyes sparkle with pure unbridled joy. Then, he leaned in and kissed every inch of your face, ignoring your giggles and protests of him tickling you while he declared how much you were going to love it. 

 When the day of the show arrived, you kept your outfit simple: baggy, ripped jeans, a white tank top, a band hoodie, and a studded belt you recovered from the depths of your closet, figuring you’d at least blend in with the grungier crowd that way. You put on one last thing to complete the look, hooking Matty’s chunky, silver chain (that of course, he’d left on your dresser) around your neck. You smile to yourself as you tuck it under your clothes, liking the feel of having him close to your heart like this. When did you become such a sap?

Meanwhile, Matty was pacing around your flat, making sure he had everything he needed and that you’d get there in time for doors. His reasoning for being punctual was much less about him than it was for you. He wanted you to fully experience being close to the stage because he knows how much you like to take pictures at shows, your constantly full phone storage being a telltale sign of that. He was going full-on concert boyfriend mode, also keeping your lipstick and your wallet in his little hip pouch so you wouldn’t have to worry about carrying anything but your phone. He’d clearly thought this through quite a lot, he’d been looking forward to it for weeks. 

A sudden kiss to his cheek quiets the hum of his overactive mind when you approach him, his furrowed brows sloping to a soft look of adoration as he insists on you standing still so he can take a good look at your outfit. He holds his fingers up in front of him in the shape of a square, squinting one eye closed like he’s framing you for a memory. Sure, the relationship was shiny and new, but something about the way he looked at you told you this wasn’t going to dull with time’s cruel hands, not any time soon at least. 

“Ohh, yeah. Very punk rock, baby,” he smiles slyly, chuckling as you roll your eyes. 

“Hardly! I don’t exactly have the wardrobe for this.”

“Shh, nonsense. You’re like a regular Joan Jett, babe. But hotter.”

“But hotter? Wow,” you laugh, now glancing down at the jewelry adorning his hands and wrists, “I like your bracelet.”

Matty cringes, sucking a breath through his teeth while looking up towards the ceiling. He recalls just how he’d obtained said bracelet as a teenager with something to prove. He was never a bad kid, just a highly restless one who got bored too easily. Besides, he never got in any real trouble since his parents would have strung him up by his toes otherwise. 

“Erm, thanks. I think I nicked it when I was a teen.”

“You were a delinquent!?” you exclaim, causing Matty’s loud laughter to ring through the apartment.

“That’s a strong term, innit? Let’s call it… misguided… and stupid. Now c’mon, out the door, miss.” 

You shake your head playfully as he shoos you out of the flat, imagining a younger version of your boyfriend getting into all sorts of mischief. You can almost perfectly picture his toothy, boyish grin as he runs around the streets of his hometown with his mates by his side, freckle-faced and carefree, his curls in an unruly mop on his head. You wonder if you would have gotten along with him in his younger, wilder days. An odd part of you hopes he still would have liked you. 

“Why do you still have it?” you ask as you start your walk to the train together. “What can I say? I’m unbelievably sentimental.”

The train ride is quiet, you share his wireless earbuds and listen to music side by side. The deal was that the queue of songs switched back and forth, you got to play one song, then him. He leans his head against your shoulder, the muss of hair atop the shaved sides of his head grazing your neck. He almost falls asleep as you start to scratch the top of his head. But, inevitably, all of his energy comes rushing back to him when the train comes to a halt. Immediately, he’s grabbing your hand to bound down the street to the venue, shouting about how good of a spot you’re going to get. 

—---------------------------------------------

Once inside, at a glance, you don’t exactly fit in here. A sort of insecurity festers in you as you eye some of the girls dressed in spikes and leather, they looked like they belonged here, and so did your boyfriend. But, you try to shake it off nonetheless, even if you didn’t feel nearly as cool as you wanted to. This place was like the high council of people who exclusively wear clothes with tears in them.

Matty stands close behind you as you pack in with the rest of the grungy-looking crowd. His hands are on your hips as he glances around, making sure that you have enough space to stand comfortably. He knows how these shows can get, and he’s made it his personal mission to make sure no one ruins the experience for you. He shoots a look at any guy who tries to stand too close to you, the coldness of his stare sending them inching away from your personal space with cowardice. In an instant, the mean look is wiped off his face as he glances down at you, seeing how happy you seem to be there with him. He leans down, the cool metal of his chain grazing your neck as he speaks near your ear, just loud enough so you can hear him over the buzz of chatter throughout the venue. 

“Can you see alright?” he asks, giving your hips a little squeeze. 

You nod with a smile, having a fairly clear view of the stage. You’re only about three rows back thanks to Matty’s punctuality. You turn your head, grasping the necklace around his neck gently before pulling him down further so you can kiss his cheek. A grin breaks out on your boyfriend’s face, he can’t help but chuckle at your little move, he loves it when you get bold with him. His lips brush against your ear as he murmurs “little minx” before standing back up to his full height.

Matty talks over the pre-show music as he tells you a bit of background about the bands playing tonight, prattling on about who plays what and what makes them so cool. You listen to him with an enamored look plastered on your face, nodding along even when you have no clue what he’s talking about, but what else is new? It only makes you adore him more with every detail rattled off from the depths of his mind.

“... and this one here I don’t know shit about, to be honest. I reckon they’re probably fine though,” he shrugs, showing you the lineup on his phone. 

You squint at the screen, tapping your nail against one of the names you recognize because of him. You blink up at him prettily, knowing he’s going to get a kick out of what you say next.

“This is the one with the guy who plays the drums with two pedals, right?” you recall, tilting your head at him, knowing damn well that you’re laying it on thick. 

“Yes!! Yes, exactly,” he beams, his eyes instantly lighting up before he presses an enthusiastic kiss to your temple, “That’s my fuckin’ girl. The coolest girlfriend.”

Soon, the show begins, and Matty lets out an excited whoop as the first band makes their entrance, the one he’d bought the tickets for in the first place. He lets go of your hips, taking a small step back to give you the room to dance if you want to. He’s so considerate of you, it makes a glowing sort of warmth swell in your chest. You glance back at him and he gives you two thumbs up, his face scrunching up with a grin that’s so earnestly Matty, you have to resist the urge to just grab him and kiss him till your lips are raw right in the middle of the crowd. Not to mention how fucking good he looks tonight, his tank top allowing his tattooed arms to be on full display, and it should be illegal how tightly those black leather pants cling to his legs.

Your attention turns back to the stage as the first notes ring through the small venue, grungy guitar chords echoing off of the walls. Nothing gives you the same feeling as live music does, the pure thrill it makes rush through you is unmatched (sorry, Matty). The music is harsh, it grates on your ears, but in the best way possible. It’s invigorating, fucking electrifying, it’s thrumming in the hollow of your chest. You feel alive. Matty leans over to see it all happen from just a step away, watching the stage lights reflect in your eyes. He hadn’t looked at the band once, this was far more mesmerizing than anything that could be happening up there. You’ve completely captured his attention, and when you start bobbing your head to the beat and singing along to the chorus, Matty almost drops to one knee right then and there. He’s already mentally noted that this song will in fact be played at your wedding reception.

As the set goes on, his eyes stay on you for the majority of the time, he’s just so taken by watching you have this much fun hearing his music, which is now your music too. He’s simply beaming with pride. Every time you look back at him with that thrilled look on your face while you’re moving to the rhythm only solidifies to him that you’re his absolute dream girl. And of course, he’s having the time of his life too. Matty mouthes along to all of the words, nodding his head in a way that makes his quaffed mohawk bounce with his movements. And, shit, it’s hot in the crowd, you can feel the heat radiating off of the bodies moving around you. The hoodie you brought may have been an oversight, you can practically feel your mascara melting off of your lashes. 

The show goes on, and when the moshing in the middle of the crowd gets increasingly rowdy, one man gets shoved and sent hurtling past the bodies between you and the mosh pit. You quickly hold your hands out to brace for the impact, knowing this can’t end well as you prepare to meet your leather-jacketed doom. The man is visibly very intoxicated and he would have stumbled straight into your body from the momentum if Matty’s hands hadn’t shot out to block him, catching him by his shoulders.

“Oi! Watch where you’re fuckin’ going, fuck’s sake!” Matty spits, sending him back toward the pit with a light push. 

Now, had Matty done his fair share of moshing and getting absolutely catapulted into other people at breakneck velocity? Yes. It’s not even entirely the guy’s fault that he almost crashed into you, he was pretty drunk and didn’t have his wits or his balance about him, but in Matty’s mind, he might as well have tried to tackle you to the ground WWE style. 

“I could have caught him!” you argue over the music, laughing at the bitter look on your boyfriend's face.

Matty raises an eyebrow at you and shakes his head with an amused smile, but doesn’t argue. Maybe you could have, but he wasn’t about to let some sloshed idiot break his girlfriend's back because that’s his job, dammit. 

The band’s set is finished with a bang, the final chords echoing in your ears as you try to catch your breath from moving almost nonstop, your heart thundering against your ribs. You turn around to face Matty with a giant grin plastered on your face, letting out a breathless, excited laugh. He just chuckles, eyeing the strands of hair sticking to your face from the sheen of sweat, your smudged makeup rimming your wide eyes. He’s not in much better shape, his tank top is clinging to his body like a second skin. By this point, your hoodie feels like it has its own climate, and you’re dying to peel it off. 

“Fun?” he asks, as you start to lift the fabric over your head.

“Oh my god, yeah,” you breathe, your voice muffled by the hoodie. 

“I-”

His next words die in his throat as his eyes immediately snap to your chest, his breath catching as he spots the clear outline of your nipple piercings through your drenched, white tank top and- was that one of his chains around your neck? He feels a stir in his tight leather pants as his mouth slightly drops, he can’t remember ever being so instantly and completely turned on. Heat ripples through his body, climbing up to his face as he shamelessly stares at your tits. Not only were you showing off his skillful work, but your pretty neck was adorned with the chain he’d forgotten all about at your place. It might even look better on you than it does on him.

 You’re tying your hoodie around your waist when you catch the look on his face, your brows knitting together with confusion till you follow his gaze and find your piercings proudly displayed through your shirt. As the realization dawns on you, you look up at your boyfriend with a coy smile. Matty shudders, lust crowding his mind as he struggles to come up with a coherent thought, one that isn’t wildly pornographic. He can actually feel his hands tense with the urge to grasp, to lay claim to you with his fingertips. You simply look up at him through your lashes, watching him short-circuit right before your eyes. 

Before he has the chance to say or do anything, the next band comes onto the stage, the crowd roaring to life a second time. You give him a knowing look before turning back around to face the direction of the music. Matty swallows hard, raking a hand through his mohawk like he’s grappling with demons… and losing.

The music is nothing more than a pulsing beat in his skull, his attention is fully on the back of your head. He begins to inch forward to you, his hands finding a home on your hips while you vibe to the beat. He brings your hips back against him, feeling your movements stutter as the protrusion in his trousers presses into your ass as if to say “Feel what you did to me?”. You get the message loud and clear, draping your weight against him, your head lolling back against his shoulder as you both rock to the beat of the drums, sweaty skin to sweaty skin. Matty’s hands begin to wander, mapping over the damp fabric of your tank top, up your stomach, over your ribs till- oh. You gasp, the stage lights strobing under your closed eyes as he squeezes your tits through your top. Matty can distinctly feel the barbells through the thin fabric, it drives him fucking wild. Your lips part as you melt into him like honey, your skin feels like it’s on fire as the music blares through the venue. Your stomach swoops when he dares to flick the piercings with his fingertips, danger humming in your veins as he gets bolder, as if you’re not surrounded by a sea of people. Your eyes snap open, you quickly glance around to find that everyone’s far too enthralled with the show to notice, not that Matty would give a shit if they did. No one can hear the way you whimper when he pinches your nipples. You stare down at the large hands that possessively grope your breasts, feeling a throb resound between your thighs. 

“Matty, you said this was the band you don’t know, right?” you call to him, your voice uneven and unnaturally high-pitched. 

His heavily lidded eyes look almost black with the way they darken as he reads between the lines. Even if it was one of the bands he liked, he’s pretty sure absolutely nothing could stop him from doing what comes next, not when his dick is this hard, and you’ve teased him this salaciously. Wordlessly, Matty lets go of your chest and grabs your hand, leading you through the crowd towards the exit. He moves fast, the urgency in his strides and on his face likely making people move out of the way quicker. You’d feel concerned about losing your spot up front if your mind wasn’t so scrambled with need, your legs rushing to keep up with your lanky boyfriend. 

Your head is spinning as he swiftly leads you into the nearest gender-neutral bathroom. Matty’s hands are on you the moment he closes and locks the door, he’s all over you in every sense of the term. You breathe in the musk of his sweat between the melding of your lips. The kiss is messy, it’s searingly hot as he desperately licks into your mouth, his fingertips digging into your hip bones. He backs you up blindly until your hips meet the bathroom counter, his hands reaching to undo the hoodie tied around your waist and toss it aside without breaking the kiss once. You didn’t think you could get much hotter than you were in the crowd, but now you’re burning up from the inside with white-hot desire.

Matty hastily turns you around to face the bathroom mirror, tagged with graffiti and littered with lipstick prints at the border. It was clear that the space was well-loved, but clean. A culmination of every aspiring artist and sticker enthusiast in the area, almost no spot on the wall was left untouched. Your eyes are drawn away from the decor as Matty grasps your jaw from behind you, turning your head to make you meet the almost feral look in his eyes through the mirror. He holds you that way as he leans down to press dire, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, his other hand snaking down your front to unbutton your pants. The feeling of his tongue stud soothing over faded love bites only makes you weaker in the knees. Matty fumbles with the zipper of your jeans for a moment before he shoves the clothing down your legs, the fabric pooling around your ankles. It’s clear that he’s not wasting time with his usual delicate, worshiping caresses of your thighs while he undresses you, this is an electrified frenzy. 

“No bra, baby? Is that how you want to play?” he mutters, his lips grazing the column of your neck teasingly. 

“I-I didn’t-” you begin to protest, only to be cut off by your own moan as he gives a rough pinch to your nipple through your top.

Matty follows the curve of your midsection with his hand, intense honey-colored eyes locked on you through your reflection, the image swirled at the edges with colorful spray paint. A shudder reverberates through your body as his fingers venture lower, dipping below the waistband of your soaked panties. Your body instinctually arches backward against his, mewling when his calloused fingertips brush against your swollen clit. It’s like he can light up every one of your senses with just a graze, your breath getting shallower by the second. You feel his stiff cock twitch in his trousers as you press yourself impossibly closer to him, every inch of his glowing skin flush against your back. Matty continues his loving assault on your neck as his thick digits gather the arousal pooling between your thighs. Your dazed vision trails downward as you stare at his hand shoved inside your panties from behind you, watching the fabric shift with every movement of his skilled hand. You whine as he circles your slit before beginning to sink his slicked fingers into you, your eyes squeezing shut as the dizzying pleasure thrums in your veins. 

“Shhh. You know how much I love your pretty noises, baby, but be good, okay? Can you do that? Don’t want anyone to know what we’re up to, do you?” he murmurs, dragging his plush bottom lip against your ear lobe. 

You nod wordlessly, afraid that if you open your mouth, noise will overflow from you uncontrollably, his fingers being knuckle-deep in you is just too damn good. If you don’t control yourself, anyone outside could hear you, could know how good your boyfriend is filling you with his fingers, satisfying you to your very core. The thought of it alone makes your heart hammer in your chest harder. You don’t want them to know… because that would be wrong, it would be undignified… it’d be… kind of hot.

 His digits stretch you open as he begins to diligently pump them in and out of you, curling them towards the spot that he knows will make you see stars. He works quickly, his pace is almost feverish from his determination to make you fall to pieces as efficiently as he can. Matty’s other hand is groping your breast, squeezing the fullness of it, his rings pressing into your flesh through your thin tank top. You bite down on your lip hard enough that you think you might tear the flesh open, desperately trying to keep your whimpers quiet. Matty’s gaze on you is cautionary, his eyebrows slightly raised like he’s testing you, seeing just how much you can take. 

The last of your defenses come crumbling down as the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, the flood of sensations making a moan burst from your throat as he begins to draw tight circles on the bundle of nerves. In an instant, Matty’s hand is off of your chest and is clasped over your mouth, muffling any noise. Fuck.

“I mean it. Pipe down, or I’ll stop,” he says sternly, smirking at you as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers. 

“No- no, please don’t stop,” you babble against his palm like the idea of it was simply unbearable.

Matty’s hand stays firmly over your mouth as he withdraws his fingers from inside you, ignoring the way you squirm in protest, whining uselessly. He tugs your ruined panties down your legs, letting them join your pants in a heap around your ankles. It’s almost embarrassing how you can hardly contain your desire, but he likes it that way, knowing how needy you are.

“Matty, please, fuck, need it,” you mumble, and he can see the way your desire is clawing at you from the inside just from a glance.

“Be patient for me, my love,” he smiles, hurriedly pulling himself out of his uncomfortably skin-tight pants with his free hand, “You’ll get what you want. Being stuffed full with my cock, hm?”

You whimper as Matty nudges your legs further apart with his foot, leaning you forward over the counter onto your elbows. He whistles lowly at the sight of you, his eyes following down your spine, over the curve of your ass, and to your dripping pussy. You tremble slightly as he reaches between your legs, collecting your honey on his fingers before spreading it over his shaft, slicking himself with your arousal. A whine vibrates against the palm Matty holds over your mouth as you swing your hips in a desperate attempt to entice him. He just chuckles darkly, keeping his hand securely in place as starts to guide his cock through your folds, the head kissing your aching clit as he rubs it back and forth. 

Matty doesn’t waste a second longer, you can hardly process it before he’s pushing inside of you, gasping as he fills you inch by inch. His fingertips press into the side of your face as he tightens his hold on your mouth to muffle your mewls, watching as your lashes flutter, your face contorting with pleasure. He can feel your hot, heavy breaths fanning into his palm, your chest heaving as he bottoms out inside of you. Matty groans loudly, tossing his head back as he’s fully surrounded by your velvety warmth, forgetting his own volume rules that he’d set for you. Hypocrite.

“Oh, fuck, you feel so good,” he sighs, reaching to pull your tank top over your breasts, “Stay like that for me, yeah? Wanna see your perfect tits.”

He barely allows you a moment to breathe before he’s snapping his hips against you roughly, letting out a strained grunt with every thrust. Sensations trickle up your spine like flickering flames as a muffled cry spills out of you. Matty angles his hips just right, hitting so deep inside you that you feel as though you’re being split open by each drive of his cock, it’s mind-numbing. Your whole body jolts against the counter with his purposeful movements, the edge of the porcelain biting into your hip bones. He can hardly focus on just one thing, his gaze darting from where he’s disappearing inside of you, to your gorgeous face, to your breasts. Matty’s raspy voice makes your eyes refocus on him, you watch in the mirror as he licks his teeth like he wants to devour you whole.

“You see how pretty you look? No, no, sweetheart, don’t look at me, look at yourself. God, isn’t she pretty?” he drawls, “You look so sexy, wearing my chain like that while you’re taking my cock.”

At his instruction, you meet your own eyes through the reflection, your eyebrows sloping as you realize that he’s right, you do look pretty when he’s fucking you. Your rosied cheeks, your blown pupils, your glowing skin… and your boyfriend’s hand over your mouth. Your chain bounces against your collarbones in tandem with your pierced tits, it’s no wonder he’s loving this position so much, he gets to watch everything at once. While you’re gazing at yourself, Matty reaches around and begins to rub two fingers on your clit, swirling them in intoxicatingly quick figure eights. You watch your own eyes go wide as the pleasure ricochets through your bones, making you light-headed. This must be the expression Matty lives for when he’s got you like this, the face to his sweetest wet dreams. You’re almost mesmerized by seeing yourself get railed to high heaven, it’s sort of an odd feeling.

In one swift motion, Matty lets go of your face and grasps the chain around your neck, pulling it taut against your throat from behind, ripping a shocked cry from your lips. 

“Ohh, she liked that one,” he grins lazily, tilting his head back with a groan as he feels your walls clamp down on him like a vice, “Shit, not gonna last if you keep doin’ that, god damn.”

It feels like he’s stolen the air directly from your lungs as he lightly chokes you with the silver links you’d so slickly “borrowed” from him. Even just the slight restriction of oxygen has you reeling, your eyes rolling back as your hands claw at the counter, your whole body buzzing with mortifying heights of exhilaration. It’s a dizzying combination of thrill and precarious risk as Matty keeps a tight hold on the chain while fucking you with such vigor that you don’t feel attached to your body, the counter being your only loose grasp on reality. It only makes every drive of his cock feel that much more visceral, the tension coiling tighter in your belly. Heat prickles at your cheeks and the bridge of your nose at the purely obscene sounds of him thrusting into your sopping cunt, skin on skin echoing through the small space while his fingers abuse your clit.

It’s all building up so fast, quicker than usual due to Matty’s frenzied rhythm, his hips meeting yours again and again, unrelentingly. You bite back a wail as the tension so deep inside you reverberates in crackling pangs, threatening to break you to pieces as you arch backward. Your hips writhe against his hand both like you’re chasing the friction and trying to thrash away from its intensity. He can tell you’re on the edge of euphoria, teetering with every swipe of his fingers, every slam of his hips. He gives the chain a harsh tug, knowing it’ll send you spiraling into the depths of pleasure just beyond your fingertips.

“Fuck!” you gasp, one of your hands flying to grip his wrist as your mind goes impossibly blank, your nails digging into his skin, “I’m gonna- I-I can’t!”

“Shit, me too, angel. So close. Oh, fuck, cum for me, sweet girl. Cum for me while I fill you up,” he grunts, a burst of energy coming over him as he manages to piston into you even more brutally. 

It crashes over you like a thunderous wave, spiraling through you from your dizzied head to the tips of your curled toes. He lets go of the chain, putting his hand over your mouth again to stifle your cry, the disorienting rush of oxygen almost making your knees give out from underneath you, and they just might have if Matty hadn’t kept you supported against the counter. It feels like pure white light is fizzling under your eyelids as Matty makes you reach the stars with your climax, dousing you in pulsating bliss as you clench around him tightly. He lets out a deep, animalistic sound as he spills inside of you, warmth flooding your insides as he fucks you through your orgasm, his rhythm beginning to falter from the effort. 

“Fuuuck!” he hisses through gritted teeth, along with other breathy strings of profanities. 

Slowly, his body stutters to a stop, giving one last roll of his hips before he collapses over you as delicately as he can, enveloping you with his chest to your back. He lovingly presses kisses to the back of your neck as your head hangs forward slightly, both of you gasping to catch your breath. 

“H-holy shit, babe. You’re so good…you’re fucking incredible,” he mutters, seeming just as dazed as you are. 

He can’t seem to stop complimenting you and loving on you as he keeps you held up with his hands on your hips, rubbing little circles into your skin as you both come down from the highest of highs. The afterglow clouds your head in a way that makes you feel like you’re floating with Matty being your only anchor to the ground. 

“Matty…” you mumble, reaching back blindly for his face.

“I’m right here. Right here, love,” he whispers, guiding your palm to his cheek. 

