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mountainsandmayhem · 2 months

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Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

DBF!Joel x Fem!Reader

18+ MDNI

Masterlist || Part Two || Part Three (Soft Version) || Part Three (Spicy Version)

Summary: Joel catches you somewhere you shouldn't be, twice. CW: all p no plot! age gap, spanking, dirty talk, parental guilt, brat and brat tamer, sub/dom dynamics, edging and degradation kinks if you squint AN: I found the bottom right photo on Pinterest and @mermaidgirl30 said it screamed DBF!Joel. I have never written for DBF before so please be kind. Dividers by @saradika-graphics - thank you for all your amazing graphics and dividers, I'd be lost without your page.

“Let go of me, you fucking psycho!” You’re practically yelling over the music of the club, wrenching your arm from Joel’s strong grasp. The security guard approaches and Joel shoots him a glare so dark that he holds his hands up and steps back. “What the fuck, Joel?”

“What are ya doin’ here, sweetheart” he demands, one eyebrow raised.

“I’m working!” You stomp your foot and then get right up in his face, pointing a finger at him. Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, hanging out in a strip club one town over. “The real question is, what are YOU doin here?”

You’re only a bottle girl, you don’t get on the stage and have no intentions of stripping. It’s good money, great money actually. At 22 you’re already well on your way to having a down payment on a condo, it’s just too bad you’re having to lie to your parents.

“With my crew, they picked the place. I’m takin’ you home. Go get your coat.” He crosses his arms over his chest, staring at you sternly. The music is pounding in your ears, the air thick with smoke. Even in the dimly lit hallway you can see the way Joel’s eyes rake over your body, taking in the very tiny Jean shorts and bralette you’re wearing.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spin and flip him the bird as you walk away. You know he’s staring so you give a little extra wiggle of your ass as you walk away. Joel Miller, staring at your ass. The fourteen year old inside you does a happy dance - that version of yourself had a tiny crush on him. Too bad he’s a stuffy, grumpy asshole now. You miss the fun, young Joel. He used to do cannonballs in the pool with you and his daughter Sarah. She was a few years older than you, but he was much more fun than your father. But now? Now he’s a certified prick. Thinking he can drag you away like some sort of barbaric caveman. He’s not your dad, even if he was, you’re an adult.

When you finish your shift you head outside and pull up your Uber app, men often want to do shots with you so even though you never get drunk at work you also don’t drive there.

See, Joel. I’m responsible.

“Let’s go,” his voice is deep, still angry with you. You didn’t see him waiting by the door so you jump.

“Jesus. You fucking scared me.”

“Watch your language. Get in the truck.”

You grumble under your breath that he should kiss your ass as he holds the door open for you. He stalks around to his side of the truck while furrowing his brow and shaking his head.

“Got somethin’ to say young lady?”

“Ya,” you say, slumping in the seat and putting your white vans on his dashboard, “kiss my ass.”

He presses his lips in a thin line, you can see him eyeing your long toned legs from your peripheral vision before the engine roars to life and he speeds off down the gravel highway.

When you pull up to the house he hops out of the truck and is right on your heels as you open the door.

“I’m fine, Mister Miller.” You say with a sneer. You know he hates that, he has told everyone he’s ever been introduced to to call him Joel.

Joel steps into your parents house and calls your dad’s name. “What the fuck! Joel! Shut up!”

He calls for him again and your dad comes stumbling from his room, tying his robe around his sleeping attire. “Joel? What’s going on?” He flicks on the light, squinting against the brightness. “It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Just thought I’d let you now know that the guys at work wanted to go to The Skin tonight. Caught your daughter working there.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?!” You yell, pushing at his broad chest. Your dad stands there stunned. Eyes wide and mouth agape. He thought you were working as a nurses aide overnight at the hospital on weekends. He’s even seen you leave the house in scrubs. All a part of the web of lies you have weaved.

“Don’t speak to Joel that way,” your dad snaps. “Go to your room young lady. We’ll talk about this later.”

“Kiss my ass, cowboy.” You practically spit at him as you stomp to your room. As you round the corner your mom is standing in the hallway clutching her crucifix necklace. You have a sudden urge to hiss at her with the way she’s looking at you, like you’re a disappointment. A sinner, the worst kind of person in her eyes.

The next morning was the fight of all fights with your parents. Your dad tried to ground you, your mom started shoving church pamphlets at you. They wouldn’t even fucking listen.

“IM NOT A STRIPPER,” you yelled at them over and over again.

Finally, when the yelling ceased, your dad said in a very quiet anger, “young lady. I FORBID you from going there again. Is that clear? I don’t care if you’re 22 or 42, if you live under my roof, you live by my rules. You’re going to go to continue going to your university classes during the week, and on weekends you will be home. Studying. Helping your mother with the chores. You will go to bed at respectable hour. If you need money, you ask us. Is that clear?”

You blink back tears and head to your room, slamming the door behind you. You are NOT quitting that job.

When the next weekend rolls around you say goodnight to your parents at 10pm and head to your room. You worked it out with your boss to work the midnight to 4 am shift. So you wait - ear pressed to your door until you finally hear your parents go to bed. You sneak out the same way you’ve been sneaking out for years and run down the street with your newly embroidered denim shorts in hand to meet your Uber.

You peel yourself away from the men and the booze around 2am to get some fresh air, exiting through the back to the dimly lit alley. You take a big inhale through your nose before you see it. The truck. Joel’s truck. And Joel. Leaning against the truck box, arms crossed, one foot up on the tire.

You flip him off and then turn back towards the back entrance to the club. He’s on you so fast, grabbing the back of your bicep in his large hand. “You little brat. You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Read the shorts, MISTER Miller.” You say it as much venom as you can muster.

His eyes rake down your body and you can almost feel them burning into you. It feels so good, you never want him to stop. Your pussy throbbed when he called you a brat and you wouldn’t be surprised if your light jean shorts hadn’t been soaked through already. When his eyes reach the pocket he sees ‘Kiss My Ass, Cowboy’ stitched in baby pink lettering and his grip tightens.

He’s fucking furious with you. Furious that you’re here. Furious that other men get to see you dressed like this. Furious that he wants you so fucking badly. But mostly, furious because he knows you want him too and he’s a weak weak man when it comes to pretty little things like you. He yanks you back against his body and you let out a pained moan.

“Don’t make me punish you,” he says coldly in your ear and you fight to stop your knees from buckling.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say breathlessly.

Joel’s lips graze against the shell of your ear, hand gripping so tightly that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “So that’s what you want? You want me to punish you? Put you in your place? Huh?”

You grind your ass back against him, “you would dare, Joel.”

His other hand clamps down on your hip as he steers you to his truck, walking you around so no one can see the two of you. He opens the back door and pushes you forward until your legs are against the cold steel frame of the vehicle. “You don’t get to call me that. You call me Mr Miller from now on. Understood?”

“Go fuck yourself, Joel,” you emphasize every vowel of his name, digging deeper. Pushing him. Pushing to see how far he’ll go. You get off on being a brat, and by the way his hard cock is pressing into your ass, he does too.

He unbottons your shorts then lifts you slightly and pushes your upper body down onto the seat, the truck is high enough that your feet are dangling, ass stuck out for him. “Look at these slutty little shorts.” He tugs on the hem, your shorts now sitting just above your knees. Your pert ass is exposed to Joel and the night air. He tuts at the sight of you, “No panties. Little fuckin’ tease.”

You whimper at his words, slick starting to coat your thighs. “You’re the one standing back there doing nothing.” You taunt.

The cool night air spreads goosebumps across your skin, your clit twitches in anticipation of his touch. Other men have fucked you hard to get you to shut your mouth. And finally, FINALLY, you’re going to get fucked by Joel Miller. However, you grossly underestimated the different between the boys were with before and the man behind you now.

His hand strikes your cheek hard and you let out a loud pained yell. “What the fuck, Joel!”

“If you’re gonna be a brat,” his hand lands on your ass again, “you’re going to get a spanking.” His voice is harsh and rough as he hits you a third time. The sound of his skin on yours echoing through the cab of his truck. He hits you again, not caring about your cries of protest.

You’ve never been spanked before and you’re thrown by your bodies reaction to it. At first you were shocked, then humiliated and then the pain and heat travelled to the base of your spine and you found yourself starting to get turned on. Arousal pools in your belly with each strike of his palm and when your pussy throbs the humiliation starts to creep back in. Are you supposed to be enjoying this so much, is this what Joel wants?

You bend your knees up, trying to make space between your bodies. One of his strong hands wraps around your ankles, pinning them to the back of your thighs as he spanks you again.

“Stop! I’m sorry. I’ll - “ he strikes you again, harder than the last few times and there’s no more pain, every slap is full of pleasure. You let out a deep moan, your pussy practically gushing onto the leather seats. “Oh fuuuuck.”

Now that it’s turning you on it almost eggs Joel on. “Put your hands out in front of you,” he commands. Your arms shoot out, stretching them across the seat above your head. “Such a needy little slut. You’re drippin’ all over my fucking seat, baby girl.” He strikes you again and your arms flinch. “Keep them there.”

Your ass is starting to get pink, his splotchy handprints covering it. The world around him starts to fade, all that he can see is you and your ass - and he wants to make it hurt. Then he wants to make it good. So very good.

His strikes keep coming, he’s like a man possessed. “Stop, Joel. Please.”

He drops your ankles, then uses his hand to spread your thighs apart, the denim biting into your knees. “Shhh…just a little bit more. Look at this messy pussy. You don’t want me to stop.”

He hits you again and you start to hate how much he’s right. You don’t want him to stop, you’re on the verge of coming and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re sure the second he’s near your clit you’ll explode.

Both of your cheeks are glowing red and Joel finally stops. You’ve both lost track of how many times he’s hit you. His large palm rubs the marks. You know you should keep your mouth shut, but fuck do you love to rile him up.

“Are you done now? I have work to get back to.”

Joel growls behind you. You hear the sound of his belt undoing, the leather whipping out from the demin loops. “I’m sick of your goddamn mouth, baby girl.”

Your eyes widen in fear, stomach twisting up over the thought of him striking your sore ass with his thick leather belt. Your pussy, however, flutters in excitement. Slut, you think to yourself.

You hear his buckle clinking, he grabs you by the hair and jerks your head back. “Open you mouth,” he says with a snarl. You obey him and he slides the folded up leather between your teeth. “Bite down on this. You can speak to me again once you’ve learned your lesson.”

You press your teeth into the rough leather, waiting for his next move. His hand comes across the back of your thigh and it’s a whole different sensation. The pain shoots straight to your core, the walls of your pussy clenching harder than your teeth do as you whine out a high pitched squeal. On instinct your hands shoot back, knees bending to protect yourself from him. He steps back from you, without his heat you’re left in the cold air.

“Arms up and legs down,” he says in an eerily calm voice.

You whimper again, grinding your teeth against the leather of his belt before slowly peeling your arms and legs away from your body, returning to Joel’s desired position. You’re so wet that it’s staring pool along the leather seat of Joel’s truck, your hips slipping slightly.

“Dirty little thing. I’m tryin to punish you and you’re sopping wet.” He steps forward and lays a loud sharp slap with perfect precision right across your sore thigh.

You yelp again, whining as your lash line fills with tears. This is not what you thought would happen when Joel threatened to punish you. And you definitely didn’t expect to fucking love it. You’re so turned on that you feel dizzy.

Joel’s lips come to your thigh. Light kisses and his scratchy facial hair peppering along your red hot skin. “Fuck me,” you say around the leather clamped between your teeth.

Joel laughs into your skin, kissing along the handprints he’s left on your ass. You’re squirming underneath him, pushing your ass towards his face, desperate for him to make you come. His hands grip around your shorts and your whole body relaxes at the thought of him finally fucking you. “I need you to listen to me now, ok?”

You nod fervently and he lets out an amused laugh. You arch your back at him invitingly, but instead of removing your shorts he yanks them back up. You moan out in protest as he lifts you down from the truck. His strong fingers work to do up your shorts before he spins you. You look like a wreck; mascara smudged under your eyes, cheeks pink, eyes glazed and dopey looking. Cock drunk and he hasn’t even given it to you. He grabs the belt and you release it for him. It’s killing him not to fuck you right here and now.

His hand cups your chin, squeezing your cheeks and locking eyes with you. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

You try to nod but he’s gripping you so tightly. “Yea? Then you need to do what I say. Ok?”

“Mm-hmm”

“Go in there and quit. Then come back out here and I will fuck you so hard that you’ll feel it in your throat.”

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @mermaidgirl30

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euaphoric · 21 days

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HIGHWAY TO HELL ♱ 𓏲ּ [J.J.K.] preview

♱ starring… jeon jungkook x f!reader | rockstar!jk x tattoo artist!reader | 1980’s au | established relationship | ft. all other bts members as bandmates and yoongi is the manager !

♱ genre/warnings... pwp, a mixture of angst and fluff, smut, takes place in the grungy, rugged underground music scene of NYC in the 80’s, o/c used to be a groupie but is now jk’s gf, this fic is going to be very chaotic… there’s a lot of warnings for this including: dark humor (nothing offensive), toxic relationship, the ‘i literally need you to survive or else i’ll die’ trope, o/c is jk’s muse, he fr worships his girl as if she’s some otherworldly deity, attempting to delve into the complexities of mental instability ?? (they’re both mentally fucked in the head tbh), autophobia/monatophobia, DARK/HEAVY THEMES!, small mentions of stalking, mentions of mental health struggles, self injury, heavy alcohol & substance abuse, jk has a belly piercing (yes, that is a warning in itself), jk plays bass and is main vocals of the band, he argues w/ his bandmates a lot, switch!jk but he leans more towards dom, sex while under the influence, size kink, y’all are both super nasty and kinky like omg this is gonna be insaneeesfds, also heavy exhibitionism: they literally have sex in front of ppl multiple times (oops). i will be sure to include the rest once it’s fully finished !

♱ synopsis... when moving to the big city, you had only three things in mind: start life anew— a fresh, clean slate that allows you to bloom into whomever you wish to be, open your own tattoo parlor, and to meet and fuck as many rockstars as you possibly can. in fact, all was going according to plan thus far, however, the minute you crossed paths with him is when life takes a pivotal shift for the better and possibly, worse. you’ve become inseparable since day one, building an intense co-dependency that not even the devil himself can seem to unravel. a story of the submerging tension between two lonely, lost souls navigating youth through glitz, glamour, sleepless nights, and reckless hotel parties every weekend. it’s as if everyone else exists to come and go; besides the unconventional love that you cultivate together. OR,, just lots of sex, drugs, & punk rock.

♱ run time... will be over 10k+ words

♱ soundtrack... seek & destroy metallica, you shook me all night long ac/dc, purgatory iron maiden, she the misfits

i had this idea for sooo long omg, it’s slightly different than how i originally imagined it here, but i’m finally doing it so yay for meee !! i’ve never tried a concept like this before saur i’m def going to research a lot for this since i wasn’t born in the 80’s lol. i honestly have no idea how long this will be but me thinks it’ll be around 10-12k words ??? ( it’s going to be the longest thing i ever made .. T^T ) but my goal this year has been to start writing longer fics so i’m excited ! if anyone wants to be tagged once it’s uploaded just lmk <3

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts aus #jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #jungkook angst #jungkook au #bts imagines

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ozzgin · 21 days

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Yandere! Bad Guy x Reader

I am currently in my Natural Born Killers nostalgia, and so I'm borrowing its vibes and bringing you this: a bad-to-the-bone, rock-and-roll attitude yandere who constantly makes you question your own morality. Featuring an old OC!

Content: gender neutral reader, violence, murder, male yandere

He fell in love with you at first sight. A goody two shoes, quiet and obedient. Shy. Oh, terribly shy. You couldn't even meet his eyes. He knew you were the kind others would step on, take advantage of. But there was more to it, much more to uncover.

Who was it? A relative, a friend, a coworker? You know, that person holding you back, keeping you in your place. The one who'd always make you feel small and insignificant. The one who would always find something to criticize. How did it feel when you found them on the ground, bashed in and bloodied up? He was standing above the lifeless body, catching his breath, a cocky smile plastered on his face. His way of courting you.

He looked so tall in that moment, towering above your hesitant self, his gaze of a confidence and intensity you'd never known before. "Well? What are you waiting for? Get in", he said, gesturing towards a convertible he most likely stole earlier that day. What possessed you in that moment to join him without delay? Was it his charisma? Or did you know in the depth of your soul that he wouldn't take no for an answer?

You see, he's known it from the beginning. Someone like you needs someone like him. You’re a sweet little lamb lost among the wolves. The world would eat you right up if you were left by yourself. But now you have him. And he won't let his precious prey get away. Oh, dear, no. If he wants something, he gets it. And he's never wanted anything more than you.

