#(i couldn't help it it's been in the back of my mind too long)

[swiftispunk]

spring breaks loose | joel miller x f!reader

a your summer dream one shot

your summer dream masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | follow @swiftispunkupdates and turn on notifications for updates

It's spring, you're young, you're lovely, you have a right to be happy. Come back into the world.

–Shirley Jackson, We Have Always Lived in the Castle

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pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ word count: 11.2k

series warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] we'll call him dad's buddy!joel, fairly soft!joel, age difference (28/50), angst, smut (will specify with each chapter), fluff, alcohol, food, secret relationship until it's not.

chapter summary: building bridges and starting fresh. it's springtime in austin. chapter warnings: smut, lots of fluff, a sprinkling of angst, consensual somnophilia, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, squirting, vaginal fingering, oral (m receiving), alcohol + intoxication, reader is so very eepy, food, discussions of infidelity, a whole lot of dialogue and tying up loose ends, heather comes with her own warning, in this house we hate chris, time hop, pov swapping. no use of y/n.

a/n: we have reached the penultimate chapter of ysd (for real this time). thank you to everyone who has stuck around this long. thank you to @frannyzooey for helping me work out a few things in this chapter, @joelscruff for beta'ing, and @5oh5, who offered me plant guidance many moons ago now. i also wanted to just boost the fact that i do have a kofi account, and while there is never any pressure to tip, life is hard rn and i always always appreciate the help. love ya'll sm.

*lastly: be sure to see the very end of this post for a special SNEAK PEEK of the upcoming final chapter of your summer dream.

january

-

"I'm really happy," you insist, and in spite of it all, Joel's lips twitch up at the corners. You've told him how happy you are about a thousand times, but watching you confidently profess it to your father is something else entirely. 

"I'm really happy, okay?" you repeat, firm as you stare down the man across from him. Your father's face remains unchanged, stoic and blank as he nods. Joel swallows tightly as you nod back, and then you're gone.

Neither of the men utter a word until the back door swings shut behind you. Joel can feel your father's eyes on him, but he can't bring himself to meet them. He should say something. He clears his throat but then–   

"Joel...since Costa Rica?" your father asks. He doesn't sound angry, Joel notes. No, he sounds…hurt. 

At last, Joel looks up from the table, and your father stares back at him with obvious confusion in his eyes. Confusion and–as Joel had imagined–hurt. 

Joel sighs. 

"Yeah," he nods solemnly, shifting in his seat. "Yes."

Your dad just shakes his head, and Joel can practically see the cogs turning in his mind, playing back those days at the resort, piecing it all together in real time. 

"That whole time we were there, you–?"

"No–" Joel cuts him off. "Not…not the whole time."

Like that makes it better. Your father doesn't look at him, still lost in thought, still shaking his head defiantly. 

"I was…we were right across the hall. You–all that sneaking around–we–you–"

His rambling dissolves into incoherent sputtering until Joel finally chimes in again.

"I'm sorry," he says, and then he's shaking his head too, like he's just as much in disbelief about the whole thing as his best friend is. And he is, really. Couldn't believe it then, can hardly believe it now. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Goddamnit, Joel," your father suddenly exclaims, a palm coming down hard on the tabletop. His anger seems to catch up with him, as though Joel's quiet apology had somehow been the final nail in the coffin. "She's Sarah's age! I mean, that–that's my daughter!"

Joel swallows and sniffs back a heated flow of emotion. He knows he deserves it, deserves every bit of your father's ire. But that doesn't mean it doesn't sting, that feeling of being scolded by his oldest friend in the world. He shrinks a bit and crosses his arms over his chest defensively.

But he doesn't actually defend himself at all. For some reason, he digs the hole deeper. Maybe he's tired of lying. 

"Younger," he grumbles, staring down at his hands. 

"What?"

Joel clears his throat, cautiously daring to meet your father's accusatory glare. 

"She's younger than Sarah."

There's a long and painful beat of silence as your father sits back in his chair with a heavy, exasperated sigh. 

"What the hell is this, Joel?" he demands. Still biting, still cold, though not quite as infuriated. 

Joel seizes the opportunity. He leans forward, elbows on the table, pleading. Where to begin? He thinks about what he'd want to hear if the roles were reversed–and starts there.

"Everythin' was mutual, right from the start–I swear," Joel begins. "And I...I mean, I couldn't even remember the last time I seen her before that day at the airport. I ain't never even thought about her like that before. Then we were–spendin' all this time together, which you wanted us to do–"

"Uh-uh, don't you go puttin' this on me," your dad cuts in. "You know damn well this ain't what I had in mind."

Joel nods. 

"I know, I know," he agrees. "I didn't mean–sorry."

Your father doesn't respond. Joel sighs.

"Listen, she was hurtin', man–you don't know the half of what that boy did to her," Joel attempts to reason. "We got to talkin' about it all and I...I just wanted to be there for her, you know? And, sure, there was attraction there, she's a beautiful girl–"

"Alright, alright, alright," your father interrupts again, grimacing. "I don't need to hear about all that."

Joel nods again, swallowing back the words he'd been about to say–that the attraction had, miraculously, flown both ways. That you'd wanted him just as much as he'd wanted you. That he never would have sought you out if he hadn't known that was true. 

He contemplates his next words carefully. 

"Look, it wasn't right to keep it from you," Joel concedes eventually. "We–or, I–got caught up in it. You think I expected this? I mean she just–," Joel shakes his head, lost for words again as his cheeks warm and his lips curl into this fond little smile when he thinks of how completely and quickly you'd made a home for yourself in his heart, "She took me by surprise, man. But you know what it's like when you got a good thing goin'. You don't wanna risk losin' it."

Your dad just frowns, his mouth seemingly fused into a hard, unforgiving line. 

"Costa Rica was months ago, Joel."

Joel sighs. 

"I know. I know, okay? I wanted to tell you sooner. But she wasn't ready for that and I wasn't gonna go against her wishes."

Your father's jaw ticks as he chews on the inside of his cheek, thinking. Coldly assessing the man across from him like he's seeing him for the very first time. Joel crumbles under that stare, hates how it feels coming from someone he's known so long. 

"You know me, man," Joel pleads, wide eyes boring desperately into your father's. "You know me. When have I ever gone for someone younger? When have I ever even wanted that?"

Your father's face doesn't change but he also doesn't argue, so Joel goes on.

"All I wanna do–all I have ever wanted to do for that girl–is take care of her. And I-I know maybe it's…uncomfortable–"

Your father scoffs at the understatement of the century, and Joel can't help the way his own lips twitch upwards too. It's a moment of genuine camaraderie, of two fathers well aware of the absurdity of their situation. Their matching grins quickly fade, but nevertheless, Joel feels somewhat more at ease when he next speaks. 

"–but it's real," Joel concludes, "What we got. S'hard as it is to understand–and believe me, I ain't even sure I understand it, but…"

His voice trails off into a pensive sigh, mirrored by your father. There's another stretch of silence, but the air feels less tense now, a little less thick with disdain. Again, Joel ponders what he'd want to hear if he was in your father's shoes. What would give him the peace of mind to know this was okay?

"I'm…" he starts to say, but he's shocked to find the words get caught in his throat, obstructed by a sudden lump of emotion. He grunts past it, straightening his spine and squaring his shoulders while your father looks on with furrowed brows. 

"I'm in love with her," Joel finally manages, voice low and laced with devotion. 

It's infinitesimal, but Joel could swear he sees your father's eyes soften. 

"I ain't told her that yet," he continues. "But I think she knows. I think she's a smart girl, and I think she knows this is real, too. Hell, I don't think she'd'a stuck around this long if she didn't think I was serious about her. And so, I…I think you gotta trust her on this one. Even if you don't wanna trust me."

Your father crosses his arms over his chest and takes another long, weighty sigh. 

"Jesus Christ, Joel," he mutters, shaking his head down at the table. But it doesn't sound angry or even hurt anymore. It almost sounds teasing, and Joel almost laughs. 

"I know," he smirks. "Trust me, I know."

"S'pose I got no business tryna forbid it, do I?" your father says.

"She wouldn't let you even if you tried," Joel replies, grinning wider when he thinks of how you'd respond to that. You, so independent and sure of yourself. Yeah fucking right.

Your dad huffs out a single laugh. "Ain't that the truth."

Tentatively, both men sip at their drinks, falling back into something of a routine. It still feels…awkward. But the worst seems to have passed.

Meanwhile, Joel's heart is pounding in his chest as the reality of his admission catches up with him. He loves you. He's in love with you. He's never said it out loud before. His entire body suddenly aches with the need to see you, just so he can say it again and again and again. 

Joel polishes off his drink, pursing his lips around the burn of whiskey on his tongue. The two men lock eyes, and Joel thinks maybe–maybe–he can see the early signs of forgiveness there. 

"I get it f'you need some time," Joel says. "Guess I just…wanna make sure me n' you are gonna be alright."

Joel's best friend sighs, before nodding slowly and sympathetically. 

"Yeah," he grunts. "Yeah, we'll be alright. C'mon–"

He cocks his head to the side as he rises up out of his chair and Joel hastily follows suit. Your father pulls him into an affable, if somewhat unsure, embrace, firmly patting his palms over Joel's upper back. Joel returns the hug instinctively.

"Don't fuck this up, Miller," your father grumbles over Joel's shoulder.

Joel chuckles, honestly grateful for the familiar ribbing. "Won't. Promise."

That's about the time you come charging back through the door.

-

four months later

-

A blanket of grey coats the early-April sky above, a telltale sign of rain to come. It's appropriately ominous, you think, considering what you're about to do.

Joel herds you toward his truck in the driveway with a hand on your lower back, but something in your periphery gives you pause. A glimpse of colour that hadn't been there before, stopping you in your tracks about halfway down his front steps. 

"Those are new."

Joel stops too, following your eye line as he casually throws an arm across your shoulders. He smiles when he sees what you see, letting you guide him a little closer to what had once been an unassuming, mostly barren patch of dirt on his front lawn. Now, poking out from the otherwise lifeless bushes are a handful of tulips, vivid green stems giving way to pink and yellow petals, tentatively blooming in spite of the day's limited sunlight. 

"Oh…yeah," Joel shrugs. "Sarah and I planted 'em. Years ago. Grow back every year around this time."

You're not sure why that stirs something in you. But it does. 

Joel Miller has tulips in his garden.

Curiously, you inch towards them, crouching to delicately curl your fingers around the unfurling petals.

"They're beautiful," you muse. You turn to face him and find he's watching you with equal curiosity. "Pink and yellow?"

"She picked the pink."

"Adds up," you nod. "What made you go with yellow?"

He stares at your fingers fiddling with the stems, and shrugs. You think he seems a little shy. 

"Can't remember," he says. "They're sunny, I guess. Bright."

A tightness knots in your throat as he reaches out beside you to touch his own fingers to the petals, softly running his thumbs against them, seemingly deep in thought. You think of a younger Joel Miller, picking out yellow tulip seeds to plant with his daughter because they reminded him of the sun. A younger Joel Miller digging holes in the Earth to lay down his roots, burying a memory only to watch it grow back, year after year. A sure thing, a constant. Always there even if you can't see them.

Of course Joel Miller has tulips in his garden. 

"What?" he probes after a moment of prolonged silence. You clear your throat. 

"Nothing," you smile, craning to kiss his cheek and feeling the low rumble of his responding chuckle against your lips. "I love you."

He cups a hand over your face before you can get too far, pressing his mouth to yours in a deeper, far less chaste kiss. 

"I love you too," he murmurs as he pulls away. 

You're still thinking about the tulips as Joel backs out of the driveway, and the first of the day's raindrops begin to hit his windshield. You make your way out of the safety of the cul-de-sac, and with the low hum of the radio playing in the background, you count the houses on the street outside your window in an attempt to calm your nervous mind. 

Joel doesn't interrupt your silence. But as you merge onto the freeway, your heart begins to pound–and you decide you need a distraction. 

"It's nice they grow back every year," you say absently out the window. 

"Hm?" Joel's brows furrow as he glances over at you, sitting with your chin atop your fist and staring out at the steadily increasing rainfall. He quickly catches up with your train of thought. "Oh, the tulips. Yeah, it is nice. 'Specially after Sarah left. They always reminded me of her."

You nod and make some noncommittal humming sound. Talking was a stupid idea actually. 

As ever, Joel notes your demeanour. 

"You alright?" he asks, taking your hand across the centre console and squeezing three distinct times. 

You sigh.

"Just nervous."

"You'll be fine," he insists lightly, not for the first time. "I reckon she's a lot more nervous'n you are."

You can't argue with that. Heather is the one who fucked your ex-boyfriend. Heather is the one working to make amends. Heather is the one who threw away your friendship and is now asking for it back. 

"Yeah, that's probably true," you agree quietly. 

Joel sighs. He lifts your conjoined hands to his mouth to lay a kiss against your knuckles, keeping his eyes on the road as he does. 

"Just…remember, you're not goin' there to forgive her or to…pretend like nothin' happened," he says. "But I think you'll feel better once y'get this all hashed out."

"I know you're right," you nod, allowing the truth of his words to wash over you as you take another steadying breath and lean your head back into the seat behind you. "I just feel like I-I've been carrying the weight of this for too fucking long. I have to let it go. I'm doing the right thing."

It's a mantra you have to keep reminding yourself of–you're doing the right thing. Not just from a being the bigger person standpoint, but for you. You need to do this so you can close this chapter of your life for good. 

"You're takin' the time to hear her out after all the shit she put you through," Joel goes on. "Makes you a better person than most people I know."

The pride and adoration in his voice makes warmth bloom in your tummy, but you roll your eyes all the same–out of habit more than anything else. 

"I don't know about that."

"I do."

His gaze darts in your direction again, and there is no trace of a lie in that look. So you choose not to fight him, just smile tightly and accept his reassurance, falling back into comfortable quiet for the rest of your drive. 

By the time he pulls up in front of the cafe you'd agreed to meet Heather at, your nerves have returned tenfold. Is she already inside? You're ten minutes early so maybe not. Is it better if you're here first or would that make her feel weird? Why are you worried about making her feel weird?  

God, it never used to feel this terrifying to see your best friend. You have half a mind to ask Joel to wait with you but ultimately decide against it. You need to be a big girl about this. 

"I can do this," you tell yourself instead. 

"You can," Joel agrees, taking you in his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Call me if it goes south and I'll come pick y'up, alright?"

You nod resolutely as you unravel yourself from his hold. 

"'Kay. Thank you."

"Good luck, baby girl."

With one last parting kiss, Joel lets you go, watching you from the driver's seat until you disappear behind the door of the cafe.

-

Heather is not there yet, as it turns out, and you can't tell if that makes this better or worse. 

Now you're faced with new dilemmas. Should you order her a coffee? You haven't seen her in eight months; what if she takes it differently now? 

She fucked your boyfriend–why would you buy her a coffee? the pettier part of you wonders.

And that's…true, you suppose.

So you buy yourself a latte and get it in a to-go cup, find a seat at a two-person table in the back of the dining room and wait. But not for long.

Barely five minutes later and Heather is coming through the door. She spots you and there's a moment of awkward uncertainty as you half-rise from your chair, the both of you waving at each other before Heather gestures to the line at the till. You nod and retake your seat.

You resist the urge to text Joel. You can do this. You can do this on your own.

Heather settles up, cautiously setting her coffee cup on the table beside yours and you're not sure why–instinct or something–but you stand when she gets there, and let her pull you into a hug. 

"Hi, babe." Her voice is thick and her arms are tight around you. And, goddamnit, for everything she put you through, there is a familiarity in that embrace, something long-forgotten in the warmth of her voice. 

"Hey," you murmur, letting her squeeze you in tighter before you both pull away. "Hey."

She assesses you with wide, wet eyes, hands still resting on your shoulders.

"You look amazing," she says.

"Thanks."

"I don't even know where to start," she shakes her head. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Of course." Like you hadn't stewed over it for literal weeks.

"Why don't I just–I mean, I have to–"

You can see her struggling, and you can't help but sympathize. She was always the more confident of the two of you, always more direct and brave–but in that warm kind of way that used to always put you at ease. Now, she seems completely lost, awkwardly taking a seat and waiting for you to do the same. She clutches her hands around her coffee cup and you don't think you've ever seen her look so small. 

"I am…so fucking sorry," she finally says. She doesn't shy away from you when she says it, and you have to respect her courage for that. She looks you dead in the eyes and doesn't avert her stare even once. 

You swallow tightly. "I know."

"Can I…would you let me explain?"

"Actually, Heather," you say, straightening in your seat a bit to steel yourself. Heather's face falls, until you go on, "Can I go first? I just need to say my piece and then, yes, you can explain."

She's nodding furiously before you even get the words out.

"Of course, yes, oh my god, please."

She sits back, probably gearing up for the lashing of a lifetime. It's not quite what you have planned but–

"You really hurt me. You and Chris. Whatever the story is, whatever went down, it doesn't change the fact that what you two did just... completely fucked me up. My entire life changed overnight because of you. I spent so many days crying, screaming, trying to just...figure out what I'd done to deserve that. Why wasn't I enough? Why wasn't I good enough for Chris? Why wasn't I a good enough friend to you? Like, if I was a better friend to you maybe you wouldn't have done that to me, you know?"

Fat tears slowly well in Heather's eyes as you speak, finally spilling over as you near the end of your monologue. But she doesn't interrupt or argue, and for that, you're grateful.

"I wondered about all of that for a really long time," you continue. "In those first few days when it was hardest...and for so many months after. But...I'm okay now. I think actually it all kind of worked out in the end, as crazy as that sounds."

At least it had all brought you to Joel.

"But I just needed you to know what it did to me. I think it's important that you know."

Heather hastily swipes at her tears, blinking them away and nodding her agreement.

"And that's it, that's all I have to say," you conclude. The weight on your shoulders feels lighter already. "You don't have to say anything back but...I do want to hear you out. You can...you can tell me what happened now."

That was the point of all this after all, you guess. 

Heather takes a deep, shaky breath. You sip your coffee. 

"Okay. Well, fuck. Okay. I had feelings for Chris," she begins. "But I never–I never dreamed of acting on them while you two were together, you have to know that. It wasn't premeditated or-or-or something I actively thought about–"

"I never thought that."

It's true. Heather's a lot of things, but she's not conniving. 

"Okay," she nods, seeming genuinely relieved. "Good. I mean, it still doesn't make it right, I know that. But he–"

She cuts herself off, a nervous shiver passing over her. Her courage wanes, and she looks down at the table as she dives into the part of her story that neither of you wants you to relive. 

"That night at your birthday party, he started telling me things. He…"

Her voice trails off again, and you can understand her fears, but you need to know this. Whatever it is.

"Heather, it's okay, you can tell me."

She glances up at you. You make your resolve as clear as possible on your face until you see her nod. 

"What happened was…I was drunk and I-I told him how I felt," she continues. "I shouldn't have done that, I know that. But that's when he started saying all this stuff about how he wasn't happy and how he was planning to break up with you. He-he said he'd always wanted to be with me instead."

She stops, peeking up at you, but the only response you can offer her is a curt little,

"Oh."

Interesting. He'd made no indication of his unhappiness to you. 

"In that moment, I just…I believed him. I should have just come straight to you but I let my stupid feelings get in the way and I–"

"He can definitely be very convincing," you say bitingly. Heather almost laughs, but quickly reins herself in. 

"It's no excuse, and I know that," she says. "I just really thought he meant it. That he was going to end it with you and choose me instead. Not that that would have been okay either, but. God, in hindsight, I just was not thinking clearly at all."

Heather buries her face in her hands but it's getting hard to focus. You're flitting back through memories, trying to piece things together. Had there been signs? Since meeting Joel, you're acutely aware that you hadn't been as happy as you could have been with Chris, but you can't ever recall letting that on at the time. And you certainly can't recall Chris ever letting on his unhappiness. It doesn't add up. 

"Then he did end it with you and you went to Costa Rica and I felt like, 'Okay, this is what he'd promised,' but…I could tell right away he was having second thoughts. All of a sudden, he's changing his tune, saying he wants to get back together with you and basically telling me I could just be like a-like a side piece or something."

At that, you scoff mirthlessly. Of course.

That's why he hadn't let anything on. He'd been trying to have his cake and eat it too. Motherfucker. 

"Yeah," Heather goes on. "So I said, 'Fuck you' and I walked. I was already feeling terrible about what I'd done to you and that just settled it for me."

"Fuck," you sigh, pinching at a pressure point between your eyes.

"And I haven't talked to him once since then," Heather insists. She reaches across the table and wraps a hand around your wrist, and you let her. "I promise."

You place your own hand over hers–again operating on some kind of deep-seated instinct. 

"Thank you," you tell her. "For–I don't know, for being honest."

"I would've told you everything sooner if you'd have let me–"

"I know."

"But I know–I know you needed your time. You didn't have to hear me out at all, and I would have deserved that. I take full responsibility, I do, but, my god, babe–," Heather's lips pull up in a smirk and you share a knowing glance, "–that guy fucking sucks."

You could try to fight the way your own face contorts into a grin, but you don't. 

"Yeah," you agree. "He really fucking does."

There's a short beat of silence, filled with the sounds of your uncertain, quiet laughter.

"Are we okay?" Heather finally asks tentatively, letting your arm go. "Or–shit. Sorry. You don't have to answer that."

"No–it…I don't know yet," you say truthfully. "But, you know, I don't think you deserve what he did to you, either. And I'm sorry."

"I'm okay now. All I really care about is you."

You smile at each other tightly–uncertainly–and sip quietly at your coffees. She doesn't demand forgiveness or push the subject further. You think the air feels just a little clearer now, a little more like before.