You smile warmly as you feel the scruffy sides of his head at your fingertips, Matty keeping his hand over yours sweetly. At the same time you both glance upwards at the mirror, letting out simultaneous giggles as you appreciate the state you’re in. He leans to kiss your cheek, peering into your eyes adoringly through the reflection, pulling your top back down over your breasts. 

“Oh my god… we’re a mess,” you snort, rubbing aimlessly at your runny mascara with your free hand.

“You mean you’re a mess, I look damn good,” he jokes, starting to slowly ease you both back up into a standing position. 

You both let out a breathy sound as he pulls out of you slowly, his cum beginning to streak down your thighs. Of course, Matty stares, swallowing thickly like he’ll never quite get used to the sight while he shimmies back into his pants. Diligently, he reaches for a handful of paper towels, keeping a gentle hold on your hip. You reach to try and smack his arm when he laughs at the way your legs are trembling, your knees wobbling due to how hard he’d railed you. He dodges the blow, grinning at you triumphantly.

Matty gently wipes away the residue of his pearly release, whispering a hushed “I know, I know” when you squirm at the sensitivity. Once he discards the paper towels, he kneels down to pull your underwear and your jeans back up, kissing his way up the outside of your leg as he does so, looking into your eyes with a playful glint. He kisses you deeply while he buttons your pants with nimble hands, not even letting you lift a finger as he takes care of his girl. You throw your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss as he teases his tongue piercing along your bottom lip just to make you shiver. 

“My perfect girl,” he mumbles against your mouth.

You stay in the bathroom for just a little longer, kissing and whispering sweet things to each other while your bodies fully come down, Matty shouting at whoever keeps intermittently knocking on the door to fuck off. You can’t help but feel a little tinge of guilt in your stomach for “christening” the restroom the way you did, but you highly doubt you were the first. 

After he reassures you that the makeup streaked down your cheeks is “hardcore” and that you should leave it the way it is, you finally leave to re-enter the show (not before one final, drawn-out kiss, of course). Your boyfriend keeps you close by his side, his fingers interlocked with yours as you find yourselves at the very back of the pit, scattered with only a few other people. Matty guides your arms around his neck, grinning at you like a fool as you start to rock back and forth to the rhythm of the drums. His smile is infectious as he leans in to rest his forehead against yours, singing to you when the song reaches its chorus. He looks incredibly dorky as mimics the wail of the guitar solo, swinging his hips while his hands rest comfortably on your waist, almost like you’re about to slow dance. You tell him as such and Matty just tosses his head back with a laugh like a little kid. His eyes are sparkling, but not just from the iridescent stage lighting, it’s the look he gets only when he’s with you. You feel your heart swell in your chest as you continue to dance like you’re the only two in the venue, and he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the whole world. 

—-----------------------------------------

SO I was a liar and I did write another part. I intended this to be a blurb but I had so many more thoughts about them and their relationship eeeeee

The ending was soooo “do you wanna dance, dance at the back of the hall”

I love them. I need them to be happy forever actually. 

This one is dedicated to my lovely lovely friend B (@haveyouseenherlately) thank you so much for the ideas, you get body piercer like no one else, queen. Love you!!!

Go check out her stuff if you haven’t it SLAYS <3

#body piercer!matty #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #the 1975 smut #the 1975 x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy x y/n #the 1975 x you

[brights-place]

Dating Clay

- Not me giggling and kicking my feet IM SO NORMAL ABOUT CLAY GUYS DEF!

- CLAY IS LIKE THE SHOULDER TO LEAN ON IN THE RELATIONSHIP WHILE YOUR THE CHAOTIC BALL OF ENERGY HE LOVES JAGSOWBD

- Clay may use to be the funny one but he’s definitely smart (HE’S AN LICENSED CPA PUT SOME RESPECT ON HIS NAME FOOL!)

- Clay when first seeing you when he first arrived to putt putt village he was in awe.

- you were like Viva but… 100X More energetic which was terrifying to him at first

- Wondered how an troll like you had so much energy.

- Multiple things caught his attention about you… too many things…

- You where electric and hyper yet soothe and calming when needed to be he witnessed that when you comforted an troll who was having an panic attack

- He was in awe at how quick you switched up

- What he also noticed about you was that your pupils would grow about something you like or are daydreaming and shrink back when your brain is like being deep fried with information

- He giggled at how your doe eyes grow

- you were the one that made his romper outfit as an welcome gift and he cherished it.

- He enjoys the fact that you know all the choreography to the brozone songs and mainly his parts but wouldn’t speak up about it cause he was still in his ‘I don’t wanna talk about my past’ era

- Clay is VERY Petty (We all saw how he was with John Dory) now imagine that if you did something bad…

- You’d literally bother him so he can go back to talking to you and not be an petty tall shi-

- AHEM! Anywyasssss Clay would notice the smallest details about you and how your emotions shift abit before going back to normal in situations.

- overtime he got used to it and even got used to you kicking open the admin room with your foot just to annoy him and rant to him about the dumbest things or just about something you enjoy.

- He had written an schedule about when you enter take up his time then leave and would always keep that space and time open just for you and would stay in the same spot for an moment waiting for you to enter and as soon as you enter he starts the timer.

- He fell first and you fell harder

- He realised his emotions about you and went to Viva about it

- Viva couldn’t stop squealing loudly

- Her TWO best-friends liking each-other was everything to her

- She literally plotted and sketchbooked ideas on how Clay would confess

- Clay would seek out his brothers help since viva’s plans where… So corny

- His brothers helped him out to try ask you out and gave tips and comforted him when he freaked out abit

- “WHAT IF THEY DON’T LOVE ME BACK?! IM SO SCARED WHAT IF IM NOT GOOD ENOUGH?! WHAT IF THEY DONT LOVE ME JUST THE WAY I AM?!”

- He freaked out and started clutching his chest that Floyd had to soothe him which worked pretty well.

- Literally forgot everything he was taught once he saw you again

- He loves your hair, your eyes, personality and how you currently where cheering and dancing to some music

- tried to confess to you and failed miserably

- YOU WERE OBLIVIOUS

- He tried about Two times to confess to you but failed

- Literally ended up saying “Dude I like this person but every time I try to confess to them they don’t even know what’s going on” “Yikes dude just straight up tell them!” “okay”

- He literally confessed as you nodded saying that’s how it was suppose to go.

- Man had to grab you by the shoulders and speak slowly “I Like You”

- Flustered mess THE BOTH OF YOU

- You went on an few dates before starting to go out on your third date when you kissed him by accident cause he got you some flowers

- Your first date would of been at an cafe

- fifth date he invited you to the brozone concert

- He still didn’t tell you he was in brozone

- literally grinned the whole time at you while you where the loudest in the crowd

- Literally screamed out “THATS MY BOYFRIEND!” To Clay and doing his choreography in the front row which made Him blush and his brothers snicker at Clay.

- WHEN CLAY SAW YOU ONCE WITH LAZY EYES AND HELD AN RESTING BITCH FACE THE FIRST TIME IN THE MORNING HE WAS LIKE ‘OH DAMN?!’

- You two would mostly hangout together at his office sometimes or at your place

- most of the time at your place

- Shy about Pda in public but in private he peppers your face with kisses and teased you

- He likes to drop his serious side sometimes around you

- you make him feel safe and you do too.

- He loves when you soothe and remind him that it’s okay to be funny and goofy in some moments

- He cries when you say that

- Cuddle this man 24/7

- he made you join his sad book club

- You two cuddled eachother bawling your eyes out together

- Small kisses on the cheek and knuckles when walking past each other while working sometimes

- you and him having dance battles at 3 am out of boredom

- gave you the job of stamping some papers… never again

- His face was covered in stamp marks aswell

- His hair is so fluffy and would melt in your hands if you play with his hair or brush it

- You remind him to take breaks and if he doesn’t you drag him out

- He’d literally blush when you got matching wrist hands like him yours an F/C as his are green.

- if you cup his face and squish it he would do it back to you

- loves having his arm on your waist or ontop of your head to remind you He’s taller

- if your too hyper sometimes he’d pick you up by the armpits and keep you up in air jail for abit or hug you by the waist and keep you on the spot till you relax.

- He’d explain to you about his job if you ask and would be shocked by the fact that you understood it quickly

- He loves how you bounce off walls like an Bouncy ball and then run into his arms as he just says your name in the softest tone ever

- Snuggle into his neck while cuddling he will be crying on how cute it is.

- You had bit his hand once out of pure interest…

- He literally gave you the biggest stink eye you had to run before he catches you.

- He would praise you whenever he can if he’s free

- When you talk about your interests he just nods and smiles lovingly at uou

- He got BANK

- He’d try to spoil you sometimes but fails when you say no and say that his time is enough

- Would buy you things you like or something he thinks you would enjoy

- Bought you an plushie of an character you REALLY liked

- Was mad at the plushie since you hugged it to bed instead of hugging him

- He threw the plushie to the wall and then made sure you clinged to him instead which made you laugh.

- Literally staring at his baby and teen photos with an Wtf look

- “Babe why do you have yellow hair then but your hair now is like green?” “well that’s because-“ Literally furrowed eyebrows “that’s because… holy shit wait”

- You’d have to beg him to move in with you after 2 years of dating since the admin room was depressing.

- ITS SO LONG BECAUSE I LOVE HIM SO MUCH WVOSBSYWGR

#fluff #headcannons #x reader #trolls clay #Clay X Reader #trolls 3 #Trolls band together #troll #trolls art #trolls clay x reader #trolls x reader #dreamworks trolls #trolls dreamworks #trolls movie #trolls #Clay from Trolls #art

[ash5monster01]

hii could i request a neil perry smut, similar to the charlie one. With a Taylor Swift song!! Love your work🤍🤍

New Romantics

Pairing: Neil Perry x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, lust, sexual attraction, smut, mentions of nudity, oral, p in v, first time, fluff

Summary: Neil Perry falls for you out of no where. In his minor crisis over his feelings for you, you find yourself feeling the exact same about him. After all a forbidden romance was far more interesting than the boring life you both had stuck in Welton.

a/n: I’m so sorry I absolutely got carried away with this but sweet precious little Neil and Taylor Swift. It’s genius.

word count: 5,234

Masterlist

Neil Perry didn’t really care about girls. That didn’t mean he wasn’t attracted to them, of course he was. He just had far more important things to focus on than obsessing over a girl and her looks. That also wasn’t to say he didn’t care about those things either. Hell he had seen plenty of naked girls from the magazines Charlie stole from his father. He just never had in person and he was okay with that. He had things to focus on like school and pleasing his Dad. If he obsessed over girls like Charlie or Knox did he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the important stuff. At least that was what he thought until he saw you.

Neil had never been bothered by girls attending Welton like the other boys had. He’d rather them be comfortable and not distracting while he was here. Guys like Hopkins were the ones that couldn’t leave them alone. That was how he had ended up spotting you. Hopkins was leaning over you, hand pressed into the wall, his free arm trying to snake its way around your waist. Your heel came down so hard into the boys foot Neil actually heard him whimper.

“I told you to leave me alone!” you seethed, Neil’s eyes lifting to see your long hair swinging violently in your pony tail, bright eyes wide, nostrils flared. His heart stopped. You were damn near the prettiest thing he had ever seen. He was so distracted by the hills of your lips, imagining them pillowy soft against his own, he didn’t even notice you were now looking at him. A look in your eyes that could kill with your hands planted tightly on your hips.

“You want a go?” you asked, narrowed eyes and bright teeth shining behind your perfect red lips. Neil visibly gulped before shaking his head, clutching his books to his chest. You scared him. Yet not in the way you should. You scared him because for the first time in his life he found himself unable to deny his attraction.

“No, no. I uh, no” your head tipped back, the roll of your eyes so heavy he swore they almost disappeared. He wished your head would tip back like that looking up at him, touching him, taking care of him. The thought made his heart constrict in his chest, because he had never thought that about a girl before. It was as if he couldn't stop it, there was just something about you that made his skin tingle with anticipation. He had never had that before.

“Whatever Perry, find something else to entertain you” you scolded, briskly walking past him, shoulder brushing against his own. Unable to avoid it, another thought of you laying underneath him, with that fiery look appeared, and he actually had to close his eyes to shake the thought away.

So Neil spent the better part of the entire week trying to chase away thoughts of you. It was exactly what he had been afraid of. All consuming, distracting thoughts that he couldn’t seem to make go away. He had zoned out through three entire lectures before realizing he had a serious problem on his hands. He needed a way to get you out of his system and fast. Yet every time he was close to getting himself to stop he realized having thoughts and feelings for you was the most exciting thing to happen all year. The most exciting thing to ever happen in this school actually. At least since Keating had started teaching.

“Hey Neil, do you have the latin notes?” Charlie asked from Neil’s bed, surrounded by homework he was behind on. He preferred to catch up on it in the presence of his best friend rather than Cameron. Charlie didn't need a lecture about trying better at school from any one other than his father. Cameron had a habit of acting a lot like his Dad.

“Um, no actually” Neil gave him a sheepish look, long finger pushing the wired glasses up his nose.

“What do you mean no? You take notes even when Cameron helps us with math” Charlie sat up, confusion flooding his entire face. He just expected Neil to throw the notes over, he had never said no before.

“I was distracted” Neil shrugged, unsure how to properly explain himself.

“Something is up with you, you’ve been acting weird all week” Charlie shook his head, trying to read what was going on in Neil's head. Thing was it was usually Neil having to tell him what to do, not the other way around. As Charlie sat there trying to figure it out Neil felt the answer bubbling in his chest, ready to jump out at any moment. “What is going on?”

“Y/N” Neil blurted, nerves making his skin feel like it was on fire under the stare of his longest and oldest friend. The minute the name left his mouth he winced and squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch Charlie as he processed this random response.

“Y/N? Like the Y/N in our latin class that tells Mcallister to eat it when she forgets her homework?” Neil opened his eyes and nodded, embarrassment covering his cheeks in a bright red.

“Since when do you even talk to her?” Charlie asked, arms crossing over his chest as an amused look covered his face. Neil never talked about girls, so this was a first.

“I don’t, but I can’t get her out of my head” Neil groaned as he gripped at his hair, more dirty images of the girl flashing through his mind. He needed help and as soon as he could get it.

“No way, Neil has a crush” Charlie snickered and that’s when Neil dropped his head on his desk, a defeated grunt escaping his lips.

“That’s the thing, it’s not just a crush” now that peaked Charlie’s interest, his best friend getting all squeamish about a girl was bound to be interesting.

“Not just a crush?” Charlie asked, eyebrows high in amusement. This was pure entertainment for Charlie, Neil embarrassed about a girl. Normally it was Neil being embarassed when Charlie said gross things about a girl.

“I can’t stop thinking about her. I watched her stomp on Hopkins foot and next thing I know I'm thinking about kissing her and..... other things" Charlie laughed loudly, eyes crinkling shut because for the first time it wasn't just him getting all hot and bothered over a girl. Hell it was Neil of all people.

"Wow, I did not expect this" Charlie said once he had finally calmed down, still amused over the predicament his friend was in.

"Stop laughing man, I need your help. I don't know what to do and if my grades slip because of this my Dad will kill me" Neil pleaded, not enjoying his friends amusement one bit. Charlie had been fighting attraction his whole life, Neil had never found anything worth it to be attracted to. At least until now.

"Look there's only one way to get rid of an itch, and that's to scratch it" Neil furrowed his eyebrows, confusion covering his face.

"I don't think that's true, actually the worst thing for an itch is to scratch it" Charlie rolled his eyes at his friends literalness and shook his head.

"Not that kind of itch, look you're not gonna stop thinking about her until you at least talk to her. Even better way to scratch it is to do all the things you're thinking about but let's start with baby steps" Charlie told him and Neil somehow turned even redder, the idea of even acting on his thoughts embarassment enough.

"Fine, I'll talk to her but that is it"

Welton sucked. Truly since the moment you had been here. The last thing you needed was to be harrassed by boys who had gone here so long without girls they'd have no idea how to act when one finally showed up. Yet your parents made you anyway the minute it became co-ed and it was exactly like you had predicted. Almost every boy in the school harrassed you, sexualized you, made slimy comments, and out right direspected you. A small part of you sympathized with them not being taught but at the same time you didn't feel the need to deal with it. It wasn't your job to make them decent human beings, it was their mothers, and all their mothers abandoned them here. So all you could do was put them in their place when they tried to mess with you. You had yet to meet a Welton boy that respected you.

You liked to pretend it didn't bother you but it did. You hadn't really gotten close to the other girls and all the boys ever did was tear you down. Everyone in this school was too bored and tired of everything. All they could do is mess with each other while they all waited for their escape. Especially you, waiting for that train you knew would never come. Didn't matter anyway, your parents were no better than this no good school. So all you could do was watch as they all flirted with each other, disgusting displays of undeceny, practically wearing scarlett letters like the Nathaniel Hawthorne book. Little did they know yours was better, you just hadn't bothered to show it.

Being young it was easy to play innocent, like being in this school wasn't putting you on the road to ruin. So everyone in this school could play dumb but they all knew what being here meant. It meant saying goodbye to the finer things in life, accepting a life of successful educational pursuits, with no passion for life behind it. So you continued to listen to girls cry in the bathroom at night and see the distraught faces of the boys when they realize now that their on this train they will never be abe to get off. Too focused on the progressive classrooms without realizing living their life held the best lesson for them. You hoped Keating would help them realize that, before it was too late at least. So that was what you thought about once English class had ended, the teacher yet again surprising the students in the classroom.

"Y/N?" turning you spotted Neil Perry, the dreamy dough eyed boy that sat two seats behind you. You had yelled at him last week, you hadn't meant to but people like Hopkins made you so mad anyone that happened to be in the cross fire could end up burned too.

"Hey Neil" you smiled lightly at him, hoping you wouldn't have to add another boy to the list of Welton imbeciles.

"Hey, uhm. I uh-. Could you-?" you watched as he stumbled over his words, eyes darting around your face, looking anywhere but your eyes. You realized he was nervous and he was also trying his best not to disrespect you. That was new.

"Take a breath Perry, I promise I'm not going to stomp on your foot" you chuckled, hand gripping his shoulder to ease the tension slighty. Finally his eyes met yours and they held so much adoration you swore your heart melted on the spot.

"I was wondering if you had the latin notes?" your eyebrows furrowed, surprised he was asking about notes. Especially since he was friends with Meeks who was top of the class. He spotted your confused face and the panic set in again.

"I mean yeah, but isn't Steven always on top of that stuff?" you asked as you began to dig through your bag, looking for the notebook.

"Yeah which is exactly why I don't want him to know I've been forgetting to take notes" at this you laughed lightly and Neil swore his heart stopped. He had made you laugh, Charlie was right. So far this conversation had already done so much for Neil, when all at the same time it was making his feelings for you absoltuley so much worse.

"Has something been on your mind?" you found yourself asking as you finally found the notebook and moved to hand it to him. Neil gulped nervously and chuckled.

"Uh, I guess you could say that" he said, adding the notebok to his mountain high of textbooks. "Thank you for this, and also I thought Hopkins deserved it just so you know. That's not how you treat a lady, especially you"

"I'm nothing too special, but thanks" you smiled softly at him, not expecting this. All the boys you had run into this year had been so vile. Who would've thought Neil Perry was a sweet heart.

"You're everything Y/N" Neil told you, stare hard as if the look itself could convince you of your worth. Your skin instantly started to crawl, your neck heating up, because damnit Neil Perry was cute and he just said you were everything.

"Would you want to study for latin together? My roomate goes to the library every night from six to seven so we could then" you found yourself saying, unsure why you had seemed to cave. You swore you weren't going to allow Welton boys in but you forgot how real gentlemen had acted and Neil was starting to take your breath away.

"In the girl dorms?" the color seemed to suddenly drain from his face and you snickered, the way he was so shy making you gigle like a young school girl. After all it was what you were but so many of the rude boys and vicous girls had thrown bricks at your cool and innocent structure. Hell you could build a castle from how many they had thrown at you. Yet, even if every day at this school was a battle maybe a night with Neil Perry could be a dream.

"Yes, Mrs Leonard reads in her room around that time. You won't get caught, promise" you told him, assuring him that the hall monitor wouldn't be on duty if he stopped by. Neil suddenly found himself nodding, the idea of seeing where you sleep every night, where you change, sending him into over drive.

"Okay, uh, sounds good. I'll see you then" you smiled softly before nodding and leaving him behind, a smirking Keating from his desk staring the young boy down.

"Should I be worried?" he teased and Neil shook his head, the tips of his ears red.

"No, we're just friends" Neil lied, right through his teeth, and Keating just laughed.

"My boy, you don't look at friends like that" Neil nodded, a blush permanently etched across his face as he rushed to tell Charlie because the only way he would survive the night was learning the expertise of someone who was a master at sneaking onto the girls dorm floor.

If you were being honest you half expected Neil to not show up. He wasn’t really known around the school to cause trouble. So when he showed up at your door, 6 o’clock on the dot, your heart fluttered. He had rid himself of his formal school uniform, now in sweat pants and a white t-shirt that he had covered in a long sleeve flannel to keep warm. The way he looked warmed you over as well.

“You came?” you found yourself saying out loud, stepping out of the way for him to slip easily into the room.

“Yeah, I wanted to spend time with you” Neil told you, honesty dripping from his tongue like honey. You watched as his eyes scanned your room, taking in the differences, and possibly the similarities to his own. Then his eyes landed on you and it wasn’t hard to miss the way they had darkened.

Neil almost rubbed his eyes because he had pictured you in a silk night set hundreds of times. It was how most of his fantasies would start. Now here you were in front of him, a silk red set laying softly against your skin. Long legs bare and for him to see. Maybe he was day dreaming again. Surely this couldn’t be real? He was going insane and he was going to start losing it. First his grades then he won’t be sure what planet he is even on.

“I didn’t take you for the sneaking around type?” you finally said, surprised goodie two shoes Neil had not only snuck away from his dorm floor but snuck his way onto yours.

"I'm not, but lately I've learned some risks are worth taking" Neil told you, hard stare set on you. You weren't one to fall easily into guys but for some reason the way Neil looked at you made your skin crawl. You allowed his stare to wash over you, refresh you, and for the first time you allowed yourself to think it was possible to be something with Neil Perry. After all you could be the new romantics and even though heart break was a national anthem you both could sing it proudly. Neil was a reminder that the best people in life are free.

"Um, here are your notes" Neil finally spoke into the silence, nervously gulping as he returned the notebook. It was damn near impossible to copy the notes when thoughts of tonight seeped into his mind, doing things in your dorm bed that no dorm bed should ever see. The minute he would get his focus back he would stumble upon some hearts you doodled and it would start the process all over again. He wished he could get every single heart tattooed on his body.

"Oh perfect! I'm glad I could help" you told him, taking this notes and turning to set them on your desk. You used this moment to catch your breath, no longer looking at Neil Perry like something you wanted to corrupt. Yet that was exactly how he was looking at you because the red fabric covering the curve of your ass was making him want to bite it like an apple, any taste of you willing to soothe his internal war of lusting after you. He was so distracted he hadn't even noticed you had turned back around and had caught him practically drooling over you.

