#I wish he’d wear something other than jeans.

[ghostbeam]

casual | dabi/touya todoroki

“My mom wants to meet you.”

It’s a sentence uttered as Touya pulls the T-shirt he’d discarded earlier (while he was pushing you toward your bed and sucking your tongue into his mouth) over his head. It comes as a shock, lying in your bed completely bare, still struggling to catch your breath. It shouldn’t make you feel excited in the way that it does, not when Touya has been more than clear about the nature of the relationship between the two of you. Nothing serious. No commitment.

Casual.

notes: hiiiii so this is just something I’ve been working on for a bittttt it’s inspired by causal by Chappell roan it’s nothing special but I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head so yeahhhh sorry for the severe lack of smut in a friends with benefits fic btw ahsjsjsjs thanks for reading hope u enjoy!!<3

warnings: 18+, minors dni, f!reader, explicit content, no quirk au, oral f!recieving, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, the todorokis are healing, dabi is called Touya throughout literally the entire thing

words: 4.1k

“My mom wants to meet you.”

It’s a sentence uttered as Touya pulls the T-shirt he’d discarded earlier (while he was pushing you toward your bed and sucking your tongue into his mouth) over his head. It comes as a shock, lying in your bed completely bare, still struggling to catch your breath. It shouldn’t make you feel excited in the way that it does, not when Touya has been more than clear about the nature of the relationship between the two of you. Nothing serious. No commitment.

Casual. 

“What?” You aren’t sure how you should respond, or what the right answer is. He shrugs, buttoning his jeans.

“You don’t have to. Just promised her I’d ask.” He says, turning around to dig through your dresser. He pulls out one of the shirts he’s left there and a pair of underwear for you, tossing the items your way. You change, covering yourself up before moving to sit in the middle of the bed, legs tucked underneath you. 

“You’ve been talking to her about me?” You question. You know it’s not what he wants to hear. 

“I’ve mentioned you.” He tells you. He’s still standing, staring down at you. Your question should have been teasing, but you were sincere. You’ve met his siblings before. You know you’re not a secret to his family, but the mention of his mom feels entirely too serious. It makes you feel hopeful. You don’t want to feel hopeful.

“Oh, yeah?” You grin, your last ditch effort at turning this back on him, to show him that you can handle casual, that you like casual. He rolls his eyes.

“It’s not a big deal.” He shrugs. “She’s met all my friends.”

“Friends like me?” You ask him. You aren’t even sure what you mean by it. Touya was your friend long before the two of you had sex. That doesn’t really make you different from the others in any real way. 

Touya is your friend. Sometimes, you wish he wasn’t.

“Friends like you…” He trails off. His eyes flicker from yours like he’s thinking about it. “No, I guess she hasn’t.”

You hum, nodding your head. You don’t want to read into what he could possibly mean by that. But, truthfully, Touya doesn’t have any friends like you.

“Whatever. I tell my mom about you. You write about me in your little diary.” He speaks, leaning down so he’s at eye level with you. He kisses you once, long and hard before pulling away. “We’ll call it even.”

He stands up straight, grabbing his keys from the top of your dresser and picking his jacket up from the floor on his way out of your bedroom. He turns back to wink at you once before disappearing through your doorway.

“It’s not a diary!” You call, but he only chuckles in response. 

…

wear that one dress read 7:42am

the blue one with the flowers read 7:42am

does ur mom like blue? sent 7:43am

?? read 7:44am

no i like blue read 7:44am

and i like you in blue read 7:45am

ok maybe sent 7:45am

…

You do not wear the dress. 

Touya chuckles when he sees you, like he knew you wouldn’t and opens the passenger side door for you. Your sweater is blue, though. 

Rei lives near the shore in a house that’s all her own. Touya tells you that he and his siblings visit as much as possible, that his sister thinks she might get lonely out on her own, but he knows she enjoys the solitude. There’s a freedom to it, the choice. Touya can understand that. 

The road is long, and once the two of you get out of the city, there’s not much to look at. You watch the weather change out the window, blue skies above slowly shift into damp overcast and Touya rests his hand on your thigh. 

He’s done it more times than you can count. It’s not unusual for Touya to touch you. He’s clingy like that. But in the car, driving two hours out of the city to meet his mother, it feels different. It is different. You want to believe that. 

She stands at the front door as the two of you pull in. Her presence is a surprise to you when you know Touya hadn’t used his phone once the entire car ride. She looks small, delicate, almost, with a strength that settles in her shoulders, her chin tilted up slightly. You see now, how much of her is in him. 

“She does this every time,” Touya speaks. “I have no clue how she knows.”

“Mother’s intuition.” You shrug. 

“It’s creepy.” 

“I think it’s cool.” You say. He flicks your forehead. 

“You would.” He squeezes your thigh once before getting out of the car. He jogs to your side and lets you out. You feel his hand brush against yours as he leads you up to the house, but he never intertwines your fingers like you wish he would. 

Rei introduces herself warmly and embraces you in a tight hug. Touya has to bend down a bit to allow her to hold him around his shoulders. She ushers the two of you inside and runs a hand through Touya’s hair, murmurs something about a haircut, but he shakes her hand off of his head and insists that he keeps it this way because you like it. You’ve never told him you liked his hair before. But it’s enough to get Rei off of his back about it because she sends you a knowing smile as you follow her into the living room. 

The visit is a standard one as far as meeting the parents goes. Touya’s favorite food has been prepared and the three of you eat as Rei asks you questions. She’s understanding when the topic of your future comes up and you aren’t sure how to answer. She’s engaged when you tell her about your hobbies. At some point, you forget you’re here with Touya until you’re reminded of his presence when you turn your head in his direction and notice an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face. It confuses you, and it makes your stomach flip. You can’t ignore the feeling of his eyes on you for the rest of the visit. 

When Rei pulls out a photo album, Touya stands up and says he’s going outside to smoke. You know part of it is because of embarrassment, old photos of such a young innocent thing, him in matching clothes with Natsuo, photos of all his bad haircuts. You also know that part of it is that he’d rather not think about that time in his life, even though his father is cut out of all the photos Rei shows you.

Rei speaks after a while, flipping through the pages of the album, ��you’re good for him.”

You don’t look at her, eyeing one of Touya’s school photos from long ago. 

“What did he say I was…to him?” You question. 

“A friend.” She speaks, “But I think it’s obvious that it’s more than that.”

“Not really. I am his friend. I mean, I’m not a girlfriend or anything like that.” You try to explain. “I can’t really be good for him.”

“I think you can. I think you are.” She continues to flip through the photo album, and you continue to check the back door in case Touya walks in on your conversation. 

“It means a lot that you say that. I really care about him.” You admit it to her even though she already knows because it feels right to. You want her to know that you could love her son if he let you, that you would in a heartbeat. It’s just more complicated than that. 

“I can tell you do. And he cares about you, too. He’s just stubborn.” She pauses. “And scared.”

“Yeah.” You sigh. “Me too.”

Touya walks through the door a moment later. “We should go soon. I wanna leave before it gets dark. And I don’t need you two spilling any more secrets about me to each other.”

You freeze for a moment, wondering if he heard your earlier exchange, but the teasing tilt of his voice tells you he didn’t. 

You say goodbye to Rei, and she makes you both promise that you’ll visit her again soon. When she hugs you, firm and tight like before, you feel sad to go. Touya guides you to his car with a hand placed on the small of your back. He doesn’t open your door for you, but he holds your hand the entire way home. 

…

should we open a cafe read 2:22pm

what sent 2:25pm

or a bookstore read 2:26pm

what are u talking abt sent 2:27pm

both at the same time read 2:28pm

???? read 2:28pm

u wanna be business partners on top of being sent 2:29pm

whatever this is sent 2:29pm

fuck buddies read 2:30pm

ew sent 2:30pm

dont call it that sent 2:30pm

lovers???? read 2:32pm

pls stop sent 2:33pm

what shld we name the cafe/bookstore read 2:34pm

?? read 2:40pm

…

“Touya!” You cry, head thrown against the foggy car window as he stares up at you from between your legs. You run one hand through his hair as he runs his tongue through your folds. You whine. “Oh, my god.”

He pulls away to let out a breathy laugh, eyes finding yours as he kisses your thighs. You shift your hips forward, missing his mouth against your cunt. It’s cramped in his car, your back uncomfortably pressed against the door. Touya’s contorted in a way that allows his long body to fit in the back seat with the door closed. His comfort is an afterthought while in between your thighs.

“Don’t stop.” You cry, wiggling your hips. He grins, bringing his hand up to run two fingers gently over your clit. It’s not enough. You can barely stand it.

“Poor baby.” He coos, rubbing agonizingly slow circles over your most sensitive spot. “Were you gonna come?”

“Fuck you.” You speak through clenched teeth, moving your hips to try and grind against his fingers. 

“Not yet.” He teases, before attaching his lips to your cunt once more. His movements are hurried, making a mess of you in his backseat as he runs his tongue over your clit over and over again. You feel his hand reach up to grab your wrist, bringing it back to the top of his head. You tug on his hair, grinding against his face, understanding exactly what he wants from you. He groans against you, reaching down to touch himself through his jeans. 

“I’m close!” You whine. Every flick of his tongue is controlled, his only goal being your pleasure. His fingers dig into one of your thighs, and the feeling of your hips twitching against him drives him insane. 

“Come for me, baby.” Touya pleads, releasing his grip on your thigh and rubbing a soothing hand over the spot. “You look so fucking pretty when you come. Let me see it.”

With one last swipe of his tongue, you're pushed over the edge, legs shaking around his head as he continues movements against you. He pulls away, leaving kisses against your thighs, moving up over your stomach, your chest, your neck. He pulls you forward with one arm so that you're pressed against him. 

“C’mere.” He whispers, pressing his lips tenderly to yours, far too sweet for casual. He slips his tongue into your mouth, and you reach down to touch him over his jeans. He bucks his hips up, letting out a moan against your lips, when his phone begins to ring. He ignores it, pulling away to kiss your neck. You thumb the button of his jeans open, reaching down to touch him again, when the ringing of his phone interrupts yet again. Touya lets out an annoyed sigh, reaching into his back pocket to pull the buzzing device out. 

“What.” He speaks, voice laced with anger. When the voice on the other end of the line speaks, you know it’s Tomura. 

Touya met Tomura a few years after he met you, and you liked him. You did, but he always found a way to get under Touya’s skin at the worst times. Every comment he makes about the relationship between the two of you leaves Touya with far too much to think about. It usually pushes him away from you for a week at most, replying to your messages with short answers, canceling plans. You figure that now that he’s picked up the phone, your fun in Touya’s backseat is over. 

Touya speaks to Tomura as you pull your shirt back over your head, not bothering with your bra, just wanting to get dressed as quickly as possible. You search for your skirt, spotting it halfway underneath Touya while he tells Tomura he’s not free until Saturday night. You try to pull it out from under him, but it won’t budge.

“You’re sitting on my skirt.” You speak softly so you don’t interrupt his call. He notices immediately, lifting his hips for you to grab the piece of clothing. He mutters a quick sorry as you pull it over your legs, and you can hear Tomura question him over the phone. 

“Huh? It’s no one.” He speaks, and though you know that you’re nothing more to Touya than a “friend” as he puts it, you hoped you were more to him than “no one”.

You pull your clothes on and exit the car, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation. The car sits on a ledge, high on some mountain that overlooks a lush forest below. Touya showed you this place years ago while you were still just friends, somewhere that was just his became yours together. Back then it meant a lot to you. Now you know it probably meant nothing to him. 

Touya exits the car a couple of minutes after you, eyeing you as you stare down over the cliff. You don’t notice when he comes up beside you, a hand on your back. He says, “you okay?”

“Mhm.” You nod your head, hands crossed over your chest. “I’m tired. Can you take me home?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” He presses a kiss to your temple before walking towards the car. On your way home, when Touya’s hand begins to creep towards your thigh, you cross your legs and move your stare towards your window. When he drops you off at home, you don’t kiss him goodbye.

…

come over read 8:18pm

cant sent 8:30pm

why not read 8:31pm

im studying sent: 8:34pm

study here read 8:35pm

no sent 9:00pm

you’re distracting sent 9:00pm

…

what are you doing read 1:22pm

fuyumi wants me to invite you to lunch read 1:24pm

tell her im sorry but i have class right now sent 1:30pm

u dont have class right now read 1:32pm

?? read 1:32pm

…

where have you been read 11:11pm

i want you read 11:11pm

come over read 11:12pm

please read 11:12pm

wanna kiss you read 11:16pm

need u read 11:30pm

sorry read 10:02am

stole a bottle from natsuo read 10:03am

i wanna see you though read 10:20am

...

Touya texts…a lot.

Your excuses are weak, especially to the man who knows you better than anyone in the world, someone who’s committed your schedule to memory for the better part of two years. But you try because it hurts, because despite agreeing to casual, you cannot continue to pretend like you aren’t in love with Touya. And you can’t continue to pretend that he’s in love with you too. 

You write a lot to try and process it all. You write in your “little diary” as he called it, page after page about him and his pretty eyes, and his stupid hair, and his fucking tongue. It’s hard not to miss him. 

You screen most of his calls when you can get away with it, but he texts you after each one you miss. He has no problem with double, triple, quadruple texting you because it’s you. There’s no pressure to impress or feign disinterest with you. You know this isn’t about the sex. Touya wants his friend back.

Only the thing is, you can’t be his friend. Not now, not after crossing every single possible line with him. You’ve fallen for him. This much you can admit to yourself, but you’ll never admit it to him. 

So your only option is distance, which hurts you just as much as it hurts him. You want to send him cats you see on the street. You want to ask him to see the newest horror film with you. You want to lay in his bed and trace the lines on his face and wake up with his head buried in your neck. 

What you want is to be his girlfriend. You want him to love you back. 

You don’t know if it’s worse to be with him or without him. 

…

r you busy rn? read 5:44pm

yeah  sent 5:45pm

ok read 5:45pm

…

There’s a knock at your door at six pm on the dot while you’re thirty-seven pages deep into some cheesy romance novel you picked up to try and mend your broken heart, fill the void that you created by pushing your best friend (and the love of your life) away. 

It doesn’t help that you’re wearing one of his shirts. 

You open your door and peek through the crack. Touya stands there with a six-pack in one hand and the leather jacket he knows you love on him so much hung effortlessly over his shoulders. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. He looks like a model and you’re wearing his T-shirt.

He doesn’t say hello, just pushes his way through and kicks his annoyingly loud boots off, setting them by the door. He places the six-pack on the counter before muttering, “Cute shirt.”

He’s teasing you. You want to strangle him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, an annoyed huff leaving your lips as you cross your arms over your chest as if it’ll hide the shirt that he’s already noticed. 

“Um, well.” He shrugs, strolling over to your couch where you left your romance novel and fuzzy blanket. He picks the book up and looks at you. “You know, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You stomp towards him, snatching the book out of his hands. “You’re the worst. Why don’t you ever say what you actually mean.”

You know why, though. Because Touya is unknowable, or at least he thinks himself to be. That’s why he doesn’t tell you anything real but allows you to see his apartment, allows you to see him naked with all of his scars and make love to him with the lights on. He won’t say that he loves you, but he’ll leave you thirty missed calls and show up at your apartment when he doesn’t get an answer. He won’t say that he’s worried, but he is. You know that he is because you’re the only person who’s ever really known him, even before the sex. Touya has always been yours. If Touya thinks you know nothing, at the very least he thinks you know this. 

“Yeah.” He says. “You know, it’s funny cause, all of a sudden my best friend stopped talking to me. Not exactly not talking because she does answer my texts, still. Sometimes she answers my calls, but not really. But, I haven’t seen her in person in weeks. I miss her, and her stupid face, and her giant comfy couch.”

“Touya–” You begin to speak, but you don’t even know what you’re going to say. You’re definitely not going to explain yourself. You’re not going to confess to him wearing his t-shirt like some sad ex-girlfriend. 

“Where did you go?” He asks. His voice breaks and it's like a blade in your heart. “Did I do something? Did I say something?”

“I didn’t go anywhere, Touya. I’m here. I’m here, I just–” you pause, trying to find the words to explain it all. “I don’t think we can do this anymore.”

“Do what?” He asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. He knows what’s coming.

“Sleeping together. I don’t–I can’t–” You try again, but it’s fucking hard to talk to him. You want to kiss him. You want to fall into his arms. You want him to make you forget.

“Done.” He says. He doesn’t hesitate, and it hurts. “We can stop, we can–I just want you back. I want you with me. We can be just friends again, but please, please don’t leave.”

Tears fill your eyes at his words. He’s finally talking to you, finally saying something real, baring his soul, and you can’t tell him that you’ll stay. You love him so much, but you’re selfish. 

“We can’t be friends either.” You choke, staring at the floor. If you look into his eyes, you’ll break. 

“Why?” He shakes his head, “Talk to me, what’s happening? What changed?”

“Why do you care so much, Touya? I thought I was no one.” The words leave your lips before you can stop them. 

“When did I say that?” He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember and it’s the one thing you’ve been agonizing over for weeks. 

“What is it about Tomura that makes you shut down around me?” You ask him. Realization falls across his face. “Every time you talk to him you…pull away. I don’t know what to do with that.”

“I don’t pull away.” He argues.

“You do.”

“Is that what you’re doing? You’re trying to get back at me or something?”

“I’m trying to fucking–get over you!” 

There’s nothing but silence after your confession. Your eyes fall closed in defeat, admitting the one thing you never wanted him to know. 

“I can’t do casual. I am not casual. I tried to be cool. I was really good at it for a while, but now it just hurts.” You speak, voice shaking as you gain the courage to say everything you need to. “The thing is, I love you. And not how I’ve always loved you. I’m in love with you. So it sucks when, you know, I know you’re not in love with me.”

“Who told you I’m not in love with you?” He asks.

“You’re mean.” You say, glaring at him for the unnecessary question. No one told you. You just know. “It’s obvious.”

“Yeah? Is it?” He asks. “You think I bring anyone to meet my mom? You have half of my wardrobe here. You have a toothbrush and all of your stupid skincare shit at mine. I hold your hand in public. I text you good morning and shit.”

“So that means you’re in love with me?”

“Fuck, I thought it did.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. His roots are grown out, you notice. Have you really been gone that long?

“I don’t understand.” Touya is in love with you. Is that what he’s getting at? 