"So what's new with you?" she chimes in after a moment. "How've you been? You never post on Instagram anymore."

Your smile turns a little shy as you debate telling her about Joel. But her gaze is so earnest and curious, it makes you want that normalcy, to be able to gush to your best friend about the man you've fallen in love with. 

"Well," you shrug, sitting up a little straighter in your chair. "I'm seeing someone."

Heather's jaw drops in genuine delight, her eyes going wide with wonder.

"No way! Tell me everything."

And you do. You tell her all about Joel and Costa Rica, and every perfect moment since. Heather gasps and squeals at all the appropriate times and you find yourself remembering why it feels so good to have someone to talk about these things with. It's so validating to watch someone be as excited about your love life as you feel about it. 

"Wait," she interrupts, early on in your retelling, "If he's your dad's friend–how old is he?"

You bite your lip, hardly bashful about it these days, but after the disaster that was telling your parents, you never know how someone could react anymore.

"He's in his fifties," you confess.

Heather's hands come up over her mouth, but her eyes are swimming with barely-contained glee.

"Shut up, oh my god," she exclaims. Her initial shock fades into awe, and when her hands fall from her face, you think she looks kind of impressed, "Damn, girl. That's hot. Is he hot?"

You smile. "He's so fucking hot."

When you're home later, you'll have to remember to tell Joel how good it had felt to brag about him. You're sure he'll act coy, but you know it'll make his ego bloom, just a little bit.

It goes on like that as the minutes pass, you catching Heather up on the whirlwind that the last eight months or so have been. She looks kind of proud, and that feels good too. You're so proud of Joel, proud of the life you've built together, the way he's taught you so much about yourself and helped you grow into this new, happier person. It's nice to have someone else see that.

"So, your mom still doesn't approve?" she asks once you've got her fully up to speed.

You shrug. "Not as far as I know. I haven't spoken to her since that night we told them."

"Oh, babe."

You just shrug again, pushing back on her sympathetic gaze. 

"Maybe she just needs some time," Heather posits, "I mean, you seem so happy. She'll see that eventually."

"Maybe, yeah."

Heather offers you her own scoop after that, telling you all about how she's been busy working on herself, taking courses to get her yoga-teaching license and enjoying being single for the time being–though she does work in a few stories of some particularly exciting hook-ups. She seems well, and in spite of everything, you're happy for her. 

What's more, you kind of don't want your time with her to end. She seems to sense it too.

"Hey, do you want to maybe grab a drink? Like, a real drink?" she offers once your take-out cups are empty and the cafe's traffic has slowed to an early-evening lull. 

"Yeah, okay, fuck it," you agree with a shrug. Heather smiles excitedly before excusing herself to the bathroom, leaving you to check your phone for the first time in hours.

Everything good? reads a text from Joel. 

all good, you reply, i'll be a little later than i thought. 

Take yr time. Love you.

love you too.

-

A cocktail deep, pop music blaring, and a plate of nachos between you; this is true familiarity with Heather.  

You're finally starting to feel some semblance of comfortable, and it feels fucking good. To laugh with an old friend, even if there's still that faint undercurrent of distrust there. You imagine it won't ever fully go away. The minutes tick by, and while that distant uncertainty never fades, it gets easier. It gets fun.

"So, be honest," Heather says, diving headfirst into her second blended margarita. Her eyes sparkle with a devious little glint and you already have a feeling what she's going to ask. "This guy…he's in his fifties, right?"

"Right," you grin. 

"So like…what's the sex like?"

Your grin widens as a warmth floods your cheeks. You think about Joel, his patience and his generosity, his big cock and his skillful hands. His curiosity and his devotion, every new experience he's offered you and how genuinely thrilled he seems to do so. You try not to think about it for long, though, because your tummy is already fluttering in a way it really shouldn't be in public.

"Honestly," you say, sipping at your drink coyly. "I don't think it could possibly be any better."

Heather makes a delighted little noise, practically bouncing her chair. 

"Oh my god, okay…but what about like, his stamina?"

"Um," you laugh. "Hasn't been an issue yet."

"I love this for you so much, babe," she smiles and it sounds like she really means it. "Can I see what he looks like?"

You have no qualms saying no to that. You may be stupidly in love, but you don't think it's biased of you to find Joel Miller beautiful. It's simply an objective truth. And it feels good to show him off.

You pull your phone out of your purse and flash Heather your lockscreen–a picture of Joel on the beach in Costa Rica, salt-and-pepper curls tousled in the breeze, soft belly poking out over his swim trunks, smiling at you over his broad shoulders.

"Oh my god," Heather repeats, yanking your phone right out of your hand for a better look. She taps the screen to keep it alive as she stares between the picture and you, smiling triumphantly across from her. "Whoa."

"Mhm," you smirk, your chest swelling with pride. 

“That's a man, baby," she commends you, handing back your phone. You sneak a parting glance down at the image of Joel on your screen before locking it. Heather sits back against the booth behind her, shaking her head in wonder. "And he sounds like he's so good to you."

You nod, sighing dreamily. "Yeah...he's the best."

"Good. You deserve that."

It's honestly a touching sentiment, one that makes you warm and soft. You didn't know how nice it would feel to have just one person in your life accept your relationship with Joel without any convincing at all. You share a smile and clink your glasses. 

"I need an older man," Heather jokes, the sincerity of the moment quickly dissipating. "I'm so sick of boys."

"Joel certainly puts Chris to shame, that's for sure," you admit candidly. 

Heather huffs. "Yeah, well, that's not saying much, is it?"

You almost squirt your drink out through your nose. 

"Sorry, oh my god," Heather laughs, but it's too late. And it's probably wrong, but you don't care. You both descend into a fit of giggles at your ex's expense, and something about it feels weirdly cathartic.

-

It's like old times after that. Easier to forget the drama when you're three drinks deep and laughing so much. You're comfortably drunk in a way you haven't been in a while, falling quickly back into your usual repartee with Heather. You feel lighter–freer–as you and Heather find your way to the dance floor and pick up basically where you'd left off nearly a year ago.

You also miss Joel.

He's being respectful, clearly trying to give you space, texting you to be safe when you'd let him know you'd be staying out a little longer. And that's nice and all, but you've talked about him so much tonight, and for all the fun you're having, you just want his arms around you and his lips on yours again. 

"Didn't we go to high school with that guy?" Heather leans in close as you dance, effectively distracting you.

You follow her stare across the bar, averting your gaze the second you lock eyes with a handsome stranger leaning against the far wall. He's with a friend, and the two of them eye you and Heather with unabashed interest.

"Which one?" you giggle. 

"The one on the left!"

You peek over at the men again, honing in on the one on the left. He does kind of look familiar. He's also still watching the two of you curiously.

"Uh…" you wrack your brain, trying to recall. It feels like a lifetime ago.

"Tom!" Heather exclaims. You shake your head. 

"That doesn't sound right."

"No, it is! Tom from the basketball team, remember?" 

You look over again, but it's still not clicking. Maybe you're drunker than you'd thought.

"He's kinda cute," Heather murmurs slyly in your ear. You grin. 

The man is tall and lean, light-haired and certainly good-looking enough. A little older than both of you, but younger than the broader, burlier man beside him. You think maybe they could be brothers. 

"Do you want to say hi?" you ask her. 

Heather shakes her head.

"I have a better idea," she winks.

She grabs your hand and guides you to the bar, leaning against it and lengthening her body ever so. It doesn't take long before the men are coming up beside you like clockwork. 

You could always count on Heather to find a way to get free drinks.

"What are you drinking, ladies?" the younger one implores confidently, placing an elbow on the bar top beside Heather. "Oh shit, do I know you?"

"I want a shot," Heather says, ignoring his question. "You guys want a shot?"

"Fuck, yeah–whiskey alright?"

"Tequila," Heather smirks definitively.

-

Despite being out of practice, you haven't lost the ability to recognize good vibes from bad. And the guys give off good vibes. Especially once you all collectively figure out that you did indeed go to high school together. 

You shoot a pointed look at Heather when the younger one tells you his name is, in fact, Tim. 

"From the basketball team, though, right?" Heather asks. Tim frowns.

"Actually, it was water polo," he says.

"Water polo!" Heather repeats, looking at you with open arms and winking. You try to conceal your giggling. "Of course, I remember now."

Tim grins bashfully, even though you are sure Heather most certainly does not remember. 

You cheers to the Ravens and down your shots and then Tim ushers Heather back to the dance floor. You happily let her go. Tim seems kind of goofy, consistently making Heather throw her head back in laughter and it honestly feels nice to watch her look so content. You think about how Joel had made you feel those first few days in Costa Rica, when you'd still been reeling with all that heart ache. 

You think about how much resentment you'd harboured for Heather back then, and while it's not totally gone, there's a sense of kinship there now too. Chris had hurt you both, and you know all too well how healing it had been to find someone willing to stitch up the wounds he'd left. You want that for Heather. 

Goddamnit, you miss Joel. 

You imagine showing him off to all your old high school friends like he was some kind of trophy husband at a class reunion. You'd walk into the gymnasium, hanging confidently off his arm and everyone there would turn and stare. They'd all whisper about his age, you bet. Call you mean names behind the bleachers and gossip about whether or not he was your sugar daddy. Thinking like that used to make you anxious, now it makes you grin. 

"You want another drink?"

The other guy, Mike, is still sitting with you at the bar. He is Tim's brother, though you don't recognize him at all. Two years older and visiting from Philly, he's pretty clearly into you. But the conversation has been easy and he hasn't tried anything weird, so you don't think too much of it. You regale him about all your favourite local taquerias and what you studied in college, conscious of the way he seems just a little bit too interested in all of it. 

But you definitely don't need another drink, bordering on the better side of too drunk, and as nice as he is, you think it's probably best not to lead him on any longer. 

"Actually, I think I might head out soon."

"That's cool," Mike shrugs, polishing off the beer in his hand. "Wanna go grab a bite? Keep hangin' out?"

He sounds casual enough, but there's also an air of hopefulness in his voice. 

"Oh, that's okay." You clear your throat, suddenly nervous at the thought of quashing that hope. "I'm, um, I'm actually spoken for."

Unconsciously, your fingers fly to the shell around your neck, fiddling idly with the chain. Mike's eyes follow the motion.

Much to your relief, Mike smiles, seemingly unbothered. 

"Makes sense," he nods. His eyes trail up and down your body in a way that makes your cheeks burn. It also really makes you miss Joel. He's the only one you want looking at you like that. 

"Well, he's a lucky guy, whoever he is," Mike says with a wink. 

"Yeah," you agree fondly. "He is."

-

It's a quarter past eleven when Joel finally hears a car pull up outside. Two minutes later and your key is turning in the door, Henry bounding off the bed beside him to greet you downstairs. 

"Hi, baby boy!"

Your voice, high-pitched and much too loud, cuts through the quiet of his home. He smiles to himself as he listens to you kick your shoes off, murmuring unintelligible nonsense to Henry as you both make your way back up to the bedroom. Joel sets his book on the nightstand and tilts his glasses down his nose, sitting up straighter until you emerge in the doorway with Henry in your arms and a crooked smile plastered across your face. 

"Hey, sweetheart," he smirks.

You visibly soften at the sight of him, Henry spilling out of your grip.

"Hi," you whine.

Joel can't quite get a read on your energy, watching you curiously strip off your jeans and crawl up the mattress till you're splayed out on top of him.    

"Mmmm, Joel," you sigh dreamily as you make yourself at home across his chest. 

"I take it that went alright?" he asks, wrapping an arm around your neck to stroke the back of your head. You practically purr into his sternum and the sound makes his insides turn.

"Yes," you nod, before pressing both hands into his shoulders to push yourself up so you're straddling him, "But, Joel…"

Now face to face, you appear a bit dazed as you blink down at him, an adorable little pout painting your features. Joel smirks, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he waits for you to finish your thought.

"I missed you so much," you conclude, catching him off guard when you fist the front of his t-shirt and dive forward to slant your mouth over his.

You plunge your tongue between his lips and Joel can taste tequila there, can feel it too in the way you're kissing him; sloppy, hungry, eager. 

"Only been gone a few hours, sweetheart," he chuckles against your lips.

"I know, but…after the cafe, we went drinking and–"

"No shit."

With what appears to be considerable effort, you push yourself off his chest and point an accusatory finger in his face. Your eyes narrow and Joel thinks you look a little too adorable for your own good. 

"Watch it, Miller."

Joel grins. 

"Mmmm, or what?" he hums, tracing his palms up and over your sides, which seems to distract you for a moment, your eyelids fluttering as a minute shiver visibly courses through you. You quickly pull yourself together.

Your blissful features quickly dissolve back into an overdone pout and Joel watches with amusement as you pry his fingers off your body. He could resist, but he doesn't, honestly just curious–and maybe a little turned on–as you collect his wrists in your hands and pin his arms down on the mattress beside his head.

Seemingly content with your work, you hold him there with eyebrows raised–and Joel decides to let you have the win. 

"Can I finish my story, please?"

"Yes, ma'am," he smirks. You bristle at that but otherwise manage to stay on track.

"We went drinking, and it was really, really fun," you go on. You shift your weight slightly, and Joel smirks when he catches the moment you lose your train of thought at the feeling of his hardening cock beneath you. 

"And?" he presses.

"I-I think I'm still mad at her…but it was…nice."

"That's good, baby," Joel murmurs, experimentally rolling his hips upwards just to watch your eyelids flutter. "I'm real proud of ya."

You exhale, making a sound that's almost a sob as you abandon your grip around his wrists to fold yourself over his chest again. You greedily kiss his neck and his ears and his face, and Joel lets you. Your drunken desperation is making him harder than he'd like to admit, and it's pretty fucking endearing to watch you suck your little marks into his skin with no inhibitions whatsoever.

"I talked about you a lot," you smile, clumsily resituating yourself so you're lying against his side, folding yourself in half so you're speaking the words against his belly. 

"Yeah?" He rests his hand on the back of your skull, chuckling at the way you keen into his touch. "Talked about me how?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," you sneer just as you curl your fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

"What're you doin' there, baby girl?"

You peer up at him with a devastating puppy-dog stare, all wide-eyed and needy. "I missed your cock. I just wanna suck on it a little."

"Jesus," Joel breathes. He's powerless to fight you then as you tug his boxers down his thighs to reveal his semi-hard cock. He really shouldn't let you in this state but you're already wrapping your fingers around him and tonguing at his slit and it's too fucking late now. He stiffens fully in your grasp and promptly loses any will to stop you.

Then you close your lips around his length and take him as deep as you can, moaning like he's just given you the sweetest gift in the world. 

"Fuck, yeah, you missed it," he grunts as you begin to bob, downright eager with it, if not lacking some of your usual finesse. You coat his cock with sloppy strings of saliva and move on him in an uneven rhythm but Joel's not gonna argue with a hot, wet mouth. Joel is more than happy to watch you take what you want from him. 

"Messy girl," he remarks affectionately, stroking a palm down your spine to your ass, firmly cupping your cheek in his hand. "This all you wanted? Just to come home and let me stuff that pretty little mouth?"

"Mhm," you hum blissfully around him, spluttering a bit as you swallow him down again.

"Fuck, that's a good girl," he groans.

At that, you whimper, your cheek falling into his belly with your mouth still closed around his cock. You keep up the motions of your mouth for a moment, humming and moaning around him as you draw precum from his tip and suck it down greedily until he feels your jaw slowly begin to slacken.

He pets your hair and your body goes loose, heavy where it lays across his middle.

Joel can sense a shift in you then, your eagerness fading even as you continue to lap at his tip. Your fingers feel a little weaker around his shaft but you don't let up, lazily jerking him until he feels your hand go still, your lips barely grazing him anymore. You offer him a few wet, open-mouthed kisses to the head of his cock and then you go limp.

Joel waits a moment to be sure, peeking down at you questioningly.

Sure enough, you're asleep. 

"Oh, baby," Joel sighs fondly. He squeezes your ass but you don't stir. Your slow, steady breathing lets him know you're really out, his hard cock forgotten in your grasp. You'll probably be embarrassed in the morning, but Joel's just stupidly endeared, hoisting you up into his arms and ignoring your half-conscious sounds of protest. 

"C'mere, sweetheart, there you go."

He nestles up behind you, cradling you into his chest with his cock pressed against your ass. You shimmy back into him and Joel tries to ignore the ache, tells himself it'll feel better to fuck you in the morning when you've sobered up anyway. He reaches back to turn off the lamp on the nightstand and you whine at the loss of his body against yours. 

"Joel," you whisper as he retakes his place behind you. "Did you come?"

He fights for his life not to burst out laughing. You're so goddamn cute.

"No, baby," he murmurs, kissing his favourite spot behind your ear. "Made me feel real fuckin' good, though. You can make me come tomorrow, alright?"

You hum contentedly, already drifting back to sleep. Joel pulls you in tighter, whispers that he loves you even though he doesn't think you can hear him, and it's not long before he's following behind you.

-

His alarm wakes him just as a beam of sunlight passes through his window, but it doesn't have the same effect on you.

You snooze peacefully with your back adhered to his chest, the gentle curve of your ass still flush against his cock. Your panties are gone; had you gotten up in the night? He can't remember now. It doesn't matter anyway, not when he can feel the heat of your body this close, bare flesh all soft and warm against him as the memory of the night before floods his senses. He'd fallen asleep with his dick still hard–aching–and within seconds of being awake, he's right back where you'd left him last night. 

Not that it's uncommon for Joel to wake up horny when he sleeps next to you, but it's worse like this, worse that he's already felt your lips on his cock just a few hours prior, without getting the chance to come down your throat.

"Hey," he murmurs into your hair, but you don't wake up. You just move your hips backwards unconsciously, the hard length of his cock pressing warm between your cheeks. Driving him fucking crazy and you don't even know it.

Joel growls, a low, carnal sound he barely recognizes as he trails a hand down the side of your body. He cups your ass in his palm and spreads your cheeks apart, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing your hole. You shiver and Joel smirks. Sound asleep and you still respond to having your ass played with. Something about knowing you so well makes him that much harder. 

Pliant and gone, you let him play with you, hands traversing every inch of your skin, up and over your belly to cup your breasts. His breath ragged in your ear, he gently twists your nipples just to feel them come alive under his touch. You squirm for him and Joel responds in turn, unable to help himself as he begins to slowly rut his hips against you. 

"Sweet thing," he husks, feeling his touch grow rougher on your hipbone, your ass flush against his bulge as he grinds into you like a fucking teenager. "You don't even fuckin' know. Got no idea what you’re doin' to me, do you?"

He knows you can't hear him. Right now, he doesn't care. 

He's wanted you like this since Costa Rica, too nervous to ask until you'd given him the okay all those months ago now. He's had you so many ways, and still you say you want more. He's not sure what he ever did to deserve you, but if one thing's been true from the start, it's that Joel Miller is not strong enough to deny you anything. 

Something about this, though, feels decidedly selfish. His hand on your thigh, positioning your pliant muscles to his liking, bending your leg at the knee just so he can spread you open wider, slip his fingers between your ass cheeks and scrape them over your bare pussy; that's for him. 

The sticky wetness he feels there–that's his. 

Your spine arching in your sleep when he sinks two fingers into your warm, dripping hole–that's because of him. 

"Still want it, baby?" he hums as he pumps his fingers in and out. "Still want this cock?"

He doesn't wait for you to answer. For once, he just takes. 

You put up no resistance as he replaces his fingers with his cock, pulling your body back into him until his hips meet your ass.

"Fuck," he hisses as he bottoms out.

You're so warm, so tight and inviting and perfect around him.

You're so wet, slick pools of arousal coating the hairs on his lower belly, sticking to your skin where it touches his.

And you're so soft, all gooey and loose in his arms as he slowly rocks into you, as close as he can possibly get and somehow never close enough. 

"S'my good girl," he breathes, "Take it just like that for me. Finish what you started, huh?"

He moves without haste, content just to feel you like this, close and confined under the covers. Experimentally, he reaches around you to touch his fingers to your clit, sighing in amazement when your pussy clenches on his cock, a wave of slick gathering at the place you're connected.

"Yeah? That feel good?" he says to no one as he gently circles your pearl. He's rewarded with a breathy little moan, the prettiest fucking sound he's ever heard. His hips snap against yours with more force now, jostling you with you every thrust. He can feel his control waning, and he's gonna wake you up soon if he's not careful. 

Maybe he's done being careful. 

Cock still buried inside you, he rolls you both so he's lying above you, your body prone to the mattress beneath him. Your fingers curl into little fists and then you gasp, eyelids fluttering against the light of morning. Something dark and animalistic twists in him when he watches the awareness creep across your face, the way your features contort and you strain to look back over your shoulder, piecing it all together. 

"Oh my god," you whine when it clicks. "Joel, fuck, fuck–ohmygodJoel–"

"Shh, I know, baby, I know…I got you, you're okay," he babbles, folding over you to nip hungrily at your shoulders. You throw your head back and expose the column of your neck to him and Joel bites down there too just because he can. "Just had to feel you like this. You were so wet."

"Oh, fuck," you cry, voice still hoarse with sleep as Joel pounds into you harder. No reason to hold back now. "Fuck yes, Joel, take it."

"Yeah?"

"Please."

That's all he needs to hear.

With his arms wrapped firmly around your middle, Joel sits back onto his knees, taking you with him as he drapes you over his thighs and pulls you down onto his length. Your body still feels weak with sleep, almost passive in his grasp in a way he's not sure he should enjoy so much. He doesn't overthink it. 

What he does is find your clit again, massaging his fingers over the bundle of nerves while he thrusts his cock up into you. A wanton moan pours from your throat and Joel catches it in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. 