"You didn't...even tell me your name", you sheepishly spoke up from the passenger seat, trying to keep your mind away from the crime you'd just witnessed. "Just call me Tig", he said casually with a yawn, speeding away. "Won't you be in trouble, Tig? Why would you even kill-" you tried to reason. "What kinda question is that? They treated you like shit and it pissed me off." He glanced at you with a frown, taking another drag off his cigarette. "You're mine now, so whatever happens to you is my business. Got it?" You just stared. Was that his way of asking you out?

Tig lives by his own rules, as you quickly learned from becoming his companion. Always on the run, indifferent to the world. For the most part, to your surprise, he's well-behaved. If people don't mess with him, he doesn't mess with them. Simple as that.

Anything involving you, however, sets him off terribly. Like a rabid, ferocious guard dog, he's ready to pounce on whoever approaches you the wrong way. Last week you stopped at a highway diner for coffee, and on your way back to your table, you jokingly pulled a clumsy dance move to the song playing from the speakers. Tig observed you with an amused smile, sipping from his cup. A passerby joined you, resting his arm on your waist flirtatiously. Tig's smile dropped in an instant, and next thing you knew, the whole place was splattered in blood. No one made it out.

"I didn't even finish my coffee", you whined, already used to the occasional massacre. The man hopped behind the counter and threw on a bloodied cap. "What will it be, sir/ma'am?" he pretended, dangling a takeaway cup and starting the espresso machine. "I never told you, but I used to be a barista", he declared proudly. An entirely different person from the unhinged killer you witnessed minutes ago. "What? You said you were a mechanic", you questioned with raised brows. "That's also true. I'm a jack of all trades, I suppose. You know what I'm best at, though?" He lowered himself until his forehead touched yours. "Pleasing you."

The man is romantic in his own way. He twists the key, and the engine stops. You follow him out of the car in confusion. "Why did we stop here?" He briefly lifts himself up onto the tall fence securing the bridge, and inhales deeply. "Isn't it a nice view?" he says, nodding ahead. It is a scenic sight, sure. The river slithers along the lush valley, and the setting sun gives everything a dramatic tint. "Give me your hand", he suddenly demands as he goes to grab it himself. Before you can ask for an explanation, he quickly drags a blade across your palm, and you wince in pain. He repeats the gesture with his own hand, locking his fingers with yours over the rail. You watch as fresh blood trails along your skin, eventually falling into droplets and vanishing into the river. "Now we're going to be everywhere", he remarks playfully. "Okay, but what was the point?" you insist, a little baffled.

"Isn't it obvious? Maybe this will help", he continues, procuring a ring from his pocket. "I'm saying I want to marry you, (Y/N)."

You open your mouth to answer, but he already slides it up your finger, eyes glimmering in excitement.

"You're never getting away from me, love."

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reiderwriter · 9 months

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Hi!!! I really love your writing 🥺 Idk how this works so Idk if my request is alright so If it's ok for you to write it, I got this idea about Spencer turning into a player/manwhore after maeve died so he's not into y/n in the beginning but the others always joke about how she's totally in love with him and he doesn't believe until he starts to notice little things she does for him(like getting him coffee every morning, remembering everything he says) so he start to fall for her. Genre: smut with soft!Dom Spencer, dirty talk, degradation(please no daddy kink) (Sorry if it's to long, I read it's best for you if we give as much detail as possible so that's that) I'm going to identify myself with this emoji 🥺 when I read the fic or in my next requests, hope I gave you something to write with.

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg this plot has given me brain rot since you sent it in 💀 I accidentally made this a little angst-heavy for the first half but there's a very "happy ending" if you catch my drift. I hope you love it! ❤️

Summary: Spencer Reid's heart is broken. But in healing himself in the arms of countless woman, he doesn't realise he's breaking yours.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, angst, oral (F receiving), fingering, P in V penetration, dirty talk, degradation of you squint a little, soft!Dom Spencer is incredibly soft.

My masterlist with all my other works is here, and my requests are open!

It had taken four whole months before someone on the team had confronted Spencer about his grief, his lack of sleep, his overall dreariness, and they were almost shocked that it wasn’t you that did it. When Rossi had walked up to him, offering a story about his Uncle Sal in an attempt to get him to open up, or at least seek help, the others were on the other side of the glass, shooting looks over at you, quietly enquiring with their eyes about why it hadn’’t been you to offer him that out.

But you had, you’d been trying. You’d been following him around, taking him food every couple days to make sure he was eating, sticking around to make sure that he wasn’t lonely. You’d even cleaned up after him on the particularly hard days, where he didn’t want to move from his bed and couldn’t bring himself to go outside if there was no work, no one else to save. But you couldn’t offer him more, because he already had all of you.

You’d first realised that you were in love with Spencer Reid a few months after you’d joined the team. You’d been bought on as a fresh set of eyes on a case that had a lot more to do with you then the rest of the team had been led to believe.

Your high school boyfriend had been the victim of a notorious highway murderer, and you yourself had been kidnapped by the unsub, put in hell for the following three days and escaped with your life only because of an earlier BAU team, including agents Hotchner and Rossi. When bodies had started turning up on the same stretch of highway, you needed to be involved or you’d never prove to yourself that you could do what they did to save you. That you’d be able to put your feelings aside and catch monsters.

You’d found the man responsible of course, and in restraining yourself from putting a bullet in his brain, you’d found yourself a place on the team, and some peace for a time. And then Spencer happened.

You really should have known. You were always fond of the nerdy type, of men who had such deep interests that they forgot to pay attention to social queues, who had too many cute habits (like purposefully mismatching socks) that you couldn’t help but find endearing. You’d grown close quickly, with the man grateful that there was finally someone to listen to him ramble and not judge him, and you grateful that he also held himself back enough, listened closely and well to remember so many details about your conversations. You knew an eidetic memory helped, but it was the care in the small actions, like buying you the beanie baby you lost as a child but still mourned, that you’d mentioned in conversation a grand total of one time, that really solidly made you realise. You were in love with him and had dug yourself a hole that you weren’t going to be able to climb out of anytime soon.

You’d almost told him once. Convinced that if you just explained your feelings, he’d suddenly feel the same or realise that he felt the same way, too. You’d opened your mouth to let the words run freely, but he beat you to it.

“I’ve met someone, and she’s totally brilliant and I think I might love her, and that must be an insane thing to say considering I’ve never even seen her face.” You’d willed the broken pieces of your heart together as you forced a smile on your face, ready to listen to the man who owned your heart smile for another, live for another, breath for another.

When Maeve had ultimately passed away, you knew that you’d never be able to say those words to him. You weren’t going to be the replacement for a dead woman, and you weren’t going to push those feelings on him when he was grieving. But you loved him and he needed you, so you stayed.

On the nights where he was so angry with the world that his words were biting, on the days where he said almost nothing so trapped inside his brain, in the hours between dusk and dawn where there was no rest for him, wiping away the tears that fell silently and just being as near to him as he needed.

You had some experience in broken hearts, anyways. You might as well put it to good use.

–X–

It had taken five whole months since Maeve’s death for the team to realise that Spencer was changing. He was still the same person intrinsically, ready to spring into a conversation about absolutely anything and everything that interested him at the drop of a hat, still debating with Penelope about which of them was smarter, still being teased in that playful way by Morgan. But there was a confidence to him now that was almost dangerous in the fact that it was uncharted territory for him.

You’d noticed it first on one of your regular coffee runs. The two of your were so serious about your coffee tasting like anything but actual coffee that you’d bonded over the need for a sweet treat, and had been going for coffee before all of your office shifts almost since you’d started. You were glad to have him finally back by your side, making stupid jokes about how many philosophers it would take to change a lightbulb, and actually smiling and laughing with you that you almost didn’t notice anything amiss.

But when the barista who took his order carefully slipped him her number - something she’d been doing for the whole six months you’d been frequenting that cafe - for once, he hadn’t thrown it away. He’d taken a lingering look at the digits inked neatly into the napkin and quietly slipped it into his pocket. You were confused to say the least, but since that night of your almost confession, there had been a boundary between you two in that sense.

It was almost as if, if you didn’t ask questions about Spencer’s love life, it was like he wasn’t out there, being in love. With Maeve it had worked fine because he’d never met her, and honestly, until you’d started trying to save her he hadn’t brought her up a lot. But now, you were too afraid to break your own heart again to check up on him, deciding to let it go for your own well-being.

The others had noticed soon enough. Comments about a pep in his step, his flirtacious manner with some of the female witnesses. He’d gained a few claps on the back from Morgan after closed off conversations that you had decided you were thankful not to have heard.

Because if you never saw or heard what Reid was doing, and apparently doing with multiple women, multiple times a week, then it couldn’t hurt you anymore than you were already hurting now.

–X–

It took seven months from Maeve’s death to realise that you were only fooling yourself this entire time.

Despite his new-found release, the therapy he’d found in the beds of women whose names he never learnt, there was one thing that you could still rely on with Reid, and that was your Friday night Star Trek watch-along.

You’d mentioned once a few weeks into your job that you’d never seen it before, and he’d had this absolutely starry-eyed look on his face in bewilderment, that when he’d half-heartedly suggested you watch it together, you’d leapt at the chance. Since there was so much of it, here you were over a year later, still keeping to that Friday night ritual. You’d watched it together in motels in the middle of nowhere, you’d watched it together over the Christmas holidays, you’d watched it together in the days directly after Maeve’s death, and tonight was supposed to be no different.

You pulled up to his apartment and knocked on the door, and when you couldn’t immediately hear him shout to “come in” from his kitchen as he was preparing the popcorn, you knew that something was wrong. His door was always unlocked, and he laughed at your habit of knocking on the door, insisting that you could just walk in anytime you needed.

Now that you needed to, your hand seemed heavier than ever. You gripped the cold metal of the handle, knowing exactly what you would find on the other side of the door, but still wanting to live in the clear denial of it. You prayed it was something else keeping him distracted.

You let yourself in and were welcomed with the sight that shattered your heart for the final time. There were clothes scattered across the floor, male and female. Shoes discarded in the heat of the moment. You didn’t want your eyes to follow, but your feet weren’t listening as they walked you to the bedroom door, thrust wide open, and you saw him there finally.

“Shit, Y/N, what are you doing here?” he scrambled to pull his clothes back on, to cover whatever woman it was underneath him that day, to make sure you didn’t see anymore of the image that would be burned into the back of your brain for the rest of your life.

You couldn’t say anything. You knew that he had been doing this, doing it to cope, doing it to move on, doing it to feel a sense of intimacy after he didn’t get that with Maeve. But here was the irrefutable proof that he’d never even looked at you with an ounce of the feeling you had for him. You held up the bag of snacks you usually bought to your Trek marathons as a response, the tears filling up your eyes rendering you mute as you finally tore yourself out of the room.

“Oh god, it’s Friday. I didn’t realise…. I’m sorry, can we do a raincheck, Y/N?” He guided you further out of the room, placing a hand to the small of your back to help move you along. Something in you snapped then and you recoiled from his touch, whipping your head up to him and just staring at him with all the defiance you could muster. He had broken your heart, you weren’t going to let him dismiss you that quickly.

“Y/N, why are you crying? What’s wrong, what happened? Tell me and I’ll do everything I can to fix it.” He finished his words, and made to wipe the tears from your face, but you slapped his hands away from you before he could make contact.

“Don’t… just don’t touch me, Spencer.” Those were the only words you could offer in explanation before you turned on your heel and ran straight out of his apartment for the last time.

–X–

It took one month from you storming out of his apartment for Spencer to realise that he hadn’t dreamt of Maeve in the same amount of time. Where his dreams had been full of her asking him to dance, they were now full of you recoiling from his touch, refusing to speak to him outside of your professional work, withdrawing into yourself and crying. The worst ones were the ones where you were crying because he tried desperately to hold you, to wipe the kisses away, but everytime he tried you moved further and further from his reach.

It had been a month of you ignoring him, and he still didn’t know what went wrong. Yes, you’d caught him in bed with a girl, but you knew he was doing that. You’d known from the start, and he’d known that you’d known, so surely it wasn't just that.

Morgan wasn’t helping him on that front either. He’d explained the awkward run-in in his apartment, desperate for some answers and received some pretty curt replies.

“Pretty boy, if you don’t realise what you did wrong, then there’s nothing I’m going to do to help you. You’re on your own until then.” He’d refused to talk about it anymore.

He’d thought a few times about talking to the girls on the team, but you’d been partnered with JJ for the last month on cases to avoid him, and there was a bond there between the two of you that he didn’t want to overstep.

It was in this confusion that Rossi found him again, taking pity on the boy wandering around like a lost puppy in the absence of your friendship.

“Kid, what is up with you again recently?”

“Y/N has been avoiding me, and I don’t know why. Derek said it was my fault because she… well she walked in on something that I’d rather she hadn’t, you know, and I don’t know why she still won’t talk to me because it’s been a month.” He rambled out, thankful that someone was finally hearing him out.

“If I’m understanding your insinuation here, I think I know what the problem is.” Rossi sat back, choosing his words carefully, so as not to startle the younger man. But he was so worked up all over you, missing your voice, your touch, your company, and just wanting you back in whatever way he could get you that he jumped at the very suggestion of answers.

“Then please, tell me, I’m begging you. I’ve been tearing my hair out trying to figure out what it is and I just miss her so much that it hurts.”

“Spencer, you know I usually don’t get involved in the personal lives of my coworkers, but just listen to me now, nice and calmly - and dont try to interrupt me or say a word. I know what I’m talking about, okay?” He gave a quick nod of his head, waiting with baited breath for Rossi to continue.

“The girl is in love with you. Head over heels, in fact, and has been for quite some time. And she was holding it together real nice until you decided to become this casanova and now she is heartbroken,” Spencer looked like he was about to interrupt, to spew out that that couldn’t possibly be the case, but Rossi silenced him with a look. “If you don’t believe me, you use that memory of yours and you do what you do best. Think about it.”

–X–

For the next three months, that was all Spencer did. He thought about every interaction you’d ever had. The blush on your cheeks when he’d introduced himself for the first time (and refused to shake your hand). The countless nights spent curled up on opposite sides of his couch, laughing and crying together at silly sci-fi shows. The way you’d thrown yourself into his arms after a particularly gruelling case, buried your head in his chest instead of anyone else's. The day you’d finally confessed your past to him, how he’d felt your heart beating as he held a finger to your pulse, hand gently holding yours waiting for you to finish describing the time you’d stared death in the face.

You’d noticed the change, but you wouldn’t let yourself acknowledge it fully. Noticed how he’d shoot you lingering glances from across the room, how he’d look like he had something to say when you announced you were leaving for the night. How he’d ask everyone together what their friday night plans were just to hear you admit that you were going home alone in the company of the rest of the team.

You’d noticed, and god had it given you a spark of hope that you wished would die quickly. You’d noticed, and so you weren’t as surprised when he turned up on your doorstep four months after you’d last talked to him, on another friday evening.

“What are you doing here?” you greeted him, the words coming out colder than you wanted them to seem, inwardly cursing yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

“Don’t make me leave, please, I just have something to ask and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Spencer, it’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed so-”

“Do you still love me?” His words cut you off and your heart all but stopped. Your tongue grew heavy, and the inside of your mouth tasted acidic, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to fully stomach whatever conversation was coming.

“Excuse me?” you spluttered out eventually.

“Three months ago, Rossi said that you were in love with me, and I need to know that if that was the case, are you still in love with me now?” You expected some cold curious look to be gracing his face, but you looked up to see his eyes perfectly trained on your own, his mouth set in a line, a look of stony determination set on his face.

“If I say yes, what difference does that make?” you tried not to spit out the words, but you had no control over the venom in your heart.

“If you say yes, then I am going to kiss you, and then I am going to spend every last day I have on the planet making up for being an idiot for the last two years.” Your breath caught in your throat, and, not for the first time in front of Spencer Reid, you were stunned into silence.

“So, what is your answer?” He looked down at you again, and you started to see the cracks in his stony facade, started to see through to the man who desperately wanted you to say yes, to scream it at him.

The word hadn’t even fully formed on your tongue before he was crashing down into you, his mouth pleading for forgiveness and wrapping you up in him. He grabbed you and pulled you back into your apartment, whispering into each of your kisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The two of you stumbled into the space, but he never moved his hands from the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks gently as his lips brushed against yours again and again.

Your legs gave way beneath you by the time you’d reached the open space of your living room, but instead of catching you, he fell to his knees with you, content for the two of you to just sit there together in each other's embrace.

“You’ve loved me this entire time, and I was too stupid to realise that you’re everything I need.” He kissed your mouth, your jaw, your neck, moving his hands from your face to your waist, pulling you in deep again as you desperately pulled away in search of breath. That only toppled you further to the ground, and he came down on top of you again as well, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself.

And you kissed him back just as fervently when your breath returned, listening to every apology and forgiving him with every touch. His kisses said “I’m sorry,” and yours said “I know,” and that was all the communication you needed for now.