Quickly his eyes snapped up to yours, unable to read your face. He waited for any type of reaction, more than likely one similiar to when you bruised the hell out of Hopkins foot but instead you just sat there, staring back him giving no clue as to what you were thinking. Little did he know this was poker and you were about to play your ace. When you're a teenager you are too busy dancing to get knocked off your feet but afterall you need love and all you want is danger. A forbidden romance could be exactly that. You knew starting something with him the rumors would spread like wildfire but the thing about rumors is even if they were terrible and cruel most of them were true. So what would it matter if they had one more brick to throw at you. Neil still didn't have a single clue as to what was happening as you took a step closer to him.

"I can leave, I didn't mean to upset-" Neil froze as you held up a hand to stop his apology. For the first time since you had a caught him a smile broke across your face.

"Please stay" you told him, your eyes now practically begging for the boy who had been falling apart for you all week. Neil's shoulders relaxed as he nodded, a soft smile on his face as he realized you were looking at him like he looked at you.

"Okay" he told you and before he could process what was happening next your arms were flinging around his neck, mouth sealing against his own. Eyes wide and unsure hands quickly turned into holding onto you like at any moment you would disappear and this wouldn't be real. Your lips were as soft as he imagined, you tasted sweet like sugar, and now that you were so close he could smell your shampoo. His senses were trying to take it all in, commit it to memory, because until now it was just what he had imagined and now you were pressed against him, mouth hot against his own and chest pressed tightly against his. You weren't wearing a bra, he had noticed immediately and now he wasn't sure he would survive this. Surivve you.

"Is this okay?" you asked as you pulled away, panting to catch your breath but Neil didn't answer because now that he had a taste he couldn't stop. His lips were now trailing down your neck, your perfume clinging to him, and he vowed to never wash it away. Charlie was right about scratching that itch but he needed it fully taken care of. One kiss would not solve over a weeks worth of painful pent up sexual feelings for you.

You read his message loud and clear and as his lips continued to taste every visible inch of skin your hands were pushing the flannel off of his shoulders. The fabric dropped to the floor and now your fingers were curling under the hem of his white t-shirt and he only removed himself from you for a second to allow you to remove it completely. Your head fell back in a gasp as his cool hands slipped underneath your own shirt, pressing softly into the flesh of your back, and impossibly closer to him. You had planned on studying, truly, but now that he was flush against you, his length against your stomach you realized you might never think of latin ever again.

"Take it off" you whispered in his ear and he finally detached himself from your neck, careful to not leave any marks. His eyes searched yours for any uncertainty but you didn't seem uncertain at all so he didnt hesitate to grip the red fabric and pull it over your head, lifting your hair with it. His eyes dropped instantly, taking in your bare form, hair swooshing down, and making you look like an angel. He realized none of Charlie's dirty magazines could never ever compare to the real thing. To you.

You realized his nerves and slowly grabbed his hands in your own. You gave him a reasurring smile as you lifted them, placing them directly on your chest. Nervously his hands cupped around your breasts, squeezing softly as he determined exactly what it felt like. He didn't want to hurt you after all. Your head tipped back at the feeling, a small whimper leaving your mouth and he realized he much preferred that one over Hopkins. As if his body was on auto pilot his mouth moved to cover your own, to swallow your whimper, and sear it into his heart forever.

Your hands fell up one his shoulders, guiding him towards your dorm bed. Neil’s hands only left your chest when the back of his knees met the edge of your bed and he fell down into it. Propping himself up on his elbows he watched as you shimmied out of the silk shorts, leaving you in a white pair of underwear, a small bow right in the center. His eyes locked onto it like a missile to its target as you lifted yourself to straddle his lap. Neil fell back in the sheets, groaning as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Fuck, there is no way this is real right now” he spoke his thoughts out loud and you giggled lightly, leaning down so your face was hovering right over his.

“You treat me like I’m worth something Neil Perry, because of that I have no issue allowing myself to feel things for you” you whispered to him, wanting him to know that in this shit show of a school at least there was one other kindred spirit just like his.

“You should know you’re the only person I’ve felt things for ever” he told you in return and you smiled before sweetly kissing him, something you planned on doing for as long as you could.

You deepened the kiss once Neil’s hands gripped your waist, planting you firmly above his erection and trying desperately to not rut into you like a needy dog. Yet he was failing miserably because he could feel you everywhere and the sensation of your bare chest against his own was about to become much better. His thoughts were halted when your fingers curled into his waist band, head pulling away from his own as your eyes flashed to his bare torso. He looked at you pleadingly, begging you to do anything, so you stood up, tugging the sweatpants down along with his plaid boxers.

Never would you have guessed Neil Perry would be naked in your dorm bed yet here he was, in all his glory, clearly doing everything he could to last. Which he wasn’t going to much longer because now your were on your knees, delicate fingers tracing along the vein on the underside of his cock. The image more perfect than the first time he imagined it, the first time he had imagined you. “I’m gonna take care of you”

And then your tongue was licking a long stripe from the base of his dick to the very top. Your lips closing around to give it a soft kiss and Neil felt tears beginning to fill his eyes, a desperate mess and so needy for you. The effect you had was dangerous and he was done for, officially. He should just drop out. Then he couldn’t think of that any longer as your mouth finally closed around him, taking as much as you could. He rutted against the back of your throat, your hands palming his balls and he felt himself begin to tremble. You only smirked at the reaction, sucking him for all he was worth.

“I’m not, I’m not gonna make it” he stuttered out but before he could succumb to his needs you were releasing him with a pop, a small smirk on your face as he lost his orgasm. You felt only a little guilty as he looked at you so wounded.

“Don’t worry baby, I want us to finish together” you told him, now standing as you slid your panties down your legs. Neil cursed himself for hardening quickly again at the sight. You sucked in a sharp breath as the cool air met with the wetness of your core and before you could straddle Neil again he was sitting up and gripping your hips, fingers digging softly into the flesh of your ass.

“Could I-, could I taste you?” he nervously asked and you smiled at his shyness before nodding. Neil stood, allowing you his place on the bed where you allowed yourself to relax. “This is my first time”

“I’ll teach you” you encouraged and he nodded, now dropping to his knees himself. You had been so worked up that when he finally dared to run a finger through your folds you were tightening around nothing. Neil took a moment to explore, really see what it all looked like, a curious thumb pressing to your clit. When he heard you take a sharp rush of air in he looked up alarmed and you just chuckled.

“That’s the sweet spot handsome” you explained and he took this information in as he continued to look. In a daring moment Neil leaned forward, tongue dragging through your folds before pressing firmly on your clit again. He was shocked to find how good you tasted, not expecting it to be like this. The moment he realized how much you liked it he dug in like it was his last meal. Savoring it and hoping to keep your taste on his tongue the rest of the night.

Neil was a fast learner. After only a few more tips and adjusting his position he had you wreathing beneath him, you fingers practically trying to rip the hair out of his head. You could feel him rutting against the side of the bed and the minute you felt your stomach begin to tighten you pushed him back, panting out heavy breaths. “I need you inside of me right now”

Neil blushed and you leaned over to dig for the one condom you had come to Welton with. You had never planned on using it and now you realized you needed to figure out how to get more. You sat up and rolled the condom on for him before moving to lay on the bed the correct way. Neil followed your lead and settled himself between your legs, dragging the tip through your folds. You moved to put your own hand down there, lining him up before nodding at him. He pushed in slowly, his length stretching you sweetly.

Neil realized no day dreaming could compare to the sight of you naked underneath him and the way your warmness enveloped him inside of you. Once he was fully inside he couldn’t stop himself from dropping his head down and sucking your nipple into his mouth. You hissed at the pleasure it gave you, realizing he had gotten more comfortable during all of this. Slowly he started to move inside you, sucking so hard at each breast you realized he was leaving them covered in hickeys. You grabbed his head, pulling it up to kiss his mouth as he begun to hit the sweet spot inside of you.

Of course he couldn’t seem to leave your breasts alone, hands finding them as he kissed like you were his and he was going to keep it that way. Soon enough he was pounding into you like his life depended on it, you prayed the other girls couldn’t hear the bed squeaking or your moans. You wished you could let out the pornagraphic sounds you were holding back to avoid getting caught.

You felt your stomach begin to tighten again and Neil could feel you clenching around him. His thrusts began to get sloppy and in a moment of courage he took his hand and behind to rub your clit just like he learned and you were milking him for all he was worth in seconds. Neil allowed himself to finish as well, practically falling on top of you as he collapsed, the euphoric feeling making him dizzy.

“I guess even though we didn’t study you at least learned something” you said, pressing small kisses into the side of his neck. Neil chuckled lightly, lifting himself up to look in your eyes.

“I hope you know this wasn’t my intention. I mean I’d thought about it but I was at least hoping to take you on a date first” it was your turn to giggle and you pulled him down to give him a quick kiss.

“I know, that’s why I let you do it” you told him and he smiled, leaning back down, and hugging you close.

“I plan on keeping you” he whispered into your skin and you smiled, a hand running through his hair, him still inside of you, and warming your heart for the first time all year.

“Baby we’re the new romantics”

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[auteurdelabre]

Something to Fight For (series) Part 13

Word Count: 8.0K

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions) Tommy x Maria (yay!) / Tess x Joel (temporary) / Bill x Frank (forever)

Warnings: Smuuuuuuuut. Spoilers: thigh riding, dirty talk, female orgasm, Joel's a giver.

A/N: This is part of a sweeter series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joe

“An old favorite,” Paul says with a charming smile. “Maria will love it.”

You and Paul are at his place sitting on the sofa facing one another. Paul has his guitar resting on his lap and he's strumming the first few bars to "Always on my Mind". He's decided that Maria and Tommy would love this at the wedding; a little impromptu reunion of the band. 

“What about Tommy?” you pose, feeling strange about the whole thing. “He wasn’t even around to see us play before.”

“Oh he’ll get on board,” Paul says with confidence.

"I haven't sung it in so long," you say, your nerves building as you think about singing in public again. "I don't really think I wanna do it, Paul."

"It's the perfect song for a wedding." Paul insists, strumming the guitar a little more loudly. "Now c'mon, we only have a few weeks to get it right."

He sets off into the first verse, his voice clear and melodic before he prompts you with a raise of his brows. 

This is the part of Paul you didn't miss.

The pressing. 

Even when you didn't want to sing at the bars some nights all those years ago, he'd insist. You'd stand up there, your heart hammering as you gazed out into the crowd. But then Paul would be at your side with his guitar over his shoulder squeezing your hip and whispering that you sounded amazing, that everyone loved it and that you needed to keep going. He'd never force you, never threaten. He'd just wear you down to the point where it was easier to just give in. 

And you would. 

The only time you'd refused Paul anything was the night he told you he was ending things. After your big blow out where you told him in no uncertain terms that you weren't leaving your job to run off with he and Jack to tour. 

You'd been devastated. The anguish you'd felt you'd packed in a rush, holding in your sniffles even when Paul begged you to reconsider. That heavy sadness when Paul watched you leave the apartment, telling you that it was a mistake.

You frown at the memory now, those same feelings of anxiety spreading through your body. 

"C'mon," Paul urges you in a voice heavy with love for you. "This is your part, baby."

And as you always did back then, you nod and you relent.

///

"Hey friend," comes Joel's smiling voice at the end of the phone the next day. "Any chance you have a minute?"

You glance at the mountain of paperwork on your desk at the humane society and a smile moves over your features at the request. "Always."

You can hear Joel crawling into the seat of his truck, closing his door to the sound of the work site drilling and hammering. 

"Good. I wanted your advice about Sarah's birthday party." Joel's voice is thoughtful. "I know it's gotta be toads and purple but that's where I'm stuck. When I asked her she just mentioned she wanted McDonalds. Doesn't care about anything else."

"Not everything has to be toads," you reason with a smile and a laugh. "Why not ... McDonalds and mini golf? That new course just opened up and I bet Sarah would love it."

"That's a good idea," Joel agrees, and you can imagine him nodding. "Didn't think of that." 

Tess ' words come back to you sharp and unexpected.

Maybe you could back off a little bit with Sarah? Just for a bit. Just until I can wedge myself in there, ya know?

How are you giving her room to bond with Sarah if you're doing this? You're practically planning Sarah's birthday party like you’re her mother or something. There's an acute tug at your heart at that thought before you sober. 

"What did Tess say?"

"Huh?"

"When you asked her about this," you say motioning to the air in front of you. "What was her idea?"

There is a stretch of quiet. You can hear Joel's fingers strumming the wheel. 

"I, uh, haven't asked her yet," Joel finally recovers. "You've known Sarah longer so I thought I'd ask you first."

"Oh right. Well, Tess really likes Sarah," you say, holding in a wince. "I bet she'd have lots of good ideas."

The conversation is suddenly awkward and stilted. You both find reasons to end the call that have everything and nothing to do with your respective jobs. 

The gap begins. 

///

At the end of your shift you're surprised to see Tommy in the parking lot of your building. He’s leaning against the back like something out of a teen girl’s magazine. He gives you a sweet smile when you approach.

“Was heading to Maria’s and thought you’d wanna lift.”

You had no desire to take the bus home tonight; you’re exhausted from all this sanctuary planning. You shoot him a thankful smile.

“You’re the best,” you enthuse, bringing yourself up into the truck’s bench seat. You stow your purse at your feet, buckling in as Tommy starts the truck up. You give a wave to Alex as you pull out of the lot and onto the winding road home.

Tommy and Joel are peas in a pod when it comes to music. You try to change it to a pop station before Tommy shoots you a meaningful look and switches the dial back to 92.5 CountryJamFM.

“Jesus,” you mock as the first straining guitar ballad begins. “Just as bad as your brother.”

“Really?” Tommy is smiling widely.

“Yep. I gave him shit for the exact same thing.”

“Not surprised. Our mom was always sayin’ I copied everything Joel did when we were kids,” Tommy laughs. “I thought he was the coolest person on earth. Always wanted to do everything he did, listen to the same bands, drink the same beer. Guess some of it stuck.”

You’re imagining the two young brown-eyed boys (one a little older, a little more serious), laughing and playing in forests and building tree forts. When you think of the Miller brothers it’s always out in nature, wild and unfettered

“That’s actually really sweet,” you say with a smile. “Joel never really talks about your parents.”

“Not a shock. Neither’s around anymore.” Tommy looks grim and you immediately regret saying anything about to apologize but then Tommy gets a faraway look in his eyes.  “You know when we were younger, and our Mom was sick, Joel quit school?”

“What?” this surprises you. “Where was your dad?”

“Left years before. I don’t even remember what he looked like.”

Tommy is frowning now and you’re trying to formulate the whirring thoughts in your head. You’re surprised by so much of what is happening. You and Tommy have never had a great many deep conversations. You know so little Joel’s history.

“I thought Joel said he didn’t do well in school. Said he only enjoyed shop.”

“Nah, not true,” Tommy says with a shake of his head. “He was really smart, ‘specially in English classes. He only left so he could get a job and support us. Construction place near our house was hiring.”

You sit in the seat next to Tommy and mull over your time with Joel realizing that while he was so determined to learn more of you, you were more passive, taking in the information in crumbs when he offered them. You have a heavy regret that settles into your tummy with this information Tommy is sharing.

“And then I grow up, smokin’ weed in bathrooms and getting’ into bar fights and there’s Joel comin’ to rescue me every time. I barely graduated and then I couldn’t keep a job. And then Joel had this construction company, something he built from the ground up. ‘Course Joel hired me and now my life is better than it ever could be but only because of my brother.” Tommy shakes his head, his eyes still peeled on the road but glassy. “Sometimes I feel guilty, like I stole Joel’s future from him.”

You want to shake your head and assure Tommy that this couldn’t be the case. But the reality is you don’t know. You two lapse into silence as the drive continues but you can’t stop thinking about Joel and his childhood.

“Joel’s always been that way though.”

“What way?”

“Protector. Always wants to do what’s best for other people instead of himself. S'funny," Tommy says airily looking at the stretch of road in front of him. "I always thought you were a great match for my brother because you’re just the same."

Pure unfettered delight goes through your body like a drug. A tingling sensation that makes your cheeks flush and your mouth curl into a grin. Tommy thinks that? Tommy thinks you’re a good match for Joel?

All at once you realize you sober.

He thought that.

Past tense.

Because Joel is with Tess now. 

“It’s why I dragged him to trivia that night,” Tommy confesses with a shy grin. “Was hoping you two’d hit it off after that fucking abysmal first night.”

Your heart is thumping now. You wonder why Tommy is telling you this at all. 

"I was so sure something had happened between you two," Tommy adds before he can stop himself. “He came home from that Christmas party all excited and smiling and I thought ‘this is the Joel from when we were kids.’ Like he finally had something just for himself. Not for Sarah or for me.”

Joel’s words haunt you now, swirling in your mind and your heart.  The way he’d held you and kissed you and whispered those words.

I want you for my own.

And you know that Joel never meant it to possess you or own you. He wanted that carved space in his heart to be filled with something he didn’t have to share. Something that he could cherish and rely would still be there.

Tears are stinging your eyes and you blink them back furiously. Tommy slants a look at your down-turned face.

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure.”

“You really like that Paul guy?”

Tommy has a cringing look on his face, like he knows what he asked is over the line. He’s bracing himself for your ire or complete silence. You give him neither because you know Tommy isn’t asking to be cruel or prying. He’s asking, you realize, because he’s not really sure. 

And while you want to tell Tommy that yes, you do like Paul you also really, really like Joel. But you can’t help but think of Tess and her hopes for a future with him. You think of Paul and his desire to start a life together with you. You realize that wanting more is incredibly selfish so you give Tommy a small nod and smile.

“I do.”

///

Joel stands in front of his bathroom mirror and stares at himself. He's taken to doing this in recent weeks, but not for vanity's sake. He doesn't look at his hair or his body.  

He leans over the counter, his wide palms flat on the cool stone until his nose is inches from the mirror. There he keeps gaze with his own reflection until his mouth curls in disgust. 

"You're a piece of shit."

He reminds himself of this because no one else does. 

Being back in Frank and Bill's had done something to him. Sitting there in the scene of the crime. He'd made sure not to go past the studio door, terrified of what he'd do if he saw the same sofa you'd been entangled on. He was sure he'd feel the phantom touch of your hands in his hair and the way you'd looked at him that night. 

It stirred up not just feelings of lust but if overwhelming regret. Sadness that was so much more acute than loneliness had been. And this deep unrelenting guilt that he'd fucked up. 

He hadn't been able to keep himself from looking over at you during that visit, sneaking looks when you laughed. His own lips quirking in amusement when you did. Your arm had brushed against his as you shifted in your seat and he'd refused to move, desperate for you to do it again.

Seeing you happy makes him feel so fucking good even if he's not the one doing it. 

Frank and Bill, they give you ease and comfort and he likes being there with you in this world of baked goods and laughing and gentle comments of how wonderful Sarah is. 

His heart felt full that day and then it broke just as easily in the subsequent ones. 

Coming to see Tommy at Maria's had been a last minute detour to grab the tools. He hadn't even considered you'd be there until his brother invited him in for a drink and he'd seen you there snuggled up against Paul. A handsome man, a man who had you tucked under his arm like you were his. 

And Joel had felt that sickening lurch in his heart followed quickly by a scorching and ugly possessiveness. Who the fuck was this guy touching you? You were Joel’s.

Except you aren't.

Joel doesn't get to feel that way. He doesn't get to feel any way about who you take up with. He'd lost that privilege the second he'd taken up with Tess. He stares with menace into his reflection until the dark brown of his eyes are all he sees and feels, suffocating and harsh and unrelenting.

Why did you do it?

Why? How did he convince himself that being with Tess,  that not waiting for you, had been the logical decision?

Was it anger at your lack of communication? Perhaps. Hurt and pathetic jealousy over knowing that you had contacted Maria and not him? Likely. Feeling rejected? Feeling unworthy? Maybe. Had it been fair?

No.

The thing with Tess had been so unexpected. A month of silence from you had left Joel feeling insecure and rejected. Sarah's concern that you didn't like her anymore or were mad at her had him upset. So when Tess called suggesting a play date for Daniel and Sarah he'd jumped at the chance to get out of his house and out of his head. 

He hadn't gone in with the intention of anything more than a cup of coffee. Sarah and Daniel were in the next room giggling and pretending they were mermaids. 

Joel and Tess sat across from one another in the kitchen with their rapidly cooling coffees. They began with chatting about their prospective Christmases and the stress that comes with the holiday when you have a five year old. But then Tess had given him a sharp look. 

"You look tired."

"Not sleeping much," Joel replied. 

"Me neither." Tess took a sip of her coffee. "Dave's girlfriend is pregnant."

That had shocked Joel's eyes from the mug to her face. Tess was looking at him with that curiously intense gaze of hers. 

"Yeah that was my Christmas present this year," Tess replied with a forced laugh. "Finding out my ex is already moving on with some slut from his office and he's already gotten her pregnant."

"Daniel?"

"He's thrilled. Can't wait to be a big brother." Tess' gaze turned hard. "Sorry, shouldn't be bringing this up with you."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not really our dynamic, is it?" Tess has asked him curiously. "Our kids play together, sometimes we talk. . . Surface level stuff."

Joel had shrugged. "I don't mind listening."

Tess had been surprised by Joel's candor and in the way he sat there, hand around his mug listening as Tess poured her heart out about her ex. The hurt, the loneliness that Joel could relate to a bit too much. 

"Thanks for listening," Tess said with a wry smile as she finished. 

"Any time," Joel replied with a small lift of his fingers from the table. 

"You seein' anyone these days?" Tess said it airily, but she was pretty sure she knew the answer. She'd seen the pretty woman in his truck weeks ago. The one he couldn't stop glancing over his shoulder to look at, to smile at.  

Joel felt his mouth tug into a frown at that question. Was he seeing someone? 

No.

You didn't even want to talk to him. He couldn't call you to see where the two of you stood. Wasn't that his answer? 

He shook his head to indicate the negative. That action felt like a betrayal the moment he stopped. 

"Ever feel lonely?" Tess had mused, tracing her finger along the rim of her mug. "I sure fucking do."

"Yeah," Joel had nodded. Because it was true. He did feel lonely in a way Tommy and Sarah and his job couldn't touch. 

"Wanna be lonely together? Go on a date?" 

Joel hadn't been expecting that from Tess. His knee jerk reaction was to say no. That he was seeing someone. That it was complicated. But what was the complication? He told you how he felt and you'd left, icing him out. 

Joel thought of the worst scenario: that you didn't actually like him. That he'd pressured you into something you didn't want and now you wanted nothing to do with him. 

He could see the insecurity growing in Tess' face the longer he didn't answer. 

"Sure," Joel had agreed with a smile that didn't feel genuine. "Yeah."

"Did you really even like me that much?"

Of course you would wonder that. Of course you would sit there looking so beautiful and hurt and asking that in a way that made Joel's heart ache. And he deserved it. He deserved  that question and that pain.

And he'd waited for your disgust, your recalcitrance when he explained his loneliness. Because it wasn't a good enough answer. It didn't encompass how he thought you'd not wanted him and how he'd been weak enough not to fight for you. 

But you'd responded with kindness and patience and above all you wanted to know how it would affect Sarah. 