“I love you.” He shakes his head, remembering your words from earlier. Not how I’ve always loved you. “I’m in love with you. That’s–Tomura knows. He knew it before I did. He says some dumb shit about it every time I talk about you, and it scares me, so I pull away. I didn’t know it felt like this. I’m fucking miserable.”

“When did you know?” You ask.

“Honestly? I think I always have been. I think that’s why I brought up sleeping together. I wanted to be closer to you without all of the commitment. But it was when you came to dinner that time when my dad showed up.” He walks toward you slowly as he speaks. He’s becoming more sure of himself, open. He’s done hiding. “And when we left, you were so fucking angry. You just ranted about him the whole way home, and it clicked. We were at a stop light and you were moving your hands all around and I thought ‘fuck, please don’t fall in love with this girl’, but it was too late and I knew it.”

“I think this is the most you’ve ever said to me.” You say dumbly. Touya just confessed his love to you and this is what you say?

“That’s not true. I never shut up. You know that. You tell me that all the time.”

“I mean–not, like, about music, or books, or someone who came into work. I mean real, raw, ‘fuck, don't fall in love with this girl’ shit.” You explain, a sly grin falling across your lips.

“You’re a dick.” He chuckles, wrapping his fingers around one of your wrists, and dragging you toward him. 

“Yeah, but you’re in love with me.” You shrug, smiling up at him. 

“Yeah, I really fucking am.” He says before he leans down to kiss you. It feels right, familiar. It is like all of the others because there’s always been love. It’s always been there. He’s always been yours. Touya knows you know this. “Please don’t…pull away again.”

“Okay.” You agree, resting your forehead against his. 

“Cause I’m just gonna chase after you.”

“Yeah? Gonna show up at my apartment with beer I don’t like?” You tease, and he rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck you.” He says with absolutely no venom behind it.

“Yeah, maybe you should.” You grin. 

#dabi x reader #dabi x female reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x female reader #bnha x reader

[urdepressedslut]

You’re Mine, Sunshine ❝part five❞

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Getting to know each other better doesn’t go according to plan. Bucky has to comfort you and fix the mess he made. Will you forgive him?

♡ Warnings: self hate, mentions of parent death/family death, panic attack, heavy angst, fluff, literally sobbing i love them

Part 6

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!Au Bodyguard!Au

It was almost becoming a mantra, reminding himself daily that he needed to keep things strictly professional. He just didn’t realize how hard it would be. You were so easy to be around, it was a different change of pace with you, he felt he could actually think— slow his mind down around you.

He had tried to digest the thought many times.

I could be her friend, nothing more.

Would it be unprofessional though? He tries to think how Pierce would react to that. He feels completely and utterly confused— the devil and angel on his shoulders battling constantly.

Even then, he was already a bad friend— if that. He was keeping something from you— something extreme. He had caught himself thinking of where you could be in the house— the part of him deep down wanting to tell you. He knew he should, but he knew that’s not what Pierce wanted. If anything, Bucky didn’t want to mess anything up— or he’d never see you again. The thought shouldn’t of scared him as much as it did, but he didn’t like it.

That’s where he found himself in the bathroom of his room, staring into his own eyes through the reflection. He had showered and caught himself trying to find a nice shirt amongst his clothes— immediately he stopped. He had to take a moment to take a deep breath and remind himself how ridiculous he was being.

It had been so long since he actually cared about his appearance. But as he was scanning every line and wrinkle on his face in the mirror— he knew he was doomed. Suddenly he felt insecure, and for once it wasn’t about his arm. His mind was consumed with the thought if he was good enough. While he felt overwhelmed, because he had never worried about such a thing. Well, in awhile at least.

You had kept yourself busy in the library for most of the day, and while you looked to be buried into the books— your thoughts were of him. You couldn’t ignore the giddy feeling that his words gave you— his want to get to know you better. Maybe, just maybe— he wanted to be your friend.

Just as you were about to get up and leave to seek out Bucky, you heard the sound of the library doors opening. A smile worked its way onto your face, excited to see him— though you had just seen him not that long ago.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the space, and soon revealed a handsome looking Bucky. Your mouth hung slightly open, his appearance looking sharper than usual. He was wearing his classic black shirt, and had the black leather jacket over— along with his jeans that hugged him just right in all the areas. He wasn’t dressed all that different, so why did he look so good.

You cleared your throat and broke your stare— yes he looked good. But you shouldn’t stare.

“You look great James, I wish I would’ve put something better on.” You laughed nervously, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts— along with your different colored socks.

Bucky on the other hand, thought you looked fine. He was pretty sure you could wear pretty much anything and look good in it. He also shook off your compliment, thinking you were just being sweet like you always were.

“You look fine, (Y/n).” He assured you.

Truthfully, standing here in front of you now— Bucky wants nothing more than to go back upstairs, choosing to avoid getting to know you better. He wasn’t sure why his walls were coming down so easily, but he hated it. Oh he hated it— he hated you.

“So…” You started, walking back to your seat. Bucky followed after and took his spot from the nights before. “I know this kinda takes the fun out of this but— I had a list of questions.”

Bucky shook his head but chuckled lowly, not surprised at all.

“Of course you do.” He acknowledged, and you scratched the back of your neck nervously.

“Uh— but there are rules! I made them up of course— but there aren’t many.” You rushed out, sitting crisscrossed in your seat.

Bucky exhaled annoyed, but couldn’t really argue otherwise. This was his idea. Was it to distract you from going out? Yes. But a part of him really did want to get to know you better.

“Alright, what’s the rules?” He asked, crossing his leg over the other— leaning back in his seat.

“Okay the first one— you have to answer the question that’s asked, no matter what.” You told him, watching him raise his eyebrows.

“Easy.”

You giggled, remembering how fast the conversation ended last time because he didn’t want to answer. This would be harder than he thought— but you wouldn’t call him out on it.

“Second rule— Can’t ask dumb questions.” You told him, and he chuckled again.

“That’s the second rule?” He chuckled, and you nodded your head.

“Yup.” You confirmed, “Okay— who should go first?”

You were ready to jump right into it, while Bucky was still thinking about your rules— rethinking his decision to do this.

“Why don’t you start doll, since you apparently have a list.” He spoke sarcastically, and you couldn’t stop the heat from rising to your cheeks at the nickname.

He never called you that before, and you didn’t know what to think of it.

“Um… okay yeah,” You thought about your first question, deciding to go easy on him at first, “What’s something you like to do on your free time?”

Bucky squinted his eyes, expecting a more personal question from you. He also had to think for a second— what did he like to do? He used to have hobbies at one time, but he couldn’t recall any in the moment. He felt he was a pretty boring person. There was one thing.

“I like to read sometimes.” He answered, and you smiled at that.

“Really? You don’t seem to spend a lot of time in the library for someone who likes to read.” You joked— knowing he was rather busy with his job as a bodyguard.

“Well, if I had free time— I’d probably be here.” He pointed out, slowly melting into his seat, his muscles relaxing against the couch.

“Okay your turn.” You told him.

Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but he as well had a list of questions for you. Things he was dying to know about you.

“What do you want to do in the future?” He asked, and you looked at him with furrowed brows.

“Huh?”

“What’s your dream job— like, what do you want to do for the rest of your life? Besides read.” He added at the end, making you giggle.

You thought about your answer for a moment, smiling to yourself when you came up with one.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever stay in one spot, there’s so much I want to do. But whatever happens, I wanna volunteer places. I want to help people— help them heal, cope. I just wanna do good.” You explained happily.

Bucky was not surprised by your answer by the slightest— of course you wanted to be helpful. It only made sense with your bubbly personality. He cleared his throat, fighting down a smile.

“Your turn again.”

You nodded and took a second to think of a question again, closing your eyes in thought. An idea popped into your head and you were hesitant about it. Last time you’d brought it up— he left.

“What’s your family like?” You asked anyway, keeping your voice soft in hopes he’d feel more comfortable.

Bucky tensed immediately and just glared at you for a second. His jaw clenched, and his eyes squinted at you. He was annoyed at you pestering him with this question— he’d answer every single one but this one. He’d play dirty if you were.

“My family… isn’t around anymore.” He answered quietly, his anger lacing his words.

His tone had you swallowing nervously, and deep down you regretted asking him. You didn’t mean any harm by the question, and you immediately felt bad. Your heart hurt for him, the way he didn’t have a family.

“I— James I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t o—”

You tried to apologize but got cut off.

“My turn.” He interrupted, sitting up in his seat now. His whole body tense again, his relaxed muscles no more. “Why does your Father hate you?”

He couldn’t stop himself from letting the words out, but as soon as they passed his lips— he was ashamed of himself. His face softened immediately at your face dropping, the way your fingers started to fiddle anxiously with the hem of your shirt.

You were shocked— at a loss for words. You probably deserved his anger, but you weren’t expecting such a harsh question. You felt your chest tighten, and suddenly you weren’t in denial anymore. Everything you’d ever thought— the nights you wondered if your Father really did hate you. You pushed away with a laugh, knowing he could never. But now as someone else witnessed it, and pointed it out. It ought to be true— and you felt sick.

“Um… He’s just having a h-hard time with the passing of my…” You tried to take a deep breath, feeling your throat tighter than usual. “Hard time with my mothers passing is all.”

You repeated from the first day meeting him. Your head pounded— your ears thumping loudly. Your fingers were numb and you felt like you couldn’t swallow.

Were you having an allergic reaction to something?

You tried to take another deep breath and felt your chest stop expanding. Your eyes widened in panic for a second.

Bucky felt so shitty— he couldn’t control himself for a simple question. The fact that you had answered it anyway broke his heart. He watched as your eyes darted around, in search of help. The way he could start to hear your breathing— the way you were beginning to wheeze.

“(Y/n), you ok—”

“Excuse m-me for a s-second.” You rushed out, stumbling out of your chair and towards the library doors.

Bucky was concerned for you, standing up immediately to go follow you. He was so ashamed of himself, angry that he let himself lose control like that. He had sensitive topics that just brought up a defensive side in him. The image of your face as soon as he had said the words was burned into his brain. You didn’t deserve that— you had been nothing be sweet since you two had met.

Making it up the stairs, he started down the hallway— body tensing in alert at the sight of you sitting up against the hallway wall. He rushed forward, kneeling down to your curled up form, scanning over you for injuries.

“(Y/n), what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He asked frantic, he noticed your hand clutching the area above your heart.

You shook your head, but seemed confused— and only panicked more when you couldn’t get the words out right away.

“I c-can’t breathe!” You wheezed out, your hand not clutching your chest— reaching out to grab onto Bucky.

You held onto him like he was your lifeline.

“I-I think I’m having a-an allergic reaction.” You panted, fisting Bucky’s sleeve in panic.

Bucky didn’t know it was possible for his heart to break anymore— but he swore he heard the cracking sound. He felt it drop to his stomach, his own throat tightening with emotions. You were having a panic attack— and it was because of him. You had no idea, and yet here you were still clinging onto him when he was the cause of it all. He was disgusted with himself.

“(Y/n)— you’re not having an allergic reaction. You’re having a panic attack.” He explained to you clearly, holding onto your shoulders, trying to bring you comfort.

You nodded in understanding, feeling lightheaded from lack of oxygen to the brain. Tears began to escape your eyes, you felt helpless— you felt like you were dying.

“James…” You whimpered, “I’m s-scared!”

Again, he felt his non existent heart break again— falling into his stomach. He felt sick watching this go down, wanting nothing more than for this all to be a nightmare.

He had experience with panic attacks and luckily knew what to do— he just couldn’t get over the fact that he caused it.

He grabbed your hand fisting his sleeve and put it above his heart. You lifted your flushed face, your bloodshot eyes watching your hand. You could feel the strong thump of his heartbeat, the feeling soothing against your palm.

“I want you to try and breathe with me, okay? I want you to match my heartbeat. You feel it?” He asked you softly, his voice gentle like honey.

You nodded your head, trying to focus on slowing your breathing— stop your chaotic mind from spiraling.

“In… and out— In… and out.” He started breathing, and you struggled to match him at first, but as your eyes met with his— you felt your heartbeat start to match his rhythm.

His eyes were comforting and warm. You felt safe in his hold— and you could already start to feel your everything relaxing.

“Good, just keep breathing with me. I’ve got you— you’re gonna be okay.” He assured you, rubbing your shoulders up and down soothingly.

You knew you’d be risking it, but you slowly moved forward— wrapping your arms around his bulky frame.

Bucky tensed up at first, a part of him knowing he should push you away— this wasn’t professional. But he knew he couldn’t— not after what he did. He relaxed, and wrapped his arms hesitantly around your back, hugging you tight against him. He could feel your quick heartbeat thumping competitively against his. He could feel your breath fanning his neck— as you rested your chin in the crook of his neck.

He hadn’t felt such affection in so long— he had missed how much he craved the protection— the security he felt being in someone’s arms.

Now, in Bucky’s hold— you felt at peace. You knew he’d never let anything happen to you. You still trusted him with your life.

“Doll,” You smiled weakly into his neck, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t of asked you that— I’m an asshole.”

You held onto him tighter— enjoying the embrace while you had it. You were sure it would never happen again.

“It’s okay James, I’m sorry too.” You weakly replied, your body drained of energy. “Thank you, I feel a lot better now.”

He wanted to scoff. You wanted to thank him for helping you out of a mess that he caused. You had the right to scream, punch, kick him. But he knew you’d never do that— and that’s what killed him.

He didn’t know how to respond to your thanks, and stayed silent instead. Holding onto you— never intending to let go until you did first.

“I’m tired James.” You mumbled sleepily.

“I’ve got you doll.” He whispered, easily standing with you in his arms.

He slowly and carefully carried you to your room, setting you down gently onto your bed. He was having déjà vu— memories of when he first carried you to bed that one night.

He lifted the covers, tucking you in. He watched you for a second, examining your face like you were a piece of art. His eyes danced all the way from your chin— passed your lips— to your eyes. Before he could stop himself, he was reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair out of your face. You sighed and leaned into his touch, and this time— he didn’t fight the smile down. He gazed down at you warmly, genuinely smiling for the first time in awhile.

“Stay with me.” You mumbled sleepily, just as you had wanted to that one night.

Bucky took a deep breath, staring down at you with sudden tenderness. He shook his head, ridding his mind of the thought.

“Okay.” He told you, watching you give a small smile in your sleep. Snuggling your face into the pillow.

Although both of you didn’t really get to scratch off every question of each others list— you both felt more connected after today. You just wanted someone, someone constant in your life. Bucky needed more light in his life— like you.

You both needed each other more than you realized.

🤍 taglist is officially closed for this series 🤍

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#bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel cinematic universe #sebastian stan #reader insert #buckybarnes #fluff #marvel imagines #light angst #mini series #you’re mine sunshine series #grumpy x sunshine #grumpy bucky barnes x sunshine reader #grumpy x sunshine trope #bodyguard bucky barnes #bodyguard au #mob au #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #beefy bucky barnes #hurt/comfort

[thedevilspearl]

➛ the good, the bad and the bratty

a/n: here it is!!! cowboy!diavolo surprised me because he was voted least out of the top three yet i found myself loving him so much that i couldn’t stop writing and it turned into a whole fic haha check out the other cowboys here!

tags: 2.0k words, cowboy!diavolo x female reader, bondage, spanking, brat taming, breeding kink, mild exhibitionism. minors do not interact!

diavolo had a busy morning rounding up the sheep that slipped through the fence during the night. he crept out of bed without waking you, leaving you with warm blankets and a kiss to your cheeks as he pulled on his jeans and shirt.

you’re an expert rider, better than him although he won’t admit it — stubborn cowboys never do no matter how sweet they are.

but not waking you up to catch the sheep with him wasn’t due to his pride but rather the fact that you were up all night riding something else entirely.

he had you slamming up and down on his cock for hours, grinding on him until you both passed out. his cock throbs at the memories and he adjusts his crotch in his tight jeans before fastening his belt.

diavolo sighs, wishing he could spend the morning walking the perimeter of the ranch on horseback with you beside him, but you tired yourself out last night. you deserve rest. and on top of that, he can only imagine how sore your pussy must be.

he’d be the devil if he asked you to sit on a saddle before fully recovering.

so at dawn, he ventures onto his land and mounts his horse to chase after the escaped sheep. it takes hours, but once rounded up, he works on fixing the fence and then checking on the cattle.

it isn’t until long after noon when he spots you coming down to the barn.

“hey, sweetie,” you mutter with a kiss to his lips. “why didn’t you wake me?”

you smirk at his eyes widening from your appearance. it’s a hot day so you opted for one of his flannels and a pair of cowboy boots. his shirt is baggy enough to cover you, but the only thing on his mind is whether or not you’re wearing anything under his shirt.

“thought ya needed some rest after last night,” he teases. “you worked so hard.”

“well, you work hard every day looking after the ranch.”

he chuckles lowly and you find yourself warming up at the sound.

“so, what’s the plan for the day?”

diavolo is about to tell you he did most of the work and the only thing you should be doing is resting, but his inconveniently friendly neighbours interrupt him.

“hey!” mammon calls with beelzebub following behind him. “you got hay?”

“what happened to yours?” dia quips.

“found mould in ‘em. can’t use it anymore.”

both cowboys tip their hats in your direction as greeting.

“mornin’, boys.” you beam.

“afternoon,” beel corrects you. “but i assume it’s morning for you.”

they both grin and wink at diavolo, knowing exactly what happened last night given your attire. and diavolo hates them for thinking about you like that.

“why don’t ya head back to the house?” diavolo leans in and suggests. “get something to eat.”

you know he means to say go put on some clothes. or at least stay away from these guys while you’re dressed like that. jealousy rises from his body and you read him easily.

perhaps it’s the exhaustion from last night, or maybe it’s due to the heat, but your brain is frazzled enough to make you want to disobey his request and piss him off. for some reason, making him more jealous sounds like a good idea.

“i already had breakfast.” you say and hop onto a pile of hay, crossing your legs so no one can peek up the little clothing you have on.

dia stares at you starstruck, silenced by your boldness. and the other two cowboys suffocate in the growing tension. beel’s eye’s wander around the room nervously, not landing on anything specific. and mammon lets out a long whistle.

“so….” he clicks his tongue. “the hay?”

“there’s more round back.” diavolo says without tearing his stern eyes from you. you cower under his gaze, knowing you may have gone too far.

when mammon and beel disappear behind the stable, you hop down from your pile of hay. you thought it would be hot to tease him in front of the others but it turned out awkward so you wander back to the house. but diavolo grabs you before you can make it two paces out of the door.

“what?” you ask with feigned innocence.