"There you go, there you go," Joel rambles when he feels you start to quiver, your pussy constricting around him as you spill listless, needy sounds of pleasure onto his lips. "Feels so good, don't it? Wakin' up with a cock inside you. This is what you wanted. Yeah? You gonna come?"

"Yesyes, fuck, yes Joel, I'm coming–"

"I know," he grins, "I know, baby."

He knows because he feels it. He feels you pulse around his length, feels your muscles seize and loosen, feels your little clit twitch beneath his fingers as he coaxes you through your high. He also feels something new, something wet and warm and sinful. 

"Oh, good girl," he groans. "Fuck–look at that."

You're gushing for him, liquid pouring out over his fingers and his cock and his balls, staining the sheets beneath you. You writhe in his arms but Joel just keeps fucking you, fucks you until he's drawn every last drop from you. Fucks you until he's coming too, clutching you against him as his cock spasms between your walls and paints your insides with spend. Hot cum leaks out around his length, drips down your inner thighs, and makes a mess of your already messy pussy. 

He comes and comes and then it ends, strangled moans fading into ragged breaths and heady grunts of release. 

"Jesus," Joel pants into the hollow of your ear as he slowly comes down. "You alright?"

"Yes," you sigh. "Holy shit, thank you, Joel. Thank you."

He's got no fucking idea what for. 

He pulls you off his cock and turns you in his lap to face him. Your arms coil around his neck and you cling to him like a koala, your face buried in his chest. He holds you there, because he thinks you might need that–and also because he wants to. 

"How'd I get so lucky, huh?" he ponders as he gently strokes your hair.

"I'm lucky," you protest softly. "I was trying to tell you that last night."

"I thought you were tryin' to suck my cock."

You laugh breathlessly, unravelling yourself from him just enough to let him see your face. You curl your fingers into his hair in a possessive sort of way that would probably make him hard if he hadn't just come so thoroughly. 

"That was supposed to be an act of gratitude."

"For what? I didn't do nothin'."

He tries to keep his tone as light as yours, but his insecurities always bleed through no matter how hard he tries. You sense the earnestness in his voice, and match it head on. 

"That's not true. You've made everything better," you whisper, touching your forehead to his. "I'm so fucking happy you're in my life."

He's gonna have to ask you exactly what all went down with Heather. He figures for now it can wait. 

You kiss him and he kisses you back, his furrowed brows softening as your lips move against his in a now-familiar dance. The sun rises over Austin and though he's not sure he'll ever have the words to tell you, Joel thinks he's pretty damn happy you're in his life too.

-

"So I was thinking," you say around a mouthful of eggs the following Saturday.

"Uh-oh," Joel grins. 

You fix him with a look and his grin only widens. 

"Anyway," you continue pointedly, shovelling another forkful of eggs into your mouth. "I was thinking–I'm kind of on a roll here. You know, in terms of, like, building bridges or whatever."

"Sure," Joel nods.

"And I'm thinking that…maybe I'm ready to talk to my mom."

Joel's eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, like…" you shrug, focusing on your breakfast as you talk out what's been on your mind since you'd seen Heather last weekend. Being with her and hearing her side of the story had given you some foundation with which to forgive her. It's been gnawing at you that you haven't really given your own mother that chance. Perhaps if she could just see how happy you are, she'd eventually come around. 

You explain all this to Joel, who nods along and hums his agreement. 

"I just feel like I've…closed myself off to her and it's not really fair for me to just expect her to magically see the light, you know? I mean, look at dad. He's been coming around more, he's been seeing us together. And he's basically okay with it all now. Maybe it's just me, you know? Maybe I need to let her in."

Joel shakes his head, smiling at you affectionately. "You're too good for your own good, you know that?"

You scoff and wave him off. 

"Whatever. But don't you agree?"

He appears to mull it over, sipping his coffee for a long moment before eventually sighing. 

"I do," he nods slowly. "But I also think…you got a right to protect your peace. Lettin' her in means exposin' yourself to all the shit that might come with that."

You bite your lip and nod. You know that. You know he's right. You know it might blow up in your face to try to repair that relationship. But some little voice in the back of your head keeps telling you to do it anyway. A cloying, aching need to just…put things back in place.

"I guess I'm just tired of feeling so angry all the time," you confess. "I'm just…walking around with all this unresolved bullshit hanging over me and it's…I mean, it's exhausting. I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I saw Heather, you know? If I potentially have the power to do something about that, then I think…I think I should."

Joel smiles, his sweet brown eyes crinkling at the edges. 

"Then I'm with you, baby," he says, reaching across the table to cover one of your hands with his own. "Whatever you gotta do."

You nod resolutely, spurred on, as ever, by his unwavering support.

-

On Sunday, it rains.

Heavy showers pelt against Joel's windshield, his truck parked in the driveway of your parents' home. A quick text to your mom the day before had confirmed she'd be home around this time and that she'd be more than okay with you stopping by for an afternoon coffee. Unlike when you'd sat outside the cafe in this same truck a week ago, you don't feel nervous to see your mother. Instead, you feel a strange sense of duty and an unflappable air of confidence. All you have to do is show off how happy Joel makes you for a couple of hours. What could possibly be easier than that? 

Plus, you're not really worried about your mother coming at you with any kind of outward disdain. She can be oddly cordial when she thinks someone is mad at her.

"I'll stay close by," Joel tells you. "Take you home when you're done."

You frown. "What? You don't have to wait for me, that's silly."

Joel just shrugs. "Ain't no thing. Don't want you takin' the bus in this weather."

And Joel thinks you're too good. 

"I wish you could just come in with me."

It had been the only stipulation your mother had outlined, or at least that's how you'd interpreted her text asking, It's just you coming, right?

You'd burned with rage at that, typed out an entire message in Joel's defense, but he had insisted it was fine. One thing at a time. He could sit this one out. 

"Next time," he murmurs, leaning across the centre console to kiss your cheek. 

"Yeah," you nod. 

He wishes you good luck, offering you a goodbye kiss before you're pulling your hood up over your head and bounding through the downpour to the front door. Your mother is pulling it open before you've even stepped onto the welcome mat. 

"Quick, quick, come on," she hastens you with a hand around your shoulders, guiding you inside and out of the pouring rain. You catch her look back at Joel pulling out of the driveway before she's closing the door behind you both. 

"Oh, shoot, look at you," she tuts, prodding at the wet fabric of your hoodie. "Let me get you something else to wear–"

"It's fine, mom," you insist before she can go pulling you something hideous from her closet. You pull your damp sweater up over your head so you're in just your t-shirt, noting that hardly any of the rainwater had managed to leak through. "This is fine, see?"

"Alright," she smiles, sort of shyly. You've been apart so long, and it normally doesn't feel so weird falling back into that mother-daughter routine. Extenuating circumstances, you suppose. She glances down at the hoodie in your arms.

"Do you want to hang it up in the bathroom and let it dry? I'll get some coffee going."

You return her smile as best you can. It certainly sounds like she's trying. It certainly sounds like something a mother would say. 

"Yeah, sure," you nod, already skirting around her to your way down the front hall. "Thanks."

You vaguely hear her hum something in response as she makes her way to the kitchen. 

The main-floor bathroom is just down the hall, a renovation project that's been half-in-the-works for years, basically abandoned now that your parents almost exclusively use their en suite. Maybe they'd have finished it by now if you still lived here.

You flip the light on to find it looks much the same as it did the last time you were here; tiles partially laid, sink without a hot water knob. You carefully drape your hoodie up on the shower curtain rod still noticeably lacking a shower curtain.

You're flattening out the sleeves when you hear the doorbell chime. 

Having grown up here, you respond instinctively to the familiar melody, poking your head out of the bathroom just in time to see your mother beat you to the door. She swings it open, and there on the front porch, soaked from his head to his shoulders, is Joel. 

Your heart just about stops.

"Oh," your mother greets him, uncertainly looking back over her shoulder to where you're standing wide-eyed in the hallway. 

"'Lo, ma'am,” Joel says. From here, you can barely hear him over the rain outside. "I don't mean to intrude. Just wanted to leave this."

You frown as he holds something out to your mother, something you can't see from this angle.  

"Oh," she says again, sounding theatrically surprised. You roll your eyes. 

"She left it in the truck. Just thought she might need it. That's all. I'll get outta your hair now."

He catches your eye over her shoulder then, quickly shooting you a sweet, heart-breaking smirk that makes your chest swell. 

"Thank you, Joel," your mother says. "I'll, uh, make sure she gets it."

He smiles at her politely and offers her a parting wave, taking off at the same time she begins to close the door after him.

"What is it? What was that?" you ask, hurriedly emerging from the hallway to meet her in the entryway. 

"Your umbrella," she tells you, hanging it up on a coat hook. "That was nice of him."

She says it absentmindedly as she makes her back to the kitchen, this time with you in tow. 

Huh.

"Well, he's a really nice man," you say simply, leaning your elbows on the island while she tends to the coffee pot. 

"Hm," she nods.

She busies herself, deep in thought in a way that makes you uneasy. 

"What?" you press her.

She pours you a mug of coffee, preparing it just how you like with cream and sugar–the same way you've taken it for years. She hands it to you over the countertop, brows still furrowed together in apparent confusion. 

"He drove you here?"

You frown. "Yes?"

"Kind of a far drive in the rain."

"So?"

She ignores you.

"What's he doing while you're here?"

You're struggling to follow her train of thought. But you think maybe you know what she's getting at. Why she can't understand Joel doing something so selfless, why she probably can't seem to understand you and Joel at all.

The thing about your mother is that there always needs to be something in it for her. Every favour, every helping hand; it can never be truly inconvenient for her, and it must always somehow benefit her in return. You know of people out there with mothers who are truly selfless, mothers who are there for them, mothers who would drop everything at a moment's notice if their children so much as asked.

But that is not your mother. That has never been your mother.

You'd forgiven her for that long ago, convinced yourself it had just made you that much more independent, that much more self-reliant. And it did, but at a cost. That cost being someone in your life you could always safely count on, someone you could always trust to be there when you needed them.

Someone who would drive you in the pouring rain to a house he could not enter, just so he could wait for you outside and bring you home when you were ready. 

"I don't know," you tell her honestly. "He just said he'd stay close by and that he'd pick me up when we're done."

She's still frowning, seemingly perplexed at the notion. "He's just waiting out there in his truck?"

You shrug. "I told you, mom. He's a really nice man."

"Hm," she says again, staring down at her coffee and taking a long, contemplative sip. "I guess he is."

You grin. It's not much. It's hardly anything at all, really. But it's a start. A seed you're more than willing to water in the hopes that eventually, maybe, she'll come around.

-

A/N CONT'D: thank you for reading! and now...a special sneak peek of the upcoming summer season. continue reading for the first 500 words of the next and final chapter of your summer dream. i love you all.

chapter vibes:

Sometimes life really feels like a dream. 

Even in the monotony, even in the mundane. The morning commutes and the tins of cat food, the Sunday afternoons spent cleaning and the Tuesday nights spent falling asleep on the couch. And it's funny, how just like a dream, you move through the days as though time means nothing at all, everything blurring together until all at once, a year has passed. 

Summer blooms, softens and warms you from the inside out. The fan beside the bed blows cool air against your clammy skin, but is no match for the heat between your legs, the overwhelming sensation of Joel's mouth fused wetly over your cunt. 

He drinks you down like you're his morning coffee, ravenous and greedy as he hooks your legs over his shoulders and snakes his arms around your thighs. But he is in no rush, languid in the way he makes out with your pussy, whimpering and groaning at every soft, needy moan he manages to draw from you. 

But then you claw at his scalp, tug on those gorgeous greying curls and whine. Joel smirks.

"Impatient," he mutters. 

He's been lapping lazily at your cunt for the better part of twenty minutes now. You are not impatient. Luckily, as you've come to discover, Joel will never tell you no unless you ask him to. 

"S'alright," he whispers, barely letting his lips leave you as he sinks two thick fingers into your core. You keen at the welcome stretch, and Joel purrs between your thighs. "Yeah, there she is. There's my fuckin' girl. You want me to make this little pussy come? Never can just wait, can ya?"

"Waited–long enough," you groan weakly as he nudges at that perfect spot inside you. "Please. I've been good."

You feel him smile again before he's pressing a chaste little kiss to your clit, his moustache tickling your skin.

"Yeah, you have," he breathes, and then he gets to work. 

His tongue moves in tandem with his fingers, expertly finding a familiar rhythm he knows like the back of his hand by now. In no time at all, warmth pools down your spine and settles in your tummy, courses rapidly through your veins and tenses all your muscles. You come with dazzling force, grinding your clit onto his willing tongue with that insistent fist still tangled in this hair. Joel loves that. 

In these moments, the dream comes alive. The mundanity of every-day life splits open and you realize, there is in fact nothing monotonous about this life at all. How could there be? Joel is here–Joel is still here. A year since you first shook his hand in an airport parking lot, a year in which it feels as though everything changed; through it all, Joel remains. Like a tulip in soil, perennial.

"Wanna take you away somewhere," he rasps as he climbs up your body to kiss and nip at the side of your face. "What do you think? Wanna come away with me?"

You're not sure if he means forever or a day.

"Yes, please," you tell him either way. 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel miller x reader #vacation!joel #your summer dream #joel miller one shot #joel miller series #dbf!joel

[merbear25]

hello dear can I request promp 14 with Law? fem! reader and nsfw, thank you 😘

Hello, lovely! I realized the other day that I hadn't written for Law in quite awhile, so I was excited to get back into it! I hope you enjoy what I came up with 💜💜

Caught in the act

CW: NSFW!! MDNI!! fem!reader, male masturbation, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal penetration, cream pie, light choking and hairpulling

Ever since joining the Heart Pirates, Law took a strong liking to you. Sure, you'd proven yourself long before officially joining them, but once apart of the crew, it seemed like you truly allowed your personality to shine―and those rays were something he could lose track of time basking in.

The more he came to know you, the more he yearned from you. Upon coming to this realization, he pulled back from interacting with you in hopes of smothering the growing flames of desire the best he could. However, they'd grown out of control and were rapidly engulfing him.

Having suppressed his feelings for you for far too long, he was now at his breaking point. The way you swayed your hips, the face you made when you concentrated, the sound of your laugh: each of these swarmed his thoughts, leaving him to relish in his deepest and most private fantasies. Each night presented itself as a testiment to his self-control, of which was an uphill battle.

That night was full of bonding: exchanging stories, laughs, and some secrets. The nonchalant nature of trading secrets struck fear in Law―the fear of being asked and potentially blurting out the one that was in the forefront of his mind. Excusing himself, he made a beeline for his bedroom.

His urges were growing stronger, making them damn near impossible to neglect anymore. Sitting in his room, he contemplated whether or not to surrender to desire. Thinking of how disrespectful it would be to touch himself as you exchanged stories with the others just down the hall made him sick. He felt as if he'd been reduced to a pathetic pervert with no sense of restraint. God, but your charm was far too alluring.

The growing lust under his pants was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. Unzipping his jeans and letting his arousal spring free, he hesitated. Thinking how he'd be able to get the job done more quickly, he reached for a photo of you he kept in the drawer of his bedside table. You looked stunning that day.

Peering down at the picture, he began rutting in his open palm. The delicate smile on your face, the beauty held in your poise, such memories flooded his mind as he inched closer and closer to the edge.

Lost in his fantasies, he didn't hear you calling for him. It was only when he heard a gasp that he noticed your presence.

Being quick to cover himself, he immediately made up an excuse, "It's not what it looks like!"

"Is that my picture?" You shrieked, unable to contain how appalled you were.

"Stop shouting!" He hushed, his face burning with the intensity that could melt the surroundings.

Your utter shock aside, you couldn't help but notice how well-endowed he was. Confliction of the current situation had you torn: should you let this moment damper your relationship with him or take this as an opportunity to explore other avenues?

You could never deny the attraction you had towards Law, making the latter an easy option to pursue. Stepping forward, you held a neediness in your eyes.

His posture became rigid as you came closer. In spite of the obvious sultry look you were giving him, his nerves were persistent.

"I could help you with that, you know."

Glancing down at his still stiffened member, he gripped the side of the bed as he nodded for you to assist him.

Easing yourself between his legs, you treated him to the wonderland which was your mouth. Licking the underside of his eagerness, you trailed your tongue up to the tip before taking as much of him as you could.

The swirling of your tongue and sucking motion made your mouth all too tempting. Placing his hand on the top of your head, he timidly grabbed your hair, giving you unspoken approval.

"Wait."

Looking up at him, your first thought was that he wasn't enjoying it.

"I want to feel all of you," he admitted, gently leading you up from the floor and guiding you on your back. Watching you get into position, he tugged his clothes off before moving ontop of you.

Planting a firm kiss on your lips, the both of you could feel each fiber of your beings searing as you dived deeper into the pools of euphoria.

Promptly removing your bottoms and discarding them along with your panties across the room, he aligned his reddened tip with your weeping slit. The hunger in his eyes were mirrored in yours.

Easing into you, finally being able to indulge in your warmth made something in him snap. Gripping your hips, he swiftly went into deep and forceful thrusts. Not wanting to hold back any longer, the sweet mewls of pleasure passing over your lovely lips were just the encouragement he needed.

Seeing you unravel on him, he couldn't resist wrapping his fingers around your delicate throat. The intensity in your moans grew more desperate, making him tighten his grip a bit.

You were making quite the spectacle of yourself with each surge of pleasure coursing through you. As you moved in complete harmony, he blanketed your body with his, pressing your twitching form firmly against him.

With the increasing force of his cock bullying its way deeper inside, your fingers tangled themselves in his dark locks and tugged at them. Earning yourself a deep growl from Law, he only dialed up the urgency: keeping a firm grip around your throat and bucking more harshly.

Being assaulted by the animalistic need for each other, you were overcome with shockwaves signaling throughout your bodies, which led to an electrifying peak to that night's events. The rush of him filling you with each drop of white lust sent you into a frenzy, causing your body to cling to him as you rode out this madness.

Panting from the lingering waves pulsing through you, he peered down at your spent form. His once lustful gaze now replaced by affection and tenderness.

Cupping the side of your face, he stroked your cheek before placing a loving peck on your forehead. You both wished you could stay like this forever, wrapped in each other's embrace.

#follower event #one piece #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #one piece x you #op #one piece smut #law trafalgar #one piece law #law one piece #trafalgar law #law #law x reader #law x you #law smut #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d law x you

[devourable]

⚠︎ the stalker

sfw, mdni, beta read by @fluffula | tags ;; masc yandere x gn reader — stalking (duh), themes of self deprecation/lack of self worth, erotomania

hii im back from my unannounced hiatus bc i have more time on my hands :] ik vega didnt win the poll but fsr theyre the only one i could get myself to write sooo 🫶 i know im super rusty since I haven't written in ages so sorry if this is a lackluster return fic. it just be like that

vega just wasn’t the type of person that people liked. it was a fact, and he was well aware of it.

they were lanky and awkward, unkempt, and often didn’t know what to say or do in any given social situation. no one went out of their way to interact with them and vice versa. the few times he ended up around others anyway, he always found himself sidelined by the few people he could refer to as friends — they’d never be the focus, if they weren’t forgotten about entirely.

they weren’t anyone’s first choice. hell, they weren’t a second or third choice, either. it was a sad existence that he had accepted long ago — why bother trying to fit in if he wasn’t wanted? he was so boring, he wouldn’t wanna hang out with himself either, anyway. so every day and every night, they were alone.

then, he met you.

it started so simply. you started working at the same office as them, and they knew off the bat that it was your first time in a place like this. they expected nothing of you — maybe a lukewarm greeting as you passed each other during the workday, but not much more than that. so it surprised them when after your introduction, you rounded their desk and gently asked if they could show you around. maybe it was something about your tone, maybe it was that friendly look in your eye, maybe it was just you as a whole. but something about you just got them. they were out of their chair before they realized it.

they weren't the talkative type, but it didn't matter — you kept asking questions during the entire tour. what was that room for? how long had they been working there? did they like working there? you wanted their attention and they for the life of them couldn’t get why. even less so, they didn’t understand why they were so ready to give it to you. they couldn't help the way they stuttered out their answers to your questions, nor the way their face flushed after you laughed at the way they responded. but you did have to work, so you withdrew from them eventually to do just that.

well after you departed to your cubicle, you remained on their mind. your voice, the way you laughed, how you looked, it all swirled around in their mind as they sat in their desk. it remained that way the entire day, the following night, and the day after — they couldn't get you off their mind!

you chose him. you chose him, out of everyone else in the office. you were the only person that did that, and it made them feel so seen. so real, so… loved? was this what love was? the pounding in their chest and their flushed face would make him believe so. they couldn’t wait to see you again. just the thought of you returning the next day and every day after that bloomed butterflies in their tummy.

vega’s longing for you only grew more and more intense after every passing day. every day you came to work, they’d be the first to greet you and the last to bid you goodbye. they even changed their days off to match yours — going to work hardly seemed worth it if you weren’t there to make the day more bearable. every day they sat at their desk, daydreaming about spending time with you, going home with you, doing all the things they never imagined that they’d ever do before. and even though they were too awkward to seek you out during the work day, it didn’t stop them from staring at you every chance they got.

but after that first day, you paid less and less attention to them. you had work to do, after all, and no matter how hard they yearned for you, it grew harder to get you to notice them and harder for them to watch you. it was excruciating. for the first time in his life, vega wanted to be wanted — by you, specifically. he wanted your attention, your voice, your eyes on them again. but if they couldn’t have that, they needed to see you more to make up for it.

the stalking started small at first. occasionally following you when you got up from your desk to give a file to your supervisor or use the restroom, pretending to be distracted should you ever notice them (which you hardly did — they didn’t know if that bothered them or not). sometimes he ended his day at the same time yours ended so he could walk out with you, watching you leave from their car before they left themself. and eventually they started to follow you home directly. it was always from a distance. they wouldn’t want to frighten you, after all! it was okay as long as you weren’t bothered by it, he told himself.

he memorized your routine so he could base his own around it. you went to the store? he was going too. spending the day at the library? he was stalking after you from a different aisle. sometimes they’d leave little gifts on your doorstep just to see your bewildered reaction. watching you became his favorite pastime — they almost liked it more than talking to you directly. you somehow never noticed them lurking, staring at you from some shady hiding spot, panting and trembling just from the sheer excitement that your existence caused them. were you aware of just how cute you were when you thought no one was watching you? knowing all your bad habits, your mannerisms and all the things you did in private was exhilarating. it was like a secret for just the two of you. and whenever you came into work and talked to him like you usually did, it made him so fucking excited. did you know? maybe you did and you were fine with it. that had to be why you were so nice to them. they loved the idea of you liking their bad behavior.

vega had no plans of confessing to you anytime soon. he had so much fun stalking you, he saw no need to ruin it with his feelings. besides, you liked them back anyway — you had to have, why else would you let him get away with it for so long? he knew you wanted him, and he wanted you in return. all he had to do was wait for you.