And that's when he'd felt his resolve starting to slip. That was when he considered taking you into his arms and covering your face with kisses. He wanted to throw himself at your feet and beg your forgiveness. He wanted to push you onto your bed and make gentle love to you for hours. 

And then he'd heard the name Paul. And then he sees you tucked up beside him days later and he hears Maria tell Tommy that she thinks you're happy and he wants you to be happy. After everything Joel just wants that smile of yours to stay. 

///

You come to babysit that Friday night loaded down with a backpack full of puzzles and Disney DVDs and Sarah runs screeching into your arms as you heft her onto one hip. You’re especially excited to see her today.

"Had to show you this," you tell Sarah as you hold her in one arm. Her tiny arms wrap around you, twisting to look at the flip phone you've opened and begun to bring images up on. You stop on the most recent, smiling at her.

"Are those kitty's?"

"Yup," you smile at her reaction. "Foster parent sent the photos to me this morning. 5 kittens in all."

"What's a fozzer parent?"

"A foster parent,” you correct gently. “They're the people who take care of the animals when they're small until they're big and strong enough to get adopted."

Sarah is digesting this, her wide eyes going off into middle distance just as Joel enters the kitchen.  He's dressed casual tonight in jeans that hug the curve of his ass and a t-shirt that strains along the arm and broad chest of his body. 

If Frank was here you're sure he'd be foaming at the mouth.  

"Hi Daddy."

"Hey babygirl."

Joel smiles a hello at you, going to grab a glass of water before he leaves. You continue scanning through the grainy photos in your phone at Sarah’s request. She suggests names like Pumpkin and Carrot for the kittens and you don’t bother telling her they already have Lord of the Rings names because the foster parent is a Tolkien nerd.

///

Joel sips his water slowly, needing to extend the time in your presence. He watches you hold his daughter on your hip, both sets of eyes on the glowing phone in your hands. Sarah is excitedly rambling and you’re glancing over at her with an indulgent smile.

He loves you.

Wait, what? No. He means he loves watching you with Sarah. The sweetness of your bond. He doesn’t love you. You’re friends, that’s it.

You seem really happy with Paul, as much as he hates to admit it. He hears from Maria how happy you are.

He can’t love you.

///

You feel Joel’s warm eyes on you and you glance up to see him staring at you and Sarah. You can’t stop looking at him differently now after your conversation with Tommy. You give a sweet smile of affection for him.

Protector.

I want you for my own.

There is a part of your lizard brain that focuses on this aspect of Joel. The strong protector covering his own hurt. The way he wants to take care of you. The way he wants to protect everyone even at a cost to his own happiness.

And you can admit now, as you stare into his eyes, that you love that about him. This deep, abiding affection that makes your heart swell when you look at him. It makes you daydream about a world and a future that isn’t yours.

You think what it would be like if Joel was your husband. You can imagine it. The three of you just as you have always been. Except now its Joel curving forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, looking at the phone with Sarah perched on your hip. His strong arms wrapping around your expanded midsection. His mouth coming to your temple to whisper how much he wanted this, how much he wanted you.

The dam breaks.

All the emotions you’d been holding back sputter out of you and you nearly drop the phone. Thankfully Sarah has a grip on it and she stills it. Your eyes are threatening to spill over and you rub them furiously.

“Careful,” Sarah tells you, her attention still on the images of the little kittens. Joel approaches, his eyes peering into yours. His hand is on your cheek, cupping it before you can say anything. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod shakily, trying not to nuzzle into his palm. “Just a headache.”

“I don’t have to go,” Joel insists, worried he sounds too eager. “I could cancel if you’re not feeling well.”

This affection you have for Joel, this worrisome love that you can’t seem to stop builds in your chest. And just as Tommy said, you are so similar. Because while you care for Joel you know that Tess is a better match. You are chaotic and troubled and you bring drama into this single father’s life; drama he never had before you. Tess is even and steady and no, she’s not perfect. But neither is Joel.

“You go on,” you croak, forcing a smile to your face. “Have fun.”

Joel nods and gives a weak smile, dropping his hand from your cheek.

“Don’t know how much fun a bid meeting is, but we’ll see.”

Since she's still in your arms you watch as Joel leans forward and presses a kiss to Sarah's forehead before smiling indulgently at her. 

"Your beard tickles," Sarah giggles with a smile up at her father before mentioning the kittens from your work. Her voice is fading though because Joel's eyes have snapped to you and he's not moving back. If anything his face is getting closer to yours. 

You don’t pull away.

Ever so softly, Joel presses a kiss to your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut at the contact. His lips are warm and soft against your skin and you feel his hand skating along to your lower back, resting there. He’s so close you can smell the scent of his shampoo and the laundry detergent and this underlying scent that is just Joel to you.  

He pulls back slowly, staring at you as you blink open your eyes. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Can he tell everything in your gaze?

Sarah barely notices this interaction between the two grownups because her attention is on the phone and on the subject of what she has decided what she'll do for a job when she gets to an employable age: Fozzer parent. 

"Have fun you two," he says to you both in a deep voice before clearing it. 

You swallow; swaying gently and watching him leave. You decide to stop acting like a stunned mullet when the door closes behind him and you’ve lowered Sarah back to the floor

“Let’s play Barbies.”

Sarah is unaware of your sudden daze, or the way you stumble when you walk into the living room after her. She doesn’t even comment on how you’re smiling crookedly as you dress the various Barbie dolls she shoves at you.

“This one needs a bit of love,” you say brushing the hair of a particularly bedraggled Barbie as you and Sarah sit before another one of her Christmas acquisitions; a Barbie Dream home. So pink and purple you want to wear sunglasses just to look at it.

“My birthday is soon.”

“I know,” you say with measured enthusiasm. “I hear you and your dad are planning something really fun.”

“McDonalds and mini golf,” Sarah tells you smiling widely. “They have a big play place with a ball pit.”

“Mhmm. Who’s coming?”

“Uncle Tommy, Auntie Maria (auntie! You’ll never get over that!) and my best friend Jessie. And you, right?”

“Of course,” you answer without thinking then realize some names have been left off her list. “You think you’ll invite Daniel and Miss Tess?”

“Daniel’s annoying.” Sarah adds nothing else to this as she’s struggling to put a pair of plastic shoes onto a Barbie with springy feet.  “He only wants to play cars.”

"Ah, that’s boys for you,” you try to say it casually. “I think Miss Tess is really nice though."

"She doesn't do voices right when she reads," Sarah tells you flatly, not looking up from the Barbie she’s currently trying to make walk. "Templeton sounds the same like Wilbur."

You hold in a laugh at her criticism of Tess' ability to read Charlotte's Web to her standards. 

"Maybe there's another book she can read with you?" You offer. "One we haven't read yet."

Sarah looks up at you with a peering expression, as if she can’t really figure you out tonight. But this dims when her attention becomes fixed on the Barbie you've now made look presentable

"Olivia books?" Sarah suggests finally. "Olivia is a pig but she wears a red dress. That’s a good book."

You nod and hope your smile hides the pain behind it. 

///

After two stories (with very good voices), one song (“You are my sunshine” seemed more appropriate for a five year old than more Linda Ronstadt), five forehead kisses (plus one for toad) and two “I love you’s” (two each, that is), Sarah is asleep and you’re daydreaming on the sofa.

You can’t stop thinking about Joel kissing your cheek. The warmth of him, the broadness of his frame, the soft rasp of his whiskers. Every single thing about Joel makes you feel giddy and fluttery and just when you feel yourself about to giggle out loud, the house phone rings and you sit up as Tess’ voice rings through the air as the answering machine clicks on.

Hey Joel, it’s me. Just wanted to know what you thought Sar-bear would want for her birthday? I already got something but I’m worried it’s not enough. Call me back, k? Bye.

You can hear the unspoken ‘I love you’ in the ‘bye’. You know it’s because the machine is public, possible for Sarah to listen to.

Sar-bear?

Jesus Christ. Were you really so naïve to think you could exist in this world with Sarah and Joel, immune to what lay outside the doors? Immune to the woman who wants to have Sarah for a daughter and Joel for a husband?

Besides, you’re reading too much into this. He kissed your cheek. Tommy kisses your cheek hello sometimes when you see he and Maria at dinner. There’s nothing sensual there, just a form of affection.

The TV is turned on and your mind is distracted until a short while later you hear a rapping on the door. You switch the TV off, feeling a bit nervous. You consider taking the butcher knife from the kitchen but then decide perhaps this is an overreaction since Joel lives in a perfectly safe neighborhood.

A quick look through the peephole tells you its Paul on the other side.  Your ride home. A quick glance at your wristwatch tells you that its barely nine o’clock. 

“Hey baby,” Paul says, leaning against the door frame. He kisses you gently. “Ready to go?”

“I said Joel would be back around nine-thirty,” you remind him, feeling a flash of irritation.   You don’t like that he’s here at the door, so close to a world you’ve unknowingly kept him on the perimeter of. It makes you feel strange to have him there on the doorstep.

“Sorry,” Paul says with a wince. “Think I heard wrong. Can I come in?"

“I don’t think that’s. . . I don’t know how Joel would feel about that.”

Paul looks shocked by this from you, about to say something when another voice sounds out from behind him.

“How would I feel about what?”

Joel is striding up to the house, his muscled legs moving up the drive.

“Bringing boyfriends over while you babysit? A bit cliche,” Joel teases, but his voice is tight and his smile looks forced. You feel a strange sense of guilt that Paul is here.

“Hey Joel,” you say with an awkward laugh. “This is Paul. Paul, this is Joel."

Joel walks up the steps and extends a hand that Paul immediately shakes, smiling warmly.

“Yeah I think I saw you once at Maria’s. Heard lots about you.”

Joel slants a look your way before nodding back at Paul. “Good things I hope.”

You watch, stricken as the two men shake hands before breaking apart.

“Paul just got here early to pick me up.”

“Good man,” Joel says and up close you can see the strange look in his eyes. He brushes past you gently to go into the house as you prepare to leave, feeling strange to be leaving like this, one foot already on the threshold of the door. You give a soft goodnight to Joel, preparing to head out when Paul furrows his brow and grips your wrist, stopping you.

“Aren’t you going to pay her?”

Joel who had been about to walk inside his house stops, stepping back and looking at Paul. You immediately blanch, looking at your boyfriend in dull horror.

“No, that’s not-“

“She did a service for you, she deserves to get paid.”

Paul states this as if he’s doing you a favor. He says this about you – that you’re too kind and you do too much for others. That you don’t stand up for yourself enough and you know he’s doing it to be kind but you want to scream at him.

“We have a deal, Joel built all those kennels for me and-“

“Your boyfriend is right,” Joel interrupts lowly, taking the wallet out the back of his pants pocket.  “You do a lot and you deserve to get paid for it.”

Paul shoots you a look that says: See?

You swallow the warm shame that is flushing your entire body a humiliated pink. You can only stand in horrible, awkward silence as Joel peels off five twenty dollar bills (far too much for a few hours babysitting) and gently holds them to you. You stare at the money a beat too long before Paul reaches out, taking the money and then handing it to you himself.

“Thanks,” you mutter with your eyes on the ground as you put the money in your pocket.

"Good night," Joel says. 

///

You can’t stop thinking about of Joel’s mouth.

You should be turned off, especially after the humiliating spectacle you just endured but your mind keeps flying back to the softness in his eyes and the way his hand had skated down your back. Abuzz with thoughts of Joel and his lips on your fevered cheek, you drive to Paul’s house almost thrumming beside him.

In bed Paul moves between your legs with the comforting motions of a longtime lover. Your bodies are familiar with one another; you know the sweet spots each other enjoys. After two years there is gentleness to the intimacy, a calm and steady reliance that when you fall you'll be caught. 

He likes to do it best with both you on your sides, his front pressed against your back, your legs scissor with his, rolling your hips against him as he fucks you. He is usually silent, the only noises are the grunts and gasps when he hits you in a way that makes you squirm delightedly. At this angle you often come, shuddering his name. 

Tonight is no different except the mouth on your body that you imagine in Joel's and you feel the warmth expand up your body, making you go boneless against Paul as he finishes soon after. 

He kisses your sweaty temple, holding you until he softens, disposing of the condom and returning to bed to hold you again. 

"Remind me, I gotta go to the pharmacy tomorrow," you tell Paul flicking off the lamp next to the bed. "Gotta get my refill."

You feel Paul snuggling up against you in bed and you smile. You like cozy nights like this at his place. His bed is bigger than yours, more room to stretch out and his lithe body is so warm. 

"Maybe don't get a refill this time," Paul coos as he comes to wrap his arms around you. 

"What?"

You're suddenly so tensed that Paul begins tugging you back into him. He sighs gently before pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder.  

"I wanna make a baby with you," Paul says, his hand coming to span over your empty stomach. "I want us to build a family."

You want to laugh at the preposterousness of the suggestion but something stops you. 

Paul is offering you a family. 

you won't have Sarah and Joel. Tess has laid a very obvious claim to them and you don't have a leg to stand on. Maria and Tommy are starting a new chapter in their lives. It won't be long before they too will turn inward, their lives intertwined. 

And wouldn't it be nice to raise kids together with Maria? Maybe even be pregnant at the same time? The thought causes an excited frisson to go through you. You have images of you both holding newborns. Maria glowing and holding a curly haired baby with dark caramel skin. 

You rocking a baby in your arms, a baby with large eyes a dark chocolate brown that look up at you with adoration. The same brown color as -

You feel your eyes fly open. You glance over at Paul, taking in his sweet blue eyes and give a guilty smile.

"I'll think about it."

///

You’re surprised to see Joel at your work later that week. It’s early and you’re just arriving from the bus, your bag bouncing against your hip. At first you see him and his gentle smile and a surge of affection goes through you followed by a crushing humiliation at the memory of the last time you saw him.

You wave and walk over to the truck confused at his arrival before you see a flurry of movement in the back seat. 

The widow is rolled down and Sarah shouts your name. You jog the rest of the way over, smirking over at Joel before you lean over the right window of the back seat. Sarah is dressed in a purple sweater and bumblebee boots. Her hair is in tight buns on either side of her head. 

"Hey, how's it goin' bug?"

She reaches out towards you with one hand, and then frustrated at being buckled into her car seat she frowns at her father. "Daddy, let me out!"

"We had a deal," Joel warns her, looking at her through the rear view mirror. Sarah leans back in her car seat shooting daggers at her dad as she theatrically crosses her arms.

"What was the deal?" You ask Sarah playfully. 

"She found out I driving in this direction for work and she begged me to take her to see ya before I dropped her at school," Joel explains with a smirk and a shrug from the front seat. "Drove by your place to see if you wanted a lift but you’d already left.”

You try to hide a pleased smile.  

“Do you have a sec? If not we understand."

You love seeing them and you love that Sarah was so eager to see you.

"I always have time for Sarah," you say turning your attention back to the squirming girl in the backseat. "So what's up?"

Sarah reaches beside her in the car seat and you expect to see toad flying out of her pocket. Instead it's a glittery piece of stationary with the image of a frog in a tutu dancing with a party hat on. 

"My birthday party," she explains handing you the card. "Can you come?"

"Your birthday party is finally here?" You say, feeling your heart melt as you see she's filled in all the information herself in her wide, crooked lettering. "How old are you turning? 20? 25? Can you finally rent a car?"

Sarah giggles at this, shaking her head. “I’m turning six.”

You look at the information. McDonalds and mini golf. You used to have parties like that when you were little. It makes you feel nostalgic for a life not overshadowed by poor memories. 

"It's a small party," Joel explains from the front seat. "Just Tommy and Maria, Tess and Daniel and Sarah's friend from school."

"Jessie," Sarah tells you. "She's my best friend since I was four."

She says this like it's a relationship that has weathered many seasons. The party sounds like it's an intimate affair and you wonder if that means you shouldn't go. Yes, you want to be part of Sarah’s life and yes, you love her but Tess will be there and it's too hard for you to pretend like you don't care that she's with Joel. 

You glance at the date on the shining card stock where Joel has obviously helped her to print the date: this Saturday. 

"We're having ice cream cake," Sarah explains. "I get vanilla and chocolate."

"Lucky girl!" You enthuse before your eyes dart to Joel in the front seat. He's looking between you and Sarah in the rear view mirror, his gaze unreadable.

"Yep!" Sarah shouts this giggling madly and kicking her feet. Her little boots bump against the car seat, squeaking as she speaks rapidly. "I'm gonna have so many pieces-"

"Time to go, say goodbye," Joel says in a playful voice before he starts the engine again, seeing that Sarah's attention now firmly rests on what she's going to be eating on Saturday. 

"Wait daddy! Are you coming to my birthday?" Sarah asks you with wide eyes before her dad can hit the gas pedal.  

Maybe you could back off a little bit with Sarah. Just for a bit. Just until I can wedge myself in there, ya know?

You made a promise to Tess. Not one you wanted to make, not one that feels particularly fair, but one that you agreed to. You look from the sweet child to the sweet man in the front seat and feel your heart aching. You want so much for them both to be happy. And this means you need to pull back, just a little bit.

"Sarah, this is so nice of you to invite me," you enthuse. "But uh, unfortunately this Saturday I have plans. I can't make it."

You aren't expecting the devastation that crosses Sarah's face. Her crumpling face makes your heart sink. 

“But you and me we’ll go to the movies or something, just us, and I'll still totally get you a present!" You promise, reaching through the window and cupping her warm cheek in your hand. "What were you wanting?"

"That's not necessa-" Joel starts from the front seat. 

"Because I want to," you say speaking over Joel. "I'll make sure to give it to your dad so you get it before the party. Just tell me what you want."

Sarah's tears are warm and cover your thumbs. She pulls her face away from you, rubbing at her eyes as she tries to stop crying. You feel wretched. 

"We better go," Joel grumbles as he shifts into gear. 

The gap widens. 

///

She’s sobbing.

His little girl is sobbing.

He can’t remember the last time he saw Sarah this upset. She’s in his lap in the front of the truck and he’s rocking her back and forth, murmuring soothing words as he rubs at her back. She’s too upset to go to daycare quite yet, so they’re in the parking lot.

You were lying. Lying to Sarah of all people. What the fuck is wrong with you?

He’d seen the indecision in your eyes that morning, almost felt the panic you had as you looked over the invitation. What was the problem? Was it that Paul wasn’t invited? He’d invite the entire fucking neighborhood if that’s what it took.

“I don’t w-wanna stupid party anymore,” Sarah hiccups, her body shuddering with the effort of trying to stop her crying. Her little arms around his neck and her forehead pressed to his cheek. “I don’t want one.”

“Sarah,” Joel offers diplomatically, pulling her back so he can look at her face. “Now you’re actin’ silly. You love parties.”

“Not without her. She makes cupcakes and tells me stories.”

“She said she was gonna take you out, just the two of you. I bet if you asked she’d make you  your favorite cupcakes,” Joel insists, wiping at her runny nose with a tissue from his glove box. “Babygirl, sometimes grownups get busy.”

“Not her,” Sarah says wiping at her eyes even as fresh tears replace the old. “She loves me.”

“She does love you,” Joel insists, his heart seizing. “Loving you has nothing to do with coming to your party. So many people that love you will be at your party.  I love you and Uncle Tommy loves you and-”

“Maybe she loves me like Mommy does?” Sarah asks, her lower lip trembling as she tries to understand, to rationalize you as a grown up.  “Love but from far away?”

///

You left work early. You couldn’t concentrate on the tasks at hand. All you could think of was Sarah and how upset she’d been. You know you’re only doing what Tess asked. You’re backing off, giving her space to bond with Sarah.

It’s supposed to be the right thing, but it hurts so much. The kind of pain you feel you can taste in your mouth, bitter and metallic.

But you would want the same if Paul had a kid, wouldn’t you? You’d want to bond with the child that brings the man you care for such joy. The conversation you had earlier in the week with Paul makes your stomach flip, but not quite pleasantly.

There's a large knock at your door and you open it only to have Joel standing there looking as if he’s about to open fire.

“Joel?”

“Can I come in?”

You take a step backward, confused and a little wary.  He looks furious. More furious than you can recall. His hands are at his sides and you note that he’s rubbing the fingertips together in agitation.

“Is everything-“

"So that promise you made about always being there for Sarah? Loving her?" Joel interrupts, walking in at your gesture. "I guess that was all bullshit?"

"No, I meant it," you defend immediately, closing the door behind you with a slam. “And I am. I just can’t come to her party on Saturday.”

“Because you have plans?”

“Yes.”

“You think I don’t know when you’re lyin’?” Joel says, his eyes swimming over your face. “You think I can’t see it in your eyes? I thought we were past this? Tell me the truth. Why aren’t you coming?”

You don’t want to answer him. But you know you have to.

“Because she doesn’t need me there,” you answer in half-truth. “She has Tess now. I figured I should ease off a bit. Give you guys some room.”

"She's not askin' for Tess, she's askin" for you!" Joel insists angrily, his drawl more pronounced when he's upset. Joel loves his daughter, he loves her so much and you've hurt her. You can see the anger in the tightness of his jaw, in the burning coals of his dark eyes. 

It frightens you to see Joel this angry and you lash out.

"Stop yelling at me!" you shout at him, not acknowledging the irony. “Or you can get the fuck out of my place!”

Joel falters, realizing that he’s come in too hot, too aggressive.

"She keeps saying she doesn't wanna have a party if you're not there," he says, his voice dropping a bit as if he’s just now recognizing the volume and severity. "Says it won't feel like a real party without you."

"Well I didn't know that," you throw back at him. "I thought it was more of a family thing. I didn't wanna intrude."

"You're not intruding. You're family to her. So are you coming or not?" Joel insists. He's panting now, coming down from his furious high.

Maybe you could back off a little bit with Sarah? Just for a bit. Just until I can wedge myself in there, ya know?

Tess’ plea for you to stay away is ignored, pushed away by the sight of Sarah’s father glaring down at you.

No, not just because Joel is upset. 

But because you have no intention of staying away from Sarah. If Tess wants Joel and Sarah she has to understand that you’ll be there in the peripheral, fighting for your place. You left Joel and Sarah once and it was the worst thing you could have done, you refuse to do it again.

"Yes,” you say softly.  "Of course I'll come. What time?"

"Three."

"Fine." 

"Fine." 

Joel's voice is a soft rasp now.  You take a step back, just as he steps forward.

"Fine."

It's like your bodies are magnets.

You keep trying to pull back from one another but it feels inevitable when you finally crash together. 

Joel's hands are immediately fisting through your hair, tugging it so your head tilts back and he can move his mouth over yours. Your arms are around his neck, holding him tightly as you moan against his parting lips.

Your bodies are both trembling with need as Joel backs you against the wall, his eyes shut as he kisses you deeply. His knee comes to rest between your thighs and his hips press against yours fervently. You can feel him there, hard and thick through his denim.

So good. So good.

He licks into your mouth, curling his body around yours as you cling to him, desperate to feel everything. In a daring move your hands skate under his flannel and you feel the smooth, taught warmth of his broad back under your hands. He lets out a small moan into your mouth as goose bumps rise under your fingertips. 

You’re quivering, full body shudders of desire that have your breath coming out in little quakes. Joel tilts his head so he can hear every sound, groaning lowly as your hips begin to slide along his thigh.