“you know what.”

“i don’t.”

he scoffs.

“are ya wearing anything under that?” he asks, and your silence is his answer.

he rips open your shirt, his shirt, and buttons go flying in all direction to reveal your naked body. your tits sit freely and your bare pussy was only inches away from being exposed if the shirt was lifted high enough.

and yet, you jumped on that pile of hay without a care in the world, without caring if his neighbours saw what only he is allowed to see. and it angers him in ways it shouldn’t.

“dia!” you push him away, but he doesn’t let go of the shirt and because of its huge size, it slips off your frame too easily.

the cowboy is stunned for a second, but he gulps and tips his hat in your direction, admiring your glowing body in the sunlight.

he was ready to scold you for acting so scantily in front of his friends, but instead of listening to logic, he listens to his cock. despite the hours and hours of fucking you did last night, it aches for more.

and what turns him on to a point of no return is your god damned boldness, not even trying to hide your perky breasts or pretty pussy. your stand before him with confidence he can only admire.

mammon and beel are minutes away from walking in on you wearing nothing but a pair of cowboy boots and diavolo feels inclined to teach you a lesson.

you would dare to be seen naked by anyone other than diavolo?

not on his watch.

your brattiness knows no bounds but you’ve certainly got him in the mood to tame it. to teach you that no one else is allowed to see your pretty, perfect body.

he very rarely uses the lasso he carries on his hip, but all of a sudden he feels inspired to use it.

“c’mere.”

you ignore him, drifting away further without looking back and acknowledging him. if you step outside any further, there’d be no doubt the others would see you.

“don’t ignore me. i told ya to c’mere.”

you turn around with sass, standing with your hand on your hip. “or what?” you follow his hand down to where it grazes against his loop of rope and your heart beats faster, and your pussy throbs.

“don’t make me use this on ya, sweetheart.”

you swallow thickly, feeling your body burn. the thought of him tying you up is provocative, but using his lasso on you?

it’s unexpectedly the sexiest thing you’ve ever imagined.

and he knows it too.

“you like the sound of that?” he smirks and takes big steps towards you. “i’m sick of ya acting like a brat, ‘specially in front of other guys. how about i teach my little cowgirl a lesson, hm?”

you bite your lips and he hovers above you, eyes raking all over your form.

“want me to tie you up and teach you a lesson, baby?”

you nod eagerly but maintain the daring brattiness in your glare.

“i want ya to say it, sweetheart.”

“yes,” you yip, a little too excitedly. “use it on me. tie me up and fuck me good, dia.”

your heart flutters as the corner of his lip twitches upwards, and your pussy clenches as diavolo moves swiftly. he spins you around grabs both of your wrists in one of his hands, somehow rough and gentle at the same time. and with his other, he loosens his lasso before looping it around your wrists and pulling.

he then works some skilful magic to have your elbows touching together and the rope lacing around the length of your forearms.

it’s tight enough for you to be unable to fight against it. not that you’d want to.

your bound wrists rest on your lower back and he pulls you back into the barn, slamming the door behind him.

“what a fucking brat i’ve got,” he growls and bends you over on the pile of hay you were previously displaying yourself on. “wants to get fucked like an animal, huh?”

“yes, dia,” you moan. “wanna get fucked so good.”

you wiggle your ass in front of his crotch which earns a harsh slap on it. and then another.

“best be quiet or those assholes are gonna hear ya.”

you moan louder and lewder when he slaps your ass a third time.

“or don’t.”

diavolo wastes no more time in loosening his belt and pulling his cock from his jeans. it throbbed and ached all morning and now he can finally relieve himself by putting you in your place.

he grabs you by the rope, pulling you upright and pressing your ass against him. 

“fucking brat,” he grunts rubbing against you. “was last night not enough, huh? greedy pussy’s got you acting up like a slut.”

you whine loudly, defiant against his words. his large hand lands on your ass again, causing you to yelp and your whole body to jolt from the impact. writhing to free yourself from the rope is a fruitless attempt, but diavolo enjoys the sight of you struggling.

“use your hands.” he orders.

you could ignore him, piss him off even more. but your pussy is so fucking desperate to be filled and battered by his huge cock that your brattiness slowly fades away and you follow his orders quickly.

it’s difficult to move in the position you’re in but with the little freedom your bound hands have, you arch into him and stroke his huge cock. “fuck, dia. you’re so big. want it in me so bad.”

“patience, brat,” he mutters and runs his hands up and down your body, squeezing your tits with one hand and rubbing your clit with the other. “gotta wait for them to come back.”

arousal leaks from your pussy and you continue jerking him off until the familiar footsteps in the gravel grow louder, and dia takes it as his signal to push you down on the hay again and slam his cock into your soaking pussy.

“fuck!” you scream as your pussy welcomes him in greedily. “dia!”

“you like that, huh? you like my cock?”

“yes, i love it!” you moan loudly, gasping for air against the hay. “i love your cock.”

“that’s right.”

he continues hitting you with thrust after thrust of his hips, the sound reverberating through the wooden walls of the barn. it may be muffled from the outside, but there is no doubt the others can’t hear you.

your pussy is still sensitive from last night, but more than eager to please diavolo’s cock as he drills your hole, slamming against all the right places. “ah! fuck, dia, i’m gonna cum!”

“you’re gonna cum? your bratty pussy’s gonna cum all over my cock?”

“yes!”

“fuck,” he gasps. “want me to cum in your pussy, hm? fill it up ’til ya can’t take no more?”

“yes! dia, please!”

“gonna fuckin’ breed ya.”

“do it, dia! do it!”

“gonna knock ya up, show ‘em all how good i fucked ya!” he groans. “gonna teach my brat a lesson and knock her up.”

your cries turn into fully incomprehensible moans, but he knows you want it as much as he does. you want him to mark your body in ways it’s never been marked before and claim you as his forever.

so while you babble away, you both rock against the hay with hot, sticky bodies and there’s nothing but steamy air and filthy words between you.

before you know it, your orgasm washes over you and your pussy tightens around his cock, causing him to spurt ropes of his cum into your pussy.

your pussy tightens, causing him to spurt ropes of cum into your pussy as you scream in delight; your orgasms instils pure bliss into your body, as it does to dia who lets out an animalistic growl as he fucks you both through the high.

“who fuckin’ owns this pussy?”

“you do! you own it, dia.” you mumble, barely able to form words with how much you’re moaning. “you own my pussy. you own me.”

“that’s right,” he grunts. “i fuckin’ own ya.”

with one last rut, he stills deep groan and leans over, panting above you and pressing soft along your shoulder as you gasp for air.

“your mine, brat.”

#♡ pearl’s writing #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me x female reader #obey me smut #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo smut #diavolo smut #diavolo x reader

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 1)

In which y/n's taking way too many units, and Harry's the graduate assistant for her Literature class.

+++

 It’s a gloomy autumn day, the sun nowhere to be found, the sky cloudy and gray. Y/n stands in front of Dr. Richmond’s door, nervously pulling back her hair and righting the state of her sweater.

The wind outside was not forgiving today, blowing harsh and cold and whipping her hair all over like she was caught in the middle of a god damn tornado. She tucks any stray pieces behind her ears and pats her wind-stung cheeks – oh gosh, she probably looks a mess.

She should’ve worn something more professional, she thinks to herself as she tugs her skirt down. Maybe trousers and a blazer– or at least a pair of jeans. Not this stupid little black skirt that keeps riding up, halfway hidden underneath her cream-colored knitted sweater. It keeps riding up, no matter how firmly she keeps tugging it down, and she’s got a horrible inkling that she might’ve accidentally flashed her bum at the workers in the street while she was walking to campus today. 

She looks down at her shoes, a pair of black mary janes, paired with some lacy white socks to decorate her ankles. They looked super cute when she put them on this morning – but now she’s worried that she looks like a kindergartener. Is she too old to be wearing frilly socks? They’re just so darn cute… but she doubts the sixty-something year old professor that’s on the other side of the door would think the same thing. 

Wiping her sweaty palms on her skirt, she takes a deep breath. It’s now or never. She lifts her hand up to the door, and nervously brings her knuckles down to knock. 

It took all of her confidence to come to Dr. Richmond’s office today. She’s not a huge fan of talking to professors outside of class – drafting emails to them literally sends her into a spiral of stress, and she always feels like she’s gonna shit her pants when she goes to office hours– but she has no choice but to come and directly talk to Dr. Richmond today. She’d sent him two emails already (both of them had taken her over two hours to send because she actually despises writing emails and is always nervous that she’s gonna make a typo, or call the professor the wrong name, or accidentally attach her sex tape ((even though she doesn’t have a sex tape?)), but he hadn’t responded to either of those emails and she needs a response from him ASAP.

The door opens before her knuckles even make contact with wood, a short stout man walking out of the office with his briefcase in hand. He’s balding, with only a thin circle of gray hair lining the back perimeter of his head, and a pair of classes sit on his large, oily nose. Y/n stumbles, her eyes widening as she embarrassingly lowers her knuckles from the door and takes a startled step backwards. 

“Oh– um, Dr. Richmond?” she stammers nervously, her voice at a much higher pitch than usual. She’d love to stick a pore strip on his nose and unclog all those blackheads.

“That’s me,” he grumbles, sighing heavily, not even looking at her. He’s the head of the English Language and Literature department, a busy man surely. Students probably pester him every hour of every day. Still, she wishes that maybe she could’ve gotten a more… enthusiastic response from him. 

“Hi, sir,” she says, swallowing thickly. “I-I was having some issues with enrolling in your English 270 lecture and– um,” she’s starting to lose confidence as Dr. Richmond blatantly ignores her, rummaging through his briefcase for his keys. “I was… wondering if you had a second to, um, discuss it?” Her voice quietly fades towards the end, not sure if Dr. Richmond was even listening at that point– as he’d taken out his phone and started replying to a text while she had still been talking. 

He takes a solid five seconds to type out and send his text before responding to y/n. “Take it up with Harry,” he mumbles, still not looking at her. “M’done for the day.”

“Harry?” she repeats, her voice confused and eyebrows pinching together. But Dr. Richmond’s already walking away from her, halfway down the hall. “Oh,” she mumbles to herself sadly, lips pouting. All that, for nothing. He literally just walked away from her. 

She sighs heavily, ready to turn on her heel and walk back to her apartment from this failed mission – but then a voice sounds from inside the office. "In here!" it calls out.

She peaks her head inside timidly. 

Behind the desk sits a boy, with chocolate brown curls swirled atop his head. “Hello,” he hums, putting the essay he’d been reading down on the desk and looking at her with all his attention. There’s a soft smile on his pretty pink lips, twisted to the side with a dimple poking at his cheek. His eyes are green and glimmer kindly, framed by a pair of dark tortoise shell glasses.  “How can I help you?”

This man is much more attractive than grumpy old (and oily) Dr. Richmond. 

Y/n struggles to find her voice. “Are you… um, are you Harry?” Her eyes flicker all over this attractive young man’s face, trying to figure out if this is a hallucination or if a boy that pretty actually exists in real life. 

“Indeed I am,” he chirps, his chair squeaking as he leans forward. She briefly remembers seeing the name “Harry E. Styles” listed as the graduate teaching assistant, underneath Dr. Richmond’s name on the course website, and is finally connecting the dots. He’s dressed in a white button up, the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to reveal tattooed forearms and an anchor on his wrist. His fingers tap against the desk rhythmically, and she finds her eyes drawn to the glittery rings decorating them. Her mind goes blank. 

It’s clear that he’s a few years older than herself – but not in a bad way. He just looks taller and broader and… smarter than most of the boys her own age. He has just the slightest bit of stubble on his upper lip, and his eyes just shine with wisdom and intellect.

“Did you have a question?” he asks, voice a little teasing as he jolts her out of her little trance. She tucks her hair behind her ear, embarrassed, and quickly averts her eyes from his hands.

“Yeah, um– Dr. Richmond said you’d be able to help me with my enrollment issues?” 

“Sure,” he crosses one leg over the other (y/n definitely notices the way his meaty thighs bulge) and leans back in his seat, hands folded neatly on his knee, “What’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to enroll in English 270, the Romantic Literature and Society lecture–” Harry nods attentively, “ –but the class is restricted to students in the Department of English Literature… which I’m not.” His eyebrows furrow hesitatingly, and she’s quick to defend herself. “I’ve taken all the prerequisites, though! I did well in all of them, and I emailed the department coordinator and they said that it’s fine for me to enroll in this class. It would just be a manual enrollment instead of the standard enrollment but they’ve done it for me for all the other literature classes I’ve taken that were also major restricted. All I need is a permission code and the professor's approval!” She pauses, taking a breath after her big ramble. “Or your approval, I suppose,” she adds as an afterthought. 

He’s silent for a bit, sitting there with furrowed brows and pursed lips, just staring at her. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, squirming under his intense gaze.

Finally he asks, “What do you study then? If not literature?”

“Um– I’m a psych major.”

“And… why would a psychology major need to take an upper division literature class?” he presses. Not trying to be rude, but just to understand. 

“Oh. I just… really enjoy books,” she says shyly. “It’s not for any credit toward my major. But I promise that I’ll stay on top of the work and participate and all that!”

He leans his forearms on the desk. His eyes are thoughtful, and he takes his time before speaking. “Your name was…?” he trails off.

“Y/n,” she fills in quickly. He nods.

“Miss y/n,” he sits up straighter, and looks her in the eye, “How many other units are you taking this semester?”

“Um…” she counts them off in her head.  “16?”

“So with this class you’d be at 20?” he confirms. 

She nods, nervously chewing on the inside of her cheek. That is a lot of units. The last time she took 20 units she had a mental breakdown so intense that she spent an entire night just crying to her roommate (Iris), incapable of doing any work or studying because she was just so stressed out and overwhelmed. She had to skip classes just to catch up on the work that she’d fallen behind on for her other classes, and found her weekends swamped with essays and studying and missed assignments. She only just barely survived, and as soon as finals week was over, she literally collapsed with exhaustion, her body and brain so burnt out that she was sick for weeks. She’d promised herself that she’d never do it again… and yet here she is not even two semesters later.

She can already imagine how stressful this semester is going to be. 

“You understand, miss y/n, that this is not an easy class?” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and somehow it’s attractive. “We have weekly readings and essays and discussions, and the final paper is not a matter to be taken lightly. You truly believe you can manage that on top of all your other classes?” 

She gulps nervously, but timidly nods. He can tell that he’s laid it all on a bit harshly. 

“I’m not trying to scare you,” he says softly. “I’m just trying to be… realistic. You seem to be a highly motivated student – and I admire that you’re pursuing topics that truly interest you – but I’d hate to see you burn yourself out.” 

“I think I can handle it,” she says, quiet but confident. “It’s something I enjoy so it’s more like a hobby than a class. And I think it’ll be fun? I saw on the syllabus that we’d be analyzing Frankenstein, which is one of my favorites…” 

His lips twist in a soft, endeared smile. He also loves Frankenstein. 

“Very well then,” he murmurs, his eyes glimmering thoughtfully. “What was it you needed to get enrolled? A permission code? I think if you just give me your student ID number I can get that sorted out…”

+++

The weather today is better. 

It’s still cloudy and gray outside, but the wind is much more forgiving, just a gentle breeze rustling through the trees. Orange and red leaves fall to the ground, crunching underneath y/n’s feet as she walks to class. They match the red sweater that she’s wearing today, soft and knitted with hidden tones of orange and brown woven between the threads. The colors of autumn, her favorite season. 

A pair of wired headphones trail from her back pocket to her ears. She’s listening to her fall playlist, Lana Del Rey’s Season of the Witch setting the tempo of her walk to campus. In one hand she carries her book – The Secret History by Donna Tart – and in the other she carries her iced chai latte. Her fingers are freezing as she holds her iced drink, and a shiver crawls down her spine every time she takes a sip – but she doesn’t regret her drink order at all. She’ll have an iced chai in her hand no matter the weather. 

Wanting to make a good impression on the first day of classes, she got up extra early today to get a head start. She washed her face so that she’d look extra bright and awake, ate a proper breakfast at her dining table instead of her usual banana-on-the-walk-to-class, and put on an outfit that she thought gave… studious. Her autumn sweater, dark blue denim jeans, and white sneakers. She even chose her book to match the academic vibe she was going for today (she was between The Secret History and Happy Place, and Happy Place just felt too summery for such a gloomy day… plus The Secret History has been on her TBR for way too long.).

She arrives at the lecture hall approximately… 20 minutes too early. But it was on purpose! She’s only taken a few classes in the literature building (most of her classes are in the social science buildings) and wanted to have enough time to find the room before class started. How horrible would it be for her to be late on the first day, when she’s desperate to make such a good impression on Harry? And Dr. Richmond, of course– but mostly Harry. 

He was nice. And she wants him to like her. Ballad of a girl who craves academic validation.

The door to the lecture hall is locked, so y/n takes a seat on the floor right next to the door, and cracks her book open. She’s only 15 pages in, but she’s already enthralled. She can’t count how many times this novel has been recommended to her – always in those “best books to read in fall<3” tik toks, or the list of classics recommended by the New York Times – and she gets it. She zones in, her eyes flickering from one page to the next as her headphones softly play Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac. She’s not one to usually listen to music while she reads (she usually finds it to be too distracting), but she’s so engrossed in this world and these characters that she barely remembers that she’s still listening to music. The people walking past her in the hallway fade away, the fluorescent lights transform into the dark library her book characters are currently huddled in, and no sound passes through her wired headphones – not even the heeled boots clicking against the tile floors, getting closer and closer to her. 

She only realizes that she’s not alone when those brown boots stop right in front of her, shining brightly in contrast to her worn out sneakers. She looks up suddenly, yanking her headphones out of her ears. Harry towers over her, key in hand, which he sticks into the lock. A soft smirk twists at his lips, and his green eyes flicker to where she’s looking up at him from the floor. 

“Miss y/n,” he says with a pleasant nod, a hint of amusement in his voice, “You’re here early.”

She folds the corner of the page she’s on and stands up, gently shutting her book. “I didn’t want to be late,” she responds, fussing with her stubborn headphones, which refuse to tuck into her back pocket. “I don’t have many classes in this building… didn’t want to get lost or anything on the first day.” 

He opens the door and lets y/n in first, following in closely behind her. “Punctuality is good.” He props the door open. 