He pulled your shirt over your head eventually, and your skin met the cold tile of the floor, a shiver running up your spine causing you to buck your hips up into his. He hissed at the contact and pushed his bodyweight down further into yours, his legs slotting perfectly between your splayed ones now.

“It took me too long to realise, and it has taken me too long to act on the knowledge, but I am not going to let you go again, do you understand?” he pushed his lips into yours again before you could respond, and you clawed into his shoulders as he started grinding down into your body. His hand trailed up your waist to your breasts, pulling them free from the constraints of your bra, as he let his tongue slide down from your neck to your chest.

“I need to hear you say it baby, need you to say you understand, can you do that for me?” Your body burned under his attention, back arching desperately for more contact as his tongue swirled your nipple into his mouth, gasping breaths loud enough to fill the empty air of your apartment. His stiff cock was firmly pressing against your core now, barely clothed in the pajamas you’d pulled on before his arrival.

“Spencer, yes, I need you, I need you right now, please,” grabbed at either side of his face and pulled him back up so he was face to face with you. You initiated the kiss this time, and you could feel your heart soar at the tender kiss he met you with, thankful for the reciprocation.

“Not yet, baby, not yet, okay?” he whispered in your ear, trailing his hands down to your centre and slipping his hand under your clothes. “So fucking wet for me, baby. Just for me, right, baby?” His fingers found your clit, and he started rolling it between his fingers. He worked slowly enough to drive you insane, but giving you just enough relief that you couldn’t complain.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, yes it’s all for you. Only for you,” you managed to gasp out. He shifted his hand after a few minutes, still pressing love bites down your chest, claiming you as his in the most animalistic way possible. He spread the wetness that pooled at your core around, making sure that his fingers were coated in you before pushing a single digit into your aching hole, thumb continuing to draw circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s my little slut, so desperate for me, so needy for me.” His words shot through you, and you started thrusting your hips up desperate for more friction with his hand. He roughly pushed you back down, pinning you under him with his free hand.

“No, baby, I’m in charge here. You sit back and relax and let me make you feel good,okay?” His words soothed you, the growing heat in the pit of your stomach fizzing in anticipation. His kisses dropped lower and lower, until he was finally pulling off your remaining clothing and replacing his thumb with his lips.

“Fuck Spencer, if you keep doing that, I’m going to-” another sharp intake as he pumped a second finger in and out of you.

“Going to what, baby? Use your words?”

“I’m going to cum, Spencer please, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum.,,” you rode out your high with his face stuffed between your legs still, swallowing your loud moans for fear of the entire neighbourhood knowing just how obsessed you were with this man.

“You did so good for me, baby, so good. I love you so much, okay? I’m going to take care of you from now on, okay?” He began pressing kisses to your mouth again, and you could taste yourself against him now.

“I need you so badly, baby, are you going to let me have you?” He started pulling off his own clothing now, removing his shirt and tie, but never once leaving your embrace for too long.

“I love you so much, baby. I’m sorry for not realising before, but I realise now. I was so terrible to you after Maeve, and god, even before she died I was using you as a therapist to talk through my thoughts and fears, but I was too dense to even realise that I was only in love with Maeve because she was safe. I couldn’t meet her, couldn’t touch her, didn’t have the chance to ruin anything I had with her. I couldn't realise that she wasn’t you, that she wasn’t going to feel like you do in my arms. And maybe some part of me loved her, but we were using each other, and I was using her to avoid confronting how I felt about you.”

“And how I feel for you is different. I am obsessed with you, Y/N. I am so madly in love with you that the last four months have felt like hell. I could have emptied myself of all the blood in my body and still my heart would be beating for you. Do you understand?”

You answered in a chaste kiss on his lips, sweet and quick, but as much as you could muster without driving yourself to the brink of insanity getting yourself high on his touch.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want now, okay?” He’d unbuttoned his pants shortly after that and you stared transfixed at the head of his cock poking up and out of them, desperate to see it, touch it, taste it.

“I need you inside of me, Spence, please,” you cried out, tears welling in your eyes at the tender contact, the confession. All the emotions you’d been burying for the last four months bubbling to the surface, dancing around your head as he made you dizzy with desire.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” with the last of his clothing removed he was finally free, taking his heavy,aching cock in his hand and lining himself up with you. With a single thrust, and another confession of love, he gave you what you wanted so much.

“You wanted me like this, baby? So desperate to have my cock inside you?” he plagued you with questions as you adjusted to his size, watching your face for any discomfort as you mumbled out yes after yes.

“Me too, baby. I wanted you just like this, wanted you so desperate and dripping for me that I could slide right in, wanted you like this for me and only me.” He began thrusting then, slowly pumping his cock into you, heavy with each return, the sound of skin slapping against skin joining the ensemble of your moans.

“I love you,” he said again, and with each thrust of his hips, and you responded in kind, matching his thrusts with your own and pressing a kiss into the skin of his shoulders. You were so desperate and needy, so starved of touch and starved of one another that neither of you lasted long. Your bodies were so in sync that as soon as he’d pushed you over the edge for a second time, you could feel him spill himself inside you, filling you completely.

He rolled off you, but didn’t leave you there, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He cleaned you up as much as possible, then folded you back into his arms, holding you again so tenderly that you let the tears flow down your cheeks for a final time.

It was Friday night, and he was here, and he loved you. You weren’t going to let him go again.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #criminal minds smut #requested #🥺 Anon

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seattlesellie · 1 year

Note

hii, can I request something based on this

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSL1YNSCU/?t=1

the reader is just mindlessly scrolling on her phone, and ellie is just a being little shit and annoying the reader cause she needs some ATTENTION ASAP !!!

it starts out as ellie peppers the reader with kisses innocently, and they accidentally (not rlly an accidentally 😭) ended up in bed cuddling while naked 🙈

anon this tiktok couple drives me insane im so jealous theyre so cute i literally think about blocking them sometimes. the highway looking like a real good sleeping space rn!

warning: nsfw+fluff. THIS CAME OUT. NOT THE WAY IT WAS SUPPOSED TO. THERES NO CUDDLING BECAUSE I LOST MY MIND WRITING THIS AND ELLIE IS KIND OF MEAN AT THE END :( IM SO SORRY NONNIE 🤍

this ones gotta be an actual hammer. theres no way in hell they could make a cake this accura-

fuck. how is everything fucking cake? if these yellow crocs arent actual wearable shoes, you were going to sue tiktok user 0087fakeorcake.

scroll

ugh, a slime video. your favorite. this one’s crunchy, too. and the color? a deep hypnotizing purple. it looked like a galaxy, far far away. you just went cross eyed.

“babe” ellies voice echoed through your shared apartment. a new one at that. the smell of fresh paint, new wooden furniture, and a pinch of familiarity. ellies punctured sock was laying on the floor like a modern piece of artwork at a funky museum, but were gonna ignore that for a second.

scroll

ooh! a kitten looking dapper with a bow tie! double tap.

“babe” she said, slightly raising the tone of her voice.

not now, ellie! you were just about to watch a target haul.

a small huff escaped her lips. how was she now jealous of an actual piece of metal squeezed between your hands. if you didnt look so cute concentrated, eyebrows furrowed while trying to read a conspiracy theory about the moon landing, she would have probably snatched your phone off of your hands by now.

she got slightly closer, and positioned herself between your legs. you didnt even acknowledge your sweet girl, too bothered reading stupid tiktok comments on a prank video.

“HAH!” you giggled, slightly sliding off the cream colored couch.

“you have to see this one, el” you exclaimed, voice filled with anticipation.

ellie hummed in response, and sat on the couch near you, manspreading as usual, slightly pushing you to the opposite direction with the spread of her knees. ellie didnt even want to see. she needed your attention now, or else shed die. quite literally die. a fish out of water.

she sighed dramatically, side eyeing you. if ellies facial expression had a name, it would be “notice me! notice me!!! im your dramatic girlfriend and you havent given me a kiss on the cheek for over 2 hours and i feel sick!!!”

“i dont wanna see” she said dryly, voice slightly raspy from the spliff she had smoked 10 minutes near the open window - “creep” by radiohead playing in her headphones. sometimes, ellie couldn't help but despise how deeply music affected her. she would get lost in the lyrics, immersing herself in the melancholic tones of the guitar. in moments like these, she felt as if she were the protagonist in a radiohead music video— broody, hunched, and consumed by a cloud of introspection.

you shoved the phone in her face, your eyes glued to the screen.

the title of the video flickered on the screen. “this is how dinosaurs sounded like… 🦕 part 1 💯”

the room was suddenly filled with the jarring sounds of screeching and growls. despite the cacophony, you smiled dumbly, looking forward to her reaction. i mean, its fucking dinosaurs.

“nice” ellie remarked in her trademark dry tone, laced with a hint of sarcasm.

that was so fucking cool, she thought. “can you show me the second part?” “actually, triceratops probably didnt roar like that… theyd make more cooing like sounds, y’know?” is what ellie would have said, if she weren’t so lost in her dramatic performance of her tony award winning play - “my gf is ignoring me therefore i must die immediately.”

“youre annoying” you said, ts’king and reverting your gaze back to the screen. you pressed save on the video. you knew her so well.

“m’not” she said, sighing dramatically. “you are.”

“fine” you mumbled under your breath. then, your attention quickly shifted. ooh! baby goats! you smiled brightly at the screen.

ellie stared at you. when she saw your stupid smile, she couldnt help but soften her gaze. why did you have to be so fucking cute, all hypnotized and shit. “youre so annoying” she whispered, and planted a small kiss on your cheek.

you couldn't help but giggle at the ticklish sensation of her plump lips against your skin. you were kind of over the doom scrolling now, but fuck- if seeing your girlfriend try to win your attention didn't seem tempting. you pressed "like".

she kissed your cheek again, small huffs of breath leaving her mouth as her lips met your skin. “annoying” she hummed playfully, and planted more delicate kisses all over your cheeks. her hand intertwined with yours, and she kissed it as well.

“mmhm” kiss. it tickled. “so” kiss. that one was wet. “annoying” kiss. her tongue was peaking out of her mouth. “and” kiss. her hand was on your thigh. “lame” kiss. that one was on your neck.

you attempted to stifle your smile, fighting the urge to toss the phone aside in a moment of playful frustration. however, your efforts were in vain as a giggle escaped your lips, unable to contain yourself.

“got your attention now?” she said smugly, continuously planting small kisses on your neck. although your eyes were still glues to the screen, ellie knew she won. so, so predictable.

“no.. theres- this… video now” you said, stuttering slightly. what video? god knows.

“yeah…” she murmured, her voice husky and brimming with satisfaction. “m’sure youre watching” she kissed your ear, making you let out a small whimper. “has to be a good one, got you all giddy like that” so smug.

suddenly, she ended the cascade of kisses, and pulled away. you pouted. “should i turn the AC on? you look kinda hot” yeah, she knew you were flustered now. funny, she thought. after all this time together, you still couldn’t help but flush whenever she got near.

“m’fine” you murmured. you were not.

“no i think…” she straddled you, her voice now a seductive whisper in your ear. “you feel really hot” she murmured, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “sure you dont have a fever?” she teased. “poor thing”

“no…” you giggled nervously, still scrolling, ignoring every single video on your feed. you were literally just moving your finger now, for no purpose at all. ellie chuckled.

“think we need to get this off of you” she suggested, her hand gradually inching up under your shirt, lightly tracing circles on your stomach.

“dont want you to get a heat stroke” she teased. her skillful hand gradually removing the fabric from your warm body. it tangled with your phone. ellie couldnt help but let out a small laugh.

she couldve taken the phone off your hand and you wouldnt have resisted. but this… was so, so much more fun.

her hungry eyes roamed over the sight of your exposed bra, appreciating the beauty before her. with a gentle touch, she cupped your breasts, a soft grunt escaping her lips. "oof, babe... tits feel kinda hot too," she whispered into your ear, her warm breath sending tingles down your spine.

you couldn't help but giggle in between short, desperate breaths. “yeah?" you teased, still scrolling through another video on your phone, purposely avoiding eye contact with the girl straddling you.

"mhmm," she hummed approvingly, unclasping your bra. as the cold air brushed against your skin, causing goosebumps to rise, she couldn't help but feel a wave of hunger wash over her. the sight before her made her mouth nearly water, and yet, you remained engrossed in that damn phone.

ellie was pissed. she let out a small, frustrated whimper. she wasnt going to touch you until you threw that phone across the room. ball was in your court.

she crawled off of you. she planned on giving you a damn show. “m’kinda hot now too…” she murmured, feigning discomfort. “fuck- this apartment is like, scorching hot.” it was mid-december. the new apartment was… morgue-like cold sometimes.

she threw her shirt off to the back of the room.

your phone was invisible to you now. her toned stomach, muscled arms came into full view, leaving you breathless. fuck, she really was a fucking sight.

her eyes flickered over to you, a self-assured, cocky glint dancing within them. she let out a huff, her lips curling into a triumphant smile. she had you right where she wanted you.

“didnt you have a video you needed to watch…?” she teased. “looked super important” she continued, smirking. you didnt respond, almost hypnotized by the sight in front of you. ugh, ellie.

“dont look at me, look at the screen” she playfully teased once more. her voice carried a hint of seductive taunting. as if to further entice you, she flexed her muscles, the tantalizing display meant to captivate your gaze. she was a master of the tease, and she knew exactly how to make your attention sway in her direction.

she crawled back to you. “go look at your dumb vlogs” she whispered into your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine. your eyes rolled back in response to her words. "keep going," she commanded with a smirk, claiming your compliance. as a final tease, she planted a tantalizing kiss on your neck, sucking the skin. she made sure you felt her wet tongue, felt what you were missing. your breaths were becoming raggedy now.

ellie continued her crawl, moving further down your body. “just like that” she murmured when you bucked your hips forward. her needy, needy girl. her fingers skillfully unbuttoned your jeans, swiftly removing them along with your panties in one smooth motion. the cool air caressed your bare skin, causing you to flinch.

a small whimper escaped your lips.

“what…?” she cooed, planting soft, wet kisses on your exposed thighs, looking at you with a hungry gaze.

did you really think she was going to give it to you, after youve ignored her for so fucking long? ellie rolled her eyes, and broke the string of kisses. you stared at her, and fuck, she couldnt have looked more cocky.

she got on her knees, not breaking eye contact. she looked so fucking mean.

“no” she exclaimed, as if she could read your mind. she knew exactly what you wanted.

she took off her boxers in one swift motion and threw them.

at your face.

“get that fucking phone to fuck you.”

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams blurb

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vigilante-3073 · 2 days

Text

Fast Car

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: The three times that Sam watched Dean and Y/N sing along to one of their favorite country songs and the one time he didn't.

TW: Pre-established relationship, fluff, dancing, kissing, marriage and children.

Sam sat at a small table in the corner of the crowded country bar as he looked through news stories on his laptop. They had just finished a case in Oklahoma and Sam had the responsibility looking for their next hunt.

He looked up from his screen, eyes quickly finding his brother across the bar. Dean's hands were resting on his girlfriend's hips, holding her close as they sang along to Fast Car by Tracy Chapman.

"You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won't have to drive too far

Just 'cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living."

Dean pulled away slightly, taking her hand and spinning her around with a wide smile. She laughed, leaning into him as he pulled her back in. Y/N had always loved country music and she had been slowly expanding Dean's musical inventory to include her favorite songs.

Fast Car had quickly become their song and they couldn't go on a road trip without playing it at least once. Sam couldn't bring himself to be annoyed because of how happy it made his brother.

How happy Y/N made his brother.

They were perfect together and there would always be a part of Sam that hoped to find a love like that again after he had lost Jess.

Dean's hands slid from her waist into the back pocket of her jeans as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

There was something almost sad about the song, it was something that he and Dean would probably never be able to experience.

A simple life.

Settling down and starting a family.

And Dean deserved it more than anyone in the world.

...

The impala sped down the highway, the music was blasting and the windows were rolled down. Sam sat in the backseat, staring out at the vast field that ran alongside the highway.

The summer air was hot and the roads were empty as they drove back to the bunker after a successful hunt.

Y/N was in the front seat, body turned towards Dean as they sung along to the song.

"So I remember we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone."

Dean looked over at her, watching the wind blow her hair around as he drove. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her over to his side before his eyes returned the road ahead of them.

Sam watched them for a moment, smiling to himself as Dean drummed his hand against the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

Y/N turned her head, pressing a kiss to Dean's cheek. He smiled, thumb stroking across the material of her t-shirt fondly.

She rested her head down on his shoulder, hand resting on his knee as she listened to him sing along to the music.

...

Sam made his way down the hallway towards the kitchen after his run, glancing at his watch with a frown as he paused in the doorway.