The friction of his jeans and the seam of yours hits perfectly, causing you to hiccup a gasp, pulling up. You quiver, your entire body shuddering as Joel urges you down against his thigh again, his own hips moving in tandem as you do. Your arms are on his shoulders, holding him.

One of his hands is palm flat above your shoulders on the wall at your back, balancing you both. The other is at the base of your spine, guiding you, urging you to grind harder against him. You do, feeling the arousal pooling between your legs.

Joel pulls back to look at you heavy-lidded with a mouth swollen from his lips. He watches your hips moving to rub against his thigh, your own thigh brushing his stiffened cock under the jeans. He’s aching, physically throbbing as he groans again, his brows saddling and his head falling forward.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasps in your ear.

It’s not a dare from Joel, it’s a beg. A needful beg for you to be the one to stop things. For you to be the one that reminds him it’s wrong. For you to see that he’s completely undone, unable to stop himself.

"Don’t stop," you moan, tilting your head so that he has better access to trace his tongue along your neck. He does so, pressing you tighter to the wall until it’s not just his thigh you’re riding, but almost rutting up against his hips.

You grip him around the neck, your mouth panting against the slope where his shoulder meet the base of his neck. With a sound of delight Joel is coaxing you to take what you need, that he’s got you.

You can feel him hard against you and you have the strongest desire to reach into his jeans and just hold him, thick and twitching in your palm.

“Joel I w-wanna t-touch-” you begin, your words stopping sharply as the seam of your jeans hits that sweet spot.

You hear his smile, because your eyes are slammed shut as he begins to rub himself against you at an achingly slow pace.

“You first, honey,” he rasps against your jaw and this time you embrace the endearment as it slips past his lush lips. “Need to hear those sounds you make.”

"F-fuck," you gasp out. It's nothing like Paul or James.You’re fully clothed, your riding his fucking thigh and yet you feel electric. If it were anyone else you’d laugh at the sight of two grown people dry humping against a wall, but with Joel it’s the hottest thing you can imagine outside of full-blown sex.

His eyes are open now and staring at your face as you begin to crest whimpering his name. Your eyes crack open and in silent communion you watch each other. The darkening of Joel’s irises as his pupils expand, the flush of your cheeks and neck.

"Are you gonna come?" he's murmuring in awe before he’s pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth a as you rut against his jeans. "Already? I can’t believe… So fucking beautiful. . .”

You feel beautiful when you arch out against him and whimper that yes, you’re close and that you can’t stop. Both of his broad hands are on your hip, urging your body more firmly against his muscled thigh.

"Please come for me," he groans as he presses wet kisses along your jaw.  “I need it.”

You feel the ripples of pleasure taking you over, your nipples tightening painfully under your shirt. You arch again, tilting your head back as you moan lowly.

“There she goes,” Joel marvels as he watches your eyes roll back into your head as you buck against him.  And when the orgasm rolls through you, devastatingly fast, it's his name on your tongue as you surrender to the pleasure that consumes you, collapsing against his shoulder as you come down. 

Then there is nothing heard but your mutual panting, your face buried in the crook of his neck as he presses you against the wall, holding you there. You give a shuddering whimper as Joel slowly brings his thigh from between your legs.  

As he does this, it’s like he drains you of your lustful haze.

What did you just do?

Paul.

Tess.

"What the fuck," you shoving the hair from your feverish face.  You push away from Joel and in a daze he stumbles back, his eyes pitched black as he stares at you.

"What are we doing?"

"I don't know," Joel says slowly, his eyes unable to stop travelling the length of you. “But I don’t want to stop.”

“We have to stop! That was so fucking wrong Joel,” you say, your heart thundering.

You feel a sick pit in the bottom of your stomach, this dreadful realization that you’ve just done something so incredibly selfish. Tears slip down your cheeks, full of guilt and shame. Joel’s eyes immediately sharpen and he cups your face in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Joel says pressing gentle kisses to your cheeks, trying to dry them of your tears. “I’m so sorry, honey-“

He crowds you, holding you to him as he kisses your cheeks tenderly. This motion is meant only to give you comfort. Your hands go to his wrists on either side of your face, wanting to tear his hands away, needing to breathe.

But it’s Joel.

You move your head so that now his lips inadvertently brush your mouth and not your cheek. And suddenly one hand is cupping the back of your head and the other is banding against your back, pulling you into him because his head is tilted and your lips are against his and you’re kissing him, holding to the back of his neck and kissing him so ardently you feel breathless.

Now you're licking into his mouth and whimpering and its your needy hands sliding from his chest up to the neck of his flannel, trembling fingers trying to undo the button closest to his sternum.  Now it’s Joel who stops, pulling back from your mouth and panting down at you. You feel your entire world tilting in that gaze.

He says your name, slow and breathy and you feel everything in those syllables. Never before has your name sounded so laced with sensuality.

And that’s the fucking problem.  You blink up at him, trying to clear your head.

Tess. Paul. Marmalade.

“Joel I- we can’t be alone together anymore.”

“It was – “ Joel wants to defend himself, to explain that this was just a one-time slip up. But he knows that’s not true. Knows that if you gave him the word he’d take you to the bed right now and fuck you until you couldn’t walk.

"You should go."

"Sarah’s party – “

"I’ll be there," you say as you herd him towards the door like some frazzled, still-horny border collie. "But until then we need to stay away from one another. And right now you gotta go, Paul is coming over."

Joel is in the frame of the open door about to leave when he turns around.

“Tell me you’re happy with him.”

“I am.”

“Happier than with me?”

You’re about to respond but then you hear the sound of footsteps on gravel approaching and you jerk back. Paul is coming around the corner to the door, he sees Joel's broad shouldered frame in the door just as you two break apart. 

"Hey."

Joel turns with a start to see a smiling Paul making his way to the door. Your face is tense and you wonder if he guesses what just went on between you and Joel. If he does, his face doesn’t show it.

“Joel, this is a surprise.”

"Yup," Joel nods, "I was just inviting your girl to Sarah's birthday. You should come too. More the merrier." 

His girl? 

Joel looks so casual as he says this, as if he didn’t just make you come seconds ago in this very suite.  

"When is it?"

"Saturday afternoon."

Paul enters into the suite and pecks a kiss to your cheek. He misses when Joel narrows his eyes at that. 

"Works for me, what about you, baby?"

You wince at the nickname. It's not that you hate it; you just hate hearing it in front of Joel. The man whose eyes are boring into your face so intensely you feel flustered. 

"Yep. Of course we’ll be there." 

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #dad joel miller #pedro pascal #thigh riding #reader #you are reader #wall sex #joel miller is a giver #joel miller dirty talk #dirty talk #series #a03

[sweaterkittensahoy]

So, imagine you're a teenager from rural Arkansas who grew up working on the family farm equipment. And you grow up in the poverty of the Depression, then as you first come to an age of understanding the world, a war breaks out.

And then that war hits Pearl Harbor.

And you, teenager from rural Arkansas, end up a mechanic because you grew up working on farm equipment, and you're really fucking good at it. And at the age of 19--probably the same age your parents married, frankly--you're in charge of a whole crew of other mechanics for an entire bombing company. And you are considered the absolute best of the best. You're not just respected; you're talked to as an equal. You're teased by men way above your own status but in a friendly and welcoming way.

And you are so goddamn good at what you do that one of the very best pilots in that whole company absolutely believes that you can fix a serious issue while he taxis on the runway and you balance on the landing gear.

And then you do it.

And then that pilot doesn't come back.

*

And imagine you're a guy from Wisconsin with wishes of being a gangster from New York City, so you create yourself a bit of a persona, all charm and swagger and quick smiles. And you go to flight school and meet a guy who looks like your childhood best friend, and when you nickname him the same as that guy, this other guy doesn't stop you. And he doesn't like any of your vices. But he doesn't care that you have them. He doesn't mind being around them. Enjoys watching you act out and enjoys riling you up as well.

And he tells you, "You need a pass to London," and you invite him along, meaning it, but also not surprised when he turns you down. Because he doesn't paint the town red. He has fun in his own way. Like picking up a full-grown Husky and dancing with him to the slow song the band is playing.

And you go to London and drink and fuck and start realizing your own mortality. And then you see how bad the bombing run really was, and you call in and find out that your dearest friend in the world (so dear that no matter how casual you come off, everyone knows how devoted you are to each other), didn't come back.

From a raid you could have been on.

*

And imagine, one last time, you're a navigation genius who makes the best charts in the whole company. And your best friend is damn near as good as you but just needs a little confidence. So fucking good is he, in fact, that he can pick up on the fly when you're sick and take care of those boys you both care about so much.

You give him your good luck charm and tell him to keep it. He never tells you he kisses it or puts it where he can always see it when he's scared.

And your best friend knows you don't actually like the part where you have to be in the bomber, and he gives you a gift: When asked to be the one to stay on the ground (where he wouldn't have to fight air sickness to do his job), he says no. And gets you the job instead.

Because you love each other. You care for each other. You take care of each other.

And then he doesn't come back. On a mission you personally plotted for the whole company. On a mission that might have been yours if you'd stayed in the air.

And his wife says hello to you in all her letters and the way she signs her name makes your best friend smile like nothing has ever gone wrong in the world.

#masters of the air #spoilers #part four #john egan #gale cleven #joseph payne #ken lemmons #harry crosby

[vscabarca]

Heyyy! Could you write an imagine with Gavi where Y/N is a professional ice skater? And she's like super competitive and when she makes all those tricks Gavi fears that she will fall but she doesn't. Something fluff idk 🥺😭<3

his figure skater - pablo gavi

summary: gavi loves the sport you do, but worries you‘ll hurt yourself

genre: fluff

a/n: what a cute request:3 i don‘t know much about figure skating, but tried my best:p

———

„You look like you’re about to freeze to death.“ You laughed when you saw Gavi sit there with his puffer jacket, the hood pulled up and the zipper up to his chin.

„Yeah that’s because I am soon. How are you not freezing?“ He grinned, placing his hands into the pockets, shifting around to keep himself warm.

„I‘m used to it, besides if I would just sit there like you do, I‘d be freezing too.“ You countered with a smirk and kissed his cheek before going back onto the ice rink.

„I would‘ve broken my leg the second I stepped a foot on the ice! Also, I‘m not allowed to do dangerous sports says my contract.“ He shouted after you, but you just waved him off with a grin, continuing with your practice.

An important competition was approaching and you did everything you could to be in top form and win.

You were on the ice training everyday, sometimes going to the gym afterwards, practicing you routine over and over again until you hit perfection. Gavi admired your determination, happy that his girlfriend is also a professional athlete.

Ever since you’ve met him, he was proud of how good you were but also just so worried. You worked hard to be a professional athlete in the competitive sport, but he was just so scared you would once fall and hurt yourself badly.

Like today, Gavi stopped by after his own practice, waiting for you to finish. He could barely watch. These flips and tricks made him feel dizzy only from looking. Seeing you fall from time to time bruising your knees made him wide his eyes in worry.

Still, he supported you and was coming to your competitions if he had the time.

———

„Gavi it’s just a bruise, it only hurts if you keep pressing your finger on it.“ You chuckled, slapping his hand away from the purple splotch.

Your boyfriend saw the rather large bruise on your hip after you emerged from a shower, immediately stumbling over to you, asking where it was from.

„I don’t like seeing you hurt yourself. I feel nauseous when I see you lay there on the ice after a fall.“ Gavi spoke, tracing your bruise with his fingers subconsciously. „Also, I‘ve heard if you get bruise after bruise on the same spot, it can lead to inflammations.” He lectured and pulled you closer.

„Baby this is my job. Falling is a part of the process, like fouling in football. And who told you about that bruise thing?” You asked with a chuckle, scooting closer to him in bed.

„I‘ve read it online…” Gavi mumbled, arranging the duvet for you two.

You‘ve told him countless times it didn’t hurt and that you were used to it, but he just wouldn’t listen.

„Imagine how I feel when you put your head where others put their feet.“ You continued, which got him thinking. Gavi understood what you were on about and acknowledged the fact that his sport could be dangerous too.

Since that night, Gavi didn’t express his worries vocally anymore, not wanting to stress you out too much. Still, he bit his nails while you were competing, just like you were doing during his games.

———

„Be careful ok?“ Gavi had asked you just before it was time for you to compete. You nodded and kissed him quickly. The music blasted through the speakers, making you fade out everything around you. Gavi bounced his leg nervously watching you twirl and jump around the ice rink. You executed your routine perfectly, not one ounce of nervousness showing.

Gavi was the first one who started cheering as the song was over, whistling while you smiled proudly towards the judges.

Your boyfriend was already waiting for you, embracing you in his arms. Your face was mushed against his chest, giggling at how Gavi swayed you from side to side.

„You were amazing.“ He spoke, finally letting go to place a sweet kiss on your lips.

„Thank you. You weren’t worried?“ You asked, already knowing his answer but asking anyway.

„Of course I was. I was shitting my pants the whole time.“

People turned their heads as you two erupted in laughter at Gavi‘s comment, but walked hand in hand outside, not feeling bothered by their looks.

#gavi x reader #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavi one shot #gavi #fc barcelona #barça #football one shot #football x reader #fcb #fermin lopez x reader #pedri x reader #pedri

[justkending]

It's just a hobby. (Drabble)

Summary: You took up a new hobby, and Dean likes to poke and tease you for it, but you feel the need to seek a little revenge for the constant joking. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3300+

A/N: I started this during the summer when I started five different crocheting projects (ADHD carried my summer hobbies) and decided to finish it before school started back up. I am currently still writing Found Memories, but I have to put a pause on it as the first month of school tends to take a lot of my time away from hobbies like writing… I’m moving to teach 8th-grade English this year and could use all the energy you’re all willing to send my way! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short story, and I’m happy to have the inspiration to write for Dean again :)

(Also, this is the closest to smut I think I've ever written...)

_______

“Seriously?” Dean grumbled as he looked in the rearview mirror seeing me pulling yarn to untangle a knot I had created. 

Knowing where he was going with his normal banter, I just laughed and continued to focus on the craft in front of me. 

“I pulled this out like 20 minutes ago. How are you just now noticing?”

“I’m watching the road,” he argued, and I rolled my eyes. As always, he had been sneaking glances to the back of the cab at me every other minute. “The hunt wasn’t even 40 minutes away from the bunker. Why did you bring that?” 

“Why do you listen to the same three Led Zeppelin songs when you're upset about a hunt?” I countered, and he opened his mouth to disagree, but I answered for him to skip the sarcastic conversation brewing. “Comfort Dean. It’s all about comfort.”

“Why are you so weirded out by a normal hobby?” Sam jumped in, smirking, and sporting one of the many beanies I had made him with said hobby, which he had come to love. He looked down at a newspaper in his lap, no doubt already scoping out a new hunt. 

“It’s not-” Dean stumbled on his answer. “I’m not weirded out by it. It’s just not a hobby I imagine someone like Y/N taking up.” 

“You just described why you’re weirded out by it,” Sam looked at him with a blank stare. 

He ignored him and rolled his eyes. 

“What kind of people do you imagine the crocheting community to be full of?” I smiled, still looking down at my hands and knowing his answer already. 

“Grandmas,” he replied almost immediately. 

“Hmm,” I hummed as if surprised by his confession, even if it was wrong. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll stop wasting my talents on things for you.” 

I could see his eyes shoot up in the mirror and a look of regret ghost over his green orbs. 

Dean liked to make a big deal about this particular hobby I had started up a little over six months ago. I think a part of him just liked to tease me about it, but deep down, I knew he was proud of my growth. He was just bad at voicing it.

The first things I ever crocheted were just simple squares in different stitch work to learn a variety of them better. Those squares became washcloths and, surprisingly, were still used daily in the kitchen. 

I learned to make bags, socks, hats, sweaters, stuffed animals, and even a few blankets. 

“Just 30 minutes ago, you took down five security guards, wrestled three teenage vampires, and booby-trapped half of his nest. Now you’re crocheting a sweater for Charlie that says, ‘What’s up bitches?’ in the backseat. Mind you, with blood still smeared on your face,” he raised an eyebrow at me in the mirror. 

I looked up and leaned toward the front to get a better look at myself. 

“Oh, shit, I thought I got it all,” I groaned, seeing a smear on the side of my face I must have missed. 

“It doesn’t add up,” he shook his head, but I could see a joking smile on his lips. 

“Much to your surprise Dean, girls can have more than one personality trait. I know you boys are all, ‘Ugh, monsters! Kill, kill, kill! I need a scotch in my hand and The God Father playing on loop in the background to show how manly I-’

“Hey,” Sam cut me off and looked at me with his sad puppy dog eyes. “I’m on your side.”

“You’re right… You also like to read and share fun facts,” I winked, touseling his hair and getting a scoff of a laugh as he swatted my hand away. “See how hurtful it can be when you forget our brains have the capacity to do more than one thing?” I turned back to Dean with my arms crossed on the bench seat in front of me. 

“I don’t think you're incapable of having more than one interest in life; I just think it’s interesting that you chose a 90-year-old women's side gig as your hobby,” Dean countered, pulling into the garage. 

“Well, if you can’t appreciate it, then you can’t have the gifts my hard work creates,” I huffed, gathering my things and sliding back to the door as Dean parked the car.

Once the car was in park, I was the first out. I wasn’t actually mad at him, I was a hundred percent messing with him, but he deserved it for teasing me this long about it when I knew he loved everything I had made him this far. 

He had a favorite blanket that he preferred to sleep with now. He had a nice sweater he wore around the bunker when he was cold. He had a few pairs of socks he preferred over store-bought ones. He even had a miniature plush Batman figurine that sat on his desk that I had learned to crochet just for him.

“Y/N, you don’t mean that!” he called after me, standing in the door on the driver's side of the Impala and shouting over the roof of it where I was walking inside. 

“We'll find out soon,” I yelled back, never turning around. 

The next three days, I teased him like he had me about this whole ordeal, but in my own way. 

When we were cooking in the kitchen or doing dishes, if he grabbed one of the squares that now acted as our kitchen hand towels, I would steal it from his hands and say, “Sorry, merchandise can only be used by those who value it.” 

With which he would respond, “Wait! I need that!” with his hands drenched in water after washing his hands. 

Just for extra measure, I took all the towels and moved them to a new place only Sam and I knew. He was happy to join in on my little prank, and every time he had one, he made sure Dean saw him with it. 

“Where did you get that?” Dean would jump up from wherever he was and march over to him to try and steal it. 

“Only the VIP customers have access to these,” Sam would wave it above his head out of reach of Dean. 

Another time, after a hunt, it was freezing in our motel room, where the heater barely worked, and the hotel didn't have enough blankets. Luckily I had one packed in the trunk of Baby, and I used it for extra coverage.

Even though Dean and I shared a bed, I wrapped it around me as I slept and said, “Sucks that you hate this so much, or else I’d share with you…”

He stared at me with complete annoyance when I gave him an exaggerated “Oh well” face before stealing it all for myself. 

I did, however, wake up to sharing it, but only because he had stolen it, and I was too tired to fight him about it.

I think one of my favorite times I rebuked him of his privileges was when he was wearing a pair of socks I had made him for Christmas around the house. I may have gotten a little more intense than I needed to, but the look on his face made it worth it.

He had come into the movie room to binge a few episodes of a new series I got him hooked on, and after he called me in to watch with him, I noticed the specific socks he had on. 

I grinned once my brain had formulated a plan to make him regret ever giving me hell for a hobby he obviously loved himself.

“Claire said there was a show called Love Island we should watch. I have no clue what it’s about, but she said it was popular and what the kids are watching now,” Dean conversed as he grabbed the remote from the table and stood with a blanket (not one of mine, as I had relocated all of them so he couldn’t find them) around his shoulders. 

He was in the perfect position for my plan. 

I walked over and, instead of facing the TV, stood right in front of him and looked up at him. 

“You know what we could do?” I whispered in a low and sultry voice, bringing my hand up to his chest and inching my fingers up to the collar of his t-shirt before pulling at it gently. His eyes instantly darkened, and he was frozen in his place. 

“Wh-What, uh, what can we do?” he stammered out. Even after three years of dating, he still got nervous. I loved it. 

“I think you know what,” I said, tiptoeing upward to quietly say in his ear, bringing my hand from his chest to the back of his neck, softly pulling him closer to me. 

“I think I have an idea,” he replied more confidently, immediately bringing his free hand to my waist and squeezing it. 

I could have faltered there, but I held strong. I was going to make him pay for all his little ‘grandma’ jokes he had sent my way the last few months. 

I pulled back, sending him a smirk that I knew revved him up. He returned it with his own and started leaning down, forgetting his grip on the blanket and remote. Now both of his hands sat on my hips with a stronghold. 

Before he could lean down any further, I pushed him backward harshly on the couch, and at first, he was shocked, then he was excited. 

Slouched into the cushion, looking up at me, his tongue came out to lick his lips and ended with a bite to his lower lip as he eyed me up and down as I stood over him. 

“Dear God, Y/N,” he hummed under his breath. 

I guess it helped that I was wearing some of my shorter PJ shorts, ones he had told me were his favorites, and a shirt that was cropped and slightly falling off my shoulder.

He had a thing for me being in a disheveled manner like this. Reminded him of how I looked after we fucked around, and he held pride knowing he played a part in the kind of glow I gave off. 

I wasn’t sure how long I could do this without failing myself on the original mission. I came here to fuck with him, and now he was the fucker. Or at least he was going to be if I didn’t follow through with my plan in the next minute. 

“You know, you should be happy you were by the couch,” I smiled, stepping to him and strategically bringing my legs to straddle his hips teasingly. 

His breath hitched at that, and I knew I had regained the upper hand. 

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he hummed as he admired my hands pressing into his chest as I leaned in, bringing myself closer to him. 

“I was about to take you wherever I found you,” I whispered, looking him dead in the eyes with a soft smile. I looked him up and down and bit the inside of my cheek. That seemed to trigger his hands back to my hips instantly. This time a much more possessive lock on them. 

“I don’t know where this is coming from, but I can’t complain,” he said lowly, and I knew he was hooked. Now it was time for revenge. 

“Can I ask you a question?” I hummed, running my finger lightly over his hair down to his jaw, using the tip of it to push his chin up so I could see his eyes better. 

“Please,” he buzzed, drunk with lust. 

“Hmm,” I hummed, smiling more, dropping my gaze to his lips, then back at his eyes where he was drowning in dopamine by our current position. “Those socks you have on?” He didn’t catch on immediately and just furrowed his eyes as he processed what I asked. “They look familiar.” 

I leaned back from my seat, still straddling his hips, but not with nearly as much pressure as before. 

“What-” Dean started, but it dawned on him mid-thought. His eyes went from ready to tear my clothes off to annoyed realization. “Seriously.” 

“What?” I feigned ignorance and stood up, repositioning myself between his legs, both hands on his knees as I looked at him and leaned over. 

He couldn’t tell which way this was going for him, and that was the point. I was still winning this little game. 

I eased myself lower, squatting with my knees going into the couch and in between his thighs. My hands went flat on his knees and slowly started working up his thighs. 

“I can’t tell what you’re doing here, Y/N,” he said in a breathy voice. I watched as he tried to control himself, looking up away from me but not being able to help react to my hands on him. 