She looks around the lecture hall. It’s not nearly as big as the classrooms she usually sits in for her psychology classes – those classes are huge, usually filled with a bunch of freshmen from all sorts of majors trying to fulfill their lower division GE requirements and whatnot. Those lecture halls could fit up to 400 people. This one probably wouldn’t fit more than 60. 

Not a problem though, considering that this class only had about 40 students enrolled (she checked last night). 

She wonders where she should sit. Too far in the back and she’d make the wrong first impression… but too close to the front and she might be the annoying kid that asks too many questions. Third row is her best bet. 

There’s still about 15 minutes before the class is scheduled to start, and she’s still the only one in the lecture hall apart from Harry. She feels a bit awkward, being the person in the sea of seats, but Harry pays no mind to her, shuffling through papers and logging onto the computer at the front podium. Though her book sits opened on her lap, she can’t help but stare at him.

He’s wearing brown trousers, well fitted around his legs and cutting off perfectly at his ankles as if they were custom tailored for him. Cream colored socks adorn his ankles and those shiny, brown leather boots click against the floor with his every step. Very professional, but also casual with the way his white button up is rolled up at the sleeves and unbuttoned at the top. He’s missing those cute glasses today, though. 

She watches as he struggles to turn the projector on, his eyebrows furrowed as he presses all the buttons on the panel. The lights in the classroom turn on and off again, and the computer audio mutes and unmutes before he finally figures out how to get the screen to roll down and the projector to flicker on. Despite him being only a few years older, he looks like an old man toggling with the buttons and trying to get technology to work in his favor. She bites back a smile, and quickly looks down to her book when Harry’s eyes briefly flicker to hers. From her peripheral vision, she can see him laughing as well and shaking his head at himself. 

She traces her fingers over the pages of the book, clearly well loved and worn out. She got it from the library just last week, after having been on the waitlist for the book for the past month. She can see why it’s so popular though, already so engrossed by the plot. The pages are old and yellow, the edges folded and ripped with years of use, and it has that old book smell that she just adores. How old is this book? It was published in the 90’s, wasn’t it?

Harry’s voice interrupts her thoughts. “Reading something good?” 

She looks up at him with wide eyes. He’s managed to successfully display the course syllabus on the projector screen, and is now walking around the desk with a stack of papers in his hand. He stands in front of the very first row, leaning his weight onto one leg with a hand in his pocket. 

“Oh, um–” she falters, “I actually just started it. I’ve heard it’s supposed to be really good.” She sits up straighter in her seat, “Have you heard of it? The Secret History?”

Harry purses his lips, “Sounds familiar… haven’t read it though. You’ll have to tell me if it’s worth reading, alright?”

She nods, smiling shyly. Call her delusional but… it feels like a bit of an honor for him to trust her with a book recommendation. That takes a lot of trust, doesn’t it? To trust that someone will recommend a good book to you? 

She’s totally making a big deal out of nothing. She does that sometimes. 

“How about you?” she asks, her voice embarrassingly quiet. She’s shy, and nervous, and she’s not that good at small talk, and Harry is looking at her with these intense, green eyes that make her feel like she’s saying the most important thing in the world. She clears her throat, forcing her voice to not come out scared and shaky, “Read anything good lately?”

He grins, and she can tell this is probably his favorite thing to talk about.  “M’reading, like, five books at once,” he admits sheepishly. “Kafka on the Shore, if you’ve heard of it… Notes from Underground, by Dostoevsky for one of m’own classes…” he purses his lips in thought, “Started re-reading Paradise Lost as well. We’re analyzing it in one of the other classes im TA-ing, n’ it’s one of my favorites to teach,” he says with a shrug. His eyes are so thoughtful as he lists off the books that he’s reading, flickering green and gold. He’s just… beautiful.

“I haven’t read any of them,” y/n says regretfully, wishing that she could impress him with some sort of intellectual talk about one of these books. “I’ve had Kafka on the Shore on my list for a while, though.” 

He smiles. “S’a good one.” There’s a dimple in his left cheek that pinches cutely, the glimmer in his eyes a sight to behold. His pretty pink lips purse thoughtfully, his heart shaped cupid's bow twitching as though he has more to say – but then another student walks in. 

Harry’s head whips around. His jawline is sharp, and he nods politely at the new student. “Good morning,” he murmurs to the girl – that same welcoming voice that had made y/n’s heart flutter that first day that she met him. 

He turns back to y/n, and hands her a paper from the stack in his hands. “The syllabus,” he says, his eyes kind and warm.

She swallows thickly as he walks away from her, enamored already. 

+++

“Classes will be Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Dr. Richmond lectures from the front of the class. His voice is croaky and old, so he has a tiny microphone clipped to his shirt pocket to project his voice to the back of the class – despite the small size of the lecture hall. “Thursdays I’ll lead the class,” he drones on, “We’ll analyze the romantic era… how their literature was a reflection of their politics… how they set the foundation of modern day consumerism, capitalism, patriarchy, globalism, imperialism…” he waves his hand passively. “The works.”

 He takes a long sip of water, and his swallow echoes through the class, amplified by his shirt microphone. Y/n cringes at the wet mouth sounds as he smacks his lips together. 

“On Tuesday’s–” his voice booms through the microphone again, “you will come to a class discussion led by Harry. This means that you’ll have the entire weekend to do the readings…” 

Nearly all the eyes in the room flicker to Harry, who’s been standing quietly in the corner with his hands folded behind his back while Dr. Richmond continues to lecture. He gives a small, almost bashful wave to the class at the mention of his name, his eyes scanning the room of unfamiliar faces. Their eyes meet, and his lips twist into a smile. This is the third time she’s caught his eye during the lecture.

He stares at her for a second, eyes glinting as if the two of them have a secret that they’re not sharing with the rest of the class. It makes her heart race in her chest, smiling back at him secretly.

She breaks their eye contact when Dr. Richmond croaks out with the last of his voice, “Any questions?” 

He’s met with silence.

“No? Okay good, class dismissed. See you all on Thursday.” 

The class bustles with life, backpacks zipping and pull out desks squeaking as everyone slowly trickles out of the room. A line forms in front of Dr. Richmond’s podium, with students eagerly introducing themselves and asking questions about the syllabus, only to be redirected to the back of the new line forming in front of Harry’s corner. Harry smiles kindly at every question and speaks with eloquence, strikingly different to Dr. Richmond’s grumbling and groaning. 

It’s glaringly obvious that Harry is going to be a class favorite. 

In the middle of answering a redheaded boy’s question, his gaze wanders over to y/n, watching her as she packs up her things, eyes following her to the door. She tucks her book under her arm and plugs her headphones into her ear, throwing her bag over her shoulder. 

Her drink is finished, just a cup full of melting ice at this point, so she stops at the trash can right at the front of the door. As she throws it away, she manages one final glance back at Harry. He’s already looking at her. He grins when their eyes meet, and gives a small wave goodbye. 

She bites back a smile, then hurries out of the classroom before he gets the chance to see her giddy eyes and heating cheeks. 

+++

Y/n honestly doesn’t love going to office hours. 

It’s hard, because on one hand, she knows that she should go to them and form a relationship with her professors so that they can write her letters of rec in the future… but on the other, they’re so crowded and awkward! Every other student is there for the same reason as her, going into office hours to ask their silly questions and try to butter up the professor. There are usually at least a dozen college students in there, waiting for their one second interaction with the professor before they all get kicked out at the end of the hour. It’s annoying and a waste of her time. Plus, she doubts Dr. Richmond is all that into getting buttered up 

That’s why she chooses to go to TA office hours instead. Usually much more quiet and much more intimate. Not that many people like to go to TA office hours for some reason, which means she usually gets to have one-on-one help. And sometimes (if the TA is really cool) they’ll basically give her the answers to the homework – a good thing, right?

Well… not when the TA is this ridiculously attractive and charming boy with curly brown hair and pretty green eyes that she can’t help but have a teensy little crush on.

 Like… can you blame her? He’s smart and handsome, and so incredibly kind and sweet. His eyes glimmer when he talks about his favorite books and his lips are always curled into a smile that makes her heart bubble. Always so polite and respectful, doing gentlemanly things while his boyish dimples pinch his cheeks. His voice is slow and sultry like smooth honey – and you can just tell that his mind is a beautiful place just from the way he talks. 

He’s just… endearing. Straight out of some romance book– and y/n loves romance!!! She can’t help but have a little bit of a heart flutter when she sees him standing in the corner of the lecture hall, especially when their eyes meet and he smiles at her cutely. 

He’s just being nice – she knows that, and she is well aware that she’s very delusional and that nothing is going to happen… but still, the prospect of going to his office hours and potentially having a one-on-one conversation with him makes her giddy and nervous at the same time. 

She pulls herself together and shakes away all the silly thoughts clouding her brain. Hoisting her bag up her shoulder, she enters the small office, the gold plaque reading Styles, H. shining proudly as she walks through the door. 

Harry doesn’t hear her walk in, his brows furrowed behind his tortoise shell glasses. A red pen is in his hand, brutally attacking a freshman essay. He looks up, a tad bit startled, when she knocks on the door timidly. 

The furrow in his brow immediately softens and turns into that familiar, kind smile. “Miss y/n,” his eyes shine like the nighttime sky filled with stars, “My first student of the day.” 

“Oh,” she checks the time. “I thought office hours started like, thirty minutes ago. Was I wrong? Am I early?” She intentionally wanted to show up a little late, not wanting to seem too eager. 

“No, no – you were right,” he hums, putting his pen down. “Not many students tend to show up to our office hours, is all. Especially not during the first week.”

She bites on the inside of her lip and wonders if she should be embarrassed for being the only one to show up, but Harry is quick to continue,“I wish more people did come, though. Like– if nobody shows up, all I do is sit here and grade for an hour.” His lips purse out cutely, a thoughtful pout, “And I hate grading.” 

“Oh– I’ll probably be here a lot,” y/n says mindlessly. “I always have questions. And Dr. Richmond kinda scares me.”

Harry sputters out a laugh, and y/n’s cheeks heat up. Maybe that was inappropriate to say. But then Harry leans in and whispers, “He scares me too, sometimes.”

It’s these charming little moments that make him so endearing. She tries not to get too distracted by his dimples and how his fingers tap delicately against his thigh, hugged deliciously by another pair of well fitting trousers. 

“Um– if it’s not a bother, I was wondering if I could ask about the first assignment? I was kind of confused about what's expected from us for the free-write thing…”

“M’all yours,” Harry murmurs, gesturing to the seat across from his desk.

+++

Y/n’s fatal flaw is thinking that she can beat a rainstorm.

She actively knew there was an 80% chance of rain today. She saw the rainy streets. She heard the weather forecast. But did she bring an umbrella with herself to campus? 

No.

Somehow she rationalized in her brain that she didn’t need it. It was barely sprinkling when she walked out of her apartment, and the walk to class was only like 15 minutes! She’d make it to campus and then she’d be indoors all day and by the time she needed to go home the rain would probably have died down, and everything would be fine.

Oh how wrong she was. Silly girl. 

The rain is pounding down on her right now. Big fat raindrops soaking through her hoodie and turning her light wash denim jeans into a completely new color. She has many regrets. What had started off as a cute little walk in the rain has turned into her running through a fucking monsoon or something. The slight, gentle drizzle had escalated to pouring rain in a matter of seconds. She had left her apartment with her earbuds playing Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer, romanticizing her little stroll in the rain – but now her wire headphones are barely hanging on as half-speedwalks/ half-runs down the sidewalk with her head down. 

When she gets stuck at a crosswalk on a busy street, she glances frantically to her left and right, trying to find a tree or a building to take shelter under. But the sky is wide and open, no roof or canopy for her to hide under. She stands helplessly, the rain pouring down on her. The only thing she can do is pull her hood up and grip it tightly so that the rain doesn’t get in her face. 

The rain pierces through her clothes, and the wind feels extra cold against her wet jeans. Thank god she at least wore rainboots today, she thinks to herself as she stares down at the ground. This would suck even more if her socks were getting wet. She had thought far ahead enough to anticipate the possibility of puddles – and yet still didn’t imagine the need for an umbrella. The hems of her pants are soaked and feel horrible against her ankles, and she knows for a fact that she’s gonna have to let her hoodie air dry or something during Dr. Richmond’s lecture. Ugh. She hopes the lecture hall is warmer than it is out here.

She readjusts her headphones, pushing the earbuds further into her ear after they nearly fell out whilst she was running here. She likes this song, and it’s kind of romantic to be listening to it in the rain (it would be even more romantic if she wasn’t SOAKED TO THE CORE). If there’s anything y/n will do, it’s romanticize the shit out of any situation. 

Cars are driving past quickly, but she can’t hear them, her music loud enough to drown out their annoying engines. She stares at a nearby puddle, looking at how it ripples as each drop of rain splatters into it. She wonders if mother nature has a personal vendetta against her – if Earth had personally planned to make it rain super hard the minute that she stepped out of her apartment. Why does she always do this? This isn’t the first time she’s caught herself soaked because she was too lazy to bring an umbrella with herself – and it probably isn’t the last time either. She crosses her arms across her chest and hides her hands in her sleeves, hugging herself tightly as a feeble defense against the biting rain. Why won’t the stupid crosswalk turn on? Her slightly damp hair falls into her eyes as she looks back down at her boots, letting out an annoyed huff. 

The shadow of a new person tickles her peripheral vision. They brought an umbrella. She scolds herself once more. 

 It takes her a second to realize that, although she can still see the rain drizzling around her, splattering against the ground and splashing onto her boots… she actually doesn’t feel the gentle patter of raindrops against the top of her head anymore. She looks up. 

Somehow, she is now under the umbrella. And the person holding said umbrella… is Harry. 

He looks gorgeous as usual, dressed in a dark blue trench coat, black trousers, and some sleek black boots with gold buckles on them. Standing to her left, he holds his umbrella up between them in a way that shields both of them from the rain. He stares forward innocently, pretending like everything is normal – like he hadn't just snuck up next to her and shared his umbrella with her. She can see a slight smile tugging on his lips though, and when she stares at him long enough, he peeks over at her with a glint shimmering in his pupils. His pretty pink lips curl into that sideways smile, and he says nothing. 

Y/n can’t help but give a dumbstruck little laugh. Of course it would be Harry. 

He winks at her, ever so charming and mischievous, then turns back to face the road. The crosswalk switches from Stop to Go, and Harry takes a step forward. Y/n follows in his stride.

They say nothing, and walk to their lecture shoulder to shoulder.

+++

“So,” Harry says with a clap, his voice loud and strong, “I hope you all got the chance to do the first chapter of our reading.” Unlike Dr. Richmond, Harry doesn’t need a microphone to project his voice to the back of the class. All eyes are staring at him, ears listening intently. And all the girls are staring at his pretty pink lips, and how they curl over each word (y/n included). 

“I know life gets in the way, so if y’ever don’t get the chance to finish the assigned reading… tha’s okay,” he says with a quirk of his lips. “M’not gonna be mad. I just ask that you don’t let it turn into a habit, and y’don’t pretend like you read it. M’gonna know if you’re bullshitting me… so just don’t even try.” The entire class laughs, and Harry’s dimple pokes his cheek. 

“So– be honest– how many of you guys read the first chapter?” 

All the students raise their hands, and Harry nods approvingly, “Nice… very nice.” He’s a natural at the front of the classroom, entertaining and intellectual at the same time – confident and eloquent. His words are thoughtful and slow, but not one student seems to be bored by his slow drawl. No – instead everyone hangs onto his every word, dripping soft and thick like golden honey. He answers questions easily and plays off of student responses like a pro, and everyone seems keen on impressing him with fancy literature talk.

“You might have seen on our course page that I posted a series of discussion questions… I’ll try to have these up at least a week in advance so that you can have them in the back of your mind whilst you’re reading. I always find it to be particularly stimulating to be reading a novel with a question in mind… dunno, makes me feel sharper while I read. Does anyone else feel that way?” He talks to the class as if they’re all friends, mildly flirtatious in the natural, charming way that he is. 

The group of undergraduates nod back at him, enthralled by his smile and his wit and just everything about him. God, his smile is just so charming. “Okay... how about we get started with the first one? Wait– actually, before that… I’m just wondering, have any of you already read Frankenstein before?”

Two students out of the forty raise their hands – a boy wearing a Bob Dylan t-shirt, and y/n. 

Harry’s eyes meet y/n’s for the first time since they entered the classroom together. They’d walked across campus together in comfortable silence, past the campus Starbucks and the Social Science buildings, and when they got to the Literature department building Harry had held the door open for her, while shaking off the rain droplets from his umbrella. They walked through the halls side by side as well, Harry’s shiny boots clicking in time with the squeak of y/n’s wet sneakers against the tile floors. All he had said to her during the entirety of their walk was “After you,” when he’d opened the door for her. 

Now he looks at her for the first time in what feels like ages, and gives her an approving nod. He already knew that, from that very first day when she’d come to his office, asking for permission codes and what not. She feels her heart fluttering excitedly, just from that single nod. 

“Interesting… so it’s a first read for most of you. Brilliant! We’ll have a good time reading it together, I promise,” he says, his green eyes gleaming. “I love this book – it’s sometimes called the first science fiction book, written at a time where technology was first being introduced, and it’s regarded as one of the most famous novels of the Romantic era. Mary Shelly, the author, was a prominent Romantic era writer who shared the common Romantic appreciation for the natural world and how art can evoke emotions, which we can clearly see in her novel. We’ll take a few different approaches while analyzing it. Most prominently through a Romantic lens – but we’ll also do a feminist reading and religious reading, as well as a biographical approach… which brings us to the first discussion question – ‘Frankenstein is ultimately a novel about creation– a new and terrifying exploration of bringing life into the world. Based on what you read in the introduction, how can we see Mary Shelly’s personal experiences with life, birth, and death in the themes explored in Frankenstein?’” He looks up from the sheet of paper that he just read the question aloud from with bright eyes, “Anyone want to start us off?” 

The class is silent, the crowd of students suddenly much quieter compared to when they’d been going back and forth with playful banter to Harry’s jokes. Everyone’s a little too nervous to be the first one to say anything, and nobody wants to say the wrong thing. Harry holds his breath, and searches for a hand to save them from this awkward bit of silence. This kind of shyness is normal for the first day of classes – in fact, he’d expected it – but it still doesn’t mean it’s any less awkward. His eyes flicker from one side of the class to the other, from the front row to the back.

He almost misses y/n’s hand, timidly raising from her set spot in the third row. Harry’s eyes light up. “Miss y/n,” he murmurs, “go ahead.”