#💌 vega l. ;; the stalker #i ;; the magician — my writing #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere x oc #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere nsft #male yandere x reader #yandere male #male yandere oc #nonbinary yandere #nb yandere #yandere boy

[pinkyqil]

Annoying // salma paralluelo x r

Summary : just salma begin the cutest and most annoying tall shit to her short but not that short gf.

Warning : small cursing

A/n : this is meant to be a fic that I'm was currently working on,also decided to practice writing long fic so enjoy this. taking requests has I've been busy writing other chaps for hidden secrets and my brain and mind need a break so for a while I'll be taking requests and writing, this fic gave me the opportunity to jump on the annoying gf prompt going on with woso writer's and slama just gives that vibe tbh hope you enjoy reading it and feel free to request 🫶🏿

___________________________________________

If you could describe salma with three words it would be, tall kind-hearted sunshine. But sometimes she could be the most aggravating piece of shit you've ever encountered.

You both meet around your vacation too Barcelona mid 2022 where your friends had invited you out for barca meet and greet for their female player's. that when you meet her.

You'd known spainsh people are very affectionate but the moment your eye's meet hers.

It felt like you've been hypnotized or what they called it love at first sight.

It must have been fate caused she also felt the same has her eye fell on you.

You and your friend made your way to salma stand where the fans got to interact with player's.

And let's just say salma was one flirt of a player she had you blushing left and right with her pick up lines at the she had sign your jersey and left her phone number for you on a piece of paper typically rom com shit.

also where your moment had come to an end after that eventful day.

You tossed and turn try to decide if you should actually message her or not until your friend had slap some sense into you.

"You know that is a life time opportunity when have you ever meet a snacklious football player that was attractive giving you their number if I were you I would sprint right now and message her ass plus wouldn't hurt a goat until you try"

"None" you mumbled.

"See so hurry your ass up and message her". She told you with a hug grin on her face before you had smack her with the pillow that was right next to you making you both burst out laughing.

The rest was history after you finally had the courage to message salma.

Now you both have been dating for nine months now. Where she had first made the move by asking you out on a date.

after dedicating one of her goals to you at a barca game and asking you out in the back room's. Where she got teased endless by her teammates for her cheesy way of asking you out with the help of her little sister vicky.

Today you both would be celebrating your 10th anniversary as you both never really re called celebrating your month anniversary together due to busy schedule that always clashed together.

And on this particular day salma decide it would be lovely to annoy you like she never did.

It all started this morning when you woke up to an empty bed. Nothing your tall girlfriend had probably gotten up early for her morning run without waking you up.

meaning she was up to no good if she hadn't woke you up when she did. Not wanting your day to start helplessly you quickly got out of bed and showered and picking out you and salma's beach outfits for the day.

Getting out of bed with short notice meant that you had to make your daily smoothie since you weren't a big coffee fan.

but like some other day salma decided too place your favorite smoothie bottle somewhere far knowing well that you couldn't reach high places without her help.

You tried getting a chair to help you reach your bottle but it felt like you shruk times two your actual height.

and couldn't get it. pissing you off as you like using specific type of mugs depending on what your having.

Finally giving up using a different cup when all of a sudden you felt a cold hand smack your ass. making you yell dropping your smoothie that now found it self on the floor.

"Salma Paralluelo If You Don't Explain Yourself Right This Moment And Clean This Mess Up You Can Definitely Find Yourself Dead To Me".

You said turning to face your your girlfriend Who's face had drop after hearing you yell at her and at the sound of the bottle falling.

"I'm very sorry baby pleasee don't ignore me I just got up early to get you these". You rolled your eye's at her but once you saw the bouquet of flowers she had gotten you couldn't be mad at her any longer especially with the expression she had on.

Forgetting about what happened this morning with salma has you both made your way to the beach. setting up your little picnic activities along with some paint and brushes that salma got you.

You both found yourselves in the moment the spainsh music playing in the background your's and salma hand intertwine has you paint and in general just seeking in the moment right before you both.

Until salma grabbed a bottle of paint squeezing it on her hand before applying it towards your face. You thought that your girlfriend childish act would stop by the end of the day but it was totally giving the opposite.

Instead of yelling at her you decide to chase with paint also on your hands.

While salma could be fast she was also very clumsy making you get to her quicker has she fell on the sand laughing until she could trun red.

Once you caught her off guard and grab her face applying the paint on too it. She instally grabbed your face pulling you into a deep kiss with her hands resting on your face.

After your make out session you'd join salma in the sea,where she would grab you by your waist making you both splash in the water enjoying your day together.

Salma might be annoying but she was the only one for you has you're the only one for her.

Your tall lil shit that was meant for your heart only.

Yn/salmaparalluelo

Anniversary dump love you my tall other half no matter how annoying you're 💕 liked by salmaparalluelo, alexiaputellas, vickylopez, lucybronze,ona batlle and 20,40 other's

View comments

Vickylopez la salma de mi gente favorita es muy molesta muy cierto

《 replied to vickylopez you both are very annoying now just salma

《 replied to vickylopez vicky shut up

Ona batlle thought I was the favorite 😪

《 replied to onabatlle your are oni 😚

《Replied to you Salma paralluelo no she's not 😒

Lucy bronze where's my invite 🤔

《 replied to lucybronze you simply didn't get one.

A/n: hope y'all like this pices feel free to request any player just have enough info about them and a suggestion you want and thank you for reading

#salma paralluelo #salma x reader #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fluff #woso one shot #woso blurbs #woso fic #woso #woso community #fc barca femeni #barca femini x reader #barcelona femeni #espwnt x reader #espwnt #espwnt imagine #fcbfemeni x reader #salma paralluelo imagines #barca femeni #futbol #ona batlle #vicky lopez

[simplyhughes]

A Hughes Summer: The Arrival

Synopsis: A Hughes Summer is an ongoing series about a HughesSister!Reader x Connor Bedard! This will follow multiple scenarios of their summer together spent at the infamous Hughes Lake House! If there are any specific scenarios you’d like to see, please let me know! Thanks for reading!

Content Warning: none!

Pairing: Connor Bedard x Hughes!Reader

Part One

wc: 1k

Navigating dating the best rookie in the league while being surrounded by three brothers, all notable players themselves has been extremely chaotic, to say the least. Hockey has permeated all corners of my life, not that I necessarily mind, but being born into a hockey family has definitely altered my taste in men. Connor, my boyfriend, and my trio of brothers have clashed on the ice before, obscured by layers of gear, battling fiercely for the puck. But today marks the moment of formal introduction, and I can't deny the flutter of nerves within me. My brothers are intense; Quinn has this odd maternal instinct toward me, Jack is just downright wild... and with Luke, I'm actually not too concerned, as long as I keep him supplied with a snack to gnaw on.

As the 2024 hockey season drew to a close, Connor and I made the spontaneous decision to embark on a road trip from Chicago to Michigan, where I planned to introduce him to the beloved Hughes summer lake house tradition. Every summer for as long as I can remember, my family has spent the majority of the summer in Michigan, lounging at the lake house. With every mile closer to our destination, my heart quickened its pace, anticipation mingled with nerves as the moment of collision between my two worlds drew near. Yet, amidst my own jitters, I couldn't help but notice the anxiety radiating from the driver's seat beside me, where Connor sat, his nerves seemingly even more pronounced than mine.

It seemed like he was on a timer; every couple of minutes, he dragged his palms against his thighs, wiping his sweat to keep his grip on the wheel. In between that, he’d run his hands through his hair and check his reflection in the rearview mirror. After watching him do this a few times, I couldn't help but chuckle. Connor glanced over at me before turning back to the road and smiled. “What?” he chuckled back at me.

“You are just cute, that's all,” I replied, still with a smile plastered on my face.

“Oh yeah?”

“For Sure”

The car fell into silence for a minute. It was a comfortable silence, but you couldn't help but feel bad that he was nervous. “Connie, they are gonna love you. I promise.”

“I really hope so, y/n.”

“I know they don't know you yet, but I do know they already admire your skill and drive. But they are gonna love you, promise.”

Connor looked at me, his eyes softened and gave me his signature lopsided smile. I stretched my arm out to the car's console and turned up the radio's volume.

The car rumbled along the graveled, mud-plastered driveway, flanked by towering trees that resembled skyscrapers, the only resemblance to the city we had just departed. Finally, the vehicle came to a halt. Connor shifted the gear to park and wiped his palms once more. He unbuckled his seatbelt, popped the trunk, and went to retrieve some of our luggage from the back. Before handling our belongings, Connor opened my door and offered me a hand. I grasped his hand, stepping out of the car.

“Thank you, Con. Chivalry isn't dead, I suppose. But you gotta do something about the sweat, baby,” I teased.

His eyes rolled, and he bumped me jokingly with his hip. Together, we made our way to the trunk. As I started to gather my things, Connor swiftly snatched the bags from me.

“Hey!” I yelped.

“Chivalry,” he smirked.

Connor, busy with all the bags, let out a huff as he unloaded his arms on the front porch. I rammed my finger into the doorbell multiple times, rapid-fire style, just to annoy my brothers.

“HOLY SHIT MAKE IT STOP!” I heard one of my brothers yell, muffled by the walls. The door swung open revealing the shortest of the three brothers. “QUINNIFER!” I shouted, jumping into his arms. “Hey, Peanut!” he shouted back. We shuffled back into the house where I was then greeted by the other two. After almost being squeezed to death, the attention shifted to the awkward blonde standing alongside the bags. I cleared my throat, “Guys, this is Connor!”

“Hey man, it’s nice to finally meet you,” Quinn said, giving him a handshake. Luke followed suit while Jack just stayed back. The middle brother narrowed his eyes, watching his other brothers greet the new guy. “Jack quit being a dickhead and say hello.

“I’m just busting his chops y/n, don't worry,” Jack smirked. “What's up?” He finally spoke, shaking Connor's hand.

“Quinny, can you please handle our bags while I give Connor the grand tour?”

“Whatever, anything for my favorite sibling,” he replied, immediately getting hassled by the other two.

I managed to grab Connor's hand and sneak him around the brawl leading him into the living room. His eyes trailed along the pictures that decorated the mantle; pictures that told the Hughes’ past summers, the quilt that was draped against the couch; the quilt that was ripped and resewn back together, it held too many memories to throw out. He soaked in the room, observing all the details laid before him. I plopped down onto the couch, also soaking everything in. “What do ya think?” I questioned.

“I think that you were adorable,” Connor gushed while picking up a framed picture from almost 14 years ago. He looked it over for another minute, then put it back down in its spot. I smiled watching Connor, seeing him in this house that meant so much to me. He fit in so perfectly, it’s like he's been here all this time. My smile only grew thinking about the events this summer longs to unfold, how this will be his first summer in Michigan with many more to follow.

#luke hughes #jack hughes #simplyhughes #jack hughes x reader #luke hughes x reader #hockey #connor bedard #nhl #njd #blackhawks #connor bedard x reader #connor bedard imagine #connor bedard fluff

[orangelala]

ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

chris sturniolo x reader

summary: you both started off as friends, becoming even closer, and now that chris has finally gotten over his commitment issues with the impact you've made on his life he's sure he wants no one else. what happens when the feeling isn't mutual, or is it?

warnings: angst, some fluff? swearing, pet names (love,ma)

a/n: we are locked in on series time. part two will be out soon!

word count: 1.9k words

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴏɴ

"i've seen the way he looks at you." she ran the brush through my hair. "it's not in a friend way either."

she was wrong, but it didn't stop my pulse from spiking with anticipation. "how does he look at me?"

fiona smiled. "like he never wants to look away."

"what is that supposed to mean?" "it means he loves you, its so obvious. how could you be so blind?" "if you mean in a friend way, then yes, yes he does" fiona sigh turning me around in the chair. "how long have we been friends?" "since kindergarten" "exactly. i know you better than anyone. preferably better than you know yourself. which means i know you feel the same"

fiona smiles once more before turning me around and grabbing the brush to help do my hair now. as if the discussion was over but was she right? was he really looking at me in a special way? did he actually loved me more than a friend?

she finally finishes up my hair and i put on my outfit for the day. as i walk to my car and get in to drive to the triplets house, i couldn't help but think about what she said. "like he never wants to look away" "like he never wants to look away" what the hell did that even mean? as much as i trust my bestfriend, i feel like she could be wrong about this.

as i reach their house, i gather my purse and some other things stepping out and walking up to the house. knocking on the door, im immediately greeted by nick pulling me into a hug. "hey girl, how are you doing?" "im good nick, and you?" "im great, chris is downstairs, by the way" "how are you sure im not here to see you?" i say catching up to him as he walked to the kitchen.

"so you're here to see me?"nick says putting his hand on his hip giving me a confused look. "yes, ive missed you" bringing him into a hug. "well ive missed you too kid" he says hugging me back. "how was your morning?" "it was okay but nick, you wouldn't believe what fiona had said-" "hey kid, why didn't you tell me you were here?" chris says cutting me off.

"well i was talking to nick, im not just bestfriends with you" i say sarcastically stepping back towards nick. "yeah chris, she's best friends with all of us, if she wants to hang with us because she's tired of you, she can" i couldn't help but burst into laughing from nicks comment. making nick chime in, as i catch my breath i look up and notice chris rolling his eyes.

"well if she's not 'too tired of me' i'd like to steal her for a moment, if that's okay with you" he says looking at nick for what looks like an approval. "go ahead. i'll be right here girl if you need me" nick says pointing at me as well walk away. "i'll keep that in mind, thank you bae!"

"you're not really tired of me are you?" he says opening the door to his bedroom. "of course not, nick was just saying to mess with you. i never get tired of you" i say bringing him into a hug. i felt him smile against me as he hugged me back tight.

"chris?" "yes love?" he says pulling away. "i don't want to interfere in your personal business-" "your my bestfriend, you never interfere. i tell you everything" he smiles, as he reassures me as he could tell the uncomfortableness on my face.

"do you like anyone?" i say startling myself, i didn't mean to say it so quickly. i watch chris's facial expression change. "i was with fiona, and fiona had said" "what did she say?" "well she said you looked at me um in a certain way"

i look away towards the door as i try to comprehend what was going on, was i really about to do this right now? i was taken out of my thoughts as chris takes his hand and moves my head to look at him.

"what type of way is that? he smirks. "in a way that uh, you like me?" "and?" "and well chris is it truth?" i say looking down at my hands. "if it is?"

"chris" i whispered. "your my best friend." "i know what i am," he says against my skin. "what would that, what would that even look like?" "what would what look like?" "oh my god chris, us. fuck. you know us" "so you like me back?" "i never said that, i asked a question"

"what would it be like? what would 'us' even look like? i whisper into again him. "i can show you exactly what it would be like."

i felt him fisting the fabric of my shirt, as if he was stopping himself from doing more. then releasing it and placing his palm to my waist.

"if you were really mine, i'd do this all the time." his long fingers draped around my hip and pushed me against him from the waist down. hot. he felt so hot and hard, branding my skin, even with layers of fabric separating us.

"if you were mine, you'd crave this." he then closed the rest of the distance that separated us very slowly. bringing our bodies flush together with such softness and at such a painful pace that i praised and cursed him at the same time. "you would want it."

but wasn't i doing that?

before i could delve into that, chris's large body shifted, and my back was against a hard surface. he looked at me quite intensely as if he was trying to read me. read my facial expressions but my mind went blank, making my whole body go blank. most importantly my heart.

what am i doing? what was i doing was all that was going through my head. he leans into me, running his hand over my cheek before pulling me into him, closing the space between us completely. i wanted to move. i needed to get out of here, but why was i feeling so safe. why did i feel happy under his touch?

chris places his other hand around my waist before fully bringing his face near mine. his lips were just centimeters away from mine. pulling me in with his hand. our lips had barely grazed. "im sorry, but i can't. im sorry" i say pulling away and grabbing my things.

"wait- what? don't go." "im so sorry, chris," i say choked as tears begin to run down my face. he had looked at me in confusion. it was only seconds later to a minute was how quickly i got out of there.

sprinting in the direction of my car as i walk out the house. i sit for a minute to catch my breath before placing the key in the ignition and starting up the car. it felt as if i could hear his voice around me, i could still see that expression. it was killing. the look he gave me. that look that was pastured on his face when i walked out.

i had finally reach my apartment making me sigh in relief. quickly getting out of car and walking up to my apartment, i couldn't get myself to put the key in the door and step in. i wasn't expecting to come home tonight. let alone be alone.

i stand there, placing a hand on the door before taking a deep breath and turning the key to let myself in. i was the one who did it. he didn't walk out on me, i walked out on him but yet why does it hurt so much.

placing my stuff on the table, i walk in the direction of my room. grabbing some fresh clothing. i couldn't be in his clothes anymore, running my fingers along the end of the shirt and almost staring at it as it reminded me of time he gave it to me. i quickly stopped the flashback that was about to occur as quickly pull it over my head and toss it to the side, along with my shorts.

i walk into the connecting bathroom to turn on the shower, stepping away and looking in the mirror to run my fingers over my cheek, where he ran his fingers over and moved down to my waist. running my hand over the spot repeatedly as if i was still trying to feel his touch.

i felt desperate, needy. craving his touch again. but i know getting out of there was something i needed to do to protect myself. why did it have to be from him? i had no idea but now catching myself in train of thought, i turn around and fully strip my underwear and bra and walk in.

i didn't really remember getting out of the shower and laying down. it had been about an hour later, as i have fidgeted through my sheets. tossing and turning but nothing had seemed to work. there was one thing and one thing only that ran through my mind. that almost kiss and him.

my phone screen lit up my dark room, making me roll over and hesitantly grab the phone. there were multiple missed calls and messages from him.

about to play the first message, i exit out the app and throw the phone on the floor. standing up to catch my breath and placing in my room i hear the door. what seemed like a faint knock only for it to be a bit louder. wiping my eyes, i walk out of my room and towards the front door.

"who is it?" i say clearing my throat as i start to unlock and open the door. "yes? how can i help you- chris?" i say in a very hushed tone. "what are you doing here?" "i wanted to see you, why did you leave? was it something i did?"

"chris, you shouldn't be here" "i know but i want to know why you left, did i make you uncomfortable?" i shoved my hands in my pajama pockets as i take a step back making chris step towards me. "chris please" i beg, as i feel everything inside me tear apart.

"just answer my question please and i'll go. i promise, i just need to know" he said in an almost whisper that rang around my head.

my hands stayed in my pockets; his were at his sides. we weren't touching, not really. i had the sudden, sharp memory of the way his fingers had brushed against mine a few hours before. he bent his face down to my shoulder, his breath slipping through three layers of cloth to warm the skin there.

one of his fingers hooked at the strings of my pajamas and inched me just that tiny bit closer. his nose skimmed up my throat, along my cheek, and i saw none of it. i squeezed my eyes shut as his forehead finally came to rest against mine.

"look at me."

"don't do this," i whispered.

"i don't know what's wrong with me," he breathed out. "i feel like, i feel like i'm losing my damn mind, like your face has been carved into my heart, and i don't remember when, and i don't understand why, but the scar is there, and i can't get it to heal. it won't go. i can't make it fade. and you won't even look at me."

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tags: @nicksmainbitch @sturniolossss @sturnlova @its-jennarose @freshsturns @luverboychris @canthelpit0 @ghostlypineappl @sturnzsblog @sluttformatt @urfavstromboli @junnniiieee07 @drpepperworshipper @ksturniolo7 @samandcolbyfan22 @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @h3arts4harry @patscorner @iluvmattyb @mattslovelygf @blahbel668 @mattscoquette @wh0resstuff @crack240

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo #chrissturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #orangelala

[mariclerc]

Dad duties (pt.2) | cl16

Summary: where you meet an adorable dad and his little girl at the beach. Warning: none, single dad Charles, a bunch of kisses and pure fluff... And a somewhat kinda spicy surprise near the end + shy Charles at the end too.

a/n: this is a little too long, but I hope you like it. Let me know if you want another part of this!!

Part 1

taglist 🤍 @mehrmonga @barcelonaloverf1life @sillyfreakfanparty

You find yourself waiting on the porch of your house, Charles had told you that he was going to be a little late since he was fixing some things with Ava, tonight is finally the famous date that you both had promised. The last few weeks have probably been the most fantastic of your life, the company of Charles and his little Ava make your days happier and brighter and that made you happy. You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you didn't realize that Charles was pulling up in front of your house, a smile already on your face.

“Hey y/n! You look incredible, so pretty, oh my...” He says as he gets out of the car, you were wearing a flattering dress, a little more dressed up than usual for your date night, you laugh slightly.