“I’m not doing anything,” I said in a voice that made him lower his nervous wandering eyes back to me. The amount of green in his eyes disappeared slowly. 

“You’re teasing me,” he said shortly as if he was worried his voice would tremble if he didn’t get it out quickly. 

“Maybe, maybe not,” I shrugged with a pursed lip before bringing my hands slowly back down his legs. 

“You’re mad at me,” he stuttered the last word when my hands worked their way back up, but further up than before.

“Now, why would you think that?” I tutted, shaking my head with an exaggerated look of hurt. 

All he could do was take a slow, deep breath in as I tilted my head and smiled devilishly at him.

“Don’t.” 

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t play innocent.” 

I grinned.

“You and I both know I’m far from that…” My tone was darker than before but in a seductive and tempting manner. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He shot up from his slouched position and leaned forward, grabbing my forearms in his hands and pulling me up in his lap with his nose mere inches from my own. 

“If your goal was to make me suffer, you won,” he whispered so quietly; if I wasn't this close, I wouldn't have heard it. He tilted his head up just enough for our noses to brush before pulling back. 

“Keep it together, girl… Keep it fucking together,” I repeated in my head. 

“Did I? Or am I just getting started?” I snarked, and that caused the new grip on my thigh to tighten, and I almost groaned at the pressure. 

“Don’t start a war you can’t win,” he smirked, feeling as though he possessed the power. 

Two can play that game. 

I smiled, bringing my free hand up and tracing it behind his ear before wrapping it slowly around the back of his neck. I brought his face closer to mine but stopped right when I could feel the brush of his lips. 

Our chests were pressed into each other, and I could feel his heart rate pick up. Perfect. 

I nudged our noses again and smiled as his eyes closed, and he naturally and lazily chased my lips. 

I rocked my hips in a measured manner, placed perfectly in the middle of his lap, and he sucked in a breath at the friction.

“Women don’t start wars. They finish them,” I whispered before promptly standing up and, in a swift motion, yanking the socks he had on off and walking to the exit. 

“Y/N!” I could hear his shout from the couch from where I knew he was with a full hard-on, unable to move just yet. 

“This granny is going to bed!” I shouted, speed-walking to my room in case he decided to run after me. 

“You little-!” the shout still seemed far behind me, and I quickly shut my bedroom door and locked it. 

Thankfully, I think I left him incapacitated for a second, and he didn’t follow me immediately. 

I actually didn’t hear from him for the rest of the night. I hoped I didn’t upset him, but also, the whole reason I had done what I had was because he had become a little ass about my favorite hobby. I don’t mind the jokes, but after a while, you want a pat on the back for learning something new. Especially from someone you care about. 

I went ahead and did my normal nighttime routine and got into bed before I started to read a book. I must have dozed off while reading because I woke up to the lights out, my book on the end table, and Dean crawling into the other side of the bed. 

Before I could say anything, his arms came around my waist, and he pulled me to his core. He was in his boxers and one of his soft t-shirts I made him wear to bed. 

For the record, I was perfectly fine with him in no shirt (or pants, for that matter), but when he did wear a shirt, I made him put on a certain kind cause his band and certain graphic tee ones were itchy on me when we cuddled. 

He took a deep sigh and nuzzled his face into the crevice between my neck and shoulder, one of his favorite places. 

“Why’d you lock your door?” he asked, already knowing I had woken up. 

He had definitely picked the lock.

“I thought you were going to hunt me down, and I forgot to unlock it,” I replied sleepily. 

There was silence for a minute, and eventually, he spoke up, whispering in my ear his apology. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” I sighed with a winning grin he couldn't see, knowing why but playing coy anyway. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you how much I appreciate your brain,” he answered. 

That was not what I expected, but I was intrigued. 

“Hmmm,” I smiled, moving my hands to his that were wrapped around my ribs and nuzzling my backside closer to him. “Don’t stop now; you’re on a roll.” 

He laughed and invited my attempt to fit into him like a puzzle piece.

“You’re ambitious with everything you want to learn to do, and I don’t tell you enough how much of a turn-on that is,” he hummed, rubbing his head into mine and peppering a kiss on my neck here and there. “And I know you know how much I love the skills you gain, but sometimes I’m bad about just saying how impressive you are to me.” 

“You like my crocheting skills, Winchester,” I chuckled, turning my body to face him now and throwing one of my legs over his hips, pulling back in some. “Just say it.” 

“I love your crocheting skills,” he replied with a wide grin and brought a hand up to move the stray hairs that fell on my face. “I love your baking and cooking. I love your impressive TV show-binging skills. I love the random facts you have stored in that beautiful brain of yours. I love your surprisingly nerdy side of Marvel and superheroes. I love your attempt at being a gardener.”

“Hey, I have three plants that are thriving right now!” I argued, poking a finger in his chest, which he grabbed and kissed the tip of. 

“I love everything you’re passionate about,” he finished off. “I don’t tell you enough, and sometimes I like to see that face you give me when I tease you.” I gave him a look. “Maybe more than sometimes… But! I do love all those things and more about you, Y/N.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” I replied, scooting in closer. “But it is nice to hear it from those captivating lips of yours.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

We started smiling at each other, and I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about earlier. 

“I’m sorry I teased you,” I sighed, moving to where I was embedded in his chest, and he wrapped himself back around me. 

“Don’t be. I deserved it,” he replied, chin on my head before he bent down and kissed the top of it. “I will say, though, I’ve never been mad about seeing that side of you.” 

“What side?” I looked up at him. 

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing,” he chuckled, pulling my head back to him. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” I agreed after a minute. “Hey.”

“Hm?” 

“You’re my favorite person. You know that, right?” 

“Feelings are very much mutual,” he answered, caressing a hand up and down my back. 

“Good. I’d have to kill you with one of my knitting needles if you said otherwise. Who said needleworking wasn’t dangerous, right?”

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente​ @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose  @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan  @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk @drakelover78 @caruhleener

Supernatural Tags:

@flamencodiva @hobby27 @sucker-for-dean @deans-baby-momma @squirrelgirl67 @death-unbecomes-you @snffbeebee @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @spnbaby-67 @akshi8278 @musiclovinchic93 @vicmc624 @carryon-doctor-lock @perpetualabsurdity @herscrunchiehairtie @spnwoman @shamelesslydean @monkeymcpoopoo @winchestergirl82 @luciathewinchestergirl @deansyahtzee @thatgirl1456 @sucker-for-dean @atomicloverdonkeyperson @screechingartisancashbailiff @akshi8278 @supernatural3002

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader drabble #dean winchester drabble #justkending #spn fanfic #dean winchester spn #dean winchester x you #spn dean winchester #drabble #spn drabble

[heartsteellerr]

How they spend valentines with you

Content; 100% fluff, all characters are written romantically, OOC, some characters are written short based on me not knowing how to type/write for them Warnings; GN reader Characters; EVERYONE (Heartsteel, KDA, True Damage)

Indoor dates; Aphelios, Akali, Senna, Yasuo

They choose to spend their valentines day with you indoors; either because they simply prefer it that way, or just want to spend it alone with you ⎯ away from the eyes of onlookers who are desperate for gossip.

Aphelios and Yasuo are introverts at heart, so being away from people is like a blessing to them both. How they'd choose to spend the day with you depends on the current mood they're feeling, for example: wanting to do something that doesn't require much work like watching a movie is one of the go-to's he'd do for valentines. Or on the more rarer occasions where he's wanting to feel genuine and sincere, he'd take some time off idol work to compose a personal song for you ⎯ one that isn't technically sung by him (most likely asked one of their members to sing in his steed) but can be used for karaoke, or background music during dinner.

Akali and Senna are the same as the other two ⎯ both being introverted but also not really? In the pre-tense of it she simply has a hard time getting along with people but would put up some sort of effort when it comes to you. However on this day, she'd much prefer to spend it alone with you. The list on what you would do with her varies on the basics of what most couples do on this day: movies, snacks, dinner, etc. I feel like in a way, Akali would want to spend valentines like how regular couples would ⎯ setting aside her role as an idol.

Outdoor dates; Kayn, Sett, K'Sante, Evelynn, Kai'Sa, Ekko

Kayn and K'sante are the types who'd want to make this day as memorable as he can for you; spending however much money he can offer to spoil you for the whole day. Though I can only imagine for Kayn he'd chooses to spend his money on bringing you to a concert that both you and him have been waiting to attend, whereas for K'Sante he's the type that'll carry all the bags you've bought and take you to a fancy restaurant to dine in.

^ You can also say this would be something Evelynn would also do for you, in terms of taking you out and spoiling you, then bringing you somewhere fancy. She has the power to do so, so why not use it to her advantage, no? At the end of it all you'd both be sitting in a high view building, watching as the city lights coat the streets before calling it a night with sweet kisses and longing words to each other.

^^ Kai'sa somewhat doing the same as what Kayn did, however, instead of just attending 'a' concert ⎯ she'd be giving you tickets to hers and her group's concert instead (i'm sorry idrk how to write for her)

Sett on the other hand is taking you on a walk. Yes, a walk. Varying between places like parks or a walk down the streets ⎯ to taking you on a hiking trip to the mountains. Of course he isn't gonna force you to keep climbing when you're getting tired, but instead of taking a break by sitting down somewhere, he'd continue the walk with you on his back or shoulders. To him it's a win-win situation: You get to rest for a bit, while he continues to walk and show you the amazing view of the place AND technically speaking, this would count as a workout for him, right? I will say at the end of it all, he'd have at least one or two things prepared when the walk is over (your gift).

Ekko is a man who's lived in the street since he was a kid; dealing with hardships and whatnot through out his life already, he'd hope to at least spend one of these days, this day in particular, where he can spend money on you. That's his wish, and with the amount he earns as a Idol ⎯ well, i guess you can say a part of his wish did come true.

A mix between both; Ezreal, Yone, Ahri, Qiyana

In the case of becoming hit stars, and especially being the fans' faves; Ezreal and Yone's schedule are so packed, they have to plan their valentines day to be both indoors and outdoors. For Yone it'd be indoors > outdoors, starting his valetines indoors first because there were still some things he needed to check over before going outdoors with you to spend the rest of your valentines day with him. Ezreal's valentines, however, started off with an outdoor date in mind but then switched to indoors the moment fans caught sight of him and he had to cancel it all ⎯ making him somewhat depressed for the most part because he tried so hard to make this day perfect for you both, but seeing as it was still a day you can spend together, outdoors or not, he's happy as long as he's with you.

^ The same can be said for Ahri, she has plenty of fans who'd want to talk and take pictures of her when she's outside so the outdoor date she had in mind suddenly turned indoor the moment fans caught wind of her activities.

^ As for Qiyana, it'd be similar to Yone but not exactly ⎯ she'd want to spend the day resting a bit longer in bed with you during the start of the day and then spend the rest outdoors; via going to a club or a bar.

#heartsteel x reader #ezreal x reader #k'sante x reader #kayn x reader #yone x reader #aphelios x reader #sett x reader #kda x reader #akali x reader #ahri x reader #evelynn x reader #kai'sa x reader #true damage x reader #senna x reader #yasuo x reader #ekko x reader #qiyana x reader

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 3

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Doctor!Reader, other characters x reader

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 4

A/N: Part 3 is finally here y’all! Sorry it took such a while to finally upload, I have been extremely burnt out and needed some time to recharge after completing my semester. Therefore I have made this chapter extra long! Also sorry if it in any way feels rushed, I tried to get this posted as soon as possible since it has long been due. Let me know if you would like some more dynamics between the reader and the other characters. As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated, I love hearing y'alls thoughts and things that you enjoyed! (Also this chapter contains a surprise guest!) 💜💜💜

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings and notes: language, violence, blood and gore, fluff, angst, slow-burn, slight implication of past abuse.

(Quick Disclaimer: I am not a doctor nor have any professional knowledge or experience involving surgical procedures. I am just a student studying in the medical field who has just started taking courses that are more degree-related. So I apologize if some of the stuff may be inaccurate.)

🍂That night, the same night Ghost saw you on that roof, your face illuminated by the stars and the moon that seemed to pale in comparison to you, he had returned to his own quarters as stealthily as he had came. His presence had always gone unnoticed both to you and the others at this time of night, a time of night when even the nightingales had laid down to rest, exhausted from their song. When he settled himself in bed that night, his torso covered by his blanket and his arm propped up on the pillow to rest under his head, he could not sleep, staring at the ceiling just as he did the night before. His body begged for a moment’s rest, anything to let his consciousness slip away in order to escape the reality of this world in which only sleep could provide. But in spite of the efforts of his nervous system, his mind contested for a few more minutes of wakefulness, moments that would only turn into hours.

🍂There was always this unspoken battle within Simon Riley, a battle of peace and conflict, a constant struggle between giving in to the comforts of life and leaving everything behind, or preoccupying himself with his current line of work that seemed to be the only thing that kept his thoughts at bay. But starting a new life? That was something that was not cut out for him. His past was and will always be his present and his future. Society had no place for people like Simon Riley, and he it. I’m telling you, this man needs therapy, bad. And one hell of a vacation.

Never in a day of his miserable life did he know you would be thrown into the mix. You, a woman of better upbringing, a woman so delicate and blinded with hope, a woman who shared the warmth of her spirit with all whom she knew. And yet, here she was, wasting her time away in a place with the likes of them, where war consumed every living soul that ever crossed its path. God were you naïve, and completely fucking daft, he had thought to himself many times, a doctor like you leaving the hospital in the city for a place like this. Jesus. Either you were a complete fool or the military offered you a shit ton of money. Or perhaps it was your youth. After all, you were younger than the rest of them. He believed a woman of your degree should not be here amongst men like them. You were soft, tried too hard to see the good in people, and one day, one day, that might be your downfall.

Sometimes he’d find himself hoping you would transfer somewhere else. And the more he thought on the subject, the more he came to despise you being here, part of the reason why he avoided you in the first place. And yet, as the days went by, the man had developed a bit of a soft spot for you as they might say. But don’t tell him that or else he might just loose another one of his knives. Truth of the matter was, he had seen what war had done, even to the best of people. And with no disrespect, a young woman like you would get eaten up alive in a place like this.

And as much as he hated to admit it, he did not want to see you wound up in this chaos. So what would he do? He'd often times monitor your activity, and by that I mean he would on some occasions check up on you, in his own avoidant way of course, whether it be making sure you woke up by standing around the corner to see you trudge along to the coffee maker in your white coat, or catching you finish your shift when you left your office in the evening. By this time, you'd be surprised to know that he has grown familiar with part of your schedule, from when you leave your room and make yourself a cup of coffee in the morning before heading into your office, to what time you have your little lunch, down to the hour of the evening when you leave your office after your shift has ended. He calls it "running a constructive operation", but you and I both know what it is. Despite his cold, masked exterior, he's not completely heartless and does want to make sure you're safe, as with the rest of his teammates.

At the same time, your safety also depends on your environment, and there is only so much a few men can do. Perhaps it would be best if you were somehow convinced to go back to the states and leave, lest this place will end up devouring every last bit of vibrancy that radiated in you. And if that meant being callous towards you and making your time here a living hell, as if you did not belong, so be it. I know it sounds like he absolutely loathes you but I promise it only seems that way.

The man obviously has trouble sleeping, which was nothing new to him, a good nights rest was something of a rarity in his case. But now it was you he found inhabiting the walls of his mind, and frankly, he found it to be quite a nuisance. And as if to make matters worse, tonight it was your voice that haunted his thoughts, that siren-like voice that rung out softly underneath the pale moonlight as if he were a sailor awaiting to plummet to his death down into the abyss of the deep indigo waters below.

He needed sleep, desperately, and if he did not get it soon he might just go insane. That’s to say he isn’t already. And despite finding you to be the cause of the whole ordeal behind it, behind him not being able to shut his eyes and fall into a short-lived coma, you were still the only doctor here and just how was he supposed to go about that. Usually people go to doctors if they have trouble sleeping, but how the fuck was he supposed to go to you. He couldn’t just walk in your office and ask if you had anything strong enough to knock him out. Sure there was always alcohol but that meant dealing with a hangover and you most likely sending him a pamphlet about the dangers of alcoholism without even knowing like some kind of psychic. On the other hand, knowing how you were, if he were to mention his symptoms you would just ask him a bunch of questions. And then what was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t sleep because you tormented and occupied his thoughts??? Never. He decides it’s better to just deal with it.

And boy oh boy your singing did not help. You reminded him of the nightingales that used to nest in the tree outside his bedroom window in his childhood home. You and your guitar, singing your song out into the night for someone out there, whomever and wherever they were. The song and your voice an empty promise, a false hope for the things that never were and never might come. And yet, despite his slight demurral towards you, in the days to come, he came to find comfort in your voice, his feet finding their way to the rooftop to see if you would be there.

On the nights that you were there, he would sit against the wall away from your line of sight, hidden in the shadows and listening to your voice, the only thing that kept him sane and dare say, even bring him an ounce of peace. He would say it was to make sure you don’t pull anything stupid or draw unnecessary attention towards yourself. But truth was, though he could not see it within himself, maybe he was watching over you, making sure no harm came your way. Little would he know, that your voice and the serenity of your aura would soon come to remind him of home, of the days where it was just him and his mother and the nightingales perched on the tree outside his bedroom window, the sound of your voice lulling him to a much needed sleep that his body craved.

Now back to the current.

That next morning you had woken up from the sun shining down on your face, its rays hot against your cheeks as you squinted against the bright light, pulling your blanket over your head with a groan before bolting upright, eyes widened with alarm. Oh shit, what time was it? You look at the watch on your wrist, eyes widening even more to see that it was NOON????? It's fucking noon?

"Fucking shit." You let out a string of curses between your teeth, grabbing your things off the floor only to get up with a gasped groan from the sharp needle-like sensations that shot up your spine, your back hunched over like a shrimp with kyphosis. You wince, hissing as you attempt to straighten yourself out, letting out a couple ows from the cracking sound that came out from between your vertebrae. Boy were you an idiot. Never sleep on cement, now your hips and back feel like they were broken in by the Hulk and you're willing to bet there would be bruises.

You could have sworn you looked like one of those grandmas depicted in the cartoons, wincing almost each time you took a step. A frown pulled on your lips as you headed towards the door that led back to the building, opening it up and nearly whining at the sight of the stairs spanning out below you. "Fuck my life."

You make sure to take your time going down, not wanting to tumble down the steps and risk a broken limb or concussion only to have one of the men patch you up and risk getting an infection. It's not that you don't trust their handiwork......but you don’t. And the thought of having your prefrontal cortex accidentally removed shakes you to your core. Don't tell them that though, you'd probably hurt their feelings.

"Y/n." You hear someone calling your name in the distance, turning your head to see Price heading in your direction.

God damn it, out of all the people to see you in this state. Don't tell anyone but Price is your workplace crush. I mean if we're being honest the whole team is fine as hell. But you loved his snarky sense of humor, his kind eyes and smile, and the way his eyes seemed to disappear into these curved crescent-shaped lines whenever he smiled or laughed. And now as he stood in front of you, his bulky frame towering over yours. You're praying there aren’t any spots of snot on your face from the way you bawled your eyes out last night.

"Oh fuck me." You inaudibly curse under your breath, knowing damn well that to hope he doesn't notice how you literally look a sleep-deprived Quasimodo would be damn near impossible.

"Where've you been? I was beginning to get worried." Price asks, looking over your hunched state that oddly paired with your puffy eyes and face. "Jesus Mary Joseph. Are you alright?"

"Yup, it's just allergies." You nod your head with a strained smile. "Perfectly peachy."

"Do you need any help?"

"Nope! I'm fine." You hurry past him. "I'm going to take a shower so whoever is in there right now tell them to hurry up."

Price watches you go with furrowed brows, wondering whatever the hell happened to you before shaking his head with a shrug and heading towards the showers to make sure it was empty for you. During your time there, the team had sorted out to give you a designated time slot for when you preferred to bathe, wanting to ensure that you received your privacy because of there only being shared showers, something which was common with being in the military. They had even given your own designated shower head. But even then, you always went in and came out fully dressed with both your towels and your clothes, terrified with the idea of the men seeing you in nothing but a towel once you stepped out. Luckily for you, no one was in there when you had arrived. When you hurried in there with your fresh pair of clothes and towels bundled in your arms, that had to be the quickest shower you had ever taken, other than the times you almost slept through your alarms and missed your exams back in med school.

So by the time you step out of your room with your white coat, empty coffee mug in hand and your hair barely brushed through looking like Dr. Emmet Brown, you don't even bother to put on any makeup or concealer to hide the fact that you had been crying last night, you already had a late start to the day as it was.

Going over to the kitchen, you groggily place your mug on the counter, staring at the pasty tiles for a good minute to gather your thoughts and remember just what it was your were doing in the first place before turning on the coffee maker only to see that it isn't working. "You have got to be kidding me." Honest to god if I don't have coffee in the morning I will commit a felony.

"There's no use meddling with that." Price comes up beside you, watching the way you moved the small machine around and smacked the sides with your palms. "I'm afraid it's broken."

"Broken?" You turn to the older gentleman, trying your best to mask your annoyance at yet another misfortune to add to your list of shit that happened today so you don't get written up for having an attitude or whatever it is they do here for uncompliant personnel. "What do you mean it's broken?" What you mean to say is, how the hell are you going to get through the day without your daily dose of caffeine? You were not in the mood for a caffeine withdrawal, not now.

"You'll have to blame MacTavish for that." Damn this man just threw him under the bus no hesitation.

"Soap? How?”

"Bloke put the coffee grounds where the water is supposed to go."

"He put the.......what?" You squint with a scrunch of your nose, trying to picture the young Scotsman mixing up the steps for the coffee grounds and water before pinching the bridge of your nose with a shake of your head. It's too damn early for this. Bitch it's literally the afternoon.

“You look like shite.” Price teases you of your completely disheveled appearance. Honestly he thinks you look pretty cute in a I just had 15 shots of espresso and forgone a whole week’s worth of sleep kind of way. Price is the type of man to see you at your worst looking like a corpse from the grave and dig it, with some concern for your overall health and well-being of course.

“Gee thanks.”

“You sure you’re all right?”

“Happier than a kid at Disneyland.” You roll your eyes before slipping out a small groan, burying your head in your arms upon the counter and muttering something along the lines of how you’re going to euthanize yourself.

“Oi. There’ll be none of that, you hear?”

“Wait and see.” You mumble to yourself but Price hears it anyway.

“Cheer up. I got you something.” You hear Price say to you before hearing something being placed on the counter.

"Is it benzoylmethylecgonine?" You mumble out.

"What?"

"Benzoylmethylecgonine." Your voice is louder this time but still muffled from your arms.

"The fuck is that?"

".................cocaine."

"Jesus Mary Joseph." Price rolls his eyes. “You’re a character, you. Why don’t you give it a look eh?”

You slightly lift your head from your arms, peering over to see a cup next to you.

"For ya." Price smiles as he pushes the cup towards you, watching you stare at the thing with skepticism.

"Well. Go on."

"Is that-?"

"Coffee.”

"Yeah I know that but-“ you lift yourself up to stare at the thing with a tilt of your head. “where the hell did you get it?”

"From a small coffee shop down a couple blocks."