“Well, in the introduction we learn that Mary Shelly had a few failed pregnancies before writing her novel, and that her own mother had passed during childbirth complications. Shelly goes on to depict the cycle of life as destructive… Frankenstein’s monster is this disfigured creature that the creator is running from, which we see right at the beginning. The introduction implies that this “horrifying” birth and the death of the creator at the hands of what it created, might be symbolic of her own experiences.” 

“Excellent. That’s exactly right,” his smiles meet his eyes, and they twinkle, impressed. “The reason we have this as the first discussion question,” Harry turns back to the rest of the class, “is because I want you guys to keep it in mind while reading. Look for the ways Shelly describes birth –  take note of the strained relationship she creates between the creator and his creation. Also, recall how Shelly herself proclaimed this book to be her “hideous progeny” – to use such intense language whilst also calling it her “progeny” holds a lot of implications of what Shelly’s view on Creation is – whether is biologically or creatively. This is something that we’ll discuss further in depth when we get farther into the novel, so I want you all to start thinking about it now.”

All the students in the room nod intently, writing down what Harry said word for word.

“Furthermore, has anyone noticed that we’ve already seen a lot of references to fire? Pretty obvious symbolism, right?” The class nods. “Does anyone know why she chose fire, specifically?”

It’s silent again. Y/n looks around herself to see if anyone else might have the answer, but everyone stares up at Harry blankly.

“Don’t be shy on me now, guys. Promise m’not mean,” Harry smiles, “Just wanna get the discussion flowing.”

Y/n shyly raises her hand again. “It’s a reference to Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods – she even alternatively calls her story The Modern Prometheus.” 

 His eyes glimmer, a shine behind his irises that doesn’t show up when he looks at his other students – just y/n. As hard as he tries not to pick favorites… he can’t help but harbor a little bit of favoritism towards her. “Very good, Miss y/n,” he praises with a soft smile.

Y/n’s cheeks turn hot and she ducks her head down, unable to stop the reciprocating smile from spreading on her face. 

+++

“Miss y/n,” Harry calls out to her as the students file out of the classroom. “A word, please.” 

Y/n hoists her bag over her shoulder and makes her way to the podium where he stands. He’s packing up his own things, his own beat up copy of Frankenstein being placed delicately in his bag, along with a stack of other papers and things that he has to grade. A few other students have approached him, asking questions that they were too shy to ask during class, but with a sly smile he tells them to ask their questions at his office hours (Thursdays at 5 – but y/n already knew that!). Her fingers twist nervously behind her back as she stands awkwardly by his side as the rest of the students ask their questions and trickle out. 

He waits until all the students have left, and it’s just him and y/n standing by the podium, before he says anything to her.

“You were making some excellent points today in class,” he looks up at her briefly with a smirk, “I appreciate your participation. Class is always more difficult to lead when students don’t participate.” 

“Oh,” she blinks. She’s never been thanked for participating in class. “Erm– yeah. I-I’m happy to participate.” She readjusts her bag, tugging it higher up her shoulders, “S’just kinda like a big book club if y’really think about it.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” he agrees with a quirk of his lips. He zips up his bag, and pulls it over his own shoulder, “How are you planning on getting home?”

A strange follow up question, she thinks to herself. But she responds, nonetheless, “Oh, I was just gonna walk.” Harry peers out of the window, then looks back at y/n, his eyebrows raised. She follows his gaze, and realizes that it is still raining like crazy outside. 

A heavy sigh escapes her lips without her permission. Of course. “I guess I’ll just wait it out,” she shrugs, walking towards the door alongside Harry. 

He locks the door behind them, with her lingering closely by, waiting for him. “Do you live far?” 

“No, not really. Just a 15 minute walk.” They walk towards the building exit, and Harry pulls out his umbrella. “Not too bad, as long as there isn’t a monsoon going on outside,” she finishes with a petulant grumble.

Harry chuckles lowly, his dimples shining brightly. “I was just going to offer… y’know, since it’s still raining and you’re umbrella-less…” his eyes twinkle teasingly, “I could drive you home? Wouldn’t want you to get soaked again when you’ve only just dried off.” 

“Oh!” she bubbles, looking at him with wide eyes. “Really? You would do that?” He nods, but she presses, “Are you sure that wouldn’t be a hassle? I mean– like, really I could just stay here and read until the rain dies down–”

“S’not a hassle,” he reassures. “Y’don’t even know when the rain will be gone– could be all night. It’ll be cold, n’dark… it’d make me feel better knowing you got home safe, yeah?”

“Gosh that’s… that’s really nice of you,” she says, almost pouting. 

He just smiles, pushing the door open and opening his umbrella for the two of them to huddle under. His car is parked in the graduate student parking lot, so it’s not too far of a walk (although they’re doing more of a brisk speedwalk, trying to get out of the rain and wind as fast as possible). The rain patters harshly on top of his umbrella, but they manage to stay dry, shoulders brushing together and their warm bodies radiating heat onto each other.

He unlocks his car and opens the passenger's seat for her, making sure that she’s covered from the rain as she slides into her seat. He then runs over to his own side, quickly shutting his umbrella and throwing it into the backseat. His fingers are numb as he turns the car on, and he immediately blasts the heat for the two of them, putting his frozen fingers in front of the warm air. “God, not even three minutes out there n’ I’m already freezing m’bits off,” he mumbles to himself. He turns to her, and smiles when he sees her copying his actions, “Isn’t this so much better that walking home?”

All she can give is a nod, wriggling her fingers in front of his heaters. Her teeth are chattering as she barely manages to chatter out, “S’freezing.”

“Wind would’ve blown you away before you even made it home, I reckon.” He plays with the windshield wipers until they’re on the highest setting, but even then his windshield is blurry from the rain. He makes sure to drive extra slow and cautiously, reversing out at the speed of a snail and turning his high beams on.

It’s only when she’s sitting in the front seat of his car that a somewhat important thought floats to the forefront of her mind – “is this allowed?”

“Is what allowed?” He's half paying attention, half checking both sides of the road before turning left onto the street. 

“Like– I mean you’re sort of my professor, I guess,” she stumbles over her words, “Is it… would you get in trouble? For like… giving me a ride?”

Harry’s eyebrows pinch thoughtfully, “Well, first of all– Dr. Richmond’s your professor, not me. Secondly– I don’t see why it would be against the rules. S’just a car ride,” he shrugs. 

She relaxes in her seat, nodding. She supposes he’s right. It’s just a car ride.

“But– if anything,” he adds on with, turning to her momentarily with a mischievous glint in his eye, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Y/n’s lips curl. “Okay,” she giggles. 

It’ll be their little secret. 

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 2 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 14) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 2) is already posted on patreon! : In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out

Prose Masterlist

#harry smut #harry fic #harry styles smut #harry #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry fanfic

[jedifarmerr]

Untimely - Joel Miller x F!Reader/OFC (AFAB).

Summary: Joel might have a little crush on his business partner, but it’s no big deal - really.

This can be read as either pre-canon or AU. Reader has a nickname, but physical description is a blank slate

Rating: E (18+ no minors)

Warnings/Tags: Joel’s POV, readers dad used to be Joel’s boss, discussion of absent parents (not reader), very minor discussion of parental death (again not reader), Joel is kinda awkward when it comes to dating, workplace relationship but without power dynamics, squint and you’ll find an age gap (no exact age is stated but she does have a college degree), pining and lots of it, denial of feelings and all that good stuff, and smut in general. I’m not gonna tag everything or this would get way too long but consent is clearly stated and does not have any major triggers (to my knowledge, but let me know if you catch something).

Word Count: 23,000. This was supposed to be a short one-shot, but got out of control. Oops. This is separated into two parts on AO3

Note: I’m back!! I know it’s been a hot minute, but I’m very very excited and very very nervous to share what I’ve been working on in my absence. But here it is!

---

The first full week of September, and Austin was deadlocked in a nasty heatwave. 

Days like this made Joel wish he’d chosen a job that involved a roof over his head – or maybe just a little shade. Anything would be better than being crushed under the weight of the cruel Texas sun as it poured down through the bare-bone house. Still, Joel hammered his way through it. Even as the sun baked his scalp and covered every inch of his skin in sweat. 

Joel flapped his shirt to dry the cotton sticking to his chest like silicone glue. His walk was more so a waddle, which was honestly his fault for wearing jeans. The denim chafed against his thighs while combing the work site for any loose supplies. All he wanted to do was hop into his work truck, blast the air conditioning and leave, but instead he diligently checked between every wooden beam and around every corner. Despite the lack of drywall leaving barely any hiding spots, it was insane how often Tommy forgot a power drill behind a tub of paint or cement. 

Or somewhere else incredibly stupid. 

Nothing major today, though. Just a few nails that jingled around in his tool belt as he stepped out onto the future front porch, immediately spotting Tommy. Kinda hard to miss with his big ass head poking out the driver side window while puffing on his daily post-work Marlboro. 

“The engine was making that funny noise again,” Tommy claimed, his voice echoing across the dirt lawns and unpaved driveways of the brand new subdivision. 

Joel walked past the rusty-white hood, but heard nothing other than the usual ancient roar. There was the radio in the cab playing Foolish Games by Jewel – a favorite of Sarah’s. 

“Funny noise, huh?” He eyed Tommy with blatant skepticism before slumping into the dusty cloth seat with a thunk. “Well, sounds like it’s fixed now.” 

“Oh yeah good as new.” Tommy burned the soul from his cigarette, then chucked the butt out the window. “This thing’s gotta be what - 10? 15 years old?” 

“Something like that.” Joel didn’t know off the top of his head. The truck had been a part of the company even longer than him, meaning it had to be somewhere closer to 15 than 10. From what he could recall it’d been a few years off mint condition even when Danny first hired him. 

“Then, how the hell is it still running?” 

“Danny’s a smart man who didn’t buy a shitty Chevy,” Joel lightheartedly jabbed at his little brother – a self-proclaimed Chevrolet man, but only because of his buddies. “He knew that Ford was better - built tough.” 

“Well, ain’t lookin’ too tough now,” Tommy pointed out and Joel shrugged. 

As long as the truck got him from one place to the next, he didn’t care if it was taped together by spit and gorilla glue. He knew for a fact Tommy wouldn’t complain either if a new one was coming out of his wallet instead. 

Tommy threw the truck into reverse. “I’m telling you now, you’re gonna regret not buying a new one sooner.” 

“What are you gonna do?” Joel snorted. “Put some sugar in the gas tank?” 

“I don’t have to sabotage this piece of shit - it’ll crap out on its own soon enough,” Tommy said. “Hell, it could even happen today.” 

“Better not,” Joel grumbled, but otherwise went quiet. He didn’t know why Tommy had to put that idea in his head. Sarah was waiting for him at the shop. He couldn’t imagine a worse day for the truck to break down. 

For a mile or so, Joel sat on the edge of his seat, carefully listening to the bumps and groans – typical for a truck around Sarah’s age. The engine rattled as Tommy merged onto Highway 183, but it always did when accelerating. He swore it did. 

Whatever – enough. 

There was paperwork to do. Today’s timesheets were in the glovebox, only halfway complete. So, he pulled out the folder and set to work. At least it offered a distraction from the brakes screeching like a horde of bats during rush hour traffic. 

“Did you ever hear from the concrete guys?” Tommy turned down an obnoxiously loud ad for a car dealership in town. 

Grunting, he curtly nodded. His pen found Harry’s Concrete at the bottom of the sheet and promptly scratched it out with scathing red ink. Just seeing their name triggered a sour taste in his mouth. 

He was used to the concrete guys being flaky, but not like this. These last couple months had been like dandruff in the winter. Brutal. Today, the bastards didn’t even have the balls to call until after lunch. No excuse, either. 

“Third day in a row,” Tommy just had to say, as if he needed a nudge. “In my opinion - I think it’s time to hire somebody else.” 

“Well, you know who to share that opinion with, and it ain’t me,” Joel chided – annoyed. It drove him crazy how often Tommy needed to be reminded of simple things, like what Joel’s role in the business entailed. For God sake – it’d been over a year now since he became a partner in the company. 

Joel could initially understand the confusion. After all, Danny had run the business as a one-man show and everyone, including Joel, thought his daughter would fully take over once he retired. Danny had always said that was the plan anyway, and even named the place: Teddy’s Company. 

Originally, Joel had thought Teddy was her real name until three years ago when he finally got the chance to meet her. But how was he supposed to know when Danny never called her by anything else? It wasn’t like Joel had known much about her back then either, and what little he did came from Danny’s vague and blue-moon updates. 

College is going well. 

Her new job’s treating her good. 

She moved into a new place, seems to like it. 

Short – brief. Some people probably thought Danny was being crusty but that wasn’t the case. No, Danny was never rude or mean, just quiet. A man of few words who on his more mute days could even make Joel look chatty. 

Before meeting her, Joel used to wonder what she’d be like. His future boss. There was a mystery around her that made her seem almost mythical, an enigma. She was like Willy Wonka with her name plastered all over the place: on his shirts, the side of the truck, front and center of the shop. But Joel had no idea who she was. 

Even with a gun to his head, he couldn’t have picked her out of a crowd. Or even a line-up. The only picture he’d seen of her was in a popsicle frame on Danny’s otherwise bare desk: The two of them at a petting zoo where she couldn’t be older than six. 

Without much to go by, Joel had simply assumed that she would look and act, at least somewhat similar to her dad. He’d built Teddy up in his mind as a strong, burly woman who was gruff around the edges. Someone with a sailor’s mouth and stubby fingernails embedded with dirt and grit and grout.

Instead, they were fake and baby pink. She looked like she had never changed a tire in her whole life. 

She probably hadn’t, but she was without a doubt smarter than Tommy and him combined. A graduate from some fancy university in California with an equally fancy business degree. Charming with a nice, smooth voice perfect for sales. If she went to a random street corner to sell bags of cow manure she could sucker anyone, even him, into waiting in line to buy one. 

She was down-right impressive. Finances, pitches, and permits, she could do it all. However, the other side of the business – the manual labor, a little more dirty. 

Joel had not a doubt in his mind that she had the ability to learn it, but did she want to? 

Hell no. 

For one, she had this irrational fear over being electrocuted. Back before Danny retired and she first started working at the front desk, Joel had walked in on her changing out a lightbulb, and you would’ve thought a snake had popped out of the ceiling. He’d mistaken it for a fear of heights until a few months back when Sarah refused to let him shower during a rainstorm. Sarah had looked hysterical using her lanky-arms to body-block the stairs, warning him that he’d get fried if he went up there. 

“Don’t you know dad, lightning can travel through plumbing? Teddy was telling me all about it today.” 

Joel didn’t have a clue where that particular fear stemmed from, but her vendetta against attics, now that he could understand. After all, she’d probably still be in California if not for her dad’s accident. 

It was never Danny’s plan to retire so early. Despite the appointments and constant physical therapy, it’d still caught Joel by surprise, though not as much as Teddy’s offer to run the business alongside her. Together. 50/50. Sure, it came with this boring paperwork, but a bigger paycheck as well. Only a fool would’ve turned that down. 

Besides, promotion or not – he would’ve stayed and worked for her, regardless. 

—

Back at the shop, Joel would usually help Tommy unload the truck, but not today. 

Instead, Joel tucked the file under his arm, hung his tool belt on the rack, then made his way through the garage. He entered through the back door, letting it slam behind him. The cool air greeted him, tingling his tacky skin and he shivered. 

The vents rumbled inside the white hallway walls, echoing around the shop. Along with two voices coming from the lobby. When he heard Teddy’s laugh, he ran a quick hand through his hair, fixing the damp strands away from his forehead. 

He rounded the corner and Teddy was at her desk. Everything from her neck down was cut-off by the high-glass counter, making her look like a floating head. A very nice-looking floating head or a nice head to look at or -

Whatever. 

She was smiling at him – that same honey-golden smile that welcomed him every morning. The same smile he wished was here to welcome him every evening, as well. But with how late he worked most days, it was a hit or miss. He could never guarantee she would still be here, except on the days with Sarah. 

“You’re late,” Sarah said before he could even say hi. 

Joel glanced at the clock above the front door. 5:45. 15 minutes. 

“Barely.” Anything less than thirty was a win in his book. It didn’t matter that Teddy chose to stick around and keep Sarah company, he wouldn’t push it. She was his business partner – not a babysitter. 

“Still late.” Sarah stepped away from Teddy’s desk with her arms crossed menacingly over her chest. If not for the twitch of her lips, she would’ve appeared deadly serious. The girl never could keep a straight face though for more than a second. 

“Let me guess, you’ll forgive me if we can get McDonald’s on the way home?” 

Bingo. Sarah tapped on the tip of her nose and Joel huffed a laugh. 

“Well, Uncle Tommy drove, but we can ask-” 

“We?” Sarah looked at him like he was crazy before shaking her head. “I think I’ll handle this one on my own.” 

“What’re you trying to say?” He asked and her lips curved into a half-cocky, half-play smirk that screamed teenage girl. A stage of life he felt rather unprepared for, even more so than diapers and potty training and 6th grade math. The teenage years were bound to be harder than statistics and exponents and long division. 

“Come on, dad. When has Uncle Tommy ever said no to this?” She showed off her best puppy dog eyes and alright – yeah, poor Tommy didn’t stand a chance. 

But Joel didn’t tell her that. He couldn’t. He was too stunned that the little girl who used to hide behind his legs at the grocery store was the same one who was strutting down the hallway now without even glancing back. 

He shook his head in disbelief and looked over at Teddy. “I don’t know where all this confidence of hers has come from recently,” he said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the now-shut door. “But I’m guessing it has something to do with you.” 

“Me?” She fluttered her lashes like she was clueless – definitely something she wasn’t. 

“That’s right,” he replied as he approached her desk. Her area always smelled clean and homey like fresh laundry in a field of wildflowers. The last thing he wanted to do was invade her perfumed bubble with the stench of his sweat and that specific twang that came from being outside all day. So, when he caught a strong whiff of her perfume, he stopped and propped his hip against the desk before saying, “I think you’re rubbing off on her.” 

“And is that such a bad thing?” She squinted at him and unlike Sarah, she could actually keep a straight face. 

“No.” He firmly shook his head. “In fact, I meant that as a compliment.” 

In an instant, her flat-line lips split into a wide grin. He smiled in return, stupidly pleased with himself for making her light up like that. His gaze momentarily dropped from her lips to the single button left undone on her shirt. The charcoal gray fabric shined in a way that reminded him of moonlight over Travis Lake. It looked soft and smooth as butter. And not to mention expensive. Joel bet if he touched it, even so carefully, the material would immediately snag under his callouses. 