“Hey you handsome! Ready for our fancy dinner?” you say with a smile.

He smiles apologetically. “Uh... About that, there might be a slight change of plans.”

You both walk towards the car and he, like a gentleman, opens the passenger door for you, to which you thank him with a smile. You follow his gaze to the back seat, there, in a bright pink dress with white polka dots, sits Ava she beams at you, clutching a stuffed bunny, she giggles.

Your heart just melts, you weren't expecting Ava, but you can't help but smile even wider. “Hi there little princess! You look beautiful tonight!” You say happily.

Ava beams while Charles sighs apologetically. “Look, I'm so sorry babe. I couldn't find a babysitter on such a short notice and I was hoping maybe we could reschedule the dinner, but...” He was practically babbling, you cut him off.

You reach into the back and scoop Ava into your arms, tickling her belly. She erupts in delighted giggles.

“Charles, it's perfectly fine! Honestly, the more the merrier, don't you think? Besides who could say no to this cute little princess?”

Ava reaches out and tugs on your hair playfully. “Pwincess!” she giggled again and you nodded.

Charles looks surprised and relieved at your words. “You... You really don't mind babe?”

You glance at Charles, his eyes filled with warmth. “I don't mind at all darling! So... Where are we taking our little princess for dinner?” you asked softly while looking at him.

Charles throws his head back and smiled. “There's this great Italian place that has a fantastic kids' menu. Ava loves their pasta.”

You settle Ava back into her car seat, buckling her in. “Sounds perfect, Italian it is! Maybe she'll share some of her pasta with us?”

Charles leans over and gives you a quick kiss, you blush slightly. “Maybe... But you're definitely getting your own plate. This might be a date night with a little one in tow, but I still want to spoil you.” he winks at you.

“Just having you here is spoiling me enough.” you whisper softly. “Now, let's go get our little princess some dinner, I bet she's starving.”

You smile as Charles starts the car, his smile brighter than the restaurant lights ahead. You can't help but feel a warmth spread through you, this might not be exactly the date night you envisioned, but it's already shaping up to be something even better.

***

When you arrive at the restaurant the hostess leads Charles and you to a booth big enough for three with a high chair for Ava. The restaurant is super elegant, with soft music playing in the background.

Charles speaks smiling to Ava. “Alright, little one, what kind of pasta are you feeling tonight? They have farfalle shaped like butterflies, or penne that look like little tubes...”

Ava points excitedly at a picture on the kid's menu. “Bunny!” she giggles.

You and Charles look at the picture, then at each other and burst out laughing. “Looks like it's bunny pasta for the princess, I bet it's delicious!” You say with a smile on your face.

The waiter arrives, a friendly man with a neatly trimmed beard, Charles orders a glass of wine for you and a apple juice box for Ava, he also orders the bunny pasta for Ava, requesting it with a side of steamed vegetables. You order a light pasta dish and Charles gets something heartier. The conversation flows easily, sprinkled with stories about Ava's day and Charles' latest win on the track. You steal a glance at him while he chats whit Ava, noticing how his eyes crinkle when he smiles at his daughter.

“You're such a good dad, you know.” you say whispering.

Charles catches your eye and gives you a warm smile. “Thank you mon ange. Being a good dad is easy when you have a princess like her.” he whispers. (my angel)

While you wait for your food, you take out a small pack of crayons and a coloring book you brought from home. “Hey, Ava, want to color some pictures with me? See, this one has a cute bunny and another animals!”

Ava nods eagerly and starts coloring with delight. You watch her for a moment, then turn to Charles and you smile. “She's so much fun. I can't believe it's only been a few weeks...” you whisper softly.

Charles reaches across the table and takes your hand. “Me neither, you are amazing with her! You're even amazing to me.”

Just then, the waiter arrives with your food and drinks. You turn your attention to Ava, making sure she eats some vegetables before digging into the pasta.

The night continues like this - a delightful mix of conversation, laughter, a little spilled food, and genuine connection. While you might not have had the quiet, romantic dinner you initially planned, you find yourself enjoying this even more. It feels like the start of something special, a family you're slowly becoming a part of.

***

As the plates are cleared and Ava starts to get drowsy, Charles leans back in the booth.

“Looks like our little adventurer is ready for bed. What do you say we call it a night?” He says smiling as he holds Ava in his arms.

You nodded. “Looks like little miss enjoyed her bunny pasta a little too much, don't you think? We might be in for a long night... I can help put her to bed when we get home, I don't mind.” You say with a shy little smile.

Charles smiles, a hint of tiredness in his eyes. “Any help would be appreciated, you're a lifesaver, you know that?” he asked softly and you nod.

He throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close.

“So, how about we head straight home? Maybe we can watch a movie after Ava's asleep, just the two of us? How does that sound?” He asks you softly, the way his eyes hold yours makes the butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You smile once again. “Sounds like a perfect plan for me... Lead the way, papa.”

You two have a funny little argument about who pays the bill, but in the end he paid like a gentleman, and together you head out of the restaurant. The night air feels cooler now, but your heart is warm, as you walk side-by-side, Charles steals a kiss, quick and sweet, making butterflies explode in your stomach. You know this might be the beginning of something truly special, a messy, wonderful adventure with a charming single dad and his adorable daughter.

The car ride is filled with the soft snores of a sleeping Ava nestled in her car seat. Charles reaches over and squeezes your hand, a silent thank you for your help throughout the evening.

Pulling into his driveway, Charles helps you unbuckle Ava and carefully carries her inside. The house is quiet, bathed in a soft glow from a lamp left on in the living room, the white walls aren't so white anymore due to some colorful scratches on Ava's part, but it gives the place personality. Charles leads the way to Ava's room, a haven of pastel colors and stuffed animals.

“Alright, little one, it's bedtime. Let's get you out of those clothes, okay?” he whispers softly towards Ava.

He lays Ava gently on the changing table. You reach into the diaper bag that he had brought to dinner and pull out a pair of soft, pink pajamas with a fluffy bunny on the front.

You smile softly. “Looks like someone's favorite animal is making another appearance tonight.”

Charles chuckles, taking the pajamas from you. He expertly removes Ava's dress, careful not to wake her. You watch him with a lot of love and affection in your eyes, a comfortable silence settling around you both.

He started talking in a sing-along voice to Ava. “See, bunny pajamas for a sleepy bunny. Time for your warm snuggles, princess.” He slips the pajamas on Ava, who stirs slightly and lets out a contented sigh.

You help him to tuck Ava in. “She's so peaceful when she's asleep... You seem like a natural at this dad thing.”

Charles smiles, a touch of pride in his eyes. “Practice makes perfect, I guess. But having you here makes it a whole lot easier.” He leans in close, his gaze lingering on your lips. “Maybe after she's settled, we can have that movie night... just the two of us?” he whispers.

The air crackles with unspoken desire. You glance at Ava, a small smile playing on your lips. “Let's get her to sleep first, then we'll see. But don't expect a quiet night in. I might have some movie-related cuddles in mind.” you whisper back at him.

A slow grin spreads across Charles' face. He leans in and kisses you softly, the promise of more hanging in the air. Every time he kisses you it's like a dream, he is so sweet and delicate with you that it makes you sigh.

He smiles at you and whispers. “Sounds like a challenge I'm willing to accept.”

With a final goodnight kiss to Ava's forehead, you and Charles tiptoe out of the room, the quiet anticipation of a stolen moment hanging between you. Charles smiles at you, a silent thanks in his eyes. You return the smile, a pleasant tiredness settling over you.

“So... Movie night? Do you have any preferences?” he asks softly.

You shrug playfully and whisper. “Surprise me... Just something that doesn't require too much brainpower, I'm running in fumes after that mega dinner we had.” you let out a little giggle.

Charles chuckles and heads towards the living room and you follow him, collapsing onto the large couch with a contented sigh. He pops a movie into the DVD player, something light and comedic based on the box art.

The movie starts, and you snuggle up on the couch with a fluffy blanket, Charles sits beside you, leaving a comfortable gap initially. As the movie progresses, you find yourself drawn closer... You share a laugh at a funny scene, his arm brushing against yours, you don't shy away, instead leaning in slightly. He seems to mirror your movement, his warmth a comforting presence.

By the halfway point, you're practically cuddling, his arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. You rest your head against his chest, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your ear. The movie plays on in the background, but your focus has shifted.

Charles speak with a raspy and low voice. “You know, you're amazing with Ava. I don't know what I would have done tonight without you.”

You snuggle closer, a small smile playing on your lips. “She's a sweetheart! And besides, seeing you be a dad is pretty darn cute.” you whisper shyly.

He lets out a soft chuckle. “It's not always cute, you know? There are sleepless nights and mountains of undone laundry. But I swear, it's the most rewarding thing in the world.” He whispers as he looks at you sweetly.

A comfortable silence settles between you for a moment. Then, Charles takes a deep breath.

“Look, I know this might be crazy, but... it's late, and it's been a long day. Would you maybe consider staying the night? The guest room is all made up, and there's plenty of space on the couch if you'd prefer...” he says a little hesitant and even shy.

He trails off, waiting for your response. You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze. His eyes are full of hope, a hint of nervousness lingering in their depths.

You smile, a genuine warmth spreading through you. “Actually Charles... There was something I was thinking too...” You lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “Maybe instead of the guest room or the couch, we could cuddle up in your bed and watch the rest of the movie? Movie-related cuddles, remember?” you whisper softly.

A slow grin spreads across Charles' face. He pulls you in for a kiss, deeper and more passionate than before. The movie fades into the background, the only sound your laughter and the promise of a night spent closer than ever before.

***

The movie credits roll, the sound barely registering over the soft snores coming from the baby monitor on the coffee table. You stretch languidly, the warmth of the blanket and Charles' arm wrapped around you making it hard to move.

He smiles sheepishly at you. “Wow, I don't know how we lost track of the movie. So much for brainpower, right?”

You chuckle, your eyes meeting his. There's a spark there, an unspoken invitation. “Maybe the movie wasn't that interesting after all. But hey, at least the company was good.” you smile playfully. “Oh, take this honey!” he says shyly and then walks over to a drawer and pulls out a soft, grey t-shirt. “This is probably a little big, but it's comfy! You're welcome to use any time you want.” he whispers.

You take the shirt, the fabric warm from his touch. It smells faintly of laundry detergent and something uniquely Charles.

“This is perfect, thank you Charlie! I think I can manage in a big, comfy t-shirt.” you giggle and smile.

He smiles back, his eyes holding yours. The air crackles with unspoken desire, the night stretching before you full of possibilities. He reach out to take your hand. “Then come on. Let's get you settled in, and maybe we can find a different kind of movie to watch... one that doesn't require a screen.”

He pulls you gently towards the hallway, his hand warm and strong in yours. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The hallway light casts a warm glow as you follow Charles. His hand remains clasped in yours, a silent invitation. You can practically feel the electricity crackling between you.

Reaching his bedroom door, Charles hesitates for a moment, then turns to you with a shy smile.

“Just a warning, my room might be a little messy, Ava has a habit of leaving her toys everywhere... So an apology if you find a colored build block or a stuffed animal on the floor.”

You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Don't worry, I can handle a little mess, especially if it means more cuddles.” you say shyly.

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound warm and genuine. He pushes the door open, revealing a room that's undeniably lived-in. Clothes are scattered over a chair, a colourful build block and a stuffed bear lies abandoned on the floor. But amidst the slight disorder, there's a sense of warmth, safety and comfort in his bedroom.

He waves an apologetically hand at the mess. “Like I said... It's a little bit messy, but the bed it's made, at least.”

The bed dominates the room, a large king-size covered in a duvet the color of the sea, It looks impossibly inviting. You can't help but smile at the thought of spending the night snuggled up in it with Charles.

You smile. “The bed looks perfect. Thanks for offering the guest room, though. This is much more... spacious.”

He raises an eyebrow playfully while grinning. “Spacious enough for warm cuddles, I hope?”

You blush slightly, but hold his gaze. “We'll see about that, Mr. Leclerc... Now, where's the bathroom? I think I might need to change before those cuddles begin.” you say teasingly.

He points you in the right direction, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Take your time love, I'll be waiting... patiently... Although, no promises on how long that patience will last.” he giggled a little bit.

You wink at him before disappearing into the bathroom, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. The night may not have gone according to plan, but it's turning into something far more special. The prospect of a night spent in Charles' bed cuddling, the promise of stolen kisses and whispered secrets, fills you with a happiness you haven't felt in a long time.

***

The bathroom door clicks shut behind you. You take a moment to splash some cool water on your face, trying to calm the nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Slipping on Charles' oversized t-shirt, you steal a glance in the mirror. It hangs loosely on your frame, the scent of his laundry detergent clinging to the fabric.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bathroom. Charles is sprawled on the bed, the movie barely audible in the background. He glances up when you appear, a slow smile spreading across his face.

He smiles warmly at you. “Looking comfortable chérie. Ready for some more movie... or maybe something else?” (darling)

His eyes hold yours, the question hanging in the air. You walk towards the bed, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “Let's see what kind of mood this movie sets first. Maybe it'll inspire some cuddling, don't you think?”

He pats the space beside him on the bed, the duvet invitingly warm. You crawl in next to him, the familiar scent of his cologne filling your senses. He pulls the duvet over both of you, the space between you suddenly feeling too large.

As the movie plays on, you settle into Charles' side, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around you, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You lose yourself in the quiet rhythm of his breathing and the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

The movie becomes a distant hum, the plot lines forgotten. You focus instead on the warmth radiating from Charles' body, the way his fingers gently brush against your arm. You steal a glance at him, his eyes already trained on you.

A slow smile spreads across your face. You lean in closer, your lips hovering a breath away from his. He closes the gap, the kiss soft and tender. It's a taste of what could be, a promise of something more.

You pull back, breathless.

“Maybe the movie can wait. How about we focus on some real-life entertainment?”

Charles chuckles, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Sounds like a much better plan. Besides, I doubt this movie has anything on what we can do right here.” he said coquettishly.

He pulls you closer, his kisses becoming more insistent, more passionate. You melt into his touch, every thought of the movie forgotten. The only thing that matters now is the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the promise of a night spent tangled in his arms.

The movie plays on in the background, a silent observer to the unfolding scene. But neither of you cares. You're lost in your own world, a world of stolen glances, whispered secrets, and a growing intimacy that promises something truly special. As the night deepens, the movie fades into a distant memory, replaced by the intoxicating reality of a connection blooming under the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

You and Charles are caught in a heated embrace, the movie forgotten on the screen. The only sound is your own ragged breaths and the frantic pounding of your hearts. Just as Charles dips his head for another kiss, a faint sound pierces the air.

It's a whimper, barely audible, but unmistakable through the baby monitor nestled on the nightstand. You both freeze, pulled back from the brink of passion by the tiny sound.

Charles reaches over and turns up the volume on the monitor. The whimpers become clearer, accompanied by a soft snuffling sound.

“Sounds like Ava might be waking up...” he frowns slightly.

Disappointment flickers across his face, a mirror of your own feelings. You both know it's time to pull back, the night taking a different turn than anticipated.

You let out a soft sigh. “Maybe we should check on her, poor thing might be having a bad dream.”

Charles nods, a hint of frustration battling with his concern for his daughter. He leans in and gives you a quick peck on the lips.

He smiles apologetically. “Duty calls princess. Maybe we can pick this up where we left off later? After Ava's back to sleep, of course.”

You smile back, a touch of longing lingering in your eyes. “Of course darling, Ava comes first. But don't worry, I'm not going anywhere! Besides, a little mystery only adds to the fun, right?”

Charles lets out a soft laugh, the frustration melting away. He throws back the covers and gets out of bed, heading towards the door.

“You're right. Maybe this little detour will just make the reunion even sweeter. I'll be back soon babe.” he smiles.

He throws you a quick wink before disappearing down the hallway. You watch him go, a mix of disappointment and amusement swirling inside you. The night may not have gone exactly as planned, but the unexpected turn of events only adds to the growing connection you feel with Charles.

Settling back against the pillows, you pick up the remote and turn off the movie. The room falls silent, except for the faint hum of the baby monitor. You close your eyes, a smile playing on your lips. Maybe there's no need to rush things. After all, the best things in life often come when you least expect them.

***

You wait for Charles' return, the silence amplifying the soft hum of the baby monitor. Curiosity pulls you towards it, and you pick it up, placing the receiver near your ear. You hear the familiar sounds of Ava stirring in her sleep, little whimpers turning into soft murmurs.

Then, a gentle voice cuts through the static... It's Charles, his voice low and soothing as he speaks to his daughter.

“Hush little one, don't you cry, The moon is out, the stars are high. Close your eyes and drift away, Dreams of sunshine and flowers at play.” he sings softly through the monitor.

His voice washes over you, warm and comforting. You can picture him sitting on the edge of Ava's crib, rocking her gently as he sings. A pang of tenderness hits you, a glimpse into the protective and loving father Charles is. The whimpers gradually subside, replaced by the soft sounds of contented breathing. Charles speaks again, his voice barely a whisper.

“There you go, my little princess. Sleep tight, Daddy loves you so much.”

A lump forms in your throat. The tenderness in his voice sends shivers down your spine. You can't help but eavesdrop a little longer, yearning to be a part of this sweet moment.

After a few more minutes of silence, the bedroom door creaks open and Charles peeks in. He sees you with the baby monitor in hand, a soft smile gracing his lips.

“She's sound asleep, seems like my singing skills did the trick after all.” he whispers and smiles at you.

You blush, caught eavesdropping. You put the monitor back on the nightstand. “Guilty as charged... Your singing voice is impressive, Mr. Leclerc. Although, I'm not sure Ava fully appreciates your operatic skills yet.” you whisper softly and smiled at him.

He lets out a playful chuckle, walking towards the bed. “Maybe not... But, hey! At least she's asleep now.” he giggled. “Now... Where were we?” he whispers.

He reaches for you, his hand brushing against yours. You feel a warmth spread through you, the disappointment from before melting away.

“I believe we were about to explore some real-life entertainment. But this time, maybe with a little less noise... After all, we don't want to wake the princess again, do we?” you smile playfully.

Charles' smile widens, his eyes flickering with desire. He pulls you back into his arms, the promise of a stolen moment hanging heavy in the air.

The night may have taken a detour, but with Ava safely asleep and the connection between you growing stronger, it seems like a new chapter is about to begin. The adventure may be messy, filled with unexpected turns, but the prospect of exploring it with Charles fills you with a mix of excitement and anticipation. As you settle back into his embrace, you can't help but wonder where this unexpected journey will lead you both.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, intimate light on the scene as Charles pulls you back into his embrace. His touch is gentle yet insistent, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and desire.

He smiles and whispers again. “Absolutely not. Princess Ava deserves her beauty sleep... Besides, there are plenty of ways to have fun that don't involve waking the entire house.” He trails a finger down your arm, sending shivers dancing across your skin. You lean into his touch, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

“Oh, really? Do tell, Mr. Leclerc. Enlighten me on these... quieter forms of entertainment you have in mind.” you smile shyly while blushing.

Charles leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. His voice is a low murmur, sending a delicious warmth through you.

“How about we explore each other, one slow touch at a time? See where the night takes us, without waking a single soul.” he whispers huskily.

His words ignite a spark within you, a thrilling mix of nervousness and excitement. You nod, your voice barely a whisper. “Sounds like a plan. But remember, we don't want to get too carried away. After all, Ava's room is just down the hall.”

A slow smile spreads across Charles' face. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering.

He smiles shyly while blushing. “Don't worry bébé, I know how to control myself... to a certain extent. But trust me, this is going to be better than any movie we could watch... I promise.”

He dips his head for a kiss, this one slow and lingering. His lips move against yours, a delicious exploration that leaves you breathless. His hand trails down your back, sending shivers down your spine.

As the kiss deepens, you become acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against yours. The t-shirt you borrowed from him smells faintly of laundry detergent and something uniquely Charles, a scent that intoxicates you.

With a soft sigh, you pull away slightly, your heart pounding in your chest.

You say breathlessly. “Maybe we should start by turning off the light. A little darkness can add to the mystery, right amour?”

Charles lets out a low chuckle, the sound rich and warm. He reaches over and flicks off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a comfortable darkness. The only light comes from the soft glow of the moon filtering through the window.

In the darkness, you feel Charles' hand find yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. It's a small gesture, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

He leans and whispers in your ear. “The night is young, and the possibilities are endless... Let's see where this adventure takes us.”

With that, he pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your neck. You know this is a path untrodden, a journey into uncharted territory. But with Charles by your side, the uncertainty is exhilarating. You close your eyes, surrendering to the moment, ready to explore the night and the deepening connection that binds you together.

***

The kiss breaks, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You rest your forehead against Charles' chest, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

A moment of comfortable silence stretches between you. Then, Charles clears his throat, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his voice.

“Listen babe, I just wanted to apologize. Maybe I came on a little strong there. It's just... well, it's been a while since I've had anyone in my bedroom, you know, other than Ava when she needs a middle-of-the-night cuddle or she has a fuss.” he mumble slightly.

He sounds embarrassed, the vulnerability in his voice a stark contrast to his earlier confidence. You reach up and cup his cheek, a sympathetic smile playing on your lips. “Hey, it's okay... I understand, It's been a while for me too. Besides, I don't blame you for getting a little carried away after that movie... or maybe it was the cuddles on the couch... Either way, there's no pressure. We can take things slow if that's what you want!” you smile again. “But honestly, your straightforwardness is kind of refreshing... No games, just genuine interest. And that's something I can appreciate.” you giggle softly.

A flicker of relief washes over Charles' face, followed by a slow smile.