Right. "What kind is it?”

"Iced caramel macchiato. Heard you mentioning it the other day."

"Oh. You did?” You blink. "You didn't have to do all that."

"Eh it's nothin, my treat. The men and I needed our caffeine too, and well, since Soap broke the machine, we needed to get it one way or another.” All but Simon of course. Dude hates coffee.

“What, did you tell him he's buying?"

“No.” Price leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares off into the distance in thought. “Now that I think about it I should’ve, aye?”

"Poor Soap." You shake your head with a chuckle, grabbing the cup to take a sip. “Oh......oh that hit the spot.”

Okay remember when the boys were competing with giving you little gifts and I said that Price showed his appreciation for you in other ways? This is what I mean. He makes sure you’re taken care of and that your little needs and requests are met. Though rare as composed to Soap's little visits, he likes to stop in your office at times, peeking his head through your cracked door and asking if there is anything you need. This man’s love language is acts of service, I’m sure of it.

“Proper innit.” Price chuckles at your blissed expression.

“Hm. Chef’s kiss.” You take another sip of your coffee as you lean back against the counter, savoring in the cold, smokey, buttery liquid as it went down your throat.

“The hell is on your feet.” Price nods towards your shoes.

“They’re my crocs.” You give a hurt look, the ends of your lips pulled into a frown.

“They’re downright hideous.”

“They’re comfortable!!!” You defend. “I even put little buttons on it.” You lift one of your feet up to show him.

“Doesn’t make it any less hideous.”

"You should try looking in a mirror first before you come talking to me about what's hideous and what's not." You snark, a teasing tone in your voice that catches the older man off guard.

Price is stunned, mouth slightly agape as he is surprised to see such a statement come from a person as demure as you, and dare say even aroused, at being affronted by someone smaller than him. "You cheeky girl." Price shifts his weight, pressing his tongue against his molars before tightening his jaw. "You've got a sharp tongue on you."

"Don't insult my crocs." You lift your chin with a raised brow, a smug expression on your face as you lift your coffee cup to your lips.

As Price and you talked, Ghost had appeared in the far corner, his eyes lowered to the ground and not a single thought behind them before hearing the sound of Price's voice. Stopping in his tracks, he peers around the corner, not wanting to look conspicuous but also curious to see who it was the captain was speaking to, looking over to see the two of you together engaged in a conversation looking a bit too comfy.

The soldier froze, tensing at the sound of you laughing and Price……flirting? Was the man flirting with you? Ghost watched the way Price leaned in ever so slightly in your direction, a slight yet noticeable shift in his demeanor as he told you a joke, the way your cheeks swelled as you snorted, your smile hidden behind the cup held in your hands in an attempt to hold back a laugh, and the way he reached a hand out to adjust the collar of your white coat. He is not jealous he is not jealous he his not jealous. Once again, HE IS NOT JEALOUS. Looking away from the scene, he turned back around and headed back to where he came. He had no reason to feel threatened by the situation, it’s not like he felt anything towards you or if you meant anything to him. And yet, why did it irk him to see you laughing with Price like that.

That was the first he had heard you laugh, though as light and brief as it was. He could tell it wasn’t your true full-hearted laugh, the ones that left you gasping for air as tears welled up at the corner of your eyes. He had seen those laughs many times at the pub from the groups of friends that gathered together after a long day of work or when they had just left from a futbol match, times when he craved a glass of whisky. The laugh you had let out right now wasn’t one of those full chested laughs, this one was different, more timid, like fresh rain in the middle of spring, where fog blanketed and seeped through the meadows and trees, where dewdrops patterned themselves like mosaics upon the blades of grass and the petals of roses. This laugh was light and airy, crisp to his ears, and it had sent a slight shiver down the stone-hearted soldier that he had never once felt before.

He convinces himself that what he saw between the two of you was none of his concern and that who you fancy is none of his business, and yet why did he find your little interaction with Price to bother him? Better yet, why does he find himself wishing he had made you laugh instead?

It should also be mentioned that Ghost did not fulfill the task he had promised himself when he said he would throw away the Dum Dum lollipops you had given him last night, thinking your little form of bribery to be quite inane. What did you take him for, a child? Regardless of the many times he stared at those two pieces of candy with your little note next to them, your graceful and sophisticated handwriting a strange polarity to the bright and colorful wrapped candy often meant for children, curiosity had gotten the best of him, as well as midnight cravings.

And alas, with numerous stealing glances toward the lollipops and his mouth watering for just a quick sample, the man had given in. And let’s just say, he’s addicted. I mean, I was not lying when I said this man has the sweet tooth of Augustus Gloop. Also, he may or may not have snuck into your office the next morning to steal a lollipop or two, or three, before rushing out the door. So you should probably hide the those things before you walk in on an empty tray one day.

"Also, I wanted to let you know that Alejandro, Ghost, and Soap and I will be heading out on a mission later today. Gaz will be staying behind just to make sure nothing happens here while we're away." Price informs you.

"What time will you be back?"

"Not till late. If everything runs smoothly, there's no need to wait up for us."

“Geez. Will it be dangerous?” Your brows furrow at the center. You knew what their job entailed, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Well that’s part of our job now innit.” Price smirks.

"Just………make sure to come back in one piece alright. I'm not trying to perform any amputations today." You scrunch your nose in a teasing manner, though your words mean more than what your voice gives away.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours. We'll be back like before aye.” Price gives you a comforting smile, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb and forefinger against the bottom of your chin before dropping it back down at his side. Though the action was small and brief, an informal unveiling of the captain’s fondness towards you, that didn’t stop your face from heating up faster than a hot pocket in the microwave. You were sure one would burn their hands if they grazed your cheek.

The others had soon cluttered into the area where you were, chatting amongst themselves before turning towards you and price, the sudden group of movement causing you to clear your throat and step just the slightest inch away.

"Hey doc." The men greeted you, their faces brightening upon seeing you before glancing down at your bright crocs.

"The fuck are those?"

"Oh my god. Don't tell me you guys have never seen crocs before." You exhale, your voice coming out in a scoff.

"Why are they called crocs?" Soap questions, brows furrowed with confusion. You and me both Soap, I don't have a clue either.

"Looks like something my abuela would wear." Alejandro comments, a mischievous glint in his eyes at teasing you.

“Que te folle un pez (get fucked by a fish).”

Alejandra is stunned from the words that just came out from your lips, cocking his head back and tilting it as he looked at you with surprised amusement. He never knew you spoke Spanish. Maybe it came with being a doctor and being around people all the time. On top of that, was this the first time he had heard you curse? Was that a stroke of confidence he heard from your mouth? Was he offended? Was he turned on? He couldn’t tell.

But as Alejandro still stood there, silent against your remark, the others begin to wonder just what it was that you said that had him like this.

“Uh what’d she say?” Soap leans over to whisper to Alejandro, his eyes darting between the two of you as did the other men.

“Ahora, ¿dónde aprendiste una cosa así, eh? (Now where did you learn such a thing, huh?)” Alejandro nods his head towards you, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Conoces gente de todo tipo cuando eres médico. Y además, el idioma era parte de mi plan de estudios de todos modos. (You meet all kinds of people when you're a doctor. And besides, language was part of my curriculum anyway.)” You shrug your shoulders, taking a sip of your coffee as your eyes meet Alejandro’s dark ones over the lid of your cup.

Alejandro chuckles, pointing at you with a smirk. “Bueno, será mejor que tengas cuidado cariño. Palabras como esa pueden meterte en problemas. (Well, you'd better be careful, sweetheart. Words like that can get you in trouble.)”

“No te preocupes por mí. Soy una niña grande Me licencié y todo. (Do not worry about me. I'm a big girl. I’ve got a degree and all.)”

“What are they saying?” Soap asks again, this time to Gaz.

“How would I know?” Gaz hisses, obviously annoyed with not knowing what the two of you were conversing about. Were the two of you planning a date? Were you plotting a scheme? Were you making fun of the rest of the team? The boys definitely didn't like being left out from a conversation, especially from you.

“I didn’t know you can speak Spanish.” Soap turns to you.

“Well it seems here that our little doctora is full of surprises.” Alejandro comments, making you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Right.” Gaz squints at you in a jest, adding on to the men poking fun at you. “Now really doc, what the fuck is on your feet?”

"Oh screw y'all, they're comfy for my feet alright." You roll your eyes at the way they tease you about your choice of footwear, though in all honesty, you're not able to hide the smile that tugs at the ends of your lips, that is until a certain someone appears.

Ghost is the last one to show up, hoping to have avoided your presence. But when he sees you still there leaning against the counter, his eyes lock with yours before looking away as if you had never even existed in the first place.

You're almost sure he hates you, chewing on the inside of your cheek from the way he looked you over like a speck of dirt on his boot before completely ignoring your being. You have no clue why he is the way he is around you, wondering if he had seen the note you left on his door. He has to have seen it right? He’s got to. And then it hits you, at least you think. Maybe your little detail of adding the lollipops had offended him, and you’re almost terrified to think what he thought of them. On top of that, he still had never bothered to show up for his blood results. So he truly was avoiding you on purpose, wasn’t he. You wish you knew the reason behind his avoidant behavior. Did he find you disgusting? Was that a possible reason? Had you somehow at some point offended him? Were you going to end up on his hit list? Maybe. Were you going to die some mysterious death by his hands tonight? Sounds likely.

“Alright you lot. Let’s get moving.” Price gestures the men to follow him before turning back to you. “We won’t be long. Gaz, you know the rules.”

“Yessir.” Gaz nods his head before stepping over to you, looking down at you drinking your coffee with a soft smile on his face. “I’m sure this day will go by smoothly.”

“Oof. Don’t jinx it.”

You wish he had not said those last words.

You had spent most of the day relaxing as Price had suggested when the men left, their gear strapped to their forms and their guns locked and loaded. A strange scene I might add, if one were to walk into the area of the building and see a group of bulky hardened soldiers and then you, a young woman in a white coat and scrubs and her special decorated crocs along with her vintage Donald Duck watch. You almost looked out of place with the war-ridden atmosphere.

When you had stepped into your office the first time that day, you were surprised to see a slight change in your usual environment, the lack of an apple at your desk. This absence, though small and what one might call insignificant, had saddened you to a certain degree. Though at first you found the little act to be annoying, of finding the red fruit there every morning placed upon your desk, as time went by, you had grown accustomed to it a bit. So when you noticed the absence of the apple after expecting to see it just like the days before, it had lowered your spirits. Though you did not know the meaning or intention behind the gesture or the person directly involved behind it, it had come to bring you a sense of security, a slight token of someone’s watchful eye over you. Or at least that’s what you believed it to be. Little did you it was just a simple act involving the confusion of idioms.

But imagine your confusion when in place of the lack of an apple, you instead find your tray of lollipops looking a little less full than it was yesterday. Had someone broken into your office or were you just loosing your mind. And as you inspect the little tray, you're even more surprised to find a distinct black, powdery substance smeared against the side of it, right on the edge. Using your thumb, you wipe it off the side of the tray, raising your hand to further inspect the foreign substance to see that it looks a lot like eyeshadow.

"Huh. That's strange."

Ooooooo someone just got caught.

With the men gone, all except Gaz of course, you went about reading more chapters of your book, lounging about on the couch in the common area before your nerves got the better of you and you decided to do some cleaning around the area, to which Gaz had offered some help, with much eagerness in his end. Gaz of course had kept watch, letting you lead the conversations as the two of you made small talk every once in a while before going back to your little tasks, you with your paperwork and inventory of medical supplies and Gaz with his patrol.

During the moments where the two of you did talk, you began to unravel little details about each other, details mostly involving Gaz since you still preferred to keep your walls up. You called it being professional, but those who were close to you would call it a fear to let others in. Perhaps they were right. After your father’s death, you had rarely let anyone in, sometimes not even your own self. And Gaz, being the sweet soul that he was, never pressured you to reveal anything you did not want to. He wouldn’t ask about your personal life or your past unless you offered to.

The more the two of you talked, the more you learned little things about the soldier that you never knew, like his love of the ocean and how he had wanted to become a marine biologist when he was a little boy, as well as how his favorite sea creatures were, and still are, sea otters and sea turtles. He had even mentioned how his favorite movie was Nemo growing up, with Crush being his favorite character. In fact, the movie was what inspired him to study in that field in the first place. He was extremely almost embarrassed to release that bit of info to you, scared that you might pass it on to the team and that he’d never hear the end of it. When that little bit of information slipped from his tongue, he practically begged you not to tell the others. So imagine his relief when you stick your pinky out in an offer to make a pinky promise on it. You honestly find it kind of cute.

As time dragged on and when the day had become night, when the sun had long passed the horizon to lay to rest, you had grown quite weary waiting for the men to return, and oh was there a sight waiting for them to behold once they did. Your little act of cleaning around the house had drained a good amount of your energy, eventually causing you to crash out on the couch with your head resting against Gaz’s shoulder. Your legs were curled up on the cushion of the sofa, your book placed open on your lap after Gaz had asked if you could read to him, curious about the story within the binding. But the late hour combined with the cleaning around had pulled a yawn from your chest as you read the pages out loud, your voice low and muzzy and your words drawling out as your eyes scanned the printed letters before another yawn escaped your lips, and another, then another, before everything became blurry and you slowly drifted off to a deep sleep.

Even Gaz, who was supposed to stay watch, had fallen asleep beside you, his head thrown back on the back of the couch and his mouth slightly parted as soft little snores escaped it. He was never one to fall asleep on duty, known for his control over his mental fortitude. But the poor soldier had soon followed suit, infected by by your fatigue as he too yawned after each time you did. In that time, he smiled down softly as he watched you grow tired next to him, resting your head unconsciously on his shoulder and chuckling at the sight of the thin line of drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth.

He almost felt relieved, and comforted to see this side of you, after having seen you do nothing but shove your nose into paperwork and files on top of staying on guard to take care of them and make sure no serious injury happens on your watch. And as he watched you, making sure to stay as still as possible as to not wake you, your soft breathing and the warmth radiating off your body had finally pulled him in, until eventually, his state of alertness fell limp, his head rolling back as he too drifted off shortly after you.

You don’t know long you had been asleep, nor did you know you had your face smushed up against Gaz’s shoulder, your lips parted slightly and your drool pooling into a wet spot on the fabric of his jacket. If you did, you don’t think you’d be able to look him in the eye from how embarrassed you’d be. Not only did you most likely cause his arm to cramp up and fall asleep under your weight, but you had also marked his shoulder with your saliva. And if the others were to see this, they would have a kick out of it, with Soap taking multiple pictures at unflattering angles and teasing the two of you for the days to follow. And in a short matter of time, they would have seen it, stumbling upon the scene if they had not burst through the front door like a team of SWAT.

The sound of the door slamming open and their shouts had startled you awake, their voices echoing through the front of the building and making you sit up in your seat.

“What the-“ you mutter out groggily, squinting against the dryness of your eyes and not even paying mind to how you had completely crashed out. Where they back?

“Sounds like trouble.” Gaz had also woken up next to you, quickly getting up from the sofa and rushing towards the commotion as you followed closely behind.

You almost froze at the scene, watching the men come into the area with their faces worn out and beaded with sweat and spots of blood. You knew what they were getting into, what their job required of them, yet seeing them return from the mission first hand had in some way unsettled you. Sure, you had worked in the ER during your residency. You had seen conditions far worse than this, patients suffering from injuries ranging of a varying degree as they were wheeled around, gruesome wounds that still at times scarred your memories till this day. And yet, why did this seem to daunt you far worse than anything you had seen in the emergency department. It's almost as if you forgot these men were killers, and you didn't quite know how to feel about that.

Alejandro had been the first to step into the area, carrying an injured Soap under his arm and helping the Scot walk next to him as he muttered some words of encouragement in Spanish.

“What-what happened?”

“Nada serio querida. No te preocupes. (Nothing serious love. Don't worry.)” Alejandro answers simply, groaning under Soap's weight and from his own injuries.

“Nada serio querida.” Soap copies what Alejandro had said with a limp in each of his steps, his face pale from the loss of blood from his wound as he gives you a smile to assure you that everything was in fact fine, though we all know this isn’t the case.

“Well it sure as damn well looks serious to me Alejandro.” You remark as you hurry over to help the man set Soap down carefully on a chair, your voice slipping the hint of your father’s accent, a small habit that revealed itself whenever you got upset over something. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to tread carefully around me, I'm not made of glass you know."

Alejandro fell quiet as he watched you try to examine Soap, taken aback by this more....authoritative side of you, not that he had any reason to be surprised, you were a physician after all and this sort of conduct was necessary especially since people's lives were in your hands. He had not intended to alarm or offend you, the reason why he said those words in the first place, but the situation itself had managed to speak much louder than his words could ever manage. And in this moment, maybe it's best to let you be in charge.

Your eyes scattered about the area as the others soon came through, focusing on each and every one of them to try to gauge both their mental and physical state. Ghost was the next to enter right after Price, his blackened eyes from behind his mask meeting your concerned ones for a brief and fleeting moment before looking away. The skull-masked soldier was supporting another man, another masked soldier you had not seen before, one whose stature towered over everyone around him, even Simon Riley himself, whom you have thought to be tall enough already. Y'all already know who it is.

“Sir-“ you spoke up to the troubled-looking captain as he walked up to you, your eyes studying the wounded and bloodied scene behind him. You don't know what the hell happened back there, but you didn't need to hear the details to know it wasn't good. “Is everything alright? The hell happened?”

“Y/n.” Price finally stood in front of you, his hand placed on your shoulder as means of reassurance, or even a way to steady his exhausted body as he turned back to his men, running his fingers through his beard before looking you in the eye. “We were ambushed. Suffered a few injuries but we got the most of em.”

“You sure? Y’all look like you took quite the beating.” You state lightheartedly but more so from a place of worry and sympathy. “Listen Captain, if you don't mind, I need to take a look at these men."

“Right. Right.” Price nods his head, breathless from the mission. His countenance was masked behind an aura of composure as he looked over his injured soldiers, but one look at his eyes told you otherwise. He was tense, nonetheless, and you could clearly see the restlessness behind them from the way he held responsibility over the lives of his men, believing himself to be accountable if any harm should come to them.

“Do you have any wounds I need to take a look at sir? Any trauma to the head? Any lacerations or punctures?"

“No. No, I’m fine.”

"It'll be alright." You give the man a comforting smile, placing a hand on his arm to provide the only means of consolation you can give him in a moment like this.

“Thank you.” Price returns your smile, placing his hand over yours and giving it a soft squeeze. Though he felt contrite for throwing such a burden on your shoulders, he knew that you were the only person qualified enough around here given the circumstances, and he could not be more grateful for your presence. "Just....let me know if you need any help."

"Of course."

The men were badly beaten from what you observed as you examined them. A few fresh bruises marked their bodies, nothing terribly serious, but Soap, Alejandro, and the new guy were the only ones who had sustained more serious injuries. MacTavish had taken a bullet to the thigh, but luckily for him, the bullet had missed his femoral artery as well as any major nerves in the area. The poor Scotsman had felt bad for disturbing you at such a late hour such as this. But you had reassured him time and time again that this was part of your job, and that you had read over the part of the contract that said you would mostly be on-call when you signed your name at the bottom.

Soap doesn't know why he was so on edge as you operated on him. He’s nervous, extremely nervous. And what does Soap do when he’s nervous? He talks, like a lot, like a lot a lot and I don’t mean that lightly. I mean this man just talks your ear off while you’re wiping away any excess blood on his thigh and practically knuckles deep into his bullet wound. This man had been shot before so why should this be any different. Was it the local anesthetic you had injected into him? Or was it because you were a practicing physician and therefore would be able to pinpoint the finer details and eventually break some kind of devastating news to him like "I hate to break this to you Soap but I'm afraid I'm going to need to perform an amputation." Also I genuinely believe this man is afraid of needles. Don't ask me how I know. I just know.

"Y/n." Soap speaks up, gulping from the question that is about to spill from his lips as he watches you disinfect his wound.

"Hm?" You hum, focused on cleaning the area where the bullet had lodged itself.

"Am I gonna loose my leg?"

"What?" You stop, raising your head to give him a weird look. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Don' know. Ye look pretty serious..........................ya sure I'm not gonna loose my leg?" He asks again, the panic in his voice more evident this time as an image is generated in his mind of him having a wooden pegleg like some kind of pirate.

"No. No you're not going to loose your leg Soap. You're just fine.” You go back to mending his bullet wound. “If anything, you're just going to get a few stitches. I am going to have to leave the bullet in place though, so don’t fret.”

"Yer leavin the bullet in there?" Soap's face pales after hearing your statement, eyes wide as he stares at you like you’re some kind of lunatic.

“Don’t look at me like that. I can feel you staring at me like I’m crazy. The reason I’m leaving the bullet in your leg is because it’s not in a fatal area that needs removal, and it's going to do more damage than good if I take it out. And besides, your body will build a sort of......wall of scar tissue around it so you'll be fine.” You try to explain to him in a way he can understand.

“I will?”

"I promise. Now once I’m done here I'm going to prescribe you some antibiotics and pain relievers as well as an ointment to help with the healing process and keeping away infections. Just make sure to get some rest and go easy on that leg of yours and you'll be up and running in no time."

"Oh.....okay."

Poor Soap is still nervous, despite your words of consolation. So in order to ease the tension he decides to crack a few jokes, a trait that has become familiar with his teammates, much to their annoyance, whenever he's out on the field. Whether it's for his own welfare or yours, we may never know. Perhaps it’s for both, but let's just say it’s more so for his own sanity. And the way he jumps from one joke to another only makes you question how the previous medics ever sat through it.

"Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon?"

"No."

"Great food. No atmosphere."

"Jesus."

"..............Hey y/n."

"Yes Soap?" You’re pretty sure this is the 45th joke he’s told you so far and now you’re just concerned for his mental well-being. But you also want to know where the hell he got all of these jokes in the first place.

"Why do seagulls fly over the ocean?"

Oh god. "Why?" You ask, bracing yourself for whatever was about to come next.

"Because if they flew over the bay, we'd call them bagels."

Jesus fucking christ. At this point you're positive your eyes are going to pop out from your sockets from how hard you are trying to stop yourself from rolling them. "Soap-"

"Yeah?"

"Please hold still."

Alejandro on the other hand was especially quiet while you tended to his wound, a gash on the proximal part of his arm on the lateral end, just below the acromial region, left from the bullet that grazed it. If he did speak, it would be small little words of motivation, sprinkled with terms of endearment in Spanish as he told you how good of a job you were doing, which you thought to be a risky thing to do considering you were sticking a needle in his flesh to sew his wound shut. He'd even tell you short little stories about his life before here, some of which may have elicited a soft chuckle from your frowning lips, a stern look that always unconsciously formed on your face whenever you were focused on something. He finds your little look of concentration quite cute honestly, the way you'd sometimes pout and squint your eyes. But most of all, he admired how calm and collected you were at such a task, as if you were doing something as simple as stitching the seams of fabric together.