Teddy motioned for the file and when he handed it over, he felt a draft under his armpit from the hole in his shirt. He glanced down at his jeans, covered in dirt and mud and sawdust. Filthy. He felt a twinge of self-consciousness. It was hard not to feel like a mess next to her sometimes when she was always dressed so goddamn professional with her pressed slacks and tucked in shirts. Anyone who saw her would think she worked for some big corpo with a koi pond in the lobby. Not a Morton building with more garage than office space. 

“They didn’t show?” 

Teddy’s voice jolted his attention back to her face. Her lips were pinched, her cherry red fingernail was bleeding into his own pissed-off pen marks. He mentally cursed himself for being too wrapped up in his own stupid head to warn her about the concrete guys. Good going, idiot. 

There was nothing he could do about it now, except frown and shake his head. “They called and said-” 

“Let me guess, they’ll be there first thing tomorrow?” She bitterly scoffed, clipping the folder shut. The manila spine crunched under her grip before she abruptly turned away from him to face the wall of cabinets behind her. She never said it out loud that it bothered her, but clearly it did and rightfully so. 

Working here this long Joel had witnessed these same people treat her dad with respect only to now try and walk all over her. He found it complete and utter bullshit, but was it a surprise? Sadly, not really. Enough years around construction sites and his tinnitus resembled cat-calls more than a compressor. 

Still, he fucking hated it. His left eye flinched watching her file away the folder in silence. The protective lobe in his brain flared as his fingers curled and burned into a fist at his side. God – he wanted to go to Harry’s Concrete and give that bald loser a piece of his mind and maybe a black eye, but he didn’t. 

He wouldn’t. 

No – instead, he continued to bite his tongue until his mouth flooded with the taste of pennies. He’d become used to the tang of copper in his mouth after the roofers, the plumbers, even the electricians that tried her in the past. The only reason he held himself back was because of her. Because she asked him to let her deal with it, and she was perfectly capable of handling things herself. Better than him at it, in fact. 

Teddy slammed the drawer shut, rattling the entire cabinet. “I’m not gonna fire them.” 

“Okay,” he said without having to think twice. He didn’t expect her to fire them, honestly.  She’d explained to him before that she’d never burn bridges prematurely. The grass was not always greener on the other side, especially not in Texas. Especially not in this line of work. 

“Or - I should say I’m not going to fire them yet, anyway.” Her voice was steady – determined. “But one more and it’s over. I’m gonna let Harry know that he’s on his last strike when I call him tomorrow.” 

“Give ‘em hell,” he encouraged her. Whatever she said in those calls had, so far, been enough to whip everyone who crossed her into shape. Just once, he wished he could be a fly on the wall to witness her in action. She didn’t look particularly tough, but he imagined her being like an asp caterpillar, fuzzy and harmless until poked.

She didn’t linger on the topic, and instead asked about his day. He did the same. Neither had much to report outside the usual. 

“So, how was Sarah today? Did she talk your ear off about the homecoming dance coming up?” 

She giggled, gathering up the papers on her desk and stacking them into a neat pile in the corner. “How did you know?” 

“Cause she found out Monday, and hasn’t talked about anything else since.” 

“Oh and it’s only just begun,” she said with a smirk. “Welcome to your life for the next few weeks, Joel.” 

Joel scratched at the spot where his temple was already beginning to throb. Why did they have to announce it so early? It was great seeing Sarah so excited, but she kept asking him about his own first homecoming. He hated lying to her, but he couldn’t very well tell her the only thing he remembered was Rachel Borthwick and how she let him feel her up – the first boobs he ever touched – underneath the gymnasium bleachers. The thought of Sarah being that same age made him want to throw up. 

He swallowed the thought before it came out all over her desk. “Were you the same way at her age?” 

“Oh yeah. I’m sure if you asked my dad, he’d tell you I was worse.” She snorted, almost seeming embarrassed by her younger self. “For some odd reason, I had it built up in my mind that it’d be like that prom scene from Grease. Minus the broadcast and all that-” 

“Wait, your dance wasn’t on the news?” He tried to keep a straight face, but he was just as bad as his daughter. 

“Shut up.” She playfully shoved his arm and he rubbed it like it hurt. She rolled her eyes, but continued anyway. “My dad didn’t have the heart to tell me, so it was a pretty huge letdown when they didn’t even play Born to Hand Jive. I think I even requested it.” 

“How did you survive?” 

“It’s a miracle,” she said, and he huffed out a laugh. Three years later, and she still surprised him with every new story she chose to reveal. 

There was a split-second where the only sound in the room came from the buzzy-white fluorescent lights above him. Teddy stole a quick glance towards the hallway, as if checking if Sarah was back. She had still not reappeared and he wondered if Tommy had baited her into helping him unload the truck or maybe just sticking around to talk. 

Teddy clicked her fingernails on the counter in front of him. “Real quick, I wanted to ask,” she said before clearing her throat. “Have you and Sarah talked at all about dress shopping?” 

Joel shifted back a step, his boots scratching against the cheap, gray carpet. “Dress shopping?” He forced the words from his throat, then shook his head. He looked away, feeling a pit in his stomach that reminded him of Muffins for Mother’s Day in elementary school – Mommy & Me at the daycare. 

Again – dress shopping was another one of those things girls usually did with their mom’s, but Lisa wasn’t meant to be a mom. She’d even said so herself in the note she left next to her engagement ring on the day she vanished with their dog. Joel wished his own mom was still around to help fill in when the gaps felt too big for him, but sadly, she had passed away before Sarah turned 4. Since then, it’d only been just Tommy and him. 

“The only reason I ask is because,” Teddy started, clutching at the dainty gold chain around her neck, “Well, she sorta asked me to take her.” 

“Oh.” Joel didn’t know what else to say. Not that it offended him or anything petty like that. God no – he wasn’t delusional enough to think that he would be Sarah’s first choice when it came to fashion. After all, his idea of dressing up was a flannel and whatever jeans were clean. Teddy made a lot more sense than him. 

“I didn’t give her an answer, just so you know. I wanted to check with you first.” Her voice was rushed, slightly pitchy, and he realized this was the first time he’d ever seen her even remotely nervous. She must be just as cautious as him about crossing whatever line was supposed to exist in this…relationship? Dynamic? 

Joel smiled at her, softly, hoping to ease her anxiety. “Well, thank you,” he said and she appeared to relax at his calm tone. “I have no problems with you taking her, as long as you wanna do it.” 

“Of course, I want to, but are you - are you sure? I mean, you could always come with us if you want. We could all go together?” 

The offer was tempting, but he declined. He knew Sarah would enjoy it being just the two of them. It could be girl time or whatever. 

Teddy pulled out her planner to check on what dates would work best when Sarah came back in. Once she heard the good news, the victorious grin on her face somehow grew even bigger. The last time he saw her that excited was when he surprised her with tickets to Six Flags for her 11th birthday. 

Teddy and her started to discuss which stores to hit and what mall would be best, basically a foreign language to him. He should’ve started on closing duties, but instead he found his gaze drawn to Teddy. How she appeared equally as thrilled as Sarah. He always could tell when she was excited by the way she talked with her hands. That smile was downright infectious and – 

He noticed Sarah watching him. Her quizzical eyes were glued to his face. Shit. He was staring. Quick. Joel forced a smile at Sarah that hopefully said nothing-to-see-here. He didn’t stick around to wait for her reaction and instead, fled into his office. 

For a few minutes, he pretended to check over files and went down the list of closing duties, completely avoiding them until the only thing left was setting the alarm. Finally, he dared to look in their direction again. When he saw Sarah’s focus was entirely on Teddy, the tension drained from his shoulders. 

He thought he was in the clear. 

—-

“Dad, do you think Teddy’s pretty?” 

Joel’s head whipped up and a sharp, pointy fry was lodged into the back of his throat. It burned and stabbed its way down to his esophagus. For a second, he thought he was going to choke and die at his own dining room table from a McDonald’s fry. 

“What?” His voice crackled like sandpaper from holding in a cough. 

“She asked if you thought Teddy was pretty?” Tommy repeated, loud and clear with a smug grin that he didn’t even try to hide behind his Big Mac. 

Joel’s gaze flickered from one set of brown eyes to the next. He was cornered, his back against the bay window. No way out and no one to blame but himself for this mess. He was, after all, the dummy who got caught. 

Joel held up a waiting finger, then slowly sipped on his coke to calm his burning throat. He wiped his mouth with a napkin as he wrapped his head around what to say. Lying was out of the question. It seemed more damning than the truth. 

The thing was – there was nothing wrong with finding her attractive. It didn’t have to mean anything. It wasn’t like she was asking if he liked her. Not that he did like her. Well, maybe just a little. Just a teeny, tiny crush but it was nothing really. Stupid, honestly. For the most part, he could ignore it. 

Joel cleared his throat and gave a casual shrug. “Uh yeah, she’s uh - she’s pretty.” 

Despite his best attempt at cool, Sarah’s lips still flickered. Only the corners, as she continued to bathe her fries in a pool of ketchup. 

“Have you ever thought about - maybe asking her out?” 

A deep laugh barked in his ears and bounced around the tile floor like spiky ping pong balls. “Come on, Teddy’s way out of his league.” Tommy’s hand collided against his shoulder with a hard thwack. It slightly stung. 

But Joel didn’t take it too seriously. Tommy hassling him over Teddy was nothing new. Ever since she started working the front desk, it’d been Tommy’s favorite gag. In a weird way, Joel considered it a good thing that he saw it as one big joke. If Tommy had any idea about his silly crush, he would’ve kept his mouth shut instead of teasing him. Tommy might’ve been a lot of things, but he wasn’t cruel. 

Sarah didn’t seem to care whether it was a joke or not and scolded her uncle from across the table. She gave him a hard glare before turning back to Joel. She blinked expectantly, not letting him out of this. 

Joel sighed. “Sorry, kiddo, but I don’t think so.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because.” He licked his teeth and sucked a stuck piece of meat from between his molars. There was a laundry list of reasons, but he went with the least complicated. “We work together.”

“So? Two teachers at my school are dating, and it’s no big deal. They didn’t even get in trouble.” 

“Wait,” Tommy piped in with a mouthful of bun and sauce. “Isn’t she dating someone?” 

Joel swallowed down the salty taste in his mouth, bitter like vinegar. He nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“You think so?” Sarah looked at him with clear suspicion. “So, she didn’t tell you that.” 

“Well…no. But-” 

“Then, how do you know?” 

Joel crinkled the empty wrapper into a tight ball, then tossed it into the paper bag. “Somebody sent her flowers at work. Nice ones too.” Too grand to fit in her car, so instead they lived and died in the tiny break room directly across from his office. 

“When?” 

Three months. “I don’t know, not that long ago.” 

“Well, how do you know they weren’t from her dad?” Sarah asked, not backing down. “Or maybe her friends sent them?” 

Joel shook his head, recalling the stupid plastic holder that had poked out at him like a giant weed among the long stem roses. “The card said Happy Anniversary.” 

At that, Sarah sank into the chair like a deflated balloon. She shoved a whole chicken nugget into her mouth – no sauce. Each dry crunch-crunch grated against the silence. 

This recent interest in his love life was new. He wondered if it had something to do with her age or maybe all those rom-coms she watched. She’d never cared about him dating or – she did try to set him up once, a few months ago, with her best friend’s recently divorced mom, but when he shot it down she had quickly moved on. 

But she didn’t even finish her chicken nuggets. He noticed a faraway look in her eyes – his eyes, one of the only things she inherited from him. She was somewhere deep in her head, in that big brain of hers that definitely didn’t come from him. 

She did eventually perk up when Tommy brought up the new season of the Bachelor, but still wasn’t her usual self. So after Tommy left, Joel settled in beside her on the couch to watch Friends. This show was like her pacifier. Sick or just a bad day, one of Joey’s jokes could cheer her up instantly. 

Not today, though. A whole episode later, and she’d barely said a word. Barely laughed, which had him really concerned. He got the sense that whatever was bothering her was something bigger than just Teddy. 

“You’re quiet tonight.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and snugged her closer. She collapsed into him like a domino. Full cheeks squished against his shirt. She didn’t respond, and he didn’t press. Only can-laughter existed in the space between them. 

Laying like this reminded him of when she was a baby. So tiny, a full head of hair even then. She would fall asleep on his bare chest while waiting for Lisa to return home from work. Looking back, the signs had always been there that one day she would run. She’d practically lived at her job after her maternity leave was done. Hell, she didn’t even take the full 6 weeks. Post-partum, the doctor called it, it’ll get better in time. But it didn’t. There was no medication cocktail that could make her want this life – that could make her want to stay. 

“Can I ask you something?” Sarah’s eyes didn’t leave Phoebe and Monica. 

“Anything,” he murmured against her hair before placing a light kiss to the top of her head. She no longer smelled of Johnson & Johnson or desitin, but coconuts and lime. 

“Are you lonely?” 

Even with her feathery-soft tone, the words hit him like a sucker punch, square in the jaw. Where the hell did that come from? 

“Do I seem lonely?” The words left him like a reflex, automatic. It was the second time tonight she’d caught him off-guard. 

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, her shoulders sliding along his t-shirt. “Are you?” 

Slowly Sarah lifted her head – her big eyes bore into him and when he could trace every concerned line on her young face, the guilt smothered him like wet mineral wool. It was his job to worry, not hers. 

He urgently shook his head. “No. Of course not.” 

She silently stared at him, squinting as if somehow it would give her Professor X’s ability to read his mind. Clearly, he did not convince her and so he tried again. Harder. 

“Sarah, listen. I am perfectly fine, alright?” He brushed a curly strand of hair from her face, firmly holding her gaze. “If I was lonely, I’d go do something with Uncle Tommy. He’s always asking me to do things after work-” 

“Why don’t you?” 

Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at her confusion. Of course, she wouldn’t understand. Teenagers always wanted to be out somewhere, doing something with their friends.

“Cause I’m old. And I’m tired. And honestly, I’d rather be home.” With you. The last part never slipped through the gap in his bottom teeth. He never wanted to make Sarah feel guilty for leaving him and living her life. 

“You’re such a hermit.” She nudged at his chest, a smile sweeping across her face. Exactly what he’d been missing. 

“I prefer homebody,” he corrected, making her burst into a giggling fit. He waited until she went quiet to say, “Either way - you ain’t gotta worry about me, alright?” 

Once again, her expression turned very serious. Her eyes darted once, twice, across his face. “Swear?” 

“On my life.”

—

Later that night, Joel laid awake in bed fighting to find a comfortable position. Even sprawling out in the middle didn’t work. The sheets were tangled around his legs, his feet – his thoughts equally twisted up from Sarah’s question earlier. 

Are you lonely? Was he? 

Joel had never considered himself to be lonely. Not really. Or not all the time, at least. For the most part, Sarah and work kept him busy enough that he never gave it much thought. 

If he did think about it though, he supposed crawling into bed alone every night could get a little depressing. He was still human, after all. Intimacy was a basic human need. It was just simple biology when he occasionally craved a soft touch or someone to talk with before drifting off to sleep. It’d been a long damn time since he experienced either of those things. 

Maybe Sarah was onto something. Maybe it was time for him to get back out there, but oh God. Just thinking about it made him light-headed. 

Where would he even start?

His last serious relationship was his only serious relationship. After Lisa left, there was hardly any time for that. Being a single dad, dating wasn’t his top priority. 

Sure, he’d managed to squeeze in a few first dates over the years, even less second ones, and he couldn’t for the life of him recall a third. If so, it’d been nothing worth remembering. 

Honestly, the only person he’d considered asking out recently was Teddy. It was just a dumb idea that crossed his mind sometime in late spring when too much tree pollen and dust mites must’ve gotten into his head. He’d luckily come to his senses and fast. A few short weeks later, those damn flowers showed up. 

If he was being honest, no one else really interested him. 

And how could they? 

It wasn’t even just about her looks, she was sweet and smart and surprisingly funny. Joking or not, Tommy was right – she was way out of his league and why was he thinking about this right now? Joel cleared his mind with a hard shake of his head. He needed to stop, get some sleep. He didn’t want to know what time it was already. Without looking at the clock, he flipped onto his side, fluffed his pillow, then shut his eyes. 

Within seconds, Teddy slithered back into his mind with her perfect smile, the delicious scent of her soap, and those jeans she would undoubtedly wear tomorrow. Casual Friday might actually be the death of him. Denim on her hips was seriously a sin.  

Just thinking of her fully-clothed ass made his cock twitch inside his boxers. Somehow that was enough to get him half-hard, the tip snagging over the soft-cotton. 

Joel groaned in unison with the bed springs as he flopped onto his back. His palms itched to reach down and squeeze at his cock for a little relief. But he resisted, and forced his mind to somewhere far less pleasant. Broken wires. Wrong-size headers. Clogged drains. A memory of her gripping a PVC pipe invaded his brain and suddenly, it was her small hands wrapped around him instead. How would she look on her knees for him? Would she be able to fit him all in her two hands? If not, would she use her – 

“Fuck.” Joel gritted his teeth and fisted at the comforter. Get a grip. 

He felt like he was going crazy. Probably from the lack of action outside of his own fist. It was finally catching up with him. Tommy did warn him this would happen and fuck – he hated when Tommy was right. 

Joel thought back to the last time he had sex and cringed. Two years ago, but the memory was tattooed in his brain just like the monarch butterfly on the random woman’s lower back. It happened at a sleazy bar where everyone knew Tommy by name. He’d taken too many shots of Wild Turkey, then found himself fucking the woman in a one staller, quick and sloppy, right next to a clogged toilet. Not his proudest moment. He’d go to the grave blaming the whole thing on Tommy, who treated their rare nights out like the bachelor party he was still pissed off that he didn’t get to throw. 

The truth was though, even before Joel’s current involuntary celibacy, his sex life had been relatively non-existent. 

He hadn’t had sex on a semi-consistent basis since his 20’s. A casual hookup with a lady named Amy, who lived in the same apartment complex as him. No-strings attached. An arrangement born out of pure convenience rather than desire or intense lust. She lived in the apartment below him, and once a week came up after Sarah went to sleep and left before the condom hit the trash can. No surprise it ended once he moved out, and ever since then, it’d been random hookups and one-night stands whenever Tommy and him went out for a night. 

Joel sighed and stared up at the moon-stain ceiling of his bedroom, careful not to make any sudden movements in hopes to fight down his erection. While still and quiet might’ve worked to spook a black bear, his boner was sadly proving more resilient. 