“Really? You're not offended? Because honestly, the last thing I want to do is make you feel uncomfortable.” he sighs softly. “Slow sounds good, really good. But honestly, the thought of having you here all night, even if it's just for cuddles, is pretty darn amazing. It's been a long time since this place felt... well, alive.”

His words tug at your heartstrings. You understand the loneliness that comes with being a single parent, the longing for adult connection that can easily get overshadowed by the daily responsibilities.

You smile reassuringly. “Then consider yourself cuddled! Besides, I wouldn't want to leave you to face Ava's next potential night terror alone. Maybe I can even offer some expert advice on soothing a restless toddler. After all, I have a few nieces and nephews who keep me on my toes.”

Charles lets out a laugh, the sound warm and genuine. “Expert advice is always welcome, especially if it comes with a side of cuddles. Come here darling, just... Closer.”

He pulls you back into his arms, this time the embrace filled with a newfound tenderness. You rest your head on his shoulder, the sound of his heartbeat a comforting rhythm in the darkness.

The night may not have unfolded exactly as you planned, but as you settle into the warmth of Charles' embrace, you realize something unexpected... Sometimes, the best adventures are the ones that take you by surprise.

The night stretches before you, full of possibilities. There may not be any more passionate encounters, but the promise of a slow burn, a connection built on shared experiences and genuine connection, is far more enticing. You close your eyes, a contented sigh escaping your lips. You may not have gotten the fiery night you initially craved, but the prospect of a slow, sweet exploration with a charming single dad and his adorable daughter is a much more promising prospect.

#formula one x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles x reader #charles leclerc #dad!charles leclerc #charles x you #charles!dad #charles single dad #single dad charles #mariclerc fics #✿ mariclerc masterlist #charles leclerc soft #charles leclerc soft smut

[deafsignifcantother]

the baby

♥ summary: almost loosely based off of this by @ukor02. I made Alastor a main character and her main bestie because of course I did. This is really just a small little writing thing I did at 4am. ♥ relationship: no direct romance really, just some cute stuff between Lucifer and reader. ♥ word count: 1.6 ♥ notes: no childbirth mentioning and this is written like just as summaries of the situation tbh. almost like a bullet point format without the bullet points

You wanted to give your baby a chance to get into Heaven, even if it meant they'd leave without you. Hell is no place for a child. Both you and Charlie knew that.

.

"What a pleasant surprise," you sign to Alastor when you see that damn smiling demon right outside your hotel room.

He laughs; aw, you're describing his arrival as pleasant. Did he make a good impression on you when you saw him last when he introduced himself in person in Pride Sign Language? You never seemed to have paid any mind to him, giving one motion signs as responses whenever he tried starting a conversation. But even when you interacted with him like that, he couldn't help but wonder why you always looked at him with your sweet, shy gaze. It's not on purpose, which is the worst part.

Pleasant, you called it a pleasant surprise.

"It's good to see you too, my dear!" He signs, bowing a bit and pushing past you into your room. "What have you been up to?"

What an obnoxious question.

You close the door, squeezing the doorknob tightly. This is going to be a long evening. When you turn back to Alastor, he's in your living room examining the decor, your random art pieces taped to the walls and organized together, though not concisely.

He waves his hands. "I love what you've done with the place."

"I've been bored." You sign with a slight nod to yourself. It's awfully isolating, which is obvious. Still, it has never hit you as hard as it does now as you watch another person walk through your chambers.

"I'm glad I can be in your company then." His smile widens, and the static he emits gets heavier. His ear twitched a bit, which you noticed but tried not to directly look at. Was it a good or bad thing?

"But it's often relieving to be alone," you start and look him up and down.

"You're quite used to being alone, aren't you?"

Your lips tighten, your hands stiff, and you are unable to finish your sentence. Absentmindedly, you rest them on your plump, pregnant belly. Alastor does his best not to let his eyes draw down to analyze it. Still, his head tilts, even just a little. He hates looking at your hands when you touch your stomach. Did his mother hold her belly like that when he was inside of hers?

"Don't you have others to talk to?"

"They're out on their little journeys, you know them."

"Of course."

Alas, he lets his eyes trail down to your stomach. It's not quite full, but it's obvious enough to gain attention from others. Charlie will put her hands on it every day, waiting for the baby to show its presence. She can feel the heartbeat, and so can you and Vaggie, though everybody else can't feel a thing. Alastor refuses to put a hand on your stomach. Life is precious and loud, and the few who were never human understand that differently than the others.

"I wanted to check in on the baby."

A twitch of your eyebrow makes his smile widen.

"Why?"

.

The day before, Lucifer arrived.

You try on your best clothes, laying them flat against your front, looking at your belly in the mirror. For the king, should you try to hide it or show it proudly? He has a daughter, but does that affect his thoughts about Hellborn pregnancies? Gosh, what do you have to worry about? So stupid.

With the other people, your new friends, you stood with your head proud.

He swirled with the dragons and hugged his daughter as if he hadn't seen her for years. What a kind man, unusually kind. His eyes... Those soft, precious eyes. And when they landed on you, your heart almost stopped. He looked at you as if you were an angel. When his lips started to move, the smile you didn't even know you wore faded.

Charlie put her hand on his shoulder and whispered something to him. And there came Alastor, saving the day.

"The idiotic king was just telling you how happy he is for you." With the signs came the grinding of his teeth.

Lucifer approached, his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. He addressed Alastor with aggressive hesitance. 'Tell her...' he said.

Charlie smiled excitedly, Nifty kept nodding, and Sir Pentious's eyes started tearing up.

Alastor grimaced. "He's asking if he could feel your stomach."

As always, you've put a thorn in the flow of interactions.

Still, you put on a smile. "Of course."

And there you stood, the King of Hell's hands gently holding you. You could feel the cold of his touch even through the fabric of your shirt. The heartbeat vibrated through both your body and his. The baby was alive and well; you could tell through the pure glee that spread across his face. Beyond your tiny ounce of worry, you knew he'd find hope within your baby.

Alastor watched with a terribly strained smile.

.

"Why?" You ask again when he doesn't answer. "What's with the sudden worry?"

"Worry? No, no." Alastor waves you off. "More like..."

You watch with interest as he trails off, a vulnerability you love.

He squints his eyes and clenches his fists, but only for a moment. His lack of vocabulary kills him. "...Intrigue."

You crack a smirk. "Are you finally gonna feel my stomach?"

Another pause. Alastor considers it, but all he can imagine is his claws accidentally drawing blood.

"No."

"That's okay." Again, your hands rest on your stomach.

.

Alastor has been watching it grow, but so has Lucifer. Charlie's father scarcely visits, and you've convinced yourself it's to see you. Every time he enters the hotel, he asks how you are. He tries to lift his hands to sign but finds no words forming. A language was created in his world, and he has yet to learn how to learn it.

Whenever he presses his hands against your belly, he can feel the liveliness of the soul forming inside you, and he can feel your appreciation at his care.

Begrudgingly, he always has to ask Alastor for advice on communicating with you. Alastor always has a cocky smirk when he teaches.

Charlie has to ask Alastor for help, too, but more willingly. Alastor raises his chin and squares shoulders when people ask him for help. Charlie went to him for help on a conversation you knew she was going to start with you:

"You're not going to stay here for the battle."

"I know." There was no argument on your behalf. Charlie's cheeks still went pink.

"But I have to figure out where it's safest for you. Alastor told me Cannibal Town, but uhh... Maybe not."

"They'll all be here anyway. Maybe they'll distract the angels from going over there."

Her bright eyes widen a bit. "Do you think so?"

"I can stay over there, even if they try to eat me." They won't, and even if they try, they know Alastor would end their lives, don't they?

She fiddles with her fingers before lifting them up again. "I suppose..."

She's so quickly convinced it's cute. You're right, though, of course. Cannibal Town might be the safest place, specifically under the hands of Rosie, who Alastor had previously told you would be more than willing to help you. You can imagine her smile at seeing your belly, twice the size as when Alastor first told you about her. Unbeknownst to Charlie, he's been planning this for a while.

Your stress for their safety irks you more than you expected.

You place a hand on Charlie's, lifting your other one. "I'll be okay."

Before you left for Cannibal Town, you met Lucifer once again, a more loving side of him. He cradled your head and held the back of your neck as he did. His cold body felt like warmth to you. He whispered things to you; you could only tell from how his breath constantly brushed against your ear in sing-songy waves. Was he singing to you? A lullaby? He pulled away and finally signed to you. "You're going to be a great mom."

A moment before, Alastor finally put his hands on your belly. His hands were warm. Like Lucifer, he was whispering to himself, holding silent words from you. In another life, you'd imagine they were prayers. At that moment, only an instinct, you put your hands on his, and he allowed it.

The stress of their safety worsened when they were left alone in Cannibal Town without a word of winning or losing.

The winning of Hell was all you wanted to focus on when you noticed the contractions getting worse, spaced out in purposeful ways. Oh goodness, you found yourself thinking, oh my God.

What if Lucifer dies on the same day your child is born?

But after the battle, he was right there to cradle the baby in his arms, his heavenly grasp relaxing the tiny baby. The rest of the group sat in your room, Sir Pentious absent, tears in their eyes at both the birth and the death.

Beyond Lucifer's cradling, Husk was the only one who touched your child that day. He placed his furry paw against the baby, feeling the body heat that they admitted. Life could be beautiful, he decided.

Vaggie's sense of revenge deepened. She sacrificed Heaven to save a child, and now she's even more than willing to kill her sisters to save yours.

While Charlie stares at your baby with tears, Alastor smiles warmly at you. He knew you could do it: birth something beautiful and worth protecting.

Your eyes are locked on Lucifer. He's an amazing, supportive dad to Charlie, and your heart begins to swell. Your heartbeat increases, and a blush weakly forms on your already flushed face. His rough hands hold a forgiving softness. He's beautiful.

#x deaf reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #lucifer #alastor #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader

[sluttyenthusiast]

Casual

Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex and a boy ☹️

(you said, "we're not together", so now when we kiss, I have anger issues)

Your friends always made fun of you, calling you a loser for changing yourself for a boy who would forget in months after he was done with you.

You were happy to stand at the sidelines and be the quiet, good girl, for him, especially so. You held back all thoughts that didn't pertain to him, because at that moment he enveloped you completely.

You couldn't help but hear the words that were jokes between him and his friends, the utters of "we're just casual" filled your head while the whispers of "we only fuck", tug at your heart.

You had heard the rumors of Luke sleeping around, but you had no reason to believe them because that is all they were, rumors.

You let him consume you, when all your thoughts should've been about your plans after college, rather than if he was gonna call you tonight or if he was too busy.

You spent late nights together in his car. You'd sit there after everything was done, skin to skin, where he watched you draw hearts in the fog of the glass.

You remember the few times you met his parents, and how eager he was to get away from them for a bathroom hookup.

You watched as he left the bathroom, perfectly monotone as you continued to fix your makeup, not wanting to be anything less of perfection.

As you sat back at the table, his hand found its place on your thigh, a smile graced your lips.

Him mom began to speak to you, you always loved her need to include you.

"Summer will be here in just a few weeks, and I, we, thought it be nice to have a little get together at the lake house,"

You smiled at her, gleaming, before Luke spoke up.

"She would love to, but she's got graduation to worry about."

You felt a heat rise to your cheeks, not understanding why he doesn't want you there, before you could speak up, he started talking again.

"College is so demanding, especially for someone as bright as my girl."

His arm came to rest around your shoulders, as the words "my girl" echoed through your mind.

You felt comfortable then.

But it didn't stay like that for long.

Soon the only time you'd really see each other is when he needed to blow off steam.

You would allow it, loving that you're so close to him.

You would allow him to fuck you as he shoved your face farther into the cushion of the couch.

You wanted him to need you.

You think back to the day you went shopping with friends, when as soon as you got back, he wanted a fashion show, so you did, showing off your new favorite bra, which soon became his new favorite as he tore it off.

The bra laid there in his bedroom floor for 2 months, before he shoved it into his dresser.

Every thought you had was of him, every thought you have, is of him.

You lost every piece of yourself to a boy who refused to grow up.

And you let him drag you down with him.

#gracie writes #nhl imagines #nhl players #nhl x reader #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes angst #luke hughes #nj devils imagine #nj devils imagines

[aurumacadicus]

65 for the ficlet pls! I’m loving what you’ve written so far!

--

Steve heard the door open and sighed, leaning forward so he could rub his hands over his face. He sucked in a breath and held it as his palms ran over his swollen black eye, forgetting for a moment that the bruise had stayed. It was a welcome change from the aches and pains he'd forgotten.

"Steve," Tony began as he walked toward him.

"I don't--" Steve cut in, then sighed when Tony circled the couch to face him, hands dropping into his lap. "I came here so I'd be left alone."

"I know!" Tony said, and it sounded as if he was carefully choosing his words. "I know. I just... you left so quickly. Once they said you could leave." He looked down at Steve with calculating eyes.

Probably cataloguing how Steve was lacking now, Steve thought bitterly. He sucked in as deep a breath as he could and let it out slowly. "You know, if you just wanted to gawk, I'm sure JARVIS got tons of video of me struggling with my fucking motorcycle, so--"

"How dare you," Tony snarled before he could finish, and Steve found himself jerking his head back to stare up at him in surprise in response. Tony's cheeks had flushed with anger, his hands had gripped into fists. He'd never seen him this angry before. "I didn't come here to--to fucking gawk, or. I came to see you because I was worried about you, you asshole." His eyes took on a particular gleam that Steve recognized as hurt. As not wanting to show he was hurt. "I thought, hell, maybe you'd want your boyfriend to comfort you while you were--but never fucking mind. Just wallow on your own, see if I care."

"Tony," Steve tried, concerned.

"I can't believe you'd think that's what I came in here to do," Tony continued, jerking his gaze away. "A wizard used magic to reverse the serum in you and you were sickly beforehand so I was coming to make sure that you were okay. I even thought, maybe you'd be happy to see me."

Shame curdled in Steve's gut. It wasn't Tony's fault that this had happened. He'd been nothing but concerned since he'd heard Clint call for medical. "I am happy to see you, Tony," he offered, but he wasn't sure how sincere it sounded when Tony shot him a wounded look.

"Sure," Tony said. He cleared his throat, looking away again. "Well. Far be it from me to bother you when you wanted to be alone. Natasha is leaning on that wizard, Thor has gone to talk to his mother, and Bruce is looking into scientific fixes. I'll be in the lab."

Tony turned to leave, and Steve couldn't stop himself from reaching out, grabbing his wrist. Tony stilled under his touch, but he didn't turn back, keeping his face turned away. Steve swallowed thickly, trying to push back his guilt at the fact that he'd been so mean when Tony had just wanted to help. This was his issue. He'd just thought he'd left it all behind him in the forties.

"I'm sorry," Steve said quietly.

"...I'm... sure this must be... difficult. For you," Tony answered haltingly. "It's fine. I overreacted."

He probably believed that, too, Steve thought, frowning. He lifted his other hand to wrap around Tony's wrist, pulling gently at his arm. "Come here."

Tony hesitated for a long moment, but eventually, after Steve pulled again, he allowed himself to be towed back around. "Steve," he sighed, sitting down beside him. "I'm sorry."

"I am too," Steve promised, hands reaching up to cup his cheeks. "Will you look at me?"

Tony looked at him from under his lashes, which was just as attractive as it had always been, but somehow more, now that Steve had to look up at him. "Weird seeing bruises on you," he finally murmured.

"Weird still feeling the bruises," Steve admitted. "Kiss it better?"

"Wish I could kiss everything better," Tony muttered, but he was gamely leaning in, and as careful as he was, Steve was still so unused to pain that he flinched a little. "Well, there's nothing wrong with your lips, huh?"

"Nope," Steve answered, tilting his head back so it wasn't such a strain on Tony's neck to lean down further and kiss him.

He felt the change almost immediately, aches and pains fading to dull pulses as his body began to work overtime trying to heal them. He was suddenly and incredibly hungry. He hadn't eaten since he'd left medical several hours ago. Tony also looked smaller, where he was staring up at him in shock, mouth dropped open speechlessly. For one hysterical moment, Steve remembered what Bucky had said after he'd rescued him from Hydra.

"Don't," Steve tried, but Tony began howling with laughter between semi-hysterical sputterings of 'true love? that asshole wizard said true love?' until he slid off of the couch and onto the floor.

#submission #aurumacadicus answers #saving-stark #1-161 stony ficlet challenge #stony #somehow this was a submission??? idk how tumblr works

[ask-funnybunnydoll]

Hi!

I think I have to move on.

You may have noticed that all of a sudden my posts have become less and less frequent. That's not on purpose I simply don't have the motivation to keep this ask blog going. I made this blog at the peak of my TADC hyperfixation because I knew it would give me the boost to work. At the start I made like, what? 2 a day, wowzas! Then it became like every other day posts. It's not that I don't enjoy the blog, the ship, the asks. Hell, the asks were the best part of this, I love just seeing what you guys come up with for these three and I get to do the even more fun part of drawing the answer.

But I still have no motivation to keep this going. And I have fixated on something else if you follow my main.

So, thank you for being here and still liking my posts even if I hadn't posted often. This was the most fun I've had and being my first ask blog I ever created just makes it more important to me.

I probably won't ever revive this blog but I'll keep it open for you. And if you want to see what the story I originally planned out was gonna be then check below the cut! Or if you wanna stay curious and theorize then just scroll by. Thank you again, hope ya have a great day and year. I hope my shit was at least okay to you.

I'm not gonna lie. Most of the stuff was just created along the way of drawing. I was like, huh this would be cool let's add that in. And ofc I didn't get to any juicy lore in this but it would've been rushed because I didn't plan beforehand... which you probably could tell xd

For Pomni, here's the plot twist: she's dead and her conscience was updated into the game to keep her somewhat alive. She worked in the place that created the game, she even took part in putting people in there. The entire game was just an expirement to test if immortality was possible, but of course.. everyone goes insane in there so they have to keep on and keep on trying with more and more people to get anywhere. They wait until someone goes to edge of absolute insanity and that's when they take them out of the game, their bodies are still kept alive and they go back to normal. They forget everything that happened while in the game. For Pomni she died just after her conscience was converted to the game, for others they were forced to go while alive. Who killed Pomni? Well, her boss, the head of the experimentation. Why? Idk 😭

For Jax, I gave him a dark story. He was isolated in his home and kept away from the outside world, which is why he lacks empathy, because he simply doesn't know how to feel that way when he never really had knowledge of emotions outside or even inside his home. His father was emotionally and physically ab4sive so.. that didn't help. He latched onto his mother the most but they never saw eachother often. That's all I had for him in mind.

For Ragatha, she lived in the country on her own land with her husband. Yup! She had a husband and a daughter too. Husband was a total jerk and she couldn't leave because she didn't want their kid to experience separated parents. She's a doll in the game because it resembles the doll she made for her daughter.

I also had some plot that I made up in my mind. Like.... Pomni at the end would be the last one alone in the digital circus. That being since she's dead she would just be yknow. Dead if she left the game. Jax and Ragatha leave but only because Pomni forces them. Again don't know how, I probably would have made it up while I went along with the story. So, Pomni is just there alone, with Caine. And she lives like that for eternity. She doesn't go insane anymore and it isn't as lonely as it used to feel like. It would feel like home kind of. But she would be there, longing for her partners forever unless she decides one day to just. Yknow, die..

Also since Jax and Ragatha would forget everything after they leave the game, they just don't remember they were in a relationship and would live their lives like before. Sad and lonely.

Goodness, I forget I make the most sad stories ever sometimes 😭

#thank you #anyway who wants to go get angel food cake 😍😍

[queenshelby]

The Law Student (Rewritten)

Part Five: Sorry

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (20) & Reader (30)

Note: This plays in 1996, just before Cillian drops out of law school.

The following day,  you arrived at university early, anticipating the awkward atmosphere between you and Cillian.

Passing through the empty corridors, the silence only accentuated the tension that was building up inside you.

But to your surprise, Cillian was not there.

As you walked into the lecture hall, you did not see his usual spot amongst the crowd, where he would sit with rapt attention, eyes focused on the board, taking in every word that you said.

But instead, an empty seat greeted you and a dull ache settled in your stomach.

The rest of the day went on uneventfully, without any sign of Cillian. And you couldn't help but wonder where he was, if he was okay, and if this was his way of avoiding you after last night's events.

"Hey, Dermont. Do you know where Cillian is today?" you asked his friend who passed you after the lecture . Dermont looked surprised for a moment, but he quickly recovered.

"No one told you?" Dermont asked, brows furrowing together in concern. "He called in sick today. Something about having a cold or something," his friend told you casually, but you couldn't shake off the feeling of worry that had settled in your gut.

"Okay, thanks," you muttered before walking away, heading straight to your office.

Once you had closed the door behind you, you let out a sigh of relief. Your thoughts were racing, and your heart was pounding in your chest.

What have I done? You asked yourself, burying your face in your hands.

You knew that you couldn't deny your attraction to Cillian any longer.

But you also knew that you couldn't let things progress between the two of you. Not while he was still your student and you were his professor.

Your career, your reputation, and your livelihood were at stake, and yet, you couldn't ignore the feelings that had awakened within you. It had been so long since you had allowed yourself to open up to someone, to give in to the whispers of desire that danced in the back of your mind.

But as you sat in your office, draped in shadows, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret.

You knew that your actions could cost Cillian his education, and the thought of ruining his future made you feel sick to your stomach. It was a gamble that you had taken, and it was one that you couldn't afford to lose.

You knew that you had to talk to Cillian, to make things right between the two of you. But what would you say? How would you explain your actions?