Music was blaring from Y/N's speaker as her and Dean moved around the kitchen making breakfast. Y/N chopped up strawberries on a cutting board while Dean flipped a pancake in a pan with bacon crackling away on another burner.

Dean suddenly turned towards his girlfriend, using the spatula as a microphone as he sung to her.

"You got a fast car

We go cruising to entertain ourselves

You still ain't got a job

And I work in a market as a checkout girl

I know things will get better

You'll find work and I'll get promoted

We'll move out of the shelter

Buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs."

Y/N smiled widely, abandoning the knife on the cutting board before singing the next line into the spatula. Dean reached out and grabbed her hand, spinning her around before pulling her back against his chest.

Y/N laughed, hand resting on his forearm as they swayed together. Dean spun her back around before releasing her with a wink.

He turned back to the stove, flipping the pancake before sliding over to his girlfriend and pressing a kiss to the back of her head. His hands found her hips before pulling her away from her cutting board and into his arms. Dean spun her around in his hold, taking her hand and wrapping his other arm around her waist before guiding them in a few practiced steps. He held her close to himself, singing along loudly before pulling away and spinning her around.

Dean pulled her back against his chest, pressing a kiss to her temple before sweeping her back into their dance.

They glided around the room, he spun her a few more times before wrapping both of his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her's in a gentle kiss.

Y/N's fingers tangled in his hair before they reluctantly broke apart and returned to their tasks.

Their relationship almost seemed effortless to Sam.

It was almost like everything else faded away when they were together. It was the purest form of love that anyone could hope to find in this messed up world.

...

Dean turned off the television, tossing the remote aside with a sigh, "Nothin' on, buddy," He muttered, looking down at the Terrier mix who blinked up at him from the floor. Dean grabbed his phone from the coffee table, clicking the power button and feeling relieved when he didn't see any notifications on his screen.

Sam was supposed to come over for dinner to see some of the renovations that Dean had done on the new house. Dean still couldn't believe how many changes had occurred in the last few years.

Dean had made the decision to leave hunting behind and finally made a life for himself. Sam was finishing up a quick case a few states over before going into his own version of hunting retirement. They had both given so much of their lives to hunting and now it was time to live for themselves.

Dean looked over at the bookshelf, his eyes finding the stereo sitting between the books. Dean stood up, making his way over and turning on the power. He flipped through the channels, quickly turning up the volume when he heard the familiar tune start.

"No way," He muttered.

"So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights lay out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder

And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

You got a fast car

Is it fast enough so you can fly away?

You gotta make a decision

Leave tonight or live and die this way."

He straightened up with a smile, "Baby, c'mere for a minute," Dean called. Y/N made her way into the living room of their home with their daughter held against her side.

"Is that-?" "Yeah... I thought that maybe my two favorite girls would wanna dance," He said.

"Of course," Y/N smiled.

Dean carefully took their daughter from her arms, cradling her in the crook of his arm before holding out his hand.

Y/N rested her hand in his, gold wedding band catching the soft afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window.

She wrapped her arm around him, smiling down at their daughter as he guided them around the living room. Dean carefully spun his wife before drawing her back in, singing down to their daughter as they swayed together.

This was the life he had always wanted and now he had it.

His beautiful wife, his baby girl, his brother, a house and the dog.

Dean never would have thought this kind of life would be possible for him and now he couldn't dream of living any other way.

He had everything he could possibly want and he was finally happy.

#sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #supernatural imagine #supernatural #dean winchester x female!reader

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sunnyskiesscareme · 5 months

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Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Summary: Quinn makes it up to his girlfriend after a date gone wrong. Quinn Hughes x reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, smut, mdni

Notes: This is my first time posting smut. Please be kind. Also, I hate proofreading so much

Y/n’s boots sloshed with rain as she stepped through the front door, frowning at the mat that did very little to stop the muck from getting on their clean floors. She took them off, cringing when she stepped on the wet ends of her jeans that were just too big for her. Anything for fashion.

She pulled her pants higher up her waist and tugged her wet socks off. Quinn kissed her forehead apologetically when she sat on the bench in their entrance way.

“I don’t wanna spend the rest of our date night cleaning the floors.” He whined, sitting down next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, uncaring how her wet hair stuck to his neck.

“It’s not too bad,” she said. As long as their shoes stayed where they were at the door, the rest of the floors wouldn’t get as dirty. “Hasn’t been much of a date night anyway.”

Quinn frowned. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

He truly had nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t his fault that the date night had gone so terribly so fast. They’d both known about the little check-up doctors appointment he had booked for that afternoon, they just hadn’t known about the bad accident that had happened on the highway and the traffic it had caused- paired with Vancouvers usual crazy traffic.

They hadn’t known that you had to be less than 5 minutes late to keep your reservation at this fancy, stuck-up restaurant. Quinn didn’t take a liking to the man at the front, who looked at Y/n for a little too long in all the wrong places. They got kicked out quickly.

They didn’t know it was going to rain, not bothering to check the weather beforehand as they had assumed they would be under the roof of an expensive restaurant, instead of walking around the whole night.

Quinn knew how long his girlfriend had taken to get ready, getting dolled up and styling her hair in bouncy curls, only for them to go flat when they got wet. He panicked when he saw the dark mascara smudging her cheeks, and only slightly relaxed when she assured him it was just the rain.

They didn’t know they’d have to get home so early, so they had let one of Quinn’s teammates borrow his car for the night with the promise that he’d drive them home afterwards. That had all fallen out of place, and they made do with an Uber that took forever to find them.

She shook her head at him with a reassuring smile. “Not your fault. I’m just glad we had a night together at all. Busy times lately.”

Her drying hair had begun to frizz up, and Quinn tried to smooth it with his hand. He had no luck with that and tucked it behind her ear instead. “I know…” he muttered, giving her painted lips a quick kiss.

She stood to remove her jacket and Quinn followed to help her. He hung it up when it was off and pulled her close to him, his palm splayed on her lower back as she fiddled with the chain around his neck.

"You’re so pretty," he said, his index finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. Three simple words, which she heard from him every day, and she still felt weak in her knees. She fell into him, burying her pink face into his white t-shirt. She put no effort into keeping herself upright- he was there to catch her if she fell, he was there to hold her.

"Don't hide, baby." His words were muffled against the top of her head, getting lost in her hair. He pressed a kiss there and sighed when the scent of her lavender shampoo hit his nose. "Look at me."

Y/n tilted her head, following his order, but her cheek stayed smushed against his chest, and Quinn gave her a smile. God, she loved that smile. She wished he showed it to the world a little more often. He brought one hand to her neck, petting the soft skin under her jaw, and his other palm splayed against her back under her shirt. She giggled when the thin fabric tickled her spine.

"Come sit with me," he said, already making his way to the couch. He kept her pressed against him as he walked, giving her no chance to decline- not that she'd ever want to. The walk was short, and though she couldn't see from where she pressed against his chest, she knew they had made it when she felt him move his hands to the back of her thighs, picking her up and falling backward onto the cushion. She straddled his thighs and lifted her head to press light kisses along his neck, starting at the collar of his shirt and ending just below his ear. Quinn leaned back with a shaky sigh, giving her hip a squeeze when she shifted on his lap.

She felt shuffling from underneath her, but only stopped nibbling his ear when she heard the tv turn on behind her. She pulled away from him and pushed his arm back down from where it hung beside her, turning the volume higher. "Am I boring you, or?" she asked with furrowed brows.

"No baby," he assured, his hand running up and down her waist. His lips quirked, "Just makin' sure the neighbors don't hear what I'm hoping you're planning on doin' with me here."

She snorted but didn't say anything back, squeezing both of his cheeks and pressing a smiley kiss to his puckered lips. His right hand traveled under her shirt again, and his fingers tickled her spine as he tried to unclasp her bra. She pulled away again when she felt his lips stop moving against hers. She giggled at the concentration laced in his features, his eyes still closed. "Need some help back there?"

"No," he declined quickly. "I've got it." He huffed when he pulled on the clasp for what he estimated was the 6th time, cursing when it, again, didnt give. Y/n wouldve felt bad at the defeated expression on his face before he moved to look at it behind her if she didnt find it so endearing. "The hell?"

Y/n laughed. "It's new."

Quinn let out a breath when he finally got it undone and Y/n laughed harder. "Just fuckin' kiss me." he huffed, leaning back again and pulling her in to crash his lips against hers. He slipped his fingers under the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, taking that goddamn bra with it and throwing it away as far as he could. Y/n gasped at the sound of a crash behind her, and whipped her head around to see an old vase shattered on the wood floors, her shirt and bra bundled on top. "The fuck is wrong with me?" he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

She chuckled and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. "Aw, sweetheart. I think it's cute how clumsy I make you." She pressed another kiss to his cheek when he threw his head back with an embarrassed whine. Then another. Then another. "We'll clean it later. We’re a bit preoccupied at the moment."

She kissed his lips this time, smiling when he regained enough confidence to bring his hand back up to smooth over her ribs, the tips of his thumbs brushing against her breasts. She whined when he swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, his strong hand gently cupping her breast. She felt a wave of adoration for the man, her heart swelling at how tender he always was with her. "I love you."

His other hand swiped some stray hair away from her eyes, breathing hot air onto her lips, "I love you so much baby,” he suddenly flipped her, so she was the one sitting on the soft cushion and knelt in front of her. “Lemme show you just how much.”

Both of his arms wrapped around her waist as he pulled her to the edge of the seat. He held her in a hug for a moment before pressing wet kisses to the insides of her breasts. She ran her fingers through his hair and he looked up at her through his long lashes, and she swore she had never seen a more beautiful thing.

A thumb brushed against her nipple and she breathed when it peaked. He trailed more kisses down her middle in a straight line and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her jeans. She lifted her hips for him to pull them off and squeezed her thighs when she was fully bare. He grabbed one of her knees in each hand and stroked the tops with his thumbs, urging them open.

“Quinny-” she cut herself off with a gasp when he nipped the inside of her thigh. He soothed the skin with his tongue. “Quinny, this isn’t fair.”

He looked up at her with raised brows. “What’s not fair?”

“This.” She said, and suddenly she was fisting the fabric of his t-shirt right at his collar, and he grinned. “This needs to go.”

“Anything you want, baby.” He stayed knelt in between her legs on the ground in front of her as he tugged his shirt above his head. His grin grew wider when he felt her lean forward and urge the fabric off faster. Y/n rolled her eyes fondly when he placed the shirt neatly on the coffee table behind him, making sure no more vases were harmed.

She flattened her palms on his toned chest and strong shoulders for a brief moment before he dove back into her thighs, and despite wanted to pet and stroke him a little longer, she didn’t put up much of a fight. Not that she could when his kisses were growing more heated and trailing closer and closer to her core. She squeezed his head with her thighs when he poked at her clit with his tongue, but he made no move to stop her.

Her ankles crossed behind his head, and he stroked her pussy with his index underneath her. He groaned at the slick. He brought his other hand up to grope at her breasts. “You enjoying yourself?”

“Does it feel like it?” She managed to breath out, only failing at keeping her voice steady.

“Yes.”

“That’s ‘cause I am.” She moaned, tugging harshly on his hair, then smoothing it out because she thought she might have pulled too hard. That didn’t seem to be the case, however, when he sucked on her clit and slipped a finger inside her with a groan, the sound sending shivers through her entire body.

She pushed her hips further into his face, surprising herself with how that was even possible, and moaned again when he flexed his knuckle inside her.

His knees started to ache, ground hard against the wooden floor, fingers deep in her cunt for what he was sure were the most enjoyable few minutes of his life. It took everything in him to stop just before she came, wanting to see her come undone on his fingers, but wanting to see her come undone on his cock even more. He cooed at her when she whined, picking himself up to press a loving, wet kiss on her temple. He held her hands for a moment before bringing them to his waistband, knowing that giving her the honours of undressing him would cheer her up.

It did, and she pulled his pants down eagerly. She subconsciously bit her bottom lip when she saw his shaft stand proud against his pelvis, and Quinn grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. “Do I tell you enough how fucking sexy you are? ‘Cause I’ll happily do it more.”

His fingers slid across her jaw as she replied with a cheeky grin, “You say it plenty, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear even more.”

He kissed her, hard. She moaned when his tongue flicked against her own- her lips were sure to still be swollen from this kiss tomorrow morning. He shuddered when she gripped him, rubbing the slick from his tip all over with her thumb. He cursed and grabbed the underside of her knee, throwing it up so her ankle rested on his shoulder. He put his hand on her own and helped her guide his cock into her, slowly and gently pushing further as she adjusted.

“Shit, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” She admitted when he finally bottomed out.

He leaned close to her, their foreheads almost touching when he softly caressed her cheek with his thumb. “You okay, baby?”

“Perfectly!” She nodded quickly. “You’re just so big.”

“Fuck, honey,” he breathed, letting his head fall into the crook of her neck. “You can’t say shit like that. Gonna make me cum already.”

She giggled. “Sorry.”

He pressed kisses to her shoulder, his thrusts slow and purposeful. She stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, pretty moans leaving her lips. She let her other hand wander over his strong shoulders, and she giggled when he nuzzled into her neck in response, the hair of his beard tickling her skin.

“God, Quinn, don’t you ever shave again.” She said, somewhere in between pleading and demanding.

“What? You into mountain men?” He teased, and a sudden dark red flushed her cheeks knowing he could be so deep inside her and still make her laugh.

“That’s what trims are for.”

He lifted his head up to kiss her, straightening his spine and moving faster. Small whimpers turned to loud, guttural moans when she reached down to toy with her own clit for a moment.

He brought her right leg up to mirror her left on his shoulder, gripping her thighs as he pounded her. His eyes roamed her body underneath him and had to close his eyes for a moment to stop from cumming at the sight of her breasts bouncing in time with his thrusts. It did little to help him, the scene replaying in his mind over and over again, and he became sloppy with his movements. Desperate not to finish before her and ruin their not-so-perfect night for good, he replaced her fingers with his own, rubbing harsh shapes on her clit again. His head dipped as far as it could without completely folding her in half to suck bruises into her collarbone.

She threw her head back with a cry, and warned him of what was to come.

“Let go baby, c’mon, cum all over my cock,” he urged, and groaned when he felt her tight squeeze. “Shit,” he stuttered out. It only took a few more thrusts after her to finish, and he stayed slumped on top of her even when he finally stilled.

She brought her shaky legs down from his shoulders and wrapped them around his waist, letting him fall into her further. She twirled her fingers through his dark hair, lightly scratching his scalp as their breathing returned to normal. She sighed, “Date night worked out after all.”

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #huggy bear #sunnyspouts #quin hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x fem!reader

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callsigncurse · 6 months

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meet me in the woods (jake seresin x reader)

Evergreen Falls, Oregon. A small town with a mysterious past and strange folktales, surrounded by forest and ocean. You're here because of your best friend, Natasha Trace, but it feels as though something else drew you to this picturesque little town. Pairing: Jake Seresin x Fem!Reader Warnings: This is an AU where mythical creatures exist. Werewolves are the main characters presented, but others are mentioned and may make an appearance later in the series. There are mentions of death (parental; reader's and Rooster's) and use of pet names, such as "pretty girl", "sweet girl" and "darlin'." Words: 4.7K

[part one of the evergreen falls series]

From the moment you crossed the border from California to Oregon, you knew that this was where you belonged. The forests, the skies, and the overall vibe were different from anything you'd ever known, and you wanted more than anything to stay.

However, it was easy to get lost. Your GPS had all but given up on you, and it took you until it was nearly too late to find your exit. It was hidden in the trees, and when you merged onto it, you wondered if this was a mistake and if it was leading you right off a cliff or something.

Despite that, you kept driving. The highway exit ended up leading you to a gravel road, and that gravel road led you to a sign. It was white with dark green writing, pointing you forward.

Evergreen Falls, 3 miles ahead

Population: 5,135.

A Great Place to Be!

You'd breathed out a sigh of relief, because this was exactly where you'd needed to go. You were excited; you had been driving for hours, and your body ached from sitting in your car for too long. You couldn't wait to get to town and get out of your car.

Thankfully, those three miles streaked by, and a break in the trees led you to the most beautiful little town you'd ever seen.

Nestled beneath the Pacific Coast mountain range, Evergreen Falls practically sparkled. The buildings all looked like they'd been freshly painted, with red brick inlay that hinted at them being a little older than this century. The streets looked new, but the streetlamps were definitely older and well taken care of.

The road took you to a street sign labeled Main Street, and you pulled your Jeep to the side of the street to park. After taking a moment to study your surroundings, you noticed the little businesses up and down the street. A boutique, a coffee shop called Top Bean, a realtor's office, and what looked to be a vintage record store. It really was a lovely little town, and you smiled to yourself.

Climbing out of your car, you grabbed your bag and stretched. It was cooler here than when you'd gotten into your car to leave California, but it wasn't too bad. Refreshing, even. It was a change, and that's exactly what you needed. You let yourself relax for a moment, feeling the wind ruffle the skirt of the sundress you'd thrown on back in California.