With every passing minute, the warm tingly feeling in his belly spread like weeds through his body. His fingertips down to his toes. Fully hard, now. It became clear ignoring it was useless. He would just have to get this over with, so he could get some sleep tonight. 

Joel forcibly kicked off his blankets, then shoved down his boxers. His cock thwacked against his stomach and the tip was already shiny. He preferred to do this in the shower to avoid a mess, the steady stream of water helping to cover up his dry, cracked hands better than saliva. But something was better than nothing. He spit into his hand until his mouth was dry, then wrapped it around his cock. 

Whether in the shower or in his bed, it didn’t matter, Joel always jerked off like it was a chore. Hard and fast strokes where he could barely catch his breath. No need for soft and sensual, just a tight fist to take the edge off. This way, he found it easier to keep his less than friendly thoughts of Teddy at bay. 

He tried his best not to think about Teddy while doing this because friends don’t imagine their friends while fucking their fist. And that was all she was, all she would ever be – a friend. If he could he wouldn’t have thought of anyone at all, but he needed someone to imagine to get off. 

Instead of Teddy, he pictured a cover model from a 90’s Penthouse Magazine that he’d found in the guest room after Tommy moved out. A pretty brunette with big natural tits, who he didn’t have to work with tomorrow. 

His room steadily filled with the wet slap of his hand, the low thrum of the oscillating fan as he pretended the nameless woman was riding him. He was brutally fucking his fist when the woman shape-shifted into Teddy. So abruptly that he could barely register that it was her taking him down to the hilt. Her rolling her hips. Her fingernails scratching over his ribs, his shoulders, his chest with a little smirk even more sinful than her tight jeans. 

“Shit,” Joel hissed when he realized, but too late – his hips surged forward as he came. So sudden, so fast, it almost gave him whiplash. 

Joel was not usually loud during sex, more of a grunter than anything else, but it had never been so vivid. So real. He could practically feel the wet-heat of her cunt clenching around him. He had to snag his bottom lip between his teeth to keep every needy and desperate sound from bleeding out of his mouth as his cock pulsed and throbbed against his palm. He wouldn’t let himself find out what her name tasted like when he moaned. 

Clearly, this was not the first time she’d popped into his mind and he doubted it would be the last. He wouldn’t feel nearly as bad about it either, but there was a fuck-ton of cum on his stomach. Even a little on his chest. Fuck – he came so hard it made him lightheaded. 

He let the shame simmer down and once he caught his breath, he carefully dug out a travel-pack of Kleenex from his nightstand. He didn’t even wanna count how many tissues it took to wipe the syrupy-hot evidence from his skin. 

He’d be sticking to the shower from now until forever. 

—

The days had come and went and over a week later, Joel had not jacked off again. Not in the shower, and definitely not in his bed. But that had nothing to do with Teddy. Seriously. It was just a coincidence. 

Work had picked up. The heat wave had died out, giving way to more 80 degree days. Fall was fast approaching, by far their busiest season. There was a brand new neighborhood of bland cookie-cutter slab houses that had him working doubles everyday and judging by today, this week would be the exact same way. 

The streets were dark and mainly deserted by the time Joel dropped Tommy off at his apartment complex. Joel glanced at his phone – once again – for any missed calls before heading home. Still nothing. No new voicemails – 0 messages. 

The first and last time he heard from Sarah was after Teddy picked her up from school, right before heading into the mall. He’d told Sarah to call him once Teddy dropped her off, but she must’ve forgot. The same way she always forgot to lock the front door. He would be home in less than 5 minutes or else he would’ve called. But he would rather give her a talking-to in person. 

For a second, he wondered if she and Teddy were still at the mall, but it was late. Nearly 9. 

No one could spend 5 hours there. Hell, he could barely spend more than 2 without going stir-crazy. 

The last thing he expected when pulling onto his street was to see Teddy’s car parked in front of his house. The pearly white shell was perfectly lit up underneath a street light. 

What was she doing here?

He thought she would drop Sarah off and dip after their shopping trip, but obviously not. Dear God, he hoped she wasn’t waiting on him. Joel whipped into his driveway and hopped out without bothering to grab his tool box in the back. 

Inside, the living room was lit up with every lamp turned on, but otherwise empty. It was still tidy from the cleaning he did on Sunday, thankfully. He threw his keys on the console table, shutting the front door with his foot. He heard movement upstairs and headed that way. 

“Sarah,” he called out, mainly to give a heads-up and not scare them. “I’m home.” 

“Finally,” Sarah said as he stepped into her room. It smelled like that Body Works store at Barton Creek that Sarah loved, but always had him leaving with a headache. 

He stayed close to the fresh air and leaned against the door frame. Sarah was perched at her vanity, the counter in front of her completely buried under make-up, nail polish, and a bunch of other crap. 

“Teddy’s helping me decide what to wear with my dress.” Sarah swiveled around in her stool to face him. 

“Yeah, I see that.” Joel looked over at Teddy, who was standing behind Sarah with an earring pinched in each hand. The smile on her face was genuine. If she was in any real hurry to leave she didn’t show it. “When did y’all get back?” 

“I don’t know. 8:15? 8:20? Somewhere around there.” Sarah shared a shrug with Teddy. A little over thirty minutes, not bad. With the mess, he would’ve thought closer to an hour. 

“Dinner took a bit longer than I thought it would,” Teddy explained and his brows furrowed. 

“Busy night at the food court or something?” 

He noticed Sarah and Teddy share a secretive glance, and of course, they didn’t eat at the food court. He should’ve known better than to think Teddy would just take her to Sbarro. But out of every chain restaurant – did she have to pick the damn Cheesecake Factory?

Sarah was raving over the Mac & Cheese balls that definitely cost more than the 10 dollars he sent for baked ziti. Judging by the amount of shopping bags in the corner, Sarah had used her extra spending money on clothes instead of Chicken Costoletta. 

He waited until Sarah turned her back to nail Teddy with a knowing look. She swatted it away like a bothersome fly. She could be so damn stubborn sometimes. 

Later, he would deal with it. Money was not a topic he liked to discuss in front of Sarah. Besides, there were more important things at the moment. 

“So, are you gonna show me this dress of yours?” 

Sarah eagerly nodded and bounced over to her bed, picking up the black garment bag. It didn’t even allow him a peek at the color, not even when she hugged it tightly to her chest. 

“Well, come on - don’t leave me hanging. I’ve been waiting all night.” 

“Dad, you gotta see it on me or else you won’t get the full-effect,” she sassed, a duh implied in her tone. “Go downstairs, you and Teddy can wait-”

“Now, hold on there Sarah. It’s - it’s getting pretty late,” he pointed out, and Sarah’s fraying smile told him that she knew what he was trying to say. He hated disappointing her, but this was the right thing to do. “So Teddy, if you need to go home, don’t feel like you gotta stay.” 

Selfishly, Joel wanted her to stay, but why would she? She had already seen the dress, already given up her entire evening for Sarah. This was a free out, and he expected her to take it. 

Instead, She crossed her arms over her chest like a defiant child. “No way you’re getting rid of me that easily, Joel,” she said. “I’m sticking around to see your reaction.” 

Without giving him a chance to respond, she slid past him, her chest brushing against his arm. She motioned him to follow and he did without question. 

She led the way downstairs as if she’d been here before. But the few times she’d come by before to drop off paperwork she never made it past the front porch. 

His pulse slightly hiked up seeing her in his living room for the first time. Her gaze scanning the camel-colored walls, the pictures of Sarah throughout the years, his guitar that he rarely found time to play. Above the DVD and CD rack was the only real piece of art in the room – if that’s what people would call the painting of waves he’d found at a garage sale, the same one where he got the mismatched pillows on the couch. 

Interior design wasn’t his strong suit, but he was still proud of his home. Proud of himself for buying it on his own, for being able to prove this kind of place for his kid. All of this, from the rug to every decoration and lamp. It was best attempts to make this space feel homey – lived in for Sarah’s sake. She would not be the only kid in class growing up in a bachelor pad. 

“So, this is Joel Miller’s house?” Teddy spun around to face him and he found that she looked really good next to his coffee table. “It’s nice. I like it.” 

“Yeah?” Joel rubbed the back of his neck, toeing the tile-carpet line that separated the kitchen from the living room. 

“Especially the Cowboys decor.” She pointed her thumb at the framed blue star logo that was hung up by the stairs. “Did you know I used to wanna be a cheerleader for them?”

Joel’s mouth went drier than when eating pretzels. He rapidly shook his head, mainly to erase the mental image of her in that skimpy little outfit. It would probably haunt him in his dreams for the rest of his life. 

He cleared his throat and took a seat on the couch. “I’m surprised Sarah didn’t give you a tour.” 

“Oh, she did.” Teddy plopped down on the couch with him, keeping a friendly distance of a cushion. “But don’t worry, the grand tour didn’t include your bedroom. She said that was off limits.” She puckered her bottom lip, pouting as if actually disappointed. 

“Trust me, you’re not missing much.” 

“But isn’t that where the magic happens?” 

Joel accidentally let out a snort. Magic. Nothing close to magic had ever happened in that room, unless what he did last week counted. “I think you’ve been watching too much Cribs.” 

Her lips parted, her eyes lit up with a wild look of amusement. “Does Joel Miller secretly watch MTV?” 

“Only against my will.” He jerked his chin towards the stairs. “She loves all that shit.” 

“Yeah. She did talk a lot about True Life while at din…ner.” Teddy clipped her lips together, catching her slip. 

“Trust me, I didn’t forget.” His tone carried a smug edge, making her huff in annoyance.  “So, how ‘bout you tell me how much I owe you for it?” 

“You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Teddy,” he warned. Still, she insistently shook her head, refusing to make things easy for him. 

“Sorry, but I can’t let you pay me back,” she said. “It wouldn’t be right.” 

“Really? How come?” 

She straightened her posture, the brown leather groaning underneath her. “Well, for one - it was my decision to take her there, wasn’t it?” 

“So?” 

“So, it doesn’t make sense for you to have to pay for something I decided, now does it?” 

Joel licked his teeth at her loop-hole logic. She was eyeing him with a very serious expression, as if this wasn’t over 30? 35 bucks? Hell, there was probably enough in his wallet right now to cover it. 

If this were anyone else, Joel would’ve already said fuck this and drained his wallet of every nickel and dime, just to be safe. He wouldn’t accept no for an answer because he didn’t need anyone’s help or handout. He made enough money to support not only himself, but his daughter perfectly fine. Thank you. 

But this wasn’t just anyone – this was Teddy. Whether it was because she did his payroll or because she was so bullheaded, he didn’t know, but she had a funny way of making him fold. 

“Secondly.” She lifted a second finger before he could raise the white flag. “It wouldn’t be right for you to pay me back for your own gift.” 

Huh? “Gift?” 

She hummed in response. “There might be a little early birthday present waiting for you in the fridge.” 

He couldn’t remember the last time someone, other than Sarah, got him a birthday present. Most of the time, not even Tommy did; his presence was the present or whatever bullshit he said. But she’d thought of him. Him. The idea made his chest begin to swell like metal on a blazing summer day. He ducked his head to hide the heat rising in his cheeks. 

“You didn’t need to get me any-” 

Teddy grasped his arm, instantly turning the rest of his sentence into sawdust. His gaze flickered from her hand on his forearm, to her eyes. She really was beautiful, especially in the warm pool of lamp light in his living room. 

“I wanted to,” she assured him with a voice as soft as her touch. Her thumb gently skimmed over his arm hair and he held back a shiver with the clench of his teeth. “It’s just Classic Vanilla Bean Cheesecake. A little boring, but Sarah said that’s your favorite.”

“It is.” His voice cracked like a pre-teen and embaressed, he averted his eyes. How ridiculous. He needed to get a grip. Pull himself together. He was acting like a fucking virgin. Joel swallowed and stiffly nodded. “Thank you.” 

She gave his arm a small squeeze before pulling away. The spot where she touched him still tingled, still burned. 

“It’s the least I could do, since I’ll be missing it.” 

Joel brushed her off with an easy wave of his hand. Other than work, he didn’t have any plans, so she really wasn’t missing anything. “I think you’ll have more fun in Phoenix, anyway.” 

“Just don’t let Tommy set the place on fire while I’m gone.” 

“Do you have that little faith in me?” he asked – teased. It was only a few days. Leaving Thursday, back in the office by the following. 

She lightly nudged his arm, just as a door opened. 

“Are you ready?” Sarah called out, and his focus shifted to the bottom of the stairs. 

“I was born ready, kiddo. So, come on, let’s see it.” Joel drummed his hands excitedly against his thighs. 

Waiting there reminded him of the fashion shows she used to put on for him. She’d wait at the top of the stairs until he popped in the Whitney Houston CD. For the big finale, they would dance around the living room to I Wanna Dance With Somebody. 

But Sarah didn’t appear in a bright-pink princess costume, but instead a pretty little purple dress. Her heels were real, not made out of cheap plastic or from the Dollar Tree. His little girl looked so grown up. The realization that she was grown up made the back of his eyes burn. 

Joel scrubbed a hand down his slack, scruffy jaw, watching Sarah twist from side-to-side. The shiny material swished around her knees. 

“Baby girl, you look - beautiful,” he said without trying to hide the crackle in his voice. “The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

Sarah giggled, almost bashfully. “That’s exactly what Teddy said.” 

“Well, that’s because it’s the truth,” Teddy stated earnestly. Sarah’s entire face lit up and God –  she had such a killer smile. He would never get tired of seeing it.

When Sarah pulled back her hair to show Teddy two different pairs of earrings, she immediately went over to get a closer look. 

Discussing jewelry and lip gloss, Sarah’s shiny wide eyes clung to her every word as if it was wrapped in gold, as if it held some infinite wisdom. It suddenly hit him that he’d never seen Sarah look at anyone like that. Not her favorite teacher. Not her best friend’s mom. Not even Mrs. Adler who lived next door and used to babysit her after school. 

Poor Mrs. Adler, she meant well but Sarah and her could not have been more different. Thinking about it, Teddy was the first woman that Sarah shared anything in common with, who she didn’t have to share with the rest of the class or came second to a friend. 

For once, Sarah had some special bond for herself. 

His breath caught in his throat watching Teddy fuss with Sarah’s dress. Her eyes barely leaving Sarah’s bright face as she untwisted a strap and smoothed out a few spots in the back. For a second, he imagined her here with them every night – thought about how seamlessly she would fit into their lives. 

Holy shit - what the fuck is he doing? Stop it. 

Joel forced himself to look away, pruning those thoughts before they grew. The light, liquid warmth in his chest ran cold. It turned into mercury when it settled in his belly. 

Luckily, Sarah and Teddy were too preoccupied with finishing details to notice him obsessively picking at his fingernails. He didn’t know what got a hold of him.

This was insane. She was his friend, his business partner, and whatever she was to Sarah that was more important than a stupid crush. No – he would not complicate a good thing with his feelings. Feelings she didn’t reciprocate. For God sake, she was dating someone else. Get over it. 

Joel thought it might be a good thing that Teddy would be gone for a few days. More than ever, he needed some distance. Some time to help screw his head back on straight. 

—

Too early on Tuesday morning, Joel sleepily fought the coffee machine until dark liquid gurgled and spewed into the pot. 

“Have you heard from Teddy at all?” Tommy asked as Joel filled up a to-go cup. 

“Oh yeah, hear from her every night before going to sleep.” 

“Really?” 

Joel shoved the coffee pot back inside its home, and blinked at Tommy. “Of course not. She’s on vacation. Why would she call me?” 

He figured she’d brought whoever she was dating on the trip with her. They were probably going to her cousin’s wedding, meeting her college roommates new baby while he was here - in Texas. Alone. When he thought about it like that, it put everything into some much needed perspective. 

Joel didn’t give Tommy a chance to respond before barging out and heading to the garage. He still was not used to seeing her empty desk instead of her warm smile, telling him to have a good day. 

“So, do you miss her, yet?” Tommy asked while loading up the truck. 

“She’s only been gone a few days,” Joel snorted, as if it was a ridiculous question to ask. “Why? Do you miss her?” 

“Miss her coffee, that’s for damn sure.” He grimaced at the cup before taking a tentative sip. “Shit sucks. You add too much water.” 

“I’d like to see you do any better.” Joel obnoxiously slurped on his drink, then winced. It did kinda taste like dirt. “She does make it better,” he conceded. “It’ll be nice to have her back.” 

The distance had been a good thing for him, though. It was much easier for him to think without her dizzying perfume. What happened in his living room had been just a moment of weakness, of panic. Blown completely out of proportion. 

The thing was – he’d always had a crush on her. It was nothing new, and he was perfectly happy with just this. With never being anything more than friends – her in his life, that was enough for him. 

It had to be. 

“Well, speaking of Thursday.” Tommy spoke in a tone that almost always meant he wanted something. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I gotta leave work early that day.” 

“Why? Got an appointment or something?” 

Tommy shook his head, then spewed a sob story that lasted nearly the entire drive to the site. His buddy Aaron had just broken up with his cheating girlfriend, and needed help moving out of their apartment. Too bad it wasn’t a different one of Tommy's military buddies or Joel would’ve immediately said no, but Aaron actually wasn’t a douchebag. 

“Well, what time would you leave? Cause we gotta finish that block by Friday-”

“She works the night shift, so not until like 3 or 4,” he said, swaying him further. “And Aaron said he’ll pick me up from the site, so you ain’t gotta do anything.” 

Joel shrugged, whatever. Fine. They would just have to work late tonight and tomorrow. 

—-

So far, Thursday had not gone at all like Joel had anticipated. His reunion with Teddy this morning was disappointingly quick. It wasn’t like he expected her to run into his arms and hug him or anything dramatic like that, but he did think it would be more than just a few minutes of small talk where Tommy dominated most of the conversation with his plans for later. 

Which turned out to be total bullshit by the way. 3 to 4 ended up being more like 1:30, ruining his chance to see Teddy this evening. The inspectors would be here tomorrow morning, so the frame had to be finished tonight with or without an extra set of hands. 

Now, at 6:30, Joel was just leaving the site. He picked up Wendy’s to make up for his crummy day, only for the burger to be loaded with pickles and onions when he specifically asked for ketchup only. He still scarfed it down, along with a medium dry on the drive back to shop where the only thing that would be waiting for him was an empty office and a fat-ass stack of paperwork. Some supply sheets that could hopefully be knocked out before Sarah needed to be picked up later. 