Hoping that he would return to university the following day to also attend his usual tutoring session with you, you found your thoughts drifting to Cillian throughout class, wondering if he was truly ill or if he was avoiding you altogether.

You knew that you needed to address the situation sooner rather than later, to clear the air between you and to reaffirm your commitment to maintaining a professional relationship.

Unfortunately for you, however, he called in sick again that day and the next and, on the third day, you spotted Dermont passing by the hallway again and asked him once more about Cillian's absence.

"He is still sick. He hasn't really picked up my calls either," Dermont informed you  , a concerned expression on his face.

"Thanks again. I tend to worry too much," you said, mustering a smile. Dermont returned it warily, and you could see the questions building behind his eyes. 

"You know, you might be better off asking Siobhan O'Connor about him if you are worried.  She seems to know more about his whereabouts these days," Dermot offered, rolling his eyes as he mentioned Siobhan's name.

His words struck a chord of curiosity in you. "Siobhan O'Connor?" you asked, furrowing your brows in confusion. 

"Yeah, they have been on and off for about six months now ," Dermot explained, rolling his eyes again. "I think she went to see him yesterday so she might know how he is,"  he added, shrugging his shoulders.

This new information took you by surprise, as you had not expected Cillian to be dating Siobhan O'Connor and you certainly could not help but feel a pang of jealousy  settle in your stomach. But why did you feel that way? You were his professor, and you had violated the ethical code of conduct by engaging in a sexual act with one of your students.

Nevertheless, you thanked Dermot for his help and told him that you would speak with Siobhan to find out more about Cillian's condition.

The remainder of the day passed by in a blur as you went about your duties, attending various meetings and marking papers, all the while your mind stayed preoccupied with thoughts of Cillian.

You could hardly focus on anything else, as questions and doubts swirled in your mind like a tempestuous storm. Had you truly let things progress so far? Had you lost yourself in the fog of passion, that the lines between student and professor had become blurred? The more you pondered on it, the more guilty you felt.

When you eventually returned home that evening, you found solace in a bottle of red wine. You poured yourself a generous glass, and settled in the corner of your living room which is when, suddenly, the doorbell rang.

You weren't expecting anyone, and the sudden interruption caused you to jump in surprise. Setting down the wine glass, you cautiously approached the door and peeked through the spyhole to see who it was.

Outside stood your best friend Emma and it dawned upon you that you had forgotten about your girls night out that evening.

Quickly, you straightened your disheveled appearance and opened the door wide, brushing aside any lingering thoughts of Cillian.

"Emma, hi! Sorry, I got sidetracked," you said half-heartedly as you gestured for her to enter.

Emma eyed you suspiciously but didn't press further, taking a seat on the couch.

"You aren't even dressed yet?" Emma asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow as she glanced around the messy living room. "I thought we were meeting the girls in an hour?"

"Shit," you muttered, suddenly remembering your plans. "I completely forgot. Give me five minutes." You turned and dashed towards your bedroom, knowing that you had a lot of damage control to do.

You quickly changed into a fitted pair of jeans and a nice shirt with matching boots , styling your hair into loose curls that cascaded down your shoulders. After applying some blush and lipstick, you took a deep breath and rejoined Emma in the living room, feigning a cheerful attitude.

"All right, let's go!" you exclaimed, pretending everything was fine.

You left your apartment and arrived at the trendy bar where your friends already waited for you. They were all chatting and laughing, and you tried to push your worries aside, joining their conversation and ordering another drink.

You even managed to enjoy yourself for a while, forgetting about the situation with Cillian and your guilt over crossing the line.

But as the night wore on and your friends began to disperse, leaving only you and Emma behind, the nagging doubts resurfaced.

"Is everything okay?" Emma asked, eyeing you with concern as she sipped on her cocktail.

"Yes, I am fine. I am just tired. It has been a long week," you lied but, when a familiar face appeared in the crowd, you realized that you were far from being fine.  Cillian was standing by the bar, talking to a tall brunette, and what you assumed to be her friends. Dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie, he looked as handsome and reserved as ever, and your heart skipped a beat as you watched him from afar.

However, you couldn't shake off the feeling that the universe was testing you - forcing you to confront a situation you had hoped to avoid.

"Excuse me a second," you said to Emma, excusing yourself from her company.

Your heart was thumping wildly in your chest as you approached Cillian, who hadn't noticed you yet.

As you neared him, you observed the way the soft lighting illuminated his wavy hair and emphasized the striking blue of his eyes. It was unfair, really, how attractive he was – how effortlessly he could command attention and admiration from those around him. You silently scolded yourself for allowing such thoughts to distract you – after all, he was still your student and nothing more.

But as you reached him, your resolve waivered.

"I thought you were being sick?" you  said, your voice barely above a whisper. Cillian turned towards you, a surprised look on his face.

"Shit, hey," he said, his eyes widening as realization dawned upon him. "Yeah, I mean, I was sick, but I'm feeling much better now," he stammered, and it was obvious to you that he was lying, 

The tension between the two of you was palpable, and you could feel the questioning looks of his companion and the nearby patrons as they took note of your presence. You immediately regretted your decision to approach him, but it was too late to turn back now.

"Look, I was worried about you," you confessed, attempting to reconcile your conflicting emotions. "After what happened the other night, I - " you began to say before being cut short by Siobhan's sudden presence as she returned from the bathrooms.

"Miss Y/LN," she greeted you, a hint of hesitation in her tone as she noticed the awkward atmosphere between you and Cillian. "How are you?" she asked politely while reaching for Cillian's hand , effectively breaking the tense moment.

"Uh, I'm good," you replied to her question. "How about you?" you asked, shifting your gaze towards Siobhan. Her smile faltered for a brief moment before she responded.

"I'm great, thanks for asking," she said, gaze flicking between you and Cillian. You couldn't help but notice the possessiveness in her tone.

She then proceeded to give Cillian a quick kiss on the cheek and, just as she did, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy stirring inside you again. It was ridiculous, really, given the circumstances of your relationship with Cillian, but you couldn't help the way you felt.

"Well, I should be going," you said, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

You gave them a small smile and then turned around, hurrying towards the bathrooms to collect yourself.

The night had taken a surprising turn, and you needed a moment to gather your thoughts before returning to your friend Emma again. 

Closing the door behind you, you let out a sigh as you leaned against the sink.

Why did you feel so unsettled by the sight of Cillian with Siobhan? Yes, there was an undeniable spark between you two, but you knew better than to indulge in it.

You were his professor, for god's sake!

However, you couldn't shake off the lingering feelings of jealousy that had taken root in your heart.

As much as you tried to deny it, the thought of Cillian with Siobhan was like a thorn in your flesh, causing an uncomfortable twinge in your chest. You knew that it was foolish to harbor such feelings, yet you couldn't help but wonder if things could have been different between you and Cillian if only you had handled the situation differently.

***

The following Monday, following a booze filled weekend, you walked into the student hall with a heavy heart. You couldn't stop thinking about Cillian and Siobhan and when you saw them both again, sitting together, sharing an intimate moment - it was like a dagger to your heart.

You refused to make eye contact with Cillian,  afraid of the emotions that would surface. You powered through your lesson, focusing on teaching and not on the ache in your chest.

But despite your resolve, you couldn't deny the pull you felt towards Cillian. You wanted to talk to him, to apologize for what had happened between you both, but you knew you couldn't. It was against the rules, and you had already crossed that line once.

After class, you busied yourself with grading papers and preparing for your next lecture as, eventually, you heard a knock on your office's door.

"Come in," you called, assuming it was a fellow teacher but, instead, it was Cillian, looking anxious and unsure of himself.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked softly, eyes pleading.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you nodded and motioned to the empty seat in front of your desk.

Cillian sat down, wringing his hands. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you palpable.

"I'm sorry," Cillian murmured finally, breaking the silence.

His apology caught you off guard, and you blinked at him in surprise. "What are you sorry for?" you asked, genuinely puzzled.

Cillian glanced down at his hands before meeting your gaze once more.

"For everything," he said simply. "For making a move on you," he clarified, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, the sincerity in his voice hitting you like a tidal wave.

"Cillian, it's not your fault," you insisted, speaking just as quietly. "I could have stopped you."

"But you didn't," he replied, his eyes searching yours. "And to be honest... I'm glad you didn't. I mean, I didn't regret what we did. I am just sorry for, like, making a move on you and putting you into an uncomfortable situation,"  Cillian explained to you, looking guilty.

You didn't want him to feel bad, because deep down, you knew that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. But you couldn't bring yourself to tell him that, because you knew that it was against the rules, and it would only cause more heartache in the future.

"I don't blame you, Cillian," you said, searching for the right words to say. "It's just that, we both need to forget about what happened . It was a mistake. Despite, you probably are better off with Siobhan. She seems nice."  You offered, not wanting to admit to him that the thought of Cillian and Siobhan together filled you with an intense, irrational sense of jealousy. You couldn't help the nagging thought that he belonged with you, not her.

Cillian frowned, his eyes clouded with confusion. "I guess," he said, not sounding convinced. "I just can't stop thinking about you," he whispered. "And I don't really care about Siobhan. She's not you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you pushed down the flutter of excitement that threatened to rise within you.

"Cillian, this is wrong," you said firmly, trying to keep your voice steady. "We need to focus on your studies. That's what matters here," you insisted, trying to reason with him. "Besides, I'm your professor, and you're my student. We have to maintain a certain level of professionalism."

Cillian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know," he said, looking defeated. "But I can't help how I feel. And I don't think you can either."

His words lingered in the air, hovering between you like an unspoken truth that neither of you was willing to acknowledge.

"Cillian," you began, but your voice trailed off, uncertain of what to say next. "This can't happen again. It just can't."

Fleetingly, you wondered if you were just trying to convince yourself more than you were trying to convince him. Your heart was pounding heavily in your chest, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Cillian held your gaze, his beautiful blue eyes searching your face as if looking for some hidden answer.

"But why not?" he asked softly. "I am not going to tell anyone if that's what you're worried about. It's just between you and me. I've been thinking about it ever since that night."

"Enough. Please," you interjected, your voice wavering slightly. The intensity of his gaze left you feeling bare, exposed. "Please leave, Cillian ," you said, averting your gaze again. "We can't do this."

Cillian seemed taken aback by the finality in your voice. "All right," he agreed, a hint of sadness in his eyes. But before leaving, he turned back to you and added, "But just know that this isn't over. I won't give up on you that easily."

You swallowed hard, unable to respond. Cillian left the room, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and swirling emotions.

Tags:

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine

[gabby294]

You Look So Pretty, Pretty Like The Sun - Chapter 2

Buck wiped away the sweat from his forehead on a small towel between his sets. Despite the AC blasting at full power, the gym still felt stiflingly hot. The weights beside him were slightly heavier than what he typically lifted. With the wedding right around the corner, Buck had been making the most of any free time by hitting the gym . And if he harbored a secret desire to look extra good for his date, who could blame him?

Buck knew they were pretty similar in height but he was nearly certain Tommy was actually stronger than him. He attributed it on the Muay Thai. Speaking of Muay Thai, he really should stop imagining Tommy in the ring, his skin glistering, only in a pair of shorts and boxing gloves. His Google search history became much more interesting since they started to hang out.

Buck lifted his phone off the floor again, checking if he missed any messages while he was lifting. Throwing the towel over his shoulder he leaned back against the seat. The pretense that he wasn’t checking the phone every moment he could was long forgotten. Both he and Tommy had a day off and had been texting since Buck crawled out of bed for a cup of coffee.

Things between him and Tommy were good. Almost too good. His past relationships were never this peaceful or easy. Since their reconciliation couple of days ago, they fell into a rhythm. In his previous relationships, Buck always felt like his partners took offence if he didn’t talk to them constantly at work or if he would lose time hanging out with the team after work. With Tommy it was different. Sharing a similar job, he knew how hectic the days were. More importantly, he understood the team dynamic. They texted when they could without expectation of an immediate reply. Their conversations never had a beginning or an end, and often with different amount of hours in between, especially when Tommy was piloting. However when they were off, Buck was glued to his phone.

Buck grinned as he looked at the chat. He was getting bolder, adding more winky emojis to his texts and teasing Tommy more often. Despite still blushing like a teenage girl in front of the man, he considered this progress. And judging by Tommy's reactions, it seemed like he was enjoying it too. The last message Buck sent was a selfie of himself in front of the mirror, making sure to pose in a way that showed off his muscles. He really needed to thank Eddie for telling him about lighting all the way back when he first joined the 118. Tommy had responded with a series of fire emojis, and asked which gym he used. Buck placed his phone back down, eager for the man to reply.

He was in the middle of bench pressing as someone approached him from the side.

“Need a spotter?” A familiar voice called out, causing Buck to do a double take, his arms faltering for a second. He quickly recovered and clinked the barbell back into place. Tommy stood beside him, wearing a pair of blue shorts and a black, very fitting vest top. Shamelessly, Buck ogled at the man, his eyes glancing up and down a few times.

“Tommy!” He grinned widened. “What are you doing here? I thought you had errands to run.”

“Well, a cute guy changed my mind.” ommy replied, winking playfully and eyeing the equipment. “Mind if we share?”

“Be my guest," Buck said, stepping away from the bench and giving it a quick wipe. He couldn't help but emit a half-groan as he watched Tommy bend down to grab another set of plates, offering him an excellent view. The sly smirk on Tommy’s face suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Ready to actually do some work?” Tommy teased, adding the weights to the barbell. Buck chuckled shaking his head.

“You’re on, old man.”

An hour and a cold shower later, Buck sighed happily as his muscles tingled, the cool water washing away the fatigue of their intense workout. He was pleased to learn that Tommy was just as competitive as him, the workout turning into a fun competition. They ended their workout on a treadmill where Tommy had utterly beat his ass in endurance.

As he dried his hair with a towel, Buck caught sight of Tommy openly staring at him in the mirror. His heart quickened at the intensity of Tommy's gaze, a flush creeping up his cheeks as he met the other man's eyes.

“What?” Buck asked, shifting under his gaze. The semi-public space added to the nerves and excitement.

“Nothing, just you're quite the sight.” Tommy replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Buck’s brain short-circuited for a moment.

“Lets grab some lunch.” Tommy added casually, as if he didn’t just openly flirt in a men’s locker room. He thew the duffel bag over his soldier, and Buck quickly grabbed his stuff, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he fell into step beside Tommy, feeling like a lovesick puppy in the best possible way.

———

After coming out to his sister and best friend, it became easier to talk about this newly discovered part of himself. There were only a select number of people he did want to tell, and he was determined to do it before the wedding. In part, he didn't want to make Maddie and Chimney's big day about him, a distant echo of his parents' voices ringing in his mind. Mostly, he just wanted to have a nice night with Tommy among their closest friends, unspoiled by awkward corrections that Tommy isn't just his friend but his date. He knew that Tommy wouldn't correct it if someone did make that assumption, wouldn't out him; he was too considerate for that.

Buck told Chimney when he announced he needed a plus one to the wedding. He rolled his eyes, remembering the smug grin on Chimney's face, all too pleased that he was a matchmaker. After teasing him for a while, Chimney clasped Buck’s shoulder and declared that there was no way Tommy would be going to his bachelor’s party. He added something about 'under my dead body' would there be lovebirds pining in his face on his last night as a single man.

On one of the quieter shifts, Buck was helping Hen load up an ambulance. It was pretty quiet in the station when the words came to him. He didn’t explain in much detail, just a simple ‘I kissed a boy’ was enough. She gave him a knowing smile and pulled him into a hug. Then, she proceeded to roast him about Tommy for the next fifteen minutes.

He hesitated to tell Bobby and Athena . Not because he expected a negative reaction; after all, they had come together because Michael was brave enough to share that hidden part of himself. Buck knew they accepted him fully and had no doubt they’d do the same to him. It was a different kind of anxiety. The kind he imagined people felt when introducing someone they’re seeing to their parents. That was an experience he never had. When he was younger and girls started showing interest, he was too caught up in hormones to commit to just one long enough to bring home. Besides, his parents wouldn't have cared even if he did.

Sure, Bobby and Athena met and interacted with his past girlfriends before. Buck never asked what they thought of them, never asked for their approval. He was younger back then, did what he wanted, saw who he wanted. He didn’t need anyone’s approval. They didn't question him when those relationships inevitably crashed and burned; they were simply there. Whether it was celebrating his proudest achievements, scolding him for his reckless behavior, or keeping vigil by his bedside after a close call with death, they were always nearby.

He knew he wasn’t their kid. He was in his thirties for crying out loud. Yet during countless family dinners, moments at work, and various celebrations, he would catch glimpses of domesticity and could briefly imagine that he was their kid. He could envision that this was how it felt to be loved by parents.

He wanted them to like Tommy. It was a strange feeling, wanting to bring someone home and introduce them. Deep down, he desired to do it properly, but it was way too soon for that. They were still getting to know each other, without labels or exclusivity. Well, they were exclusive on Buck’s side, but they hadn't had the conversation yet, so he didn't want to presume.

For now, he would settle for introducing him as his date for the wedding.

“Buck!” Athena exclaimed as she answered the door, surprise evident on her face as she opened it wider to let him in. “What did you do?”

“Can't I come over without being accused of doing something?” Buck asked with mock hurt, flashing a playful smile.

“You’re always up to something.” Athena chuckled.

“I’m not intruding am I?” He asked, wanting to make sure. He could totally come over another time.

“Of course not, come. Coffee is on the counter.” With that she glanced at Bobby, communicating something Buck couldn’t decipher and walked off.

Bobby was in the living room and greeted him warmly. With a coffee in his hand, Buck sat down on the couch. They talked for a bit, catching up on one of the calls they had the other day. Buck tried to pay attention to the conversation, but his mind was elsewhere. He wondered what the best way to bring it up was, feeling his mouth go dry as he glanced down at his mug. Eventually, Bobby, sensing Buck's distraction, asked what was on his mind.

“I, uh,” Buck began, biting his lip nervously. “I have a date. For the wedding.”

“Really? Is she someone we know?” Bobby asked curiously, perhaps sensing there was more to the conversation.

The silence stretched out. Buck finally raised his eyes to Bobby, trying to find the words. Bobby tilted his head.

“Is he someone we know?” Bobby asked, his tone softening.

“Yeah, it’s Tommy.” Buck finally managed to say.

“Wow.”

“Wow?” Buck frowned, his stomach dropping.

“No! Not like that!” Bobby was quick to correct it. “More like I should have realised you two would hit it off.”

“Yeah, we hit it off alright. Is… is that weird?”Buck asked tentatively.

“Why would it be weird?” Bobby responded, genuine confusion in his voice.

“I uh, I don’t know.” Buck sighed, rubbed his face and rose up. He pointed towards the kitchen. Eager to change the subject. “Forget I said anything. Want to grab something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Buck,” Bobby stopped him, rising and clasping a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve know you since you were wet behind your ears. I’ve watched you go from a reckless kid to a great man. And while I’d appreciate if you would stop giving me heart attacks with the stunts you pull on the job, your heart has always been in the right place. So if you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me.”

A lump formed in Buck's throat, and he blinked back sudden tears. Before he could react, Bobby pulled him into a hug After a moment of surprise, Buck hugged him back.

“I’m proud of you kid.” Bobby added softly, loud enough only for him to hear.

“Thanks, Bobby.” Buck managed to choke out, his voice thick with emotion.

They pulled away, with Bobby giving his shoulder a final squeeze. Buck cleared his throat, a smile breaking out.

Athena's voice interrupted their moment, teasing and light-hearted.

“Ain’t you two looking cozy. Anything interesting to share?”

Buck glanced at Bobby, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I, uh, was telling Bobby about bringing Tommy to the wedding. As my date. Uh, the pilot that helped us find you.”

“I’m impressed Buck,” Athena grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s his name?”

“Tommy Kinard.” Buck replied and watched her pull out her phone and type it in phone. “Wait, are you doing a background search on him?!”

——-

Kissing Tommy was quickly becoming Buck’s favourite thing to do. They were at his loft, hanging out in the kitchen as Buck was still without a couch. His parents had gotten one for him, but it was more aesthetically pleasing than comfortable and after a 24-hour shift it pissed Buck off and he sold it the next morning. He had yet to buy a new couch.

As they waited for their Italian takeaway to arrive, conversation flowed easily between them but his attention was drifting, unable to resist stealing glances at Tommy's lips. Sensing Buck's gaze, Tommy flashed a knowing smile before taking hold of Buck's chin, and guided their lips together in for a kiss Buck's breath hitched in his throat as their lips met, his hands instinctively finding their way to Tommy's waist, pulling him closer. As the seconds passed, Buck’s confidence grew and he licked at the bottom of Tommy’s lip. Tommy hummed in encouragement, parting his lips, his hands roaming over Buck’s back.

Their kiss grew more passionate, more urgent and before he knew it, Tommy grabbed at his legs and hoisted Buck on top of the counter. A surprised gasp escaped Buck as he instinctively grabbed at Tommy for support. Tommy took the opportunity and slotted himself against Buck’s legs, wrapping them around himself.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” Buck groaned out, his voice thick and eyes half-lidded with desire.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, pretty boy.” Tommy grinned, planting another kiss on his lips. He didn’t let Buck deepen the kiss, instead trailed light kisses down his cheek and neck. Buck gasped in pleasure at the nibbles along his neck, causing his body to jolt into Tommy’s when he sucked a particularly sensitive spot. Tommy's hand on his leg tightened, grounding him.

Buck flinched, startled, as a series of loud knocks on the door interrupted them. Tommy let out a frustrated sigh, briefly nibbling on Buck's neck once more before reluctantly pulling away.