He tried his best to soothe you, seeing the strained look on your face and imagining the stress you must be under, knowing when it would be best to offer you silence so that you may focus on the work at hand. And when you were done suturing his wound and wrapping fresh gauze around his arm, he pulls you in to give you a warm hug, which catches you off guard since you’re still wearing nitrile surgical gloves spotted with his blood and practically reek of alcohol-based solutions and the bleach-like scent of antiseptics. Regardless of how you look and smell like chemicals, the man only pulls you in tighter, wrapping his uninjured arm around the top of your back with his hand squeezing the back of your shoulder as he thanks you in his native tongue.

The two of you stand there for a moment in this sort of half-embrace, Alejandro with just a single arm around you and you with your hands held out behind him with your face pressed up against his chest. Next thing you know he presses a kiss to the side of your head, which takes you even more by surprise. This man really does not care how you look or smell. You could be covered in saline solution and antibiotic ointment and he’d still think you were the most stunning woman to walk the earth.

Also, speaking of smell, Alejandro smells really good, despite the hint of gunpowder from the mission he just returned from. But to say you are obsessed with his cologne is an understatement. This man smells AMAZING. His scent is woodsy, and spicy, like tequila mixed in with cardamom and bergamot, with sharp hints of clove and peppers balancing over velvety floral notes. He smells like something out one of those cheesy racy romance novels where the romantic interest climbs up your balcony during a hot summer night to hand you a single rose before whisking you away under the stars for a night of passionate-cough cough-you know what I mean. It's almost sinful, erotic, luring you in to perform acts that would make Satan and the Pope seek counsel with each other. This sudden emotion causes this stir in the pit of your stomach, lighting your whole body in flames and you almost feel ashamed for wanting him to stay a while longer just so you can get another and longer whiff of him.

“You know chica, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a really good machaca." Alejandro pulls away from the embrace, looking down at you with a slight smirk.

“Why don’t you go get one?”

“Only if you agree to come along.”

You’re stunned, caught off guard, and you better come quick with a witty response or else you’re just going to look like a fool standing there blinking at him. "Are you asking me out on a date Vargas?" Wow. I haven’t heard that one before.

"Mm, maybe. There'll be good food."

Speak no more. I am bringing the church and a marriage license. “You know, now that you've mentioned it, I suppose I have been craving some spicy food for a while."

The new guy, who’s name you found to be König, was surprisingly polite, despite his intimidating size and aura. He was a bit reserved around you at first, the blues of his eyes from behind the loose fabric of his mask studying your features to try to get a sense of your character as a person. He had heard quite a lot about you from the others, mostly the way you were gentle and kind in nature. Yet he had trouble understanding how a person could be capable of providing peace, as the others explained it, but one word from your lips and a benevolent smile in his direction was enough to convince him.

Telling from his body language, you made sure to inform him about every measure you were going to perform for the procedure, wanting to ensure he was as relaxed as possible with what you were doing, something you took seriously with every one of the patients you ever had. And the more you spoke, asking him simple questions like beginning with his name and asking where he was from and what his hometown was like and how he was currently feeling, he eventually warmed up to you, partly because he thought you were really pretty, but also because you made him feel comfortable in a place he usually did not find comfort in. I mean this man is still a killing machine despite his social anxiety. Not to mention, this was the first time he had met you. So the fact that you look out for his own wellness first really puts him at ease.

The tall Austrian had suffered a gunshot wound to his abdomen, an area that would usually require more serious care. But thanks to his bulletproof vest, the bullet was prevented from puncturing any organs or cavities or any major blood vessels or nerves, passing through his layers of skin and reaching the adipose tissue and barely imbedding into the muscle of his abdomen. You of course were able to extract the piece of metal, injecting some anesthetic for the pain and disinfecting the area beforehand before using a pair of forceps to carefully pull the bullet out.

Though the man was slightly anxious around you, he didn’t want to pry to much on your behalf and end up offending you in any manner, especially with how quiet you were, minus the little questions you’d ask him of course. Instead, he is fascinated by your steady hands and your precision, wondering how hands as small and delicate as yours were capable of performing such complex labor as he asks questions about every step that you take into the procedure and every tool that you have laid out on your table. By the end, he is completely starstruck by just how much you know. He even may have slipped a little compliment on how wise and pretty your eyes were. You’ve never heard anyone compliment your eyes as being wise, but you like it, not being able to hold back the small smile that pulls at the corner of your lips.

“Thank you for your help……..liebling.”

“It’s no problem.” You smile. You had heard that German term once before, a word once exchanged between an elderly couple that were once under your care. And the fact of knowing the meaning behind it warms your heart.

“Du hast sehr schöne kluge augen. (You have very beautiful, intelligent eyes)." The soldier mutters under his breath, nearly catching himself at the end of the sentence and praying you had not heard nor understood what he said.

“Sorry?”

“Oh um…….." König gulps, thinking of how to respond and deciding whether he should just lie or tell the truth to behind the meaning of his words. "It means you have really pretty wise eyes.”

“Oh……..why thank you. That's really sweet."

After handing König a bag containing his antibiotics, pain killers, and a tube of ointment, you also hand him a couple Dum-Dum lollipops to go with it. The Austrian doesn’t know how to react at first. Did you just give him a candy? Was this a common practice of doctors in your country? When he finally realizes this was just your way of showing kindness, he is more than delighted and thanks you for them in German, grasping both of your hands as he does so. Don’t ask me why or how but I just feel like he likes to hold both of your hands whenever he thanks you for something. Also the more eager he is, the more he shakes your hands in his.

This man’s crush on you has just went to the next level. König likes to collect whatever catches his attention, something he had done since he was a child from time mostly spent by himself. And it’s almost as if he has an eye for these things, picking out whatever has unique colors or patterns. So when you find some wildflowers or interesting looking leaves or a variety of colorful bird feathers or butterfly wings that had fallen to the dirt on your desk one day, just know he picked them out for you whenever he goes on a mission.

Believe it or not, the Austrian also has a secret talent of wood carving and is actually very skilled at it. During the days where his anxiety seems to overwhelm and suffocate him, he likes to sit outside in the grass surrounded by nature, covered in wood shavings with a knife in hand as he makes little wooden figurines of animals that he sees, whether it be birds, deer, foxes, bunnies, squirrels or skunks. It’s the only thing that he can fixate on that brings him total serenity and nirvana, sitting amongst the grass with his back up against the trunk of a tree, where there isn’t a single soul in sight except for himself and the ones that belong in the woods, where the only things that can judge him are the tall ancient trees and the creatures that walk it. But I won’t get further into this till later. Just know that he’s working on one especially for you.

Now, moving on.

By the time you were finished patching the three men up, you cleaned up the area and your tools, taking off your bloody gloves and throwing them into the biohazard container until you see Ghost stumble by in the corner of your eye. Little did you know he had been watching you from afar, not in a creepy way but in a ‘just want to make sure my teammates are alright’ kind of way. Not that he doubts your expertise of course. The lieutenant had not expected the mission to go sideways as it did, even though it was somewhat accomplished in the end. And seeing his team get wounded had unlocked this new fear in him that, to some degree, had always been there.

So when he stood there in the corner, leaning against the wall and hidden in the shadows like typical old Ghost, he found a sense of relief in watching how quickly and proficiently you moved about and just how composed you were, especially under the pace and pressure. Maybe it’s how quiet you are when you get really focused on something, maybe it’s how calm you are throughout it, or maybe it’s the amount of caution and supervision you take towards making sure the others are treated with the utmost care. Truth be told, you are like a remedy to Ghost, to the Simon Riley underneath, to the troubles and trauma that mold the broken man beneath the mask. If only the big dummy were to realize this instead of treating you like as if you were the plague itself.

When you lift your head towards the sound of slight shuffling in the corner, you catch him moving out of the shadows and sneaking away from the area. Usually you wouldn’t think anything of it, thinking he was just overseeing your work like a supervisor. But as you watch him walk off, you notice that something is off about him, something not quite right, and this intuition only builds this deep and heavy bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

“Ghost?”

Ghost stops abruptly at the sound of your voice, his head ever so slightly tilted to the side as he was not expecting you to have seen him, much less even say something.

“Is everything alright?”

Goddamn you and your manners. The masked soldier moves away with the slightest huff, not wanting to answer your question but you call out once more.

“You’re not hurt are you?”

“Negative.” He begins to walk off, not even looking in your direction to acknowledge you.

“Lieutenant, could I please see you for a minute?”

“Another time.”

“I insist.” Your voice is more firm this time and it catches him by surprise.

He had not heard this tone from you before, and yet, he can sense the shakiness behind it, the uncertainty. The more there is silence on his end, the more you are sure that you have reached the expiration date of your life, terrified that you had officially provoked the stone-cold soldier and that he is about to march over here and stab you in the neck with your own scalpel any second now. And as he stands there, debating on whether he should just leave, he hears your voice once again, a faint ‘please’. Heaving out a heavy sigh, the man shuts his eyes for a brief moment before turning back around and heading in your direction.

You’re not sure if you should freeze up like the fresh-caught fish on a bed of ice at the supermarket or run in the opposite direction as this man walks towards you, his mask not helping in making him look any less more pissed off than usual. When he finally stands in front of you, his bulky form towering over yours, you can only do the first thing that comes to mind, freeze up. At first the masked soldier glares down at you, the irises of his eyes only darkened by the grooves of his mask as he waits for you to speak, wishing you were the first to say something, anything, but instead you’re staring at him like a deer caught in front of headlights. Don’t worry babes, I would too.

“Well? Whadya want?”

“I just want to check to make sure you’re not injured-“

“I feel fine.” Ghost narrows his eyes at you, slowly becoming irked by your constant need to monitor his well-being and wishing you would just take his word and leave. But he knows better than to argue with someone that was literally tasked by the government to manage the sanity and wellness of task force 141. Was your etiquette a part of the job requirements as well?

“You don’t look fine.” You snark.

“Yeh?” Ghost sneers. “And who the hell are you to say that?”

“I’m a doctor.” You blink. “Or if you wanna be more specific, I'm technically your doctor. It’s my job. And telling from the dampness of the blood on your mask there that still has not dried since the moment you stepped trough the doors and god knows how long since before,” you point to the area near the bottom of the left side of his neck, more so near his shoulder. “I’m guessing it’s yours and not someone else’s.”

“The fuck are you on about? Listen here princess, there’s no-“ Ghost pulls his hand up to his neck only to feel the exact same dampness you had just mentioned. Fuck. He had been so caught up with everything around him that he had not even been aware that he had been injured. When he finally pressed his fingers to the area there, tensing from the pain, that was when he was finally able to register through that thick and stubborn skull of his that he had in fact been injured this whole time. This man probably takes the phrase ‘mind over matter’ quite literally.

“Now can I please take a look at you?” You quirk a brow up at him, waiting for a response and knowing better than to expect a quick answer. But if there’s one thing you know, if you just slightly annoy and pester him enough, he might just eventually cave in, that is if he doesn't add you to his hit list. “Look, if you wait any longer you might pass out and go into hemorrhagic shock. And depending on the class, you can suffer from organ damage and even death. So unless you want that to happen-“

Well when you put it like that- “Fine. Get on with it.” Ghost growls as he sits himself down on the chair. Bloody fucking hell you talk way more than he had ever expected from you. But you sure can keep your ground, he'll give you that. He’s just glad that none of the others are here to see him being bossed around by someone almost half his size and about a foot shorter than him.

"Thank you for cooperating." You give a short and quick smile. You may or may not have exaggerated about the last part to get him to comply. Well…….that is.........depending on the exact location of injury and the amount of blood loss of course.

Thank you for cooperating. Ghost scoffs at your statement.

“You know……I wish you wouldn’t avoid me like I were a crackhead outside your local 7-eleven.”

A what? Ghost gives you a weird look, wondering if he had heard you correctly as you go over to the sink, rolling the white sleeves of your lab coat up and turning on the faucet. The shit that comes out of your mouth, he swears makes him question your license. Then again, he’s not sure how to respond to what you had just said. It's no lie that he has indeed been going out of his way to avoid you at all costs. But the idea of you even noticing his absence had never even crossed his mind, much so that you would come to be offended by it. Noticing your lack of pressing further on the matter, he shifts in his seat, watching you wash your hands in a methodical series of steps until he notices a small marking on your inner right wrist, a small and delicate tattoo of a heartagram. It can't be.......can it? He had never listened to much of their music but.......were you a HIM fan? If so, this is certainly a detail he had never expected from you and he almost doesn't know what to think of it. What other tattoos do you have?

Once he sees you turn off the faucet, he quickly returns to his original position on the chair, not wanting to make it seem like he was watching you.

"Now I’m just going to take a quick look here." You head over to where he sat, pulling the nitrile gloves over your hands as you look down at him, reaching out towards the bottom of his balaclava before feeling him swat your hand away.

“Hey!” You yelp, more so from being startled than the actual impact. “The hell was that for?” No way in hell he just did that.

“…………….”

"I promise I won't sneak a peak at your face if that's what you're afraid of."

“……………………..”

“Listen lieutenant. I can’t check to see if you’re okay if you won’t let me.” You sigh, reaching out once more, but this time you feel his hand grab yours, his gloved fingers wrapping around the bare skin of your wrist as he eyes the ground at his feet. The loud beating in your chest reaches your ears, deafening you as you stare at the soldier who could practically fracture your wrist if he tightened his grip. At this point most would be petrified, bracing themselves for the number of possibilities that can take place just from under his control. Most would either try not to glance over at the scalpel that lays out on the table just beside within arms reach, not wanting to instigate anything further in fear of the soldier catching the movement of their eyes, or some would dare to do so anyways as part of their fight or flight response.

Maybe you should be scared of him, of this soldier who has more blood on his hands than you can count. And yet, somehow, as you finally regain control of your thoughts after being startled from the sudden motion, you can’t seem to find yourself to. If he wanted to kill you, you’d already have been dead, you tell yourself, because here you are, well and unharmed. Despite the calloused disposition of the man notorious for his ruthlessness and merciless on the field and just the sheer size of his hand around your wrist, you’re surprised at the gentleness he handles you with, the carefulness of his hold a stark contrast to the rough fabric of his gloves that rub against the sensitive skin there.

Ghost can feel you tremble ever so slightly under his grasp, feeling your racing pulse through his gloves from under his palm, not to mention the peculiar coldness of your limb, but he can also feel the severity behind your eyes as you stare him down, as if you were just waiting for him to meet them. For a flicker of a moment, you have him wondering just how much more there is to you than the Dr. Y/n y/l/n that you put on stage only for others to see. Just what else lies beyond the pristine white lab coat, those neatly pressed scrubs and your observant orbs.

“Ghost-“ Your voice is firm but heedful. “Please let go of my wri-“

"I'll do it."

“What-“

“I said I’ll do it. You’re not touching the mask.”

“Alrigh-”

“I mean it.” He lets go of your wrist as quickly as he grabbed it.

"Okay." You throw your hands up in defeat, taking a step back to give him some room. "Fine by me."

Ghost can't help but huff at your behavior, hesitating for a moment before finally lifting the bottom of his balaclava, peeling away the fabric that had become sticky with blood to expose his neck. Damn you.

"Let's see here." You lean in closer to inspect the area before cursing under your breath. “Jesus fucking christ.”

Ghost side-eyes you with a raised brow at the words that came out of your mouth. Did he just hear you cuss? Better yet, just what the hell did you see to make you say those words. You almost don’t even have to hear him say anything to know what he is thinking.

“See this is why it’s important you come to me.” There’s that same strictness in your voice, and yet, this one is different. Is that a slight hint of genuine concern he hears? Realizing how you might have sounded to a man who has probably dealt with far worse, you straighten up, clearing your throat as you did so and fluttering your eyes away from his forbidding gaze. Pushing away whatever emotions that managed to rile you up like that, you clear your throat once more. “So, looks like there’s a laceration, along the inferior portion of your neck here, proximal to your acromial region. But lucky for you, your brachial plexus is still intact. The bullet, or whatever the hell you've been hit by, narrowly missed your suprascapular artery and nerve. Though I will have to perform some sutures to reconstruct your trapezius muscle."

"English, for fucks sake." Ghost grumbles at your rapid speech involving words he finds incoherent. But you and I both know it’s only because he finds it to be a turn on. That's why he let you ramble on in the first place.

"What I meant was, good news is, your nerves and blood vessels are okay. Bad news is, your trapezius muscle, which is the muscle that runs along the curve of your neck here and a portion of your back has a slight gash here at the top. So you are going to need stitches. And a lot of rest afterwards of course, to make sure it's properly healed."

"Fuckin hell." Ghost mutters under his breath.

"Now if you'll let me-"

"Yeh yeh. Just make it quick."

What had been a short amount of time had instead felt like hours for the masked soldier, for Ghost, for the wounded Simon Riley beneath all those layers as he remained in his seat like a statue, ensuring that he stayed as still as possible while you worked on him. He had not uttered a single word during the whole duration, not even the slightest grunt. And if it hadn't been for his steady breathing, you would have presumed him to be dead. He had to be the quietest patient you have ever dealt with, not to mention the most stubborn, and you found yourself wishing he would say something, anything. But to expect such from a man such as him would be a fool's errand, a fruitless endeavor.

And even if he chose to speak, what the hell would he even talk about? His fucking trauma?The man wouldn't even look at you, his eyes wandering everywhere but your face. In spite of his grievances towards you, his reluctance to ever establish any form of association with you, he'd find himself slowly stealing glances in your direction from time to time when you weren't looking directly at him. He'd find himself studying your features as he once did the first time he met you. You were wearing that same perfume, that deep woodsy and floral perfume that reminded him of an old bookstore, of one of those metaphysical shops scattered with different fragrances of the smokey incense, the unmistakable scent of you that had been ingrained in his mind ever since.

"So, what kind of a name is Ghost anyways?"

".................."

"Right. I forget you don't speak."

Ghost gives you a quick and sharp glare before staring straight ahead. Damn that sharp tongue of yours.

"You seem tired." You remark, picking on him just a tad bit to make a reference to when he commented on your dark circles, but also because he actually did genuinely seem tired.

"............."

A cock-up, no thanks to you, Ghost thinks to himself, knowing damn well the only reason he could not sleep was because of you, though he senses the only reason you said that was because he had mentioned to you how you looked tired.

More minutes pass, and he has yet to even snide at you. You'd almost prefer a huff of irritation directed at you over nothing.

"You know," you utter, "I went to medical school with an incredibly ambitious guy who was obsessed with collecting skulls. He'd do anything to get a head."

You what? Ghost looks at you just the slightest with a single blink. What the bloody fuck are you talking about? Oh wait.

“What is a sleeping brain’s favorite rock band?”

“……………….”

Oh no. It looks like Soap’s habit has taken hold of you.

“REM.”

“……………….”

Okay maybe that was a bad idea. The look that Ghost just gave you makes you want to never say another joke again. He actually thinks the first one wasn't too bad.

“You know, you’re lucky the bullet grazed you where it did.” You lean in a bit closer as you suture his wound. “Any more to the left and you would’ve have been in some serious shit.”

Your little movement manages to catch Ghost’s attention, and if you weren’t shoving a needle through his flesh he would have moved away. Instead he glances just the slightest over in your direction, his breath hitching in his throat at the close proximity between you both. His eyes trace over the details of your face as if he were studying a map, going over every one of the little characteristics that make you you. If only you could see the way he looked at you, you would have been able to see the subtlest change, the tiniest, sliver of a crack in the hardened shell that surrounded Simon Riley, of that shell that is Ghost.

There is a moment when your thigh brushes against the side of his as you turn away to move on to the next step after stitching his wound, a moment that goes by unnoticed to you, but not to him. The small contact, though brief, had managed to send a jolt of warmth through the soldier’s body, a feeling that is completely foreign to him, prompting him to tense up and bury whatever it is that has him reacting this way. It isn’t until you sense him shift beside you that you turn back to him, gauze and ointment in hand just as you catch him transfer his line of focus somewhere else. The faint alter of movement had you raising your brow, knowing well what you saw but unsure of the motive behind it.

While you went over to him, studying whatever you could gather from his body language and just his eyes due to the obstruction of his face, you noticed that his eyes were quite expressive for a man known for lacking any basic human emotion. While dressing his wound, you picked out the way his blonde lashes fluttered against his deep mahogany irises as they focused on anything but you, the black color smeared around the exposed area of his balaclava accentuating the blondes of his hairs. This had to be the first time you had actually taken a good look at him.

You would have complimented him on his eyes and lashes, but you thought against it, not wanting to embarrass yourself, or more importantly, the last thing you needed was to dig yourself deeper on his bad side and end up as a dusty file to be brushed under the rug. Speaking of. Now that you mention it, the stuff he wore around his eyes looked awfully similar to the stuff you found on your candy tray. Couldn’t be him could it? No, it can’t possibly be. The man avoids you way too much to even think about taking something that is even associated with you. Maybe you’re just overthinking like you always do and what you found was just from your own eyeshadow palette. After all, this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve accidentally smeared remnants of eyeshadow from your fingers to other things. If only you could ask him, but this man hates you enough as it is. You could casually bring it up one day, although now definitely isn’t the time.

When you were finally finished tending to him, getting up to gather some pain relievers, antibiotics, and some ointment for him to take with him, Ghost had noticed something that he had not spotted before, a small pitted and circular mark that sat at the left side of your neck. As he stared at it, trying to decipher just what it could be, it looked to be a scar of some sort, though a bit faded with time, it’s shade slightly darker than your skin tone. Where had he seen a mark like that before? And then it hit him.

“There you go.” You came back around to hand him his treatments in a brown paper bag, your voice causing him to quickly avert his gaze. “You’re all set.”

Taking the brown paper bag from your hands, Ghost couldn’t stop thinking about what it is that he saw marking the skin of your neck. Something in the back of his mind knew just exactly what that scar belonged to, what it meant. But Ghost, or Simon Riley, knew better than to delve into something that wasn’t his business, knowing well the cost. He could just be over-analyzing it all, mistaking it for something completely different. But why was he even bothering to do so in the first place. He had better things to do, duties that were assigned specifically to him, and trying to figure out that mark on your neck wasn’t one of them.

Ghost is quick to get up from his seat as he ushers you a quick thanks, the hardened wall once again building up to the masked soldier who had dared to even let it down just the slightest around you.

“Ghost wait.” You call out to him as he walks away, watching him stop in his tracks. “……before you go………next time you’re injured………promise you’ll at least come to me.”

“….I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Look,” you sigh, “I get it if you think I’m annoying……..or if you hate my guts, whatever, I don’t care. Just….at least let me help you.”

“Don' bother.” Ghost tightens his jaw as he tilts his head towards you, the brusque in his deep voice evident before he regains his steps, disappearing from your line of sight.

“What an asshole.” You breathe out with a shake of your head. You swear this man has you testing your Hippocratic Oath. You don’t know what it is that makes him despise you. Maybe it’s just him and that’s just the way he is, something you might have to ask the others about. Usually words like that would have you lying in bed awake thinking what you did wrong, but you are much too tired for that.

As Ghost went back to his room, shutting the door behind him, he opened up the paper bag you had given him, spilling out the pill bottles and ointment tube onto the table until he heard something roll off the edge of the table and fall onto the floor. Furrowing his brows, the soldier looked at the ground at his feet to where the mysterious item had fallen only to see a single Dum-Dum lollipop, sour apple flavor. Bloody fuckin hell.

Part 4

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