"Well, I've never seen you around before."

You whirled around, pressing a hand to your chest as your heart leapt inside your chest. You hadn't seen anyone on the street when you'd gotten out of your Jeep, so the voice had startled you.

He's standing with his hands in his pockets, a rather lanky gentleman wearing a godawful Hawaiian shirt over a white t-shirt. The ensemble was completed by a pair of grease-stained blue jeans and scuffed cowboy boots. You knew from your best friend's description of her friends that this was Bradley Bradshaw.

His lips twitched, making his mustache move in an amusing way. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. We just don't often get folks traveling through here. 'Specially not beautiful ones."

Cocking an eyebrow, you studied the man for another moment before you spoke. "So, you're Rooster." You had the pleasure of watching him narrow his eyes, staring at you suspiciously. "Or do you prefer Bradley?"

"How in the hell?" He steps closer, peering at you like he's trying to figure out who the hell you are. "How do you know my name? Have we met before?"

You just laugh. "It's nice to finally meet you, Bradley." You take a look around, your eyes drifting back over to the coffee shop. "Natasha told me all about you and your flirty ways."

"Goddammit, Phoenix. And you," He points his index finger at you and says, "You little shit, you scared the hell out of me." He gripes and then gestures for you to follow him. "She's working at the coffee shop today, and so is Coyote."

He opens the door for you, and you're met with the scent of coffee and the sounds of soft chatter. Natasha is behind the counter, and when the bell above you chimes, she finally looks up, locks eyes with you, and says your name. And then she's coming around the counter to launch herself at you, and the two of you almost tumble to the ground in a mess of flailing limbs and excited screams.

Bradley and the other barista are watching all of this with amusement, and neither man makes a move to get between you two.

"I can't believe you're finally here!" Natasha pulls away first, looking at your face like she's afraid you'll disappear if she looks away. "When did you get in? How are you? I thought you were still in California; you're weeks early!"

"I wanted to surprise you!" You explain excitedly. "I just couldn't wait anymore, so I packed everything up and headed straight here. The movers should be somewhere behind me; I think they said they're like forty minutes behind."

Nat's face is bright; she's basically glowing as she pulls you tight to her. It's the first hug you've gotten in days, and you tuck your face into the crook of her neck. She smells like baked goods, coffee, and the perfume she always wore in college when you first met her.

"God, I missed the way you smell. It's like the best thing ever." You tell her, pulling back so you can see her face again. "I'm so glad I'm here. I missed you so fucking much."

She laughs, and Bradley clears his throat from behind you. When you turn around, his arms are crossed over his chest, and he's looking at the both of you with amusement. "Guessing you two go way back?"

The barista that Nat was working with—Javy, it says on his nametag—snorts. "Obviously, Rooster." He smirks when Rooster's answer is a quick flash of his middle finger.

"We went to the same college." You explain, "Nat was studying business, and I was studying to become an English major. We bumped into each other at the campus coffee shop and became study buddies for the rest of our college years. I recently went through some changes, and I wanted to find somewhere new to live. Start over fresh, you know? So I decided to come here so I could live near my best friend."

Nat's hand slips into yours and squeezes gently. "It's seriously been way too long. That was mostly my fault; I got so busy trying to get this place up and running that I never had time for anyone or anything else."

"I can forgive you if you make me a Red-Eye Special." A concoction the two of you had come up with your junior year, the Red-Eye special was a latte with two extra espresso shots, mocha sauce, and topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

She lets your hand go, a big smile on her beautiful face. "That's actually one of the most popular drinks here. I put it on the menu to make sure I always remember the best friend I ever had."

Bradley huffs indignantly at that, and it sends you both into a fit of giggles. While she goes to make your drink, you move to the bar top to sit and watch her. Bradley follows, taking a seat beside you. "I'll take a mocha frappe, Phoenix."

"You got it, Rooster."

You sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, taking in the coffee shop. It's exactly Nat's aesthetic, you think to yourself. There's band posters everywhere, a vintage jukebox in the corner, and the walls are all painted different and funky colors. The furniture is all well-worn but clearly loved. The pictures she'd texted you when she first opened didn't do the place justice. It was amazing.

"Hey Nat, how come you never told me about your absolutely gorgeous best friend before?" Bradley pipes up from beside you, prompting an eyeroll from you and Nat.

"I've mentioned her a lot over the years since I got back from college, Rooster. You're just a terrible listener."

They were still squabbling amongst themselves when the bell above the door suddenly chimed, announcing the arrival of a newcomer. Curious, you lean back on your chair slightly. Peering around Bradley's back, you catch sight of the person walking in through the door.

He's tall—ridiculously so. Like way over six feet, taller than Bradley's type of tall. His golden hair gleams under the soft light coming in through the windows, and his skin is a beautiful shade of tan. He has a slight beard, and the hair is a few shades darker than the hair on his head. More honey-colored than gold, you think to yourself. He's wearing a gray t-shirt with a dark green flannel; the sleeves are rolled up, and you take a moment to study his strong arms. His hands are massive too, and you know they'd dwarf yours. He's incredibly attractive, nearly angelic in his perfection.

Nat looks over her shoulder, offering a bright smile to the absolute god that just walked into her coffee shop. "Hey, Hangman. Want your usual?"

The man they call Hangman nods as he steps up to the counter, already pulling money out of his wallet. He slides a small stack of bills across the counter to Javy, dropping another bill into the tip jar afterwards.

He doesn't say a word as he passes behind you to the very last bar stool to wait for his order. You can't help but turn slightly in your seat, watching as he walks past you. Something about him seems so familiar to you, but you know you've never seen him before. You'd remember that face.

It's like he can feel your eyes on him because he turns his head, and suddenly you can see his eyes. They're green, a gorgeous shade of worn seaglass, or maybe green like the evergreens the forests around here were thick with. But whatever shade they were, they stole your breath.

He doesn't say anything at first; he just watches you, and the corners of his perfect pink lips lift. He's not totally smiling, but it's enough to get your pulse hammering wildly.

Your own answering smile is sweet, and he swallows thickly as he studies you. He seems to be contemplating something, and then his beautiful lips part. "Hi."

Everyone around you freezes. Bradley and Nat stop their good-nature squabbling, and Javy is openly staring with his jaw dropped. They'd only heard this man talk a handful of times in the last few years, and here you were, the newcomer, drawing him into a conversation.

You're paying zero attention to what just happened around you because you're too busy looking at him to notice. "Hi."

"I've never seen you around before." He remarks, his voice soft. It's got a nice gravel to it, deep and warm. "Are you new to town?"

You find yourself nodding, "I just got here. I came from California. San Diego, to be more specific." Your heart is still thrumming, and it's almost like he can hear it because he smiles. It's wide and boyish, and you're breathless.

"Will you be staying for long?" He gets up from his seat at the end of the bar and moves closer. You have to tilt your head back in order to see his face, but you don't mind.

"I'm moving here, actually." You explain, "I'm now the proud owner of the cottage over by the river. The one on Meadow Lane."

He nods slowly. "I know it. Nice place, not too far from the falls. I remember when the previous owner moved away to a bigger town; he just gave the place to the realtor, Beau Simpson. His office is across the street, in case you need to talk to him about anything."

Nat clears her throat, sliding your coffee across the countertop to you. "That place is nice. But are you sure that's where you want to live? There are plenty of houses here in town that aren't surrounded by the woods, you know? That place is kind of creepy looking at night."

You shrug, breaking eye contact with the beautiful man to look at your best friend. "I fell in love with the house, Nat. It's perfect for me—just the right amount of secludedness, but close enough to town that if I need anything, I can just run and get it. So yeah, I'm sure."

You turn your head again, and he's still watching you. The small smile returns to his lips when your eyes catch his once again. Holding your hand out to him, you say your name, and that smile widens. It's devastating in its beauty.

His hand dwarfs yours when he takes it, and it's unbelievably warm. His palm and fingertips are rough from work, you assume, and you love the way it feels against your soft skin. "Jake Seresin, but sometimes the others call me Hangman. I think I'd like it if you called me Jake."

There's a moment where you're so lost in his eyes that the rest of the world fades away. Something between you snaps into place—something entirely ancient and primal. It almost feels like something is now tying you to him, like a silver, shining chain stretching from somewhere in you to a similar point in him.

It feels like you loved him before, in another life.

"Hello, Earth, to space cadets." Javy is snickering, and Bradley is waving a hand between your faces to catch your attention. "The two of you just went someplace else."

Something that sounds eerily like a growl comes from Jake's direction, but when you look back at him, he just offers another soft smile. He looks suspiciously innocent, but you don't comment on that fact.

Nat comes over just then, sliding a small bag and a to-go mug across the counter over to Jake. "There, here's your order, Hangman. The scones are fresh, just how you like them."

Jake makes a sound like a happy little hum. "Thank you, Phoenix. Much appreciated."

He stands up from his seat next to you, the bag and cup cradled in his large hands. "I have to be getting back now. I'll see you around, right?" He's looking down at you, those bright green eyes searching your face. His expression looks strangely anxious, like he's afraid he's never going to see you again.

"Yeah, of course." You stand too, looking up at him. "Maybe you can show me around town sometime?"

He quickly switches the coffee cup into his other hand, balancing his to-go bag of baked goods on his arm. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out what appears to be a partially crumpled business card.

Jake Seresin Woodworker & Carpenter Office: 75 South Pine Ave. Evergreen Falls, OR

"Here, my cell is on there. Call me when you get settled, or if you just get bored and need a break from Bradley's terrible jokes."

Bradley makes another sound from behind you: "Fucking rude."

"That sounds good." You answer softly. "I'll see you around, Jake." Your heart flutters when his smile grows wider, and you think maybe you'd like to keep seeing that smile every day for the rest of your life.

"Bye, darlin'." He murmurs, turning away and making his way out of the coffee shop.

When he's gone, you turn back to the stares of your friends.

"What?"

It doesn't take long for you to receive the keys to your new home. The realtor that Jake had mentioned, Beau Simpson, "Cyclone to my friends," he'd said with a wink, was a helpful guy. He'd made the process of buying your cabin extremely easy, and you'd bunked with Nat for a few days while he got the place ready for you. You had the keys in your hand just four days after arriving in Evergreen Falls.

Night was falling, and you had just brought in the last box of your things from the moving truck. Nat's friends—Javy, Mickey, Bradley, Reuben, and Bob—had introduced themselves to you and offered to help you move in. Even Bradley's godfather—Maverick, he'd told you to call him—had taken a quick look around the place in case anything needed fixing.

Luckily, the place had come somewhat furnished, so you didn't really need to buy anything besides a new mattress. The rest of your stuff from your tiny apartment fits easily in your new home.

Bob and Bradley had already carried your new mattress in; Javy and Mickey were arguing over the way your bed frame was supposed to be put together; and Reuben and Maverick were looking over a leaky faucet in your bathroom. Nat and Maverick's wife, Penny, were putting away dishes in the cupboards of the kitchen.

Bradley was perched on your couch, trying to figure out how to get your WiFi to connect to your smart TV while Penny's daughter watched. She was giggling at him while he was muttering something to himself about 'stupid fucking technology' when your phone chimed.

Jake: It sounds like a circus over there.

What Jake had failed to mention was that when you moved in, the cabin half a mile down the road was owned by him. Not that you particularly minded, but it was nice to know that a friendly face was close by in case you needed something.

You'd texted him your number the night you'd met him, and it was a nice surprise to see him reach out. You smiled to yourself, worrying your lower lip between your teeth for a moment before you answered.

You: They mean well. I'm almost all moved in; I just need to get my bed together and fix the hole in the floor of my front porch, and I'll be all good to go. Jake: I can fix that, if you want. I can drop by tomorrow morning after my run. You: That'd be great! Thank you so much, Jake. Jake: No problem, pretty girl. You: Pretty girl, huh? That's sweet. And thank you again; that was sweet of you to say. See you tomorrow, Jake. Jake: Sleep tight.

The rest of the evening was spent tidying things up, sharing pizza, and goofing off with your newfound friend group. It had been pretty late when they all filed out of your new home, and you'd dragged yourself to your room and onto your new mattress for some rest. It had been a long week.

Maybe it was just the whole 'being alone in a new home' thing making you anxious, but before you fell asleep, you could've sworn you heard howling from somewhere out in the forest behind your new home. Before you can really think anything of it, sleep grabs ahold of you and drags you down deep.

The sound of knocking ends up dragging you out of a dream. You can't quite remember what it was about, but then you remember the howling from the night before, and you wonder if it has to do with that. The sun is filtering in through the window, but from the look of it, it is definitely still early.

You're still sleepy-eyed when you go to answer the door, and your hair is a little messy. You assume it's Natasha, or maybe Bradley, coming over to bug you. But when you open the door, you're met with the strong and tall frame of Jake Seresin, standing right there in your doorway.

Shit. You'd forgotten he was coming over to fix the porch.

You brush a lock of hair away from your left eye and tilt your head back, immediately melting when you see his face. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." He answers. He looks tired, with dark circles under his eyes, but he's smiling faintly. And then you watch as his gaze falls to your shoulder. Your too-big sleep shirt had slipped down, revealing more skin to him. His gaze is appraising as his eyes drift over your form, down to your bare legs. He must've liked what he saw, because the apples of his cheeks were pink now.

After clearing your throat, you could feel your own face heating up. "I woke up a little late and forgot you were coming. Sorry about me looking all, you know, messy."

"You look beautiful." He says in response. "I like this just as much as I liked that sundress you were wearing the first day I met you." He says it sweetly, and you can feel your pulse fluttering in your throat.

"Thank you, Jake." You murmur, "You're very kind." Your face is shy and pink. You wonder where this guy has been hiding himself all your life. "Um, I'll just run upstairs and get dressed. Feel free to come in if you want."

You don't wait for him to come inside; you just open the door a little wider and scurry away toward the stairs. It's not that you distrust Jake—just the opposite, in fact—you trust him a lot. Probably too much, considering the fact that you'd only had 1.5 conversations with the guy. Standing around in your little PJs is probably not the best move. You know you should probably look semi-decent while a man is working on your home.

You hurry into your bedroom, quickly swapping out what you're wearing for a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a t-shirt. It's the middle of summer and warm this time of year, but it's not nearly as bad as California. You hurriedly tug a brush through your unruly hair, trying to get it to settle down, and then hurry into your bathroom to brush your teeth. Your face is flushed when you look in the mirror, and you do your best to settle the sudden onslaught of nerves you're feeling.

When you come back down the stairs, Jake is standing in front of your fireplace with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He's studying the photographs on the mantle above it—the photos of your family. Your mom and dad were in the majority of them, and Jake muses over how much you look like them both.

"Are you close with them?"

Stepping into the living room, you wrap your arms around yourself. It hurts you to think of them; the pain is still fresh even months later. "I was." Your voice is tinged with sadness, and he turns his head when you come up beside him. "They died earlier this year in a car accident. They were on their way home from a concert when a drunk driver hit them head-on."

After a long moment (where you think you've said the wrong thing), he slowly wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently toward him. You go to him without question, resting your head against his chest while his hand rubs your back in slow, soothing circles. You can feel his sorrow; he doesn't pity you, but he is sad for you.

You let yourself be comforted. You've only known him a few days, but it feels like he's always been with you. It's strange and probably insane, but you feel like there could be something there.

You really hope there's something there.

There's a feeling of light pressure against your skull, and you tip your head back so you can see his face. The smile he gives you is sweet, and your heart feels a little less heavy than it had a moment before.

"I should get started on the porch. Maybe after I'm done, I can take you out to breakfast? The hole isn't too big; it shouldn't take me more than an hour to fix it." He's smiling at you, and you can tell that he's nervous, too.

You nod, your eyes meeting his, and there's that feeling again. That pull between you is like a long chain connecting you to him, and it feels like it's always been there, even though you just met him for the first time a few days ago. You can't help but wonder if he feels it, too.

You let him go, and he grabs the tool bag he'd left by your front door. Not knowing what else to do, you drift out behind him with the intention of sitting on the porch swing. You just want to be near him, plain and simple.

You settle down on the swing, one leg bent on the seat while the other works to push you slowly back and forth. Jake is already at work, measuring and cutting things with a precision that amazes you. He's shed his flannel, leaving him clad in only a black t-shirt that looks worn and soft. You watch the way he moves, his arms when he lifts, and the way his chest and back fill out that t-shirt in a way that makes your mouth dry.

You haven't dated in a long time. You had so much going on with school, finding a job in your field, and then your parents' deaths that it was hard to make a solid connection with anyone around you. Plus, a lot of the time, the guys you met were either total jerks or just really weird. But Jake? Jake seemed different. He was quiet, kind, and helpful, and there was something there. Something deep-seated and amazing is just waiting to be unlocked.