“I’ll get it.” Tommy muttered, his eyes still dark with desire. He glanced at Buck’s lips and quickly kissed him again before moving away to get the door. As Tommy's back turned to him, Buck took a moment to catch his breath and ensure his legs hadn't turned to jelly. With a sheepish smile, Buck adjusted his jeans, feeling the warmth creeping into his cheeks.

Tommy managed to get rid of the delivery guy in a record speed and brought the pizza box to the table that was already set. Buck pulled out two beers from the fridge and joined him.

“I tried to get you in but Chimney was adamant that it’s not a bachelor party if we are making in a corner instead of partying.” Buck said as he brought the beer to his lips.

“Wise man, I can barely keep my hands off you.” Tommy sent him a flirty smile. Buck was getting a suspicion that this smooth fucker said things on purpose to make him blush.

“Also, Athena ran a background search on you.” Buck blurted out before his mind caught up with him. Probably not the best thing to say. “I mean, I told Bobby about us and she asked so you know. Told her as well.”

“Really?” Tommy raised his eyebrow in amusement. “Should I be worried?”

“Not unless you have something to hide.” Buck quipped playfully, his gaze locking with Tommy’s.

“Not to my knowledge. But do let me know if I have to flee the country. I’ll need time to prepare my chopper.” Tommy chuckled, his demeanor relaxed as he grabbed another slice of pizza.

“Speaking of telling people about us.” He continued. “Evan, are you absolutely sure about bringing me? It’s a big step, even if I wasn’t a man.”

“Yeah, of course.” Buck replied with a soft smile. “Besides, everyone who are important to me already know you’re my date. The rest can deal with it.”

Tommy's gaze turned thoughtful as he considered Buck's response “What about your parents? I assume they will be there.”

“I mean,” Buck shrugged. “I mean, something tells me that won't be the most disappointing thing I've done in their eyes even if they don't like it."

“Complicated history?” He guessed. They hadn’t really discussed their parents or their relationships with them.

“Something like that.” Buck alluded. He didn’t really want to get into it. His own feelings towards parents were complex, and definitely not a conversation for a date night.

Tommy seemed to understand and didn’t pry further.

“Well for what it’s worth,” Tommy's hand found Buck's on the table. “I can’t wait to be shown off by you.”

—-

Link to ao3:

#911 abc #911 show #911 spoilers #evan buckley #buck x tommy #bucktommy #tommy kinard #ao3 #fanfic #kinkley #tuck #tevan

[roxygen22]

>>combining two similar asks, though tweaked to be gender neutral<<

Hold Me

You woke in the middle of the night to the sound of the shower running. You reached around beside you and found an empty space where Timothée would normally lay. Odd, you thought. You rolled over and tried to go back to sleep until you heard faint whimpering above the rushing water.

Concerned, you got up and quietly padded to the bathroom door. As you got closer, you could more clearly hear more sniffles. You lightly knocked, but Timothée did not answer. Too worried to prioritize his privacy, you pushed through the door and opened the shower curtain. At first, it looked as if nobody was there, until you looked down and saw your boyfriend sitting on the floor. He trembled as the water ran over him.

You immediately knelt to the bathmat and ran your fingers through his wet curls. His eyes were set in an unfocused stare that never showed any recognition of your presence.

"Baby, what's wrong?" you pleaded.

The sound of your voice brought his attention back to you. "Please. Please, hold me," Timothée begged before breaking down into sobs.

No questions asked, you dropped your robe and climbed into the tub. You sat behind him and pulled him close. He turned so his face laid on your bare chest. The water was hot, yet he was still shivering.

"Shhh, shhhh," you cooed as you rocked him slightly. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"I f-froze in rehearsal today. I couldn't rem-member m-my lines. I haven't been able to p-practice because I have to be everywhere all at once. Dinners, premiers, m-meetings, costuming, travel. I- I can't keep up. I can't do this. I just can't."

"You've been going at an inhuman pace. It was just a matter of time before it all caught up to you, my love." You kissed the top of his head. "You need a break."

"But, I have the premier in Montreal..."

"No buts. If you do not take a break voluntarily, then either your mind or body are going to force you to stop longer than you want," you said sternly, but gently, as you ran your fingers along his arm. "Now, let's get you toweled off so you don't also get sick on top of all of this."

You turned off the water and grabbed the towel. You gently squeezed the excess water from his curls, patting him dry as best you could from his seat on the shower floor.

"Can you stand, love?" you asked.

Timothée nodded and put his weight on his arms on the ledge of the tub. He stood shakily and took your hand to support his step out onto the bathmat. You wrapped the towel around his waist and guided him back to the bedroom. As you passed in front of the vanity lights, you saw just how dark and deep the circles were under his eyes.

You lifted the blankets and sheets so he could slide into bed. He whined for you to join him, but you first wanted to set up the diffuser with lavender oil and a white noise machine to help him sleep. As soon as you laid down, his gangly limbs snaked around you. You positioned yourself so that he could lay his head on you again. You placed a lingering kiss on his forehead. "I love you, Timothée."

He sighed and nuzzled into your neck. "I love you, too." Soon, his breathing evened out and slowed in sleep. The two of you became untangled during the night so that you were facing each other come morning. You woke up first and stared at his relaxed features. He came to a few minutes later.

"Please stay home today, my love. If you want, I'll even call your assistant to clear your day. You need to rest."

He smiled. "As long as you stay home today, too."

<><><><><>

Masterlist

#timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #reader insert #timothee x you #Timothée x you #timothee x reader #timothée x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee fanfic #timothée fanfic #anxiety

[theamityelf]

"Be still, don't move" + Makoto/Nagito

(Okay, I leaned pretty wholesome for the Kamuegi one, and I already have a hunch that this one is taking my brain in another direction, lol. If someone wants wholesome Komaegi, all you have to do is ask!)

...

Makoto woke to the sound of someone humming.

His whole body was sore– a soreness only interrupted by a few distinct points of sharp pain –but he could feel that he was in a pretty comfortable bed. As he worked his eyes open, he had to fight against the interference of crusted tears that seemed to momentarily cement them shut. Which told him that he'd been asleep for longer than normal.

"Ah. I thought my terrible singing might wake you up. Sorry about that."

He focused his gaze on the face hovering nearby. He felt the vague, niggling familiarity that meant he was supposed to remember that face. He'd recovered a lot of his school memories, with the Future Foundation's help, but some things took longer to come back than others. And surviving a helicopter crash didn't help.

Wait! The helicopter!

"I was just very excited to get to tend to your wounds, is all," the stranger (or non-stranger) continued. His tangled, white hair stuck out in so many directions, it seemed to defy gravity; a ratty, striped shirt hung loose on his narrow frame; and a peculiar radiance in his eyes spoke to an excitement that was triumphing soundly over a deep physical exhaustion. "Of course, for your sake, I wish you had someone a lot more competent to assist you. But for my own, well...I am of course more than glad to serve you any way I can." A pink flush filled his cheeks as he offered up a strangely enthusiastic smile.

Makoto shook his head, baffled beyond words. "Serve me? Where are we? Where's...?" He shut his eyes for a moment, focusing. "I was in a helicopter. The...The city was under attack, and my sister...My friends..."

"Wow! You're so selfless, for someone who broke his leg in a helicopter crash."

He noticed, then, that his knee had been crudely bandaged into a thick makeshift cast. "Broke my leg?"

"Well, I'm no doctor, so I suppose you can take my words with a few grains of salt. It might not be exactly broken, but...I wouldn't recommend trying to walk on it."

Oh, that was never in question.

"It's funny. Your sister isn't nearly this injured. Did you try to shield her with your body, or...are you just that unlucky?" He seemed to delight in the question.

"You saw my sister?! Where is she?"

The delighted expression sobered into an apologetic smile. "I’m sorry to say that she isn’t here. She was made a prisoner of the Warriors of Hope. Ah, sorry! I shouldn't use such an inapt title in front of you, of all people. But I was able to hide you away from them. Fortunately, this house’s previous owners no longer have need of it. Very lucky for us, don’t you think?"

The second reference to luck stirred something in Makoto's mind. A name was trying to rise to the surface, very slowly...But he couldn't focus on that right now. "Who are the Warriors of Hope? What do you mean, my sister is their prisoner? And...are we still in Towa City? How long was I asleep?" His voice cracked as it became too painful to support it; it felt like he might have at least one bruised rib.

The non-stranger laid a pacifying hand on him, smiling besottedly. "There's no need to strain yourself. The world's savior has more than earned a nice, comfy spectator seat for this round. It's someone else's responsibility to prove hope supreme, right now. It would be far too easy for you. Not worth your time."

"But you said my sister is someone's prisoner!" Makoto tried to sit up, but the pacifying hand turned restraining, guiding him back down to the bed. He couldn't try again; the pain that had flared in his ribs would have grounded him if the hand hadn't.

"Be still; don't move. Ahh, the pull to heroism that emanates from you...It's a good thing I'm here to serve you, or who knows what you'd get into. Haha, just imagining it almost makes me feel faint..." One of his hands grasped his opposite arm, whereas the other remained in his lap. The latter was covered by a thick-looking mitten. (It reminded Makoto of Mukuro's tattoo and Kyoko's scars.) He looked giddy, exultant, and it didn't make sense. It didn't go with the horrible things he'd said. Something was seriously wrong here!

A part of a memory came into focus. A part of a name. "Ko...Ko-something..."

The non-stranger froze, suddenly looking almost fearful.

"Isn't that your name?" Makoto asked. "I'm sorry, I still have trouble remembering some things..."

Kyoko and Byakuya both had warned against being too open about what he did and didn't remember. They said that telling anyone how unreliable the recovered memory sometimes was, risked informing enemies that they could pretend to be friends. He knew that he should be more careful, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this person was a friend, or close to a friend. Maybe...a fond acquaintance?

But the look of alarm on his face seemed to mean Makoto had made some kind of mistake. "There's no need to remember me! I'm nobody. I don't deserve to be named by someone as incredible as you. Oh, I certainly hope you haven't been wasting your mental energy on something so pointless. I wouldn't forgive myself!"

"Hey, it's okay," Makoto said. "Please, I just-" He winced. Yeah, too much talking for his poor ribs. "Just need you to explain," he whispered, "what's going on here. The city, my sister..."

Ko-something's face softened at the first sign of pain. He dabbed the sweat from Makoto's face with a cold rag, smiling dreamily all the while. "Poor hope. As I said, you're not allowed to be the hero for this round. Your sister is alive. The city is...well, it's certainly not thriving any longer, but it's not entirely defenseless, either. And you are perfectly safe here. I will use my every breath to ensure that, especially."

Makoto wanted to say something, but the throbbing in his ribs forced him to just focus on breathing, for now. There were so many things he needed to follow up on, with this person he had definitely known before. Why was there a chain around his neck? Why did he seem to know everything that was happening? What was happening? Where did he know him from? Was it from Hope's Peak? What did he mean when he said he didn't deserve to be named? And what did he mean by all that servant stuff? Why had he saved Makoto and not Komaru, if they had been in the same crash? If it was just Ko-something alone, it probably would have been impossible for him to carry two people at once...Most likely, he'd carried Makoto first, because he was so injured, and then he'd gone back for Komaru and found she'd been abducted by those Warriors of Hope people. That made sense, right?

And he still hadn't gotten an explanation about the Warriors of Hope. The name sounded friendly, but the assertion that they were keeping Komaru prisoner definitely didn't. Ko-something had said the title was inapt.

There was so much going on, and breathing hurt.

"My friends," he said weakly.

"They're both alive, too," Ko-something assured him sweetly. "Everyone is alright. They all have their parts to play. And you" (He wiped the cool rag over Makoto's lips, even though there definitely wasn't any sweat there. He did sometimes drool in his sleep; maybe some of that had dried on him?) "just have to enjoy your vacation. Consider me entirely at your disposal to make your stay here more comfortable. Unfortunately, I can't always be at your side; I do have another job. But I'll give you a way to call me, and I promise you I will always rush right over. Nothing over there is more important to me than you. Oh! And you can call me Servant." That smile seemed...really genuine.

Komaeda. That was his name. Komaeda. And...he was from Hope's Peak. Another class. Another...

"You're like me," Makoto realized. "Ultimate Lucky Student."

Komaeda's smile tensed into a rictus of...what looked bizarrely like shame? "You can call me Servant," he reiterated, almost desperately. "Or whatever else you'd like to call me. I can understand if you don't think someone as unworthy as me should be allowed to be called a servant to the Ultimate Hope himself."

"This is wrong....I...I just-"

"I'm privileged to be under the sound of your voice, but I think you should hold off on talking much right now. It's clearly taking a toll, and I wouldn't be a very good servant if I let you puncture a lung." He presented a bottle of medicine and poured a bit of it into the cap. Makoto noticed he held the bottle between his knees to open it, rather than using both hands; his covered hand still lay in his lap. But he did use that hand to hold the cap steady while he poured into it. "This should help with the pain and help you to get some real sleep. Here."

As Komaeda brought the medicine to Makoto's lips, he could just hear what Byakuya, Toko, or Hiro would say about accepting medicine from someone so suspicious. But...he was already at Komaeda's mercy in every other way. He couldn't move, couldn't leave. His hacking gun was nowhere to be seen, and he had no way of calling for help, at least for now. If Komaeda wanted to hurt him, why would he have gone to the trouble of bandaging him and...?

After only a moment's hesitation, Makoto parted his lips and took the medicine.

Komaeda's pupils dilated slightly. "Thank you for your trust," he breathed, maybe more exultantly than Makoto would have liked. "I swear, for all my filthy word is worth, that you will not regret it. I'll guard you with my worthless life, I'll keep you abreast of all the good news, I'll attend to your every need until my final breath. Of course, I mean, until the battle is won. Of course, I will return you to your friends once the danger has passed. Yes, of course."

The tone Komaeda used when he said "of course" reminded Makoto of the many times Komaru had dismissively said that she'd get to something "later" and then inevitably forgot.

"Komaeda?" he tried to say, but he found that his speech slurred on the way out. He blinked and found that his eyelids were heavy.

"Shhh," the upperclassman shushed him, with adoration in his eyes that didn't match the friendly but casual rapport Makoto remembered from school. "Don't fight it. As I said, my hope deserves a good rest. I'll be back with your dinner by the time you wake up. I'll...try to have something that's worth eating, heheh."

#danganronpa #komaegi #my fanfic #nagito komaeda #makoto naegi #servant nagito #naemeshi #is that a thing? #komaegi udg au #yandere nagito komaeda

[oracle-of-dream]

hi can you do a xiaojun x male reader smut?

I totally can, I've already been trying to write something for him so I'll put it here! It's gonna be in parts so hang tight <3

Never Really Alone

Minors DNI

Summary: A feeling, at the corner of your mind. Always with you–even when you know you're alone. Someone's watching you, following you, getting closer...

Warnings: Male Reader, Stalking, Thunderstorms, Psychological terror, Fear of darkness

Wordcount: 1.5k

As your eyes opened, dark circles under them, you felt it again. The same feeling you've been experiencing for the last few weeks. It feels like you're never truly alone–someone you can't see is always with you. At first, you believed it was just the feeling of settling into your new apartment. You moved in about a month ago, but the feeling followed you outside your apartment.

At Work. The Cafe. Walking down streets. Everywhere you went.

It was to the point that you couldn't stop looking over your shoulder, even in broad daylight. You'd bought a taser, keeping it with you always even when you went to bed. The extra security still never was enough to make you feel safe enough.

You didn't have anyone to talk to about it. You'd just moved because you started a new job, if you told any of your coworkers they'd think you're crazy. Calling your parents was out of the question, they'd see it as a reason to bring you back home. You even thought about seeing a therapist. You could only text your friends from back home, they made you feel heard but couldn't do anything to help you. You were alone.

Work was the only time that you felt okay. You were surrounded by people who were at least semi-familiar, and it made you feel comfortable. But one night, after a long day of work, there was chatter about a get-together of all your coworkers.

"Y/n, you'll come, right?" Your team lead asked.

"No, I'm sorry, not tonight. I... have to look after my cousin tonight," You lied.

Your coworkers didn't press you for more as they left to enjoy each other's company, leaving you alone again. Almost alone. The feeling returned as you walked out of the work building, rushing to get home. The clouds were dark, thunder sounded in the distance, and rain was coming. You liked the rain, the soft sound of rain distracted you from feeling watched. It sometimes even made you smile, having something else to be focused on for a change.

As you got to your apartment, hustling up the stairs, a man stood outside your door. It was your landlord, Xiaojun. He was a thinner man, with black hair, always having a tired look in his eyes–like he never slept, draped in a black sweater you had always seen him in. He was standing outside your door, holding a bundle of mail.

"Hi, y/n," His voice was deep and soothing. "I noticed you hadn't picked up your mail in a while, so I wanted to drop it off."

"Thank you, that's so nice." You put on a smile as you took the mail from him.

"Have a good night, watch out for the storm. I've heard some people have had outages. Call me if anything happens," Xiaojun said as he walked down the hallway before descending the stairs.

You entered your apartment and closed the door, sighing in relief. Xiaojun was a nice man, and you felt safe around him. He offered your apartment to you at a discounted rate, after mentioning how expensive all the others were. He always went out of his way to make you feel comfortable. He also looked pretty handsome when he wasn't super tired.

You put the mail on the counter and then realized–the feeling was gone. You didn't feel like you were being watched... The urge to break down and cry was too powerful as you sobbed silently. Your chest had a weight lifted off of it. But your celebration was short-lived. As soon as you started changing out of your work clothes, you felt a sharp coldness run up your back. It was back. Now you wanted to cry for different reasons.

You took your taser out of your bag and took it with you as you swept through your apartment, just like every day, checking your home. But, just like always, you never found anyone.

You returned to your mail and started to sort it right as your lights went out. Xiaojun mentioned power outages so this is probably it. The storm must've knocked it right out. You stumbled through the darkness that invited itself into your home until you found your phone–Xiaojun asked you to call him if anything happened so he must have a way to fix it...

The phone rang as you waited for him to pick up, the sound of the rain getting louder and less friendly.

"Hello?" Xiaojun's voice came out of your phone.

"Hi Xiaojun, it's y/n, we just spoke?"

"Of course, I know who you are, silly. Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, you told me to call if my power went out. Is there anything you can do about this?"

Xiaojun was silent for a moment. "I can get a flashlight, and bring it to you if you don't have one. I'll also check your power box, in your laundry room, to see if the circuit tripped."

"I'd appreciate it." You hung up the phone and waited by the door for Xiaojun to arrive. You opened it cautiously as you heard the knock, your camera for the front door was also not working so you couldn't see who it was unless you opened it. A flashing beam of light hit your eyes as they tried to adjust.

"Sorry about that, y/n. I didn't mean to shine you like that." Xiaojun's voice rumbled dryly. You blinked a few times, waiting for the dazzling sensation to fade.

"It's alright, come in," You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes. You felt Xiaojun's arms hold you as he shifted past you, pushing the door with his broad shoulder. You shut the door and followed him as he navigated your apartment, using the flashlight to light the way.

"You live here alone, right?" Xiaojun asked, trying to make conversation.

"Yes, that's right."

"What about your parents?"

"They're far away... I moved out here for a job opportunity, but I'm still trying to see if it was all worth it." You shivered, "What about you?"

"My father passed away, leaving the building for me to rent out."

Xiaojun got to the breaker box and opened it. "Hold this for me?" He handed you the flashlight so he could use both hands to work. You didn't know much about what was happening as he fiddled with wires. "Got a girlfriend?"

"Not really my type."

"Boyfriend?"

"No, I don't have anyone in my life like that..." You sighed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to–I was just wondering." Xiaojun tried to change the subject, "So how do you like the apartment?"

"It's nice. Cozy."

"Really? No issues, at all? You're the only tenant who doesn't complain about something in their apartment."

"Well..." You hesitated, thinking about the feeling. This was your chance to talk about it. For someone to finally understand. "There's been this... one thing."

"Oh?" Xiaojun said without looking at you.

Your jaw tightened. "I've been having a weird feeling since I moved in. Like I've been followed. It started in the apartment, then went outside. I only don't notice it when I'm at work..."

"That's strange. I haven't heard anything on the news or something. You should be careful, is there any other time you feel okay?"

You blushed at the answer, "Well, I don't feel it now."

"Now?"

"I think it's because you're here?"

"So I'm making you feel safe?" Xiaojun chuckled. "That's so cute. I'll keep you safe, anytime." Xiaojun smiled, trying to focus but couldn't stop thinking about you. He sucked his teeth in frustration. "I think I need to grab a tool, can you hold this in place? It's gotta stay like this for me to fix it." You nodded as Xiaojun guided your hand over his, pressing down on a bundle of wires. "Okay, I'll be right back, so stay put." Xiaojun hopped to his feet, taking the flashlight with him as he left you in the dark. The second you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, your chest started filling with anxiety. You felt incredibly vulnerable, and you'd left your taser in the kitchen–not wanting to scare your landlord with it. Your breathing got heavier, shadows danced in your vision, and your hands shook as they were glued to the wires.

Then you felt it. The feeling, creeping up your back, was the most intense you'd ever felt. You couldn't hear or see anything, but every hair on your body stood on end.

"W-who's there!?" You shouted into the darkness.

The darkness responded with nothing but dead silence.

You could run to the kitchen, grab your taser, and hide somewhere. But what if you attack Xiaojun by mistake? You needed something, anything. Your mind raced, but even in your panic, you could hear something. Someone breathing. They were excited, ready for you to fight back. You felt more helpless than before. You were doomed from the start. They stepped into the laundry room, finally making a singular footstep.

You stood, trying to see who it was, but only saw a shadow. There was sudden pain, and then darkness.

You were knocked out cold...

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#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #x male reader #kpop male reader #x reader #xiaojun #wayv #wayv smut #wayv xiaojun #wayv imagines