Your phone chimes from where it's sitting on the porch swing next to you, and you pick it up to see a new text from Bradley.

Bradley: Hey, you. Are you up yet? You: Yeah, I'm awake! What's up? Bradley: The group is planning on going on a hike this afternoon to the falls, maybe swim a little, and have a picnic. You interested? You: Sounds awesome. Who all is going? Bradley: Everyone, just about. Maverick sometimes tags along, but he's taking Penny and Amelia out for their own day trip. You: Jake's with me; should I ask if he wants to come with me? Bradley: Good luck with that. Jake is kind of a lone wolf. Bradley: Also, why is Jake Seresin with you??? You: Carpenter services. He's fixing my front porch. I bet I can convince him to come with us. Wanna meet up at my place so we can all walk there together? Bradley: Yeah, we'll get there around 12. Javy and I are bringing food; Nat's bringing drinks. Think you could pick up some paper plates and napkins? You: On it.

"Hey, Jake?" He hums, looking up from his handiwork to meet your eyes. "The group is planning on coming over today at noon so we can all go to the falls and swim. Do you think I could convince you to come with?"

He looks like a deer in headlights for a moment, his eyes wide when he stares at you. "You... want me to go with you?" He asks slowly, his tone strangely disbelieving. It was like he couldn't quite believe that you'd extended the invitation to him.

"Well, yeah. Of course I do. And I'm sure everyone else would love to see you, too." You stop swinging, your head tilted in a way that kind of reminds him of a little deer. "Please? It'll be a good chance for you and me to hang out for a few hours. Plus, socializing would be good for you. I hear that you can be quite the recluse."

He snorts but doesn't say anything for a long time. You're almost afraid that he's going to say no to you, and then he sighs. "Alright, I'll go. But as long as you make me a promise,"

"Hm?"

"Never go into Evergreen Forest by yourself, especially at night." He seems anxious when he says it, standing up from where he's been working to cross over to you. "It's easy to get lost if you're not familiar with the area. People have up and gone missing because it's so easy to get turned around in there."

He crouches down, laying his hands on your knees. Even crouching, he's so tall that he's face-to-face with you. You're a little distracted by his eyes, and by the way his hands are deliciously warm and rough against your skin. "It's okay to go if at least one of us is with you, but you should never go alone. Okay?"

Normally, if a man tried to tell you to do something, you'd immediately roll your eyes and do it anyway. But there's an edge to his voice, and it sounds strangely desperate. So you look him in the eye and nod. "I promise."

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun!au

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closetofcuriosities · 2 months

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cranberrymoons · 5 months

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lost luggage

prompt: roadtrip/vacation (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 596 rated: t tags: married life, bickering, fluff notes: this stands alone but is part of the future fic series! corroded coffin exists, and steve and eddie have kids

welcome to Day 13 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

They fly into Indianapolis and rent a car and drive down the winding highway back to Hawkins, and the whole way there, Eddie pointedly ignores him.

After nearly a full hour of this, Steve huffs and says,

“I don’t know why you’re blaming me. I’m not the one who lost your suitcase.”

Eddie gives him a look out of the corner of his eye. “Okay? I’m not blaming you.” He sounds annoyed, as if any of this is Steve’s fault. “It’s fine, I’ll just borrow something of yours. Or Wayne’s. Whatever.”

Steve just rolls his eyes. He reaches forward and clicks the radio on, flipping it over to the Top 40 station just to be annoying, but they’re playing a fucking Corroded Coffin song, one about Steve and his eyes and the way his smile is a light in the fucking dark .

He turns it off and flops back in his seat.

“It’s not fine,” he says after a moment. He glances in the rearview mirror to make sure both the girls are actually asleep in the backseat. “Also, for the record – you’re being a total dick about it.”

There’s rain coming down against the windshield, and the wipers are going a mile a minute, and Steve has his arms folded over his chest as he stares at the gray-brown gloom of the post-harvest cornfields passing by outside.

Eddie gives him a look, and when Steve glances over at him, it’s Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Nice.”

Steve offers him the fakest smile he can muster. “I’m being the nicest I can be right now.”

“This is the nicest you can be?” Eddie says under his breath. “No wonder you were best friends with Carol Perkins until you were seventeen.”

Steve feels a reluctant smile tug at the corner of his mouth, and he’s fucking annoyed about that too, because he doesn’t want to smile right now, dammit. He wants to be pissed off and annoyed because Eddie’s being an asshole, but instead he’s –

“Fuck off,” he says. He laughs and punches Eddie hard in the shoulder, and this makes Eddie laugh, too. “I’m serious.”

“Very extremely serious,” Eddie says, frowning in mock concern. “The most serious.”

“If you’re not careful, I’m going to take the kids to my sister’s or whatever it is they do in the movies.”

“Empty threat,” Eddie says. “You don’t have a sister.”

“My mom’s, then.”

Eddie makes a dismissive sound, and Steve watches his hands relax on the steering wheel.

“Emptier threat,” he says, smiling a little as he glances over at Steve. “You hate your mom.”

Steve laughs again in spite of himself. “God, you’re such an asshole.”

He flips the radio back on, and the station has moved on to a Britney Spears song, which might actually be punishment enough for Eddie’s bad mood, having one of his songs played back to back with Oops I Did It Again for the entire Indianapolis metropolitan area to hear.

Steve gives him an innocent little smile, and Eddie makes a face at him. His hand lands on top of Steve’s leg, trailing up high with his fingers digging into his inseam. After a moment of quiet, he squeezes his thigh and says,

“Sorry for being a dick.”

Steve lets his hand land on top of Eddie’s, threading their fingers together in his lap.

“Sorry you’re going to have to be naked for all of Christmas,” he says, turning away from where he’d been staring out the window at the rain. “Because I’m not sharing my clothes.”

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #my fic

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atinylittlepain · 9 months

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Dancing in the Dark

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

The summer of '86, a season of love, record-breaking heat, and evening softball games in one Austin neighborhood. What happens when seventeen years later, that lost love comes back around?

warnings | 18+ cursing, smut, young joel is a goddamn menace, angst, references to bad home life, gin making random things canon

wordcount | 9.8K

a/n | welcome back to Hungry Hearts, y'all. i have to thank @northernbluess for beta-reading this bad boy. love you, cousin. as always, I'd love to hear what you think of the chapter!

.......................................

“Hey, Cher, you ready to go?”

“Does it look like I’m ready to go?”

“You look ready to me.”

“Joel, I’m not wearing a shirt.”

“It’s hot out, Cherry. I’m just thinking about your well-being here.”

“How considerate of you. Just give me a minute, and be quiet before my parents hear you.”

“Bossy, bossy.” She leaves him at her window, shuffling back over to her closet to finish getting dressed. Joel, however, doesn’t stay put for long, swinging one leg, then the other over the sill and into her room before promptly banging his forehead on the opened pane of her window, a low curse leaving his mouth before she can shush him.

“Very smooth.”

“Yeah, well, you know me. Now c’mere.” He hooks a finger into the belt loop of her jean shorts, a little tug that she resists, and then a bigger, more impatient tug that she can’t help but shuffle into. He’s actually wearing pants tonight, tight, tight blue jeans with a t-shirt that’s had the sleeves and sides cut out, a perfect space for her palms to splay along the bare sides of his ribs when he draws her in for a kiss by the hinge of her jaw.

“If you start now, we’re never gonna make it to the fair.” He hums at that, his eyes still intently focused on her lips.

“Hmm, would that be such a bad thing?”

“Uh, yes, I want to see the fireworks.” She’s not sure if he really heard that, his mind seeming to go a bit one-track as he looks at her bra, his fingers brushing over the top of the cups, catching on the lace there.

“This is new.”

“No, I just haven’t worn it around you before.”

“Well, shit, Cher, you been holding out on me?”

“Joel.”

“Alright, alright, hands off, I’ll let you get dressed.” As she pulls a tank top over her head, she realizes that he’s never been in her room before. Not even when they were kids. She steals a glance at him as she’s tying her sneakers, and he seems to be stealing glances of his own, subtly leaning over the small desk across from her bed, his eyes trailing over the stack of books sitting there, the photos she had pinned to the wall from her last year of college. He doesn’t say anything though, a quiet collecting, so she doesn’t say anything about it either, simply clearing her throat to grab his attention when she’s ready to go.

“Try not to knock your head into the window on the way out this time.” He doesn’t, though he grumbles through the close contortion he has to manage to pop back outside, panting a little when he holds his hand out for her through the window. It’s not like they had an actual conversation about the necessity of sneaking around with each other. It was an unspoken understanding. Her parents like Joel enough, she grew up with him after all, but she’s certain they would both have aneurysms if they found out what they’ve been getting up to. And anyways, it’s just for the summer, nothing serious, a bit of fun, and Joel seems just as content with that as she is.

“Tell me about your classes.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d bore you if I did.”

“We’ve got a half-hour drive, Cher, try me.” The sun is just starting to set, turning the inside of his truck a hazy orange as they drive down the highway away from the suburbs and toward the Austin city limits.

“Okay, in most of them we read books, then we talk about the books, then we write papers about the books.”

“That’s it?”

“I told you it’s boring.”

“You’re taking writing classes too though, right?”

“Yeah, I actually won an award for a short story I did in one of them.” She feels a bit stupid sharing that with him, a bit stupid for even wanting to in the first place. But he smiles, big and bright, his eyebrows lifting up with a quick glance over to her.

“No shit, Cher, that’s awesome. I’m not surprised though.”

“Thanks, yeah, you wanna know what my mom said when I showed her the photo of me receiving the award?”

“What’d she say?”

“She asked if I had really been wearing my hair like that at school.” For a moment, he’s silent, and her stomach twists up, worried that she shouldn’t have shared that because, obviously, why the hell would he want to hear her bitch about her mom?

“That’s fucking bullshit, she seriously said that?”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom was always kind of a square.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

“You remember when I got gum stuck to your skirt in Sunday school?”

“Oh my god, she was so mad.”

“She’s got that vein, right down the middle of her forehead, you know?”

“Oh yeah, I’m very familiar with that vein.”

“I swear, Cherry, I thought it was gonna burst she was yelling at me so good.”

“I remember watching that from the car. Your little mouth was just hanging open, I didn’t know if you were gonna bolt or barf.”

“I was scared shitless. She yell at you when y’all got home then?”

“No, I got the silent treatment and no dinner for a week.”

“Shit, Cher, really?” Suddenly, the laugh buoying his words is gone, a little quieter, a little more tempered. And she realizes, oh, one of those things that isn’t normal. Oh, one of those things that doesn’t happen in other families. Since starting college, she’s gotten good at recognizing these moments, when the laughs die out right after something she said. Oh, your parents? Well, get a load of my parents. No, not funny. Not funny at all. A whole lot of not funny going on in her household.

“Yeah, I guess that’s why I stopped sitting next to you in Sunday school.” Said with a weak laugh to make it okay, though Joel’s smile has still faltered into something closer to a grimace, his eyes staying still and squinted down the stretch of the highway.

“Can I read the story sometime?”

“Oh, um, yeah, okay, if you want.” He keeps his eyes on the road, but his hand that isn’t hanging over the steering wheel slips down to rest on the center console, palm face up, a wordless invitation that she finds herself taking with her own hand. A small comfort to press her palm into his.

“Of course I do, Cher.”

…

It’s the same thing every year. The same rides that always have a few screws loose, the same smell of food sizzling in oil that his doctor would definitely not want him eating, the same throngs of sunburned people shuffling from booth to booth down the drag of streets that have been closed off for the fair. For a while, he didn’t go, but since Sarah got old enough to be interested in all the fourth of July festivities, they’ve made the drive into Austin every year for it, though as of late, the night usually entails her meeting up with her friends and yes, dadding, him into leaving her alone until the fireworks are over. But he isn’t all alone this year, Tommy tagging along at the last minute when whatever his plans were, Joel shudders to think of what they were, fell through. So no, not pathetic at all, just two grown men wandering through the crowd and waiting until they can go home.

“I saw we got a new appointment on the books for next week. Someone on Cascade Street?”

“Uh-huh.”

“New client?”

“Yep, yeah, they just moved in.”

“Why are you being weird about it?” Tommy stops in his tracks, scrunching his face up at Joel who would really like this topic of conversation to get dropped.

“I’m not, Tommy, why are you so concerned about this new client?”

“What are they getting done?”

“New porch.”

“Who’s taking the job?”

“I am.”

“You?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tommy shrugs, scoffing when Joel starts walking again without him, quick to catch up and step into stride with him.

“Seems like a pretty rinky-dink job for you to take on, especially when we’re in the middle of that new build on Cypress.”

“I thought you said you have Cypress under control?” He’s being a touch too snappy about it, he knows it, and judging by the weird look Tommy is giving him, his hands up as if in surrender, he knows it too.

“I do, I’m just surprised that you aren’t letting one of the other guys take that job on, is all. What, is it a pretty lady or something?” Before Joel can figure out how to answer that question, Tommy’s eyes are widening and slipping right over his shoulder, and then–

“Holy shit, holy shit.”

“What?”

“See for yourself, brother.” Tommy shuffles him around by his shoulders, Joel’s protests dying in his throat when he sees her. Mercifully, she hasn’t seen them yet, standing in line at a frozen lemonade stand with her phone at her ear, having what looks to be a heated conversation. He doesn’t see Ellie with her, though, and figures to himself that she’s gotten the same treatment he has from Sarah. And suddenly, frozen lemonade seems like a very good idea because his throat has gotten quite dry looking at her. Those same jean shorts he saw her in the last time, and a sliver of skin between the waistband and the hem of her t-shirt. Her very tight t-shirt that rides up a little more when she raises her hand to push those sunglasses of hers back into her hair. And, well, he’s not trying to be a perv, but it doesn’t take much more than a glance to tell that she isn’t wearing a bra beneath her very, very tight t-shirt.

“Cherry!”

“Tommy, what the fuck?” Too late, her head has already whipped around, her phone still pressed to her ear, though the scowl that had been on her face melts into a small smile, her eyes widening in recognition. Meanwhile, Joel is considering how hard he would have to punch his brother to rattle his pea-sized brain into some sense. Cherry seems to finish her phone call with a quick flurry, already walking over to them as she hangs up.

“Tommy Miller, look at you!” Tommy pulls her into a tight hug, a small oof leaving her as he hoists her up until only her toes are on the ground before setting her back down with a slap to her arm. Joel decidedly does not give her such a greeting.

“Cher, of all the people I don’t think I’d ever expect to see you around here, goddamn!”

“Wait, Joel didn’t tell you I moved back?” They both turn their attention to Joel, who only manages to open and close his mouth a few times before Tommy lets out a scoff.

“You knew that she was back and you didn’t tell me?”

“Uh, well–”

“I thought for sure he would have told you. He’s coming out to look at my porch next week. Very impressive by the way, Tom, Miller’s Construction.” At that, something smug slides down Tommy’s face as he looks over at Joel.

“Oh, is he now? Say, Cher, you didn’t happen to move in on Cascade Street, did you?”

“Yeah, that’s right, so Joel did tell you then?” Joel contorts his face in the best expression of please no, Tommy, I will kill you if you do that he can muster over Cherry’s shoulder, but Tommy just grins at him, and then at Cherry.

“No, nope, I just saw in our books that there was an appointment on Cascade next week with a very important person. Just putting two and two together for myself since it looks like no one tells me anything around here.” With that, Tommy claps Joel on the shoulder, who still hasn’t managed to get a word in edgewise between the two of them. Cherry has a smile on her face like she knows exactly what’s going on.

“Well, anyways, it’s so good to see you, Cher. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

“It’s good to see you too, Tommy. I’m really glad to see you looking so well.”

“I try, now if you two kids will excuse me, I have a date with something deep fried and covered in sugar.” Tommy is off in a flash, leaving Joel to flounder beneath Cherry’s simpering gaze.

“You didn’t tell Tommy that I was back?”

“I didn’t think it was mine to tell.” She nods, squinting at him through the bleary haze of the sunset.

“So this hasn’t changed much at all.”

“No, I reckon these are the same rides we went on as kids.”

“Don’t remind me, I’m already worried that Ellie’s off getting kidnapped right now. I don’t need tetanus and loss of limb added to the list.”

“So you got dumped too then?” They make their way back over to the line in front of the frozen lemonade stand, a bit longer than it was before, but he’s happy to wait with her.

“Afraid so, apparently when you turn fourteen you no longer want to be seen in public with your mom.”

“That applies to dads too.” They both share a tired smile and a small shrug, and once again he can’t believe he’s standing here with her, talking about parenthood of all things.

“Ellie’s on a date, but don’t tell her I told you that.” Said with a slanted smile and a bump of her shoulder into his.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, she’s been harboring quite the crush on her team’s center outfielder.” The gears in his mind spin for a moment, and then it clicks.

“Oh, oh, huh.”

“Nice save, Joel.”

“No, I mean, that’s great, Cher. Good for her for, uh, knowing herself.” He palms the back of his neck, trying to cool the quick heat creeping there as she laughs at him. It’s a heat he hasn’t felt in a long time, though she was always quick to draw it out of him, always quick to catch him.

“Yeah, it is. I do worry though. Austin is definitely not New York.”

“That it ain’t, though I don’t think she’s gonna have to worry with you for her mom. You always did know how to give people the what for.”

“You’re damn right about that.” That’s a smile he’d like to remember, a grin really, her eyes crinkling up at him, a little wry and a little fierce. That heat just keeps creeping.

When they get to the front of the line, she starts to argue with him when he tries to pay for her drink, though he manages to sneak it by her when she gets distracted by another phone call buzzing through her back pocket. She checks the caller ID, sighs, and immediately shoves the phone back into her pocket, letting out another sigh when she sees that he’s already paid for her lemonade.

“For the record, I’m getting the next one.”

“Sure, Cher.” His mind gets a little stuck on next one, though he manages to follow her over to a bench and sit down with her, when once again, her phone starts ringing. She doesn’t check it, simply takes a long swig through the straw of her drink as it continues to buzz and ring.

“Not gonna take that call?”

“Nope, do you want some of this?” Maybe it’s childish, but the thought of drinking from the same straw as her makes his brain start to fry, so he shakes his head no and grips the edge of the bench a little tighter.

“Is that who you were on the phone with earlier?”

“Oh, you saw that, huh?” It makes him feel sheepish, admitting that he had, nodding to her question. Her shoulders slacken with a long sigh, another pull from her lemonade before she continues speaking.

“It’s my agent, poking around for my next draft.”

“So you weren’t kidding about the big leagues? Got an agent and everything.”

“I wish I didn’t have one, honestly. But I kinda have to when I’m dealing with all these big publishers.” She pinches the bridge of her nose as she says it, her eyes dropping shut, and he finally sees that she is actually very tired. A little drawn, heavy circles under her eyes, a little thin, sharp around the edges in a way he doesn’t remember. How he missed it before he isn’t sure, but now that he sees it, something slight and sharp slips between his ribs and curls around his heart.

“You’re working on another book then?” How quickly she hides away that weariness, looking at him with her cheek tilted over her shoulder and a bright smile.

“I’m trying to. You probably don’t care to hear about this–”

“I do, Cher, always wanted to hear about your stories.” It comes out before he can think much about it, and her expression does a strange thing. A quick fall, a scrunch of her brows, and then a slight frown before she shakes her head as if to clear the whole thing away.

“Have you really not read a single one of my books, Joel?”

“Uh, I–”

“No, don’t answer that. Wasn’t a fair question, sorry. Anyways, there’s nothing much to tell about this one because I am completely stuck with it.”

“Stuck?”

“I’m about this close to scrapping the whole thing. I don’t know, I guess part of me thought the move would shake something loose, but I still got nothing.” It’s not like he could offer her any advice on it, and it’s not like she’s looking for it either, another sigh around her straw and a shrug of her shoulders, always quick to make nothing out of something.

“You eaten anything for dinner yet?”

“Does this thirty-two ounce frozen lemonade count?” He’s already getting up and holding out his hand for her, and while it seems like the simplest movement, his mind instantly questions if it’s too much, though he fights against that with a foolish hope.

“C’mon, Cher, I think I can do you one better than a frozen lemonade.” No big deal, she takes his hand. No big deal, he tells himself. No big deal when she lets go either, because that’s normal too. That’s friendly. And friendly is good.

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, then it is definitely going to be better than this frozen lemonade.”

…

“You got a little, right there–” Before she can wipe away whatever he’s referring to with a napkin, Joel has already licked his thumb and swiped it along the corner of her mouth, promptly sucking what she assumes is barbecue sauce off the pad of his finger.

“That was so gross.”

“What? I’m saving paper.”

“Lovely.”

“Always, Cherry baby.” The sun had set a while ago, the streets lit up in a syrupy wash of neon from all the rides and games lining the several blocks. They ran the whole circuit of the booths, her constantly pulling Joel away to keep him from spending any more money on trying to win her something, and inevitably failing at whatever rigged game he stepped up to. She can already see his eyes dragging over the remaining booths as they finish their meal at one of the picnic tables set up next to all the food vendors, planning his attack, no doubt.

“You know I really don’t care about getting a stuffed animal, right?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Cher.”

“Those games are literally designed for people to lose at them. Seriously, I don’t want you to waste any more money on it.” She quickly realizes that was the exact wrong thing to say, Joel’s eyes flashing back to her, hard and steeled, on the defense.

“You don’t gotta worry about what I do with my money, okay?” His words come out rushed and loud, with a quick shake of his head, enough to startle her back from where her thigh had been pressed close to his, something that immediately washes the edge out of his expression, his eyebrows slackening and his lips parting.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, Joel.” Her mouth feels dry, a cool prickle in her scalp, regret swirling up her meal in her stomach. He gets enough of that from everyone else, the money, the job, the what is the plan. He doesn’t need it from her too.

“No, I’m sorry, it’s just– forget it, I shouldn’t have gone after you like that.” She’s not quite ready to look at him, keeping her eyes focused on the red and white checkered napkin that she’s twisting in her hands. But of course, Joel doesn’t abide by that for long, ducking his head and leaning over to place a smacking kiss on the corner of her mouth before angling back again to get one planted square on her lips.

“You– taste– like– smoked– brisket–” Each of his words is punctuated with another peck until she can no longer stave off the smile threatening at the corners of her lips, shoving him back with a palm pressed in the middle of his chest.

“Oh shit, Miller, is that you?” Her stomach turns over, because she’s pretty sure she knows whose voice that is, and she wishes that she didn’t. She isn’t sure what the next best move is, though Joel seems to make the decision for her, slinging his arm over her shoulder to tuck her into his side just as Mikey Donahue comes sauntering over to where they’re sitting.

“Hey, Mike, you out with the guys tonight?” Joel offers his hand out for a hard shake, apparently still chummy with Mikey after the little scene at his party. Though she supposes water flows under the bridge a little faster for boys anyways.

“Nah, decided to finally bite the bullet and take Maureen out, she ducked into the bathrooms but she should be wandering over soon.” Though the answer is directed at Joel, Mikey’s eyes stay steady on her, a smile that she doesn’t like the curl of crooking his mouth.

“Y’all are quite the couple. Does your daddy know you’re out with this menace, big city?” It’s so small, so subtle, but she can still feel it, the way Joel’s hand curls closely and tenses around her forearm from where his arm had been draped around her.

“Ha, ha, Mikey, that’s very funny. I’m a big girl though, don’t really need my daddy or you to be concerned with my business.” Joel snorts over her shoulder, and she has to resist the urge to elbow him for it.

“Whatever you say, big city. Oh, here comes Maureen. Do y’all mind if we join you?” She’s quick to cut Joel off before he can answer, squeezing his thigh hard to shut him up as she offers Mikey a tight-lipped smile.

“Actually, we were just heading off to get a few rides in before the fireworks, but y’all have fun.” Not another word, though she’s pretty sure she hears Mikey let out a laugh as she pulls Joel up and along behind her before Maureen can even get anywhere near them.

“Cher, you know I don’t like rides.” Said very lowly, a bit bashful, she thinks, his head ducking down to speak the words right into her ear. Yeah, she knows, and has known since they were nine and Tommy and her forced him onto the Gravitron, which ended with Joel in tears and a puddle of what had been his dinner next to the trash can that he missed by only a hair.

“I know, I just needed an excuse to get away from those two. But, really, Joel? Not even the ferris wheel?” He stops walking for a moment, his eyes scanning over the arc of the ride as if to give it his full consideration. Finally, he looks at her again, his lips pressed in a thin line.

“How bad do you wanna go on it?”

“I think it could be nice, but not if you’re going to be all weird about it.” She swears she sees his chest puff a little, and with that, he takes her hand with all the conviction of a man going off to war.

“I’m not going to be weird about it, let’s go.” Famous last words. He’s the picture of ease all while they’re standing in line, but the instant they cram into one of the cars, his whole body tenses up, his knuckles going white where they’re gripping onto the side railing. She doesn’t say anything at first, just puts her hand on his bouncing knee when the ride cranks into motion. Though when they crest the top of the ride and it stops again, Joel’s poorly contained panic becomes impossible to ignore.

“Oh, what the fuck–”

“It’s okay, they’re just letting more people on.” She doesn’t think that he hears her, too busy craning his neck over the side of the car before skittering back into place when the lean of his body makes the whole thing rock.

“This is so fucked–”

“Joel.”

“Why do people enjoy this? That’s–”

“Joel.”

“What?” He finally looks at her, eyes a bit frantic and jaw slack. She can’t help but reach out and brush his hair back from his face.

“Is it– are you afraid of heights?” Calling it what it is seems to calm him, his shoulders finally coming down from his ears and his eyes softening. She lets her hand dip down to curl behind his neck, her fingers scratching lightly into the back of his hair.

“Maybe, but I’d say that’s a pretty rational fear, Cher.”

“Yeah, it is, and you’re also totally safe right now.” Her words are undermined just a bit when the ride screeches back into motion just as she finishes saying them, Joel’s eyes going wide again as he whips his head around to look over the edge of the car. Right, drastic measures then.

“Hey.” First, she shrugs her thigh over top of his to stop the anxious bounce in his knee, already drawing his attention back onto her. Then, she leans in a little closer so she can keep her eyes steady with his, her hand firm along the side of his neck to hold him in place.

“Just look right here and it’ll be over before you know it.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Well, I’m not the one freaking out on a ferris wheel right now.”

“Hey.” She shouldn’t, like giving a child what they want just because they’re having a tantrum. But she does, pressing one kiss, then another to his lips, small, swift little pecks that he eventually starts to lean into, his hand that had been gripping onto the railing coming up to settle along the line of her jaw when she swipes her tongue across his bottom lip. They’ve gotten a little better at this, at making compromises with each other, giving and taking almost equally, opening up for each other. And, not that his ego needs to hear it, but she really likes kissing him.

His panic seems to be all forgotten as he licks into her mouth, his nose brushing along the side of hers. Always a little greedy though, crowding her into the side of the car and making a soft sound skitter up her throat when his teeth graze along her lip.

“Uh, excuse me?” It startles them both, Joel very slowly pulling away from her and turning his head to look at the ride attendant, the very unamused looking ride attendant.

“Y’all can get off now, thanks.”

…

“Goddamn.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“They don’t have barbecue up north?”

“Not like this they don’t, Jesus.” He tries not to smile too big at the satisfied hum that leaves her throat as she takes another bite. And he’s also trying hard not to watch her too closely, because, no, it’s probably not normal to just stare at someone while they’re eating brisket and potato salad.

“Do I have something on my face?” Busted, and, well, actually, he motions to the side of his own mouth, words getting caught in his throat. She gets the hint though, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the same spot on her face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how hungry I actually was. I probably look a little crazy right now.”

“Are you eating proper while you’re working?” Sheepish, the flicker of her eyes from beneath her lashes is enough of an answer to his question. Some things never change, he supposes.

“I may get a little distracted.”

“Uh-huh.” A quick, quiet smile shared, a knowing. He likes knowing.

“Mom?” No, he is still not used to that, both of them whipping their heads around where they’re sitting at a picnic bench to see her daughter with a very furrowed look on her face.

“Hey, babe, everything okay?” Ellie is looking at Joel. Sizing him up is more like it, her lips pursed and her arms crossed, her hip cocked to the side, just like he knows her mom does when she’s not pleased with something.

“Uh, yeah, we were just gonna– wait, are you eating meat?” He glances back to Cherry, who now has the guiltiest little smile on her face, her eyebrows pulled together in a quiet cringe as she tries to inconspicuously swallow another bite of food.

“I am, Els, I’m sorry. I gotta be honest, I don’t think I’m gonna keep up the vegetarian thing all the time, but you know I’ll support you if you still want to.” Ellie gives her an eye roll that looks like it’s going to get stuck in the back of her head, a little huff and a few shuffled steps in place like she can’t believe this.

“Okay, well, fine, I guess. I was gonna ask if you had found something to eat that didn’t have dead animal in it, but obviously you’re not gonna be much help with that so I’ll see you later.” With that, Ellie turns heel back into the crowd, Joel still unsure exactly what he just watched.

“They have fried pickles, babe, those should be fine! Be safe, please!” Ellie only acknowledges her shout with a glance spared over her shoulder, Cherry immediately deflating when her daughter gets swallowed up by the crowd, bringing her thumb and forefinger to pinch the bridge of her nose again.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe that just happened.” Said with a dejected little laugh that only grows when she takes another bite of brisket, his chest loosening up when she shakes her head and offers him a smile.

“So vegetarian, huh?” Cherry shrugs.

“New York.”

“Sarah had a phase with it too. Only lasted three days before Tommy took her to KFC and she swayed.”

“Ellie is a little more, uh, zealous about it. It’s going on two years now since she watched some documentary and came into my room in complete tears over, and mind you that a twelve-year-old said this, the horrors of animal agriculture.”

“Well shit.”

“Right?”

“You’re telling me you’ve been vegetarian for two years?”

“Don’t laugh, Joel.” It only makes him laugh harder, Cherry shoving him in the arm as she tries to scrunch her mouth out of a smile. But beneath that laugh, there’s something else, something warm and a little giddy. He’s noticed it every time she has said his name.

“No wonder you were so hungry, Cher, damn.”

“This may surprise you, but meat isn’t the only food group. And I’ll have you know I make some damn good tofu enchiladas.”

“Well that’s just sacreligious.”

“Oh please.” Back and forth, slipping into that easy volley without either of them noticing that their faces have started inching closer and closer, though when they do there’s a quick flush of heat that has them both clearing their throats and widening that space again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, where did Will end up?”

“Oregon, he’s a really great photographer these days.”

“Y’all keep in touch?”

“A little, yeah. I think for a while, we were both just happy to have gotten out, you know? It made us keep our distance from each other. But he came and visited last year, got to meet Ellie for the first time.”

“That’s great, Cher.”

“Yeah, it is. He’s turning thirty-three this year, if you can believe it.”

“Jesus.”

“I know, how’d that happen, huh?” Joel just shakes his head, a memory already floating up to the surface. Will was a freshman when they were seniors, tall but slight for his age, quieter, kept more to himself, though Joel made a point of saying hi to him in the hallways, clapping him on the back in the lunch line. There was a day, maybe a week after winter break, and Joel was loitering in the halls during a class he didn’t have any patience for when he saw Will at his locker. All smiles, all loud and brash greetings that all faded when he saw the shiner mottling under Will’s right eye. He remembers being ready to go on the warpath for the kid, asking him over and over, who did this, man, just tell me, who did this? He figured, one of the guys from the football team, someone he could set straight, and that he of course would set straight for Cherry’s little brother. But Will just kept saying nobody, it’s nobody, Joel, please don’t. It was probably two months later when he finally figured out who nobody was, a slow realization, something clicking into place.

But he knows better than to share that memory with her, the same way he knows better than to ask her if she has kept in touch with her parents. He already knows the answer to that question.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?”

“Where’d you go?” Her head tilted at him, a suggestion of a smile.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“And that’s mean.” Back to the present, sitting next to her on a picnic bench, he has to shake his head of it. A strange feeling, how carefully they’re stepping around the past, sharing pieces in scraps, in unsure palms, always quick to make it light, make a joke of it. He’s not sure how long he can keep dancing like this.

“Are you sticking around for the fireworks?”

“I was informed by Sarah to meet her at the car after the fireworks, so yeah, I guess I am.”

“Oh, how funny, I was given the same instructions by my own little tyrant.”

“Imagine that.”

“You wouldn’t want to watch them with me, would you?”

“I’d love to, Cher.”

…

“You do realize you’re driving us in the opposite direction of where the fireworks are being set off, right?”

“Do you trust me or not?”

“Do you want me to answer that honestly or not?”

“You know I could kick you out of my car if I wanted to.”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try.”

“Cherry, just– quiet for a minute–”

“Don’t tell me to be quiet, Joel!”

“I’m trying to concentrate, goddamnit! You’re gonna make me miss the turn.”

“What turn? We’re literally on the highway and there isn’t another exit for–” Her thought gets lost behind a gasp when Joel mutters a quiet shit under his breath and suddenly veers completely off the road and into what she thinks is a corn field, though she’s a little too busy shouting whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck over and over again as the car bounces and bumps over uneven ground. And seemingly just as suddenly, he stops the car altogether, putting it in park and killing the engine in what, yes, is the middle of a cornfield, the stalks unusually high and proud for this early in the season. It’s already dark out, deep blue and bruising shadows, she can only barely see his face in what light the lamp post about fifty yards away offers.

“What the fuck?”

“You already asked that about a thousand times, Cher.”

“Yeah, and you haven’t answered, so again, what the fuck?” He’s still not answering, shouldering into his door to get it open against the close crush of the tightly planted corn stalks, letting out a satisfied grunt when it finally gives way.

“Joel–”

“Cherry, just shut up and give me your hand.”

“If you ever tell me to shut up again I’m going to make sure you regret it.”

“Noted, now come here.” Albeit reluctantly, she takes his hand from where he’s now leaning out of the driver’s side door, managing an awkward shimmy over the center console and into the driver’s seat as Joel swings his body out along the side of the car, one leg hitching into the truck bed. The soft silk of corn stalks brushes against her legs and arms as she follows after him, holding on tight to his hand to hoist herself up and into the truck bed alongside him, a quick tumble over each other, all tangled up. Though not for long, Joel already getting to work shaking out what she sees is a stack of moving blankets in the back of the truck bed. She takes a moment to look around, a thick line of trees surrounding the field on the side opposite to the road, so late that she doesn’t think a single car has passed by since they’ve driven out here. And, she hates to admit it, a perfect view down the stretch of the highway of the stadium where they’re setting off the fireworks from.

“You good?” His question startles her out of her slow scan of the surroundings, finally looking back at him to see that he’s spread the blankets out in the bed of the truck, his back resting against the cab and his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Y-yeah.” It comes out small and shaky, and while she thinks she knows why, she tamps that down tight as she crawls over to sit beside him. Even though it’s oppressively hot, she still tucks down into his side when he lets his arm fall over her shoulders. Perfect spot and perfect timing too, but she doesn’t watch the sky when she hears that familiar whistle and pop of rockets, choosing instead to see the light burst and shatter over his face, the slow fall of it in his eyes. And there’s no tamping it down now, that feeling starting to fizz and lift in her chest, and as she continues to watch each succession of color and sound wash over Joel’s parted lips and wide eyes, she knows that she is absolutely, irreparably, fucked.

“You’re not even watching.”

“Yes I am.” He’s not watching anymore either, looking at her down the length of his nose, all shadow between the quick fractures of light. Their chins bump first before they get it right, seeking each other out by feel. His hands finding her hips, squeezing and coaxing her into his lap, though he pulls away when the next resonant crack of fireworks splits the sky and her whole body tenses.

“You don’t like the sound?”

“It’s not my favorite thing.” No, she doesn’t like that sound. That sound that reminds her of the whole lot of not funny going on in her household, but she’s already leaning in to forget all that with her mouth pressed to his. Though Joel holds her back, firm palm, big palm, steady and curled at the nape of her neck.

“Is it okay though? You’re okay?” It doesn’t help her case when another stream of fireworks sets off just as he asks it, her body jolting in his hold again, but she tries to pass it off with a breathy laugh.

“It’s fine, Joel. I’m fine. Just come here, please.” He relents, his hand slipping down along her spine to press her closer as she opens his mouth with hers, a shared sigh and the quiet scrape of teeth, her palm splayed over his chest feeling the thrum of his moan when she licks into his mouth. He’s being careful, she can tell, and she doesn’t think it’s only because they can just barely see each other in the dim light and the punctuated bursts of brightness from the fireworks, his hands splaying wide along the span of her back, holding her so close that every time her muscles tense and jump at the sounds it just sends her closer into his arms. He’s steady, perfectly, his thumbs stroking back and forth along her spine, constant and lulling until she knows that the fireworks are still going on, the pinpricks of light in the periphery, but she can no longer hear them over the rushing in her ears and the way she’s trying to collect every breath of his with her own.

And she just wants more, however she can get it, his stomach tensing up when her fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt, only pulling away enough that he can help her tug it over his head. Always so warm beneath her hands, she keeps one palm in the center of his chest, finding that pulse, that beat that always seems so strong to her, as Joel’s hands begin to wander. Ever predictable, the first stop of his circuit is her ass, both palms splayed and squeezing, making a weak noise fizzle out in her throat as he rocks her forward into the hardness in his jeans. From there, his palms slip down to the meat of her thighs, another squeeze, his fingers flickering under the hem of her shorts. Their kiss breaks with a quiet click, lips shined and swollen with it as she leans back to peel her tank top off, though before she can unclasp her bra, Joel grabs both her wrists, his eyes wide and pleading.

“What’s wrong?” The fireworks have stopped, so she must squint in the shadows to see the way his eyes are drooping down, the dip and bob of his throat as he swallows.

“Nothing, I just– s’pretty.” He lets go of her wrists, his fingers coming up to ghost over the tops of her breasts, that slight spill of flesh over the top of her bra, a small sigh that she can see leave his chest as he watches her own inhale and exhale.

“Do you want me to leave it on, baby?” She’s never called him that before, though judging by the broken groan that crackles in his chest, he liked it, a new warmth curling deep in her stomach at the sound.

“Please, Cher.” She can’t help the grin that slips across her face, circling one of his wrists with her palm to draw it up to her lips, pressing a kiss to the pad of each finger before guiding his hand down to the waistband of her shorts. Quick to flicker through the button and zipper, it’s all slow moves as he surges forward and she leans back until she’s laying out in the bed of the truck with Joel between her legs and nothing on but that bra he seems to like so much. It doesn’t surprise her that he wastes no time in ducking his head down to mouth over the fabric of her bra, her spine arching up into the wet heat with a sigh. Though he’s gone just as fast, drifting further down over the fluttering rise and fall of her stomach, his lips catching below her navel before he settles between her legs with her thighs resting over his shoulders.

He learned fast what she likes, with her hand in his hair and her words so quick to correct or to praise, he learned very fast. So she doesn’t have to say a thing now, a silent cry crackling in her jaw when he drags his tongue through the heat of her cunt. She can already feel a perfect bead of arousal dripping from between her thighs down the cleft of her ass as his mouth rests over her clit and he sucks, sharp, quick, before dipping back down and doing it again. He’s gotten more confident, more brazen about it, a little rough in the way his fingers dig into the swell of her thighs, demanding everything, open and willing and waiting for whatever he will give her. And she gives it to him, fingers threaded through his hair to tug when his teeth graze too tender, her spine strung tight and taut as her cunt clenches around nothing. The sound is obscene, a salacious secret amidst the hum of crickets and the close quiet of the night, the little hums he can’t seem to stop rising in his throat as he eats at her, the slick slip of it, and the gentle, but still there, rock of the truck from how he’s grinding his hips down, seeking out more just the same as her.

His one palm slips under the curve of her ass, tilting her hips up toward his mouth as he continues to lick and suck at her cunt, all that pleasure starting to hurt, starting to snap and snarl as she tugs a little harder at his hair.

“I– more– something more, please.” He lifts his gaze from its hazy drop, the whites of his eyes still hooded and shining up to her as he rests his cheek against the soft inside of her thigh, the little pants of his breath washing over her cunt and making her hips twitch.

“You want more?” She would smack him for looking so smug if she didn’t need it so bad, settling instead for another tug in his hair that makes him puff out a laugh. He doesn’t wait for any more of an answer, happy to oblige with two of his fingers dragging down through her swollen cunt before dipping inside, heat shooting up her spine when he curls them just so, that small stretch, that ache, that want. He presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh before his teeth sink into the flesh, his fingers already finding a steady rhythm that’s making her buck up into his hand.

“Yes– just like that– I want– I want–”

“You want it?’

“Uh-huh.”

“You need it?”

“So bad, Joel, please.”

“I know, Cherry, look at you, huh? So perfect like this.” He continues to coo at her in that low hum when it finally catches up with her, that pleasure pulling taut fraying all at once, her whole body curling in tight and tense and then releasing with a languid moan. My girl, my fucking girl, so good, my good fucking girl. She hears it somewhere in the back of her mind, tucking it away behind the wall of sound and sense still coursing through her as her hips jolt in his grasp, so sensitive that tears start to pearl along her lashes. She thinks her heart might actually stop when he finally pulls his fingers away and up to his mouth, sucking each one with a hum and an absurd pop before he crawls up her body to give her a taste.

Her hands are already tugging at his jeans, only a bit surprised when she manages to ruck them down and finds that he isn’t wearing underwear.

“You are such a freak.” He laughs, leaving a harsh nip to the hinge of her jaw.

“I don’t see why you’re complaining, it’s easy access, Cher.” She only manages to get his jeans down over the curve of his ass, but it’s enough so she can slip her palms down and dig her fingernails into the flesh in retaliation, Joel groaning and dropping his forehead down to her sternum.

“Be nice.”

“You be nice.”

“You’re the one that called me a freak.”

“And it stands.”

“If I’m a freak then you’re a–”

“Careful, baby.”

“You’re a menace.” He hisses out the word as he spreads her open on his cock in one slow drag, the both of them sighing as he stills inside her. For a moment the only sound is their ragged breaths. Slow movements, his hand curling around the back of her knee to draw it up against his hip, another small rock that makes her preen with how full she feels. Her mouth stays stamped at his hairline, words murmured there as she curls her arm around his shoulder blades.

“I’m a menace?”

“Uh-huh, you d-drive me insane.” His words come out breathless as he finally pulls his hips back, a little more force in his next thrust that makes a whine tear through her chest. He’s so deep, grinding his hips into hers even deeper and all she can do is take it, her heel digging into his low back as he does it again and again and again.

“Well you drive me in-insane too– oh.” The words slip out in stilted stutters, tears dripping cool and sticky down her flushed cheeks as he finds a different movement, one that’s harder and meaner, rucking her up the bed of the truck with every shunt of his hips against hers, his chest pressed tight against hers, sweat beading and dripping between her breasts.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” Pitchy and high in her throat, she can’t help it when he slips a hand between the humid stick of their bodies to drag his fingers against her clit.

“Good.” It isn’t long before they’re both unraveling around each other, his forehead pressed hard into hers, the weight of him heaving and draped over her, stifling and sweaty and perfect. Her whole body shakes with the panting laugh he lets out, finally resting his chin between her breasts to look up at her.

“My little menace.” She can’t help but laugh too, his cheeks splitting into a grin at the sound.

“My big freak.”

“Hey.”

…

“Oh my god.”

“What, what is it?”

“I think that’s Ellie and her date.”

“Where?”

“Don’t be so obvious about it, two rows down, across the aisle.” Her hand is on his shoulder, her finger pointed right next to his face to guide his gaze toward where she’s looking. Sure enough, it’s Ellie, sitting very close to another girl on the bleachers, oblivious to the crush of the crowd around them, smiling and laughing to each other as they wait for the fireworks to start. He never liked watching from inside the stadium, thinking that all the bright lights sort of defeated the purpose, but now he’s grateful for them so he can get a better look to confirm that yes, that is definitely Ellie who is now putting her arm around her date, getting even cozier.

“Oh my god.” He finally looks away to see Cherry hanging on his shoulder, perfectly mortified at the sight in front of her.

“You got a regular Casanova on your hands, Cher.”

“I feel like I’m going to cry, or maybe scream, or maybe throw up.” He’s watching her watching them, her brow crumpled and her jaw completely slack, pure shock. He’d laugh, but he’s pretty sure he’d be in a far worse state if he saw Sarah in a similar position.

“Hey, it’s okay, they’re just–”

“Oh my fucking god, look!” His eyes dart back just in time to see what he’s pretty sure is the end of a kiss, the young pair shyly pulling away from each other with small smiles.

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“Do you think that was her first kiss?” It’s such an absurd question. He’s only just met the kid, after all. But when he looks back at Cherry and sees the pleading tilt of her eyes, how could he not try his best?

“Well, I don’t know, Cher, do you?” Maybe his best wasn’t very good.

“I don’t know. Oh fuck, I shouldn’t have seen that. I should not have seen that. She’s too young for that, right? I should go get her, yeah, that’s what I should do.” She’s already starting to get up out of her seat, and all Joel can think to do is grab her hand to keep her where she is.

“Woah, woah, hey, I think they’re fine, Cher. Look, they’re just talking now.” She squeezes his hand, still looking at Ellie with a deep frown on her face, but she does sit back down. She’s still holding onto his hand while she worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

“You think so?”

“Tell me this, how old were you when you had your first kiss?” Suddenly, the worry in her face slackens, something a bit more bashful slipping into place. She’s still holding onto his hand.

“Well, I was thirteen.”

“There you go, it’s normal then.” She’s still holding onto his hand.

“How old were you when you had yours?” She’s still holding onto his hand.

“I don’t know, probably thirteen like you.” She’s still holding onto his hand.

“You mean you don’t remember?” She’s still holding onto his hand.

“Not really.”

“How can you not remember your first kiss?” She finally lets go of his hand, only so that she can talk with her own, a bit of flailing and exasperation at him before her hands settle in her lap. He rests his on his knee, a hard squeeze to stop any lingering want.

“I just don’t. It was a long time ago, and it obviously wasn’t very important.”

“Do you at least remember who it was with?” He does, but she’s not going to like the answer, and suddenly the toes of his boots are very interesting as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Uh, Maureen.” He says it as he drags his hand down his jaw, the name getting muffled beneath his palm. Cherry’s face scrunches up.

“Come again?” He really doesn’t want to say it again, but he knows she’s not going to give this up now, her chin tilted down and her eyes narrowed at him.

“Maureen? Maureen Henderson, yep.” As if a yep might make it better, but her brows have already done that thing, that familiar thing where they shoot up her forehead, then scrunch down again, then slacken.

“Huh, so Maureen wasn’t very memorable then?”

“Nope, not at all.” She purses her lips and nods, her eyes squinting out across the stadium for a moment. But before whatever is simmering below the surface can bubble over, the first booming firework goes off, and her whole body recoils.

“Oh, motherfucker.” It happens again, another fizzle and crack, and as the crowd oohs and ahhs, she digs her fingernails into her thighs and grits her jaw.

“That never got any better, huh?”

“Afraid not.” He wants to reach out for her, to curl his arm around her shoulders and pull her tight into his side, to absorb the shock that keeps resounding through her body. He knows how to, after all.

“Is– is there something I can do, Cher?” Her eyes are a little unfocused, even when he ducks his head down to try to get her attention.

“You’d think that by now I’d have figured out that every loud sound isn’t–” Almost like a hiccup when the next rocket goes off. The only thing that’s different is that now, each time, first her eyes dart over to where Ellie is sitting, checking, making sure. He feels his heart ripping apart watching her.

“Hey.” It comes out quieter than he meant it to, but her eyes still turn onto him when he puts his hand on her knee.

“You wanna go wait at your car?” She nods, and that’s enough for him to go into action, not thinking twice about taking her hand again and shepherding them both down one of the aisles further away from where Ellie is sitting. Back and forth, back and forth, his thumb stays steady and smoothing along her hand the whole way out of the stadium and into the massive parking lot.

“My car or yours, Cher?”

“I don’t– I don’t– Ellie– uh, I–” She’s still holding tight to his hand, her eyes darting around the lot, clearly working herself into a state, the continued onslaught of fireworks not helping at all.

“That’s alright. Cher? It’s alright, okay? Let’s sit in my car and I’ll drive you to yours when this is over.” He thinks she says okay, but he’s already focused on pulling her along to his car. And when they get in, him in the driver’s seat and her in the passenger’s, he realizes that, no, he’s not going to crack the windows, trying to keep as much of the sound out as possible. So he lets the car idle and cranks the AC up as high as it will go, and it’s probably going to burn up his tank of gas, but he doesn’t care, because it seems to muffle the noise of the fireworks just enough for her to start coming back down. He’s still holding her hand over the center console.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry, Joel.” She takes her hand out of his, pressing her palm to her chest, letting out a long breath through her nose.

“Don’t, Cherry. It’s okay.” She keeps her eyes closed and her palm against her chest, long inhales and exhales, and he realizes that she’s doing a breathing exercise. He only knows it because the shrinks at the VA started Tommy in on it when he kept having panic attacks after coming home. And something like anger settles in his stomach, slithering up and seeping out between his ribs, sickening and slick. Anger that no, this hasn’t gotten any better. Anger that no, this probably won’t get better. And no, no one deserves it, but he selfishly thinks to himself that she especially doesn’t deserve it.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Cher.” Her eyes finally slip open, head tilting onto her shoulder to look at him. Mercy, it’s passing. Mercy, he could help her through its passing.

“So, Maureen Henderson, huh?”

“Oh, you’re still on that?” Small smile, he’ll take it.

“You could have done better, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well since you remember it so well, who was your first?”

“You’re not gonna like my answer.”

“Try me.”

“It was Mikey Donahue.”

“No.” She was right, he didn’t like that answer, not one bit.

“Yeah, I think his friends dared him to do it, honestly.”

“That little shit.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You could have done better.” That gets a full smile from her, her nose scrunching up at the same time something takes off in his chest.

“I guess we both could have.”

“Yeah, Cher, I guess so.”

...................................................

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