He pulled in through the back entrance and was taking his sweet time unloading the truck. Lowly humming Wedding Bells by the great Hank Williams when the door opened with a screech. The sound echoed around the steel walls of the garage and he jerked, nearly dropping a nail gun on his foot. Somehow, he managed to catch it just before it slid off the rack. 

He turned around and - “Teddy?” 

“I was wondering what was taking you so long,” she said in a sweet drawl that made his pulse race for an entirely different reason. 

He stared at her dumbly, blinking rapidly to make sure this was not just his imagination. She was still here. He wet his throat with a hard swallow. “You surprised me.” 

“I can tell.” She giggled and embarrassment swarmed his neck like fire ants. He couldn’t believe she just witnessed him flail around like an idiot. He promptly went back to gathering up the last of the wooden boards and stacking them in the corner. “Did you not see my car out front?” 

“I came in off 77th,” he explained, brushing the dust from his hands onto his jeans. 

“I could’ve helped.” She leaned against the door, opening it wider as he walked over. 

“Nah, I got it,” he said with a casual shake of his head. “Wouldn’t want you to ruin that shirt, anyway.” His eyes dipped over the satiny material, this time a deep maroon.

“It is a great shirt.” She playfully bumped into his side with her shoulder when he stepped inside. The delicious scent of her soap sent an electric jolt up his spine. He matched her steps down the hallway. “What’re you still doing here anyway?” 

“Well, there’s the Fox Ridge pitch tomorrow and there’s two more next week. And I have been gone for like a week.” She tucked herself back behind her desk. “Remember?” 

Oh yeah, he remembered. 

For a few minutes, they caught up on work and talked about homecoming, which was Saturday, and Sarah, who was currently at her friend’s house making posters or whatever for the big game tomorrow. He asked if she enjoyed her trip, which she obviously did from the glow around her. He almost asked about the wedding until he noticed all the files on her desk, the neat stacks of paper labeled with post-it notes that clearly showed she was busy. 

He decided not to be selfish and take up anymore of her time and instead went into his office. 

“Let me know if you need anything,” she told him before he closed the door. He left it slightly cracked in a way that seemed inviting before taking a seat at his desk. He would’ve just left it wide open if he thought it would be possible to focus. But even the back of her head could be enough to distract him. 

Just like the rest of the shop, his office had been recorated by Teddy when Danny retired. He’d actually offered her the office, multiple times, but she refused. She preferred the natural light in the front, and he couldn’t blame her when the one window in here was puny and overlooked the trash cans. 

Without her, Joel would’ve left the walls as blank and as white as Danny, the bookshelves just as bare and dusty, and there wouldn’t be a single lamp, let alone two. But he definitely appreciated the lamps this late in the day when the overhead light would burn too loud and bright. 

Supposedly, she’d gotten them for free from a friend that was moving. He’d believed the story, at first, until one day she showed up with a giant picture of Yellowstone River, two more of different landscapes. A Golden forest. A mountain range. She’d just stumbled upon them at a Goodwill for the same price as a pizza. And then she’d filled the bookcases that framed his desk with architectural books that would likely never be read and tiny fake plants, which he couldn’t kill. Those she’d claimed were found at a garage sale for the magical price of a gift card to her favorite nearby lunch spot. 

She would’ve decorated the office for her dad if he would’ve let her. Danny didn’t care though if she found the space so depressing when it came down to money. But Joel could not find it in him to tell her no when she looked so damn pleased with herself afterwards. She’d done such a nice job that he wished he could use the office more. One day he probably would when Sarah moved out. He had a love-hate relationship with being home alone. The quiet could be peaceful, then other times forlorn. 

After finishing up two supply lists for upcoming projects, Joel went to start on a third when his door jarred open with a soft knock. Teddy was hovering around the threshold with a file in one hand. 

“Are you busy?” 

Joel shook his head, shoving the folder aside then signaling her to come in. She stepped inside, nudging the door shut with her hip. It didn’t latch. No one else was here, otherwise he would’ve pointed it out. But he didn’t know why she shut it in the first place, honestly. 

“Sorry to bother you-” 

“You’re not bothering me,” he interrupted. “What can I do for you?” 

“It’s the Fox Ridge pitch.” She sauntered over to his desk, hips swaying and squeezed into a pair of black jeans. Her shirt was gaping open in the front from the top two buttons being left undone and wasn’t it just one earlier? It was always one, right? 

He realized it would’ve been easy to catch a peek of her bra when she bent over to hand him the file, but like a good person – like a good friend – he looked away. His gaze remained firmly fused to her face until she sat down in the chair across from him. 

She wanted his thoughts on the pitch, and he agreed to take a look. Based on the first page it looked perfect, and even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be much help. After all, she was the brains of the operation where he was just the muscle. 

“So, how was the wedding?” Joel flipped onto the next page without looking up. “Your cousin’s right?” 

“Good memory.” She hummed, sounding pleasantly surprised. Her nails clicked along the steel arm of the chair. “But yeah, the wedding was… it was nice.” 

“Was it?” Joel glanced up at her with a suspiciously quirked brow. “Cause, you ain’t gotta lie to me. I won’t tell.” 

She clicked her tongue as if her reluctant tone wasn’t what led him to such a conclusion.

“I’m not lying, it was really nice. A lot of family that I haven’t seen in a while was there. And my cousin has amazing taste, so the wedding was gorgeous. It was small and intimate, but.” She let out a big breath. “It’s just everyone except my dad and I had dates.” 

“Did you not bring your-” Too late, the words had poured out before he could think twice and he cursed his stupid, overly curious mind. He had no idea what to say to cover up his lapse, so he just didn’t. It just hung in the air and he turned to the next page without reading the last. 

“Bring my what, Joel?” Her voice made it sound more like a challenge than a question. He peered up at her and she looked him directly in the eyes. It was as if she knew what he was going to say. It was as if she wanted him to ask. 

Joel screwed the blue pen into his grip. “I thought - I thought you had a boyfriend.” 

At that, she reclined back in the chair. She crossed her legs and tilted her head as if to study him. “What made you think I have a boyfriend?” she asked with such wild amusement that it confused him. 

Didn’t she? Tommy had seen the card, the flowers as well, so it wasn’t something he just made up in his head. She was or used to be dating someone. Oh – maybe it wasn’t a boyfriend, but a girlfriend. Not that he was about to ask. God no. He’d butted into her personal life enough for one night. 

“Well, you know.” Joel scratched the back of his head, then pointed in the direction of the break room. “There were those flowers, remember?” 

Her eyes widened – her lips parted. “Yeah, I remember. I just, I guess I didn’t think you would.” 

“Well, it ain’t everyday someone gets a garden delivered here.” He meant it as a joke, but it came off rather jealous. He tacked on a chuckle for good measure. She snorted, so it must’ve worked. 

“Okay fair. I was dating someone, but that’s over. Been over. We broke up like 4 months ago? So, not long after that, actually.” 

Joel grimaced. He could barely focus on her being single when he felt like shit. No one wanted to be reminded of their ex. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” She brushed off like it was no big deal. 

Still, he remained silent as the grave because what the hell was he supposed to say now? 

“I was the one who ended things, just in case that makes you feel better.” Of course she was. No one in their right mind would break up with someone as amazing as her. “But since we’re on the topic and all - what about you, Joel?” 

“What about me?” Joel finally met her eyes and her lips twisted into a mischievous smirk that made his stomach swoop. 

“Do you have anyone special in your life?”

Joel stiffly shook his head. “Can’t say I do.”  

“Anyone not special?” she nudged him, suggestively wiggling her brows. 

Again – a shake of his head. “I don’t really date.” 

“What a shame.” Her voice was almost husky, breathy. She leaned forward slightly. “I’m sure all the single mom’s at Sarah’s school are devastated.” 

Joel batted his hand in the air with an ugly snort. 

“What? I’m serious,” she said without twitching. Her eyes momentarily flickered towards his lips, and suddenly, his throat felt like the mostly burnt bagel he had for breakfast. “I bet you have all of them wrapped around your finger.” 

“You’re just - you’re just saying that.” 

“Am I?” Her voice was silky, even silkier than her shirt. There was a cool confidence radiating from her as her fingernails galloped in a slow rhythm along the arm rest. 

She was staring at him, pinning him against his seat. The hair on his thighs lifted and tickled the denim. The energy in the room had shifted, the air between them had bent and blurred into something that Joel could not quite describe. But he could feel it, sense it when it surged and rippled between them and sent an electric shiver up his spine. 

She licked her lips and rolled them together until they were shiny with her spit. His heart pounded against his chest like an animal trapped and he wanted to pounce over the desk and taste her spit. He nearly did until he felt a stirring in his jeans. 

What the hell was going on? What was he thinking? He needed to get his head screwed back on straight before he did something incredibly stupid. 

Joel shot from his chair like a firework. Abrupt and loud and white-hot. He turned away and towards the filing cabinets on the back wall. He didn’t have a plan, but there had to be something in there that he could pretend to need. 

She was quicker than his flustered brain and rose to her feet before he could make it past the edge of his desk. 

“Joel.”

It stopped him, his feet stuck to the floor like wet cement. She approached him like a frightened deer. Steady. So quiet. Her steps barely scratched against the cheap carpet. 

Joel realized now, right now was the time to speak. To say something. Anything. Find an excuse. Stop standing here like a dumb-struck baboon. But there was only one word that managed to leave his lips, a breath - 

“Teddy.” 

“It’s okay,” she whispered into the shrinking space between them. “I know.” 

I know? He had no clue what that was supposed to mean, but before he could ask – she cradled the back of his neck and pressed her lips against his. Joel’s eyes widened and all he could see was the soft planes of her face, her fluttering eyelids, the fan of her raven-stroke lashes. 

She was kissing him. Holy shit. She was actually kissing him. When he finally registered that, he closed his eyes and was overcome by the taste of her spit and a hint of Burt’s Bees chapstick, which he found oddly arousing. 

For a moment, he was too damn stunned to do anything but move his mouth along hers. Then, he realized his arms were hanging like spaghetti noodles at his side and reached out and clutched onto her waist. His thumbs delicately swirled the fabric of her shirt. So damn smooth, just as he expected. 

Joel gulped when she drew back, just far enough to meet his eyes. He had no idea what the fuck this was – let along if it was anything at all. Perhaps, this was it. Just a stolen kiss, late one night in his office. 

Joel braced himself for her to yank away, to tell him it was a mistake, that she didn’t know what she was thinking. Let’s forget the whole thing. 

But she didn’t. 

She just continued to toy with the curly ends of his hair, twirling them around her fingers as her other hand fisted the loose collar of his shirt. He was wedged between her warm-heaving body and his desk. The edge was slightly burrowing into his lower back, but currently he couldn’t care less. 

Her gaze dipped to where his jeans were painfully tented. A hot burst of shame ignited behind his earlobes. The flex of his fingers bit into the hollow below her ribs. 

“It’s - it’s been a while,” he found himself explaining because there was no good reason, at his age, to be this turned on from just kissing. 

“Do you want me to stop?” She slid up against him, sealing herself against his chest. It appeared she knew the answer before he could dumbly shake his head. 

This time – his lips met hers somewhere in the middle. Where the first kiss was gentle, testing the waters like the first sip of fresh coffee, this one was deeper. More intense – a whole gulp. Her urgent lips captured his starstruck mouth and right then he knew nothing, no one, would ever compare to this. Not even close. 

The way she kissed was like some special art form that only she could master. It felt so damn good to have her fingers molding through his hair with baby scratches over his scalp and the scent of her soap flooding his chest with heat. It consumed him, his body, his mind. The rapid pulse in his ears muted his every coherent thought.

When she gently nibbled on his bottom lip, he moaned – Teddy. She licked her name from his lips, then eagerly tasted it on his tongue as if she couldn’t get enough. 

And oh God – her tongue was equally as impressive as her other skills. The tip of it dragged over his top palate, making it tingle like a buzz off tequila. She stroked and swirled and twisted around his tongue as if knotting a cherry stem. No one had ever taken the time to explore him so thoroughly. Frankly, he didn’t know there was that much of his mouth to explore. 

Despite her exploration, Joel’s hands were burning into her waist, still holding her at 10 and 2 like a student driver. Like this was a chaperoned middle school dance. Slowly he roamed them down to grip her hips, but no further. He didn’t want to push it. He didn’t want to scare her. He didn’t want to spoil this moment from something stupid like getting too greedy. 

Joel was fully okay with her in the driver seat. Even though he was usually in charge, he was happily letting her lead. Well, actually, he didn’t know if he was really letting her or if she just was. He didn’t care either way when she was touching him. 

She broke the kiss and her lips swerved to his cheek. His jaw, paying extra attention to the patch in his beard where no hair could grow. His head tipped back when she buried her nose into the crook of his neck and deeply inhaled. After a hard-days work he likely smelled of sweat instead of his soap, but she groaned anyway. 

“Have you ever thought about this before?” She breathed against his neck. 

“I mean, I-” He choked on his words as her tongue slicked over the thick vein beneath his jaw. “I - I tried not to.” 

“But you did.” He could feel her lips split into a grin before she sucked on a spot below his ear. He hoped it would leave a mark. The idea of seeing it tomorrow in the mirror made his cock twitch and throb and it ached. 

“Uh-huh,” he whimpered, rather pathetically. It actually sounded like it fucking hurt. 

“You know what?” She playfully nipped at the spot that would soon sadly fade. She then met his gaze with a coy grin. I thought about you too.” 

“You did?” he croaked. 

She hummed in response, her fingers trailing down his chest. His stomach quivered, his breath catching before she stopped just above the band of his jeans and whispered, “But unlike you - I didn’t try to stop.” 

Joel growled, unable to form a coherent thought. His brain was too preoccupied trying to process how any of this was happening. It had to be a dream or an optical illusion or some shit. No way it could be real. But her small hand cupped his cock and that certainly felt real. 

“Fuck - you feel even bigger than I imagined.” She palmed at his bulge with a light pressure. His knees nearly buckled despite the thick, denim barrier. 

Now, he was really wishing he jerked off last night – or anytime in the past week or so. God – he was pent up. It wouldn’t take much for him to break. 

“Can I see it?” 

Joel’s mouth went half-slack and she blinked at him without flinching. 

“Yeah,” he managed to squeak out. Not great, but at least coherent. 

She sank to her knees, her eyes never leaving his. Pretty. Pretty. So damn pretty. Those two undone buttons exposed the tops of her breasts, the peek of a plain white bra that he found sexier than he should’ve. 

His restless hands found solid ground on the desk behind him. Just in time as she balled the hem of his shirt in her tiny fists and bunched it towards his waist. The office air blew cool over his newly bare skin. 

Joel wondered how he compared to the type of guy she usually dated. Did she like meatheads with six packs? Or guys with scrawny arms? Or did she like them somewhere in the middle; someone more like him? His body used to be more solid in his 20’s, but softened with age. He was still strong though, still firm in most spots aside from his stomach. 

He caught himself sucking in as her wild eyes wandered over his husk-tan skin and across the dark scatter of hair around his navel. Then, she devoured it, mapping every inch with her wet, hot mouth. 

It was a miracle that he managed to stay upright under her attention. Any attention was new. He was not used to any teasing or foreplay or whatever delicious torture this was called. 

No. 

Joel was used to his own calloused hands. Quick, rough fucks with women who called him Joe or Jack or something else entirely because why did it matter if it meant nothing. 

But did this mean anything? To him, yes. To her – he had no clue. Dear God – he hoped so, though. 

With a smirk she unzipped his jeans and shoved them down by his knees. The wet spot on his boxers was impossible to miss. Of course, he’d worn light gray today instead of something discreet like black. 

“It’s been awhile,” he sheepishly reminded her. He didn’t want her to think he was always this big of a mess. Because he wasn’t. Seriously, he really wasn’t. 

“It’s alright, just relax.” She leaned forward and mouthed at the stain. 

But it was impossible to relax when her nose nudged the underside of his cock, her mouth was so close to the tip that every muscle in his body tightened. He gritted his teeth, his nostrils flaring with the remnants of his dwindling self-control. 

She must’ve realized she was ruining him because she pulled back with a wicked grin. She hooked her fingers into the elastic waistband and tugged. His freed cock nearly smacked her in the face. The flush red tip was weeping. 

“Shit, you’re thick,” she gasped. Women had told him that before, but he much preferred hearing it from her. The sweet honesty in her voice, the clear surprise. It stroked his ego and filled him with a strange sense of pride as if he’d actually accomplished anything profound, and not just good genetics. 

She licked and spit into her palm before stroking his cock with a loose fist from root to tip. Her thumb swiped over the blunt head, smearing his pre-come and making his hips jerk and involuntary spasm. 

Joel opened his mouth to apologize, but was quickly silenced by her tongue: warm, wet, the slightly rough texture tracing over the thick vein that ran down his length. 

He gripped the desk until his knuckles bleached. She placed her free hand on his hip as if to help steady him before guiding him between her perfect, plush lips. Just the tip, at first. But it still was nearly enough to finish him. He didn’t remember the last time someone put their mouth on him. 

Joel desperately wished to witness this moment. He wanted to memorize the glossy gleam in her eyes, the way she looked in front of him and on her knees and how her mouth stretched perfectly around his cock. But it was too much. The weight between his thighs was becoming oppressive. If he watched, he’d shatter. And he’d be horrified if he finished that fast. 

So, he focused on the ceiling tiles instead. On the black specks that formed different shapes as she took another inch of him into her feverish mouth. 

Already, she had him panting like a dog. Unable to fully catch his breath even when she released his cock with a loud pop. She continued to pleasure him with long strokes of her fist. Her tongue dipped into his leaking slit, lighting up nerve endings that he didn’t know existed. It ripped an ungodly sound from his mouth. 

“Oh, you liked that?” she asked, very smug. Then repeated the movement once, twice, before eagerly swallowing his cock again. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His hand flew to her shoulder and squeezed as she took him deeper – deeper. Holy shit. Where did she learn to do this? This was like pornstar level good. 

She had taken him halfway down her throat when he felt a shock run across his spine, a familiar tugging in his balls. His release was building and brewing in his lower belly like a thunderstorm. 

But Joel clenched his teeth. No – he could not come. Not yet. He needed to get himself under control before he finished in less than five minutes. 

He shut his eyes, but not even the rumble of his eardrums could drown out the loud, lewd squelch of her mouth. It was fucking filthy. The swirl of her expert tongue around his shaft had him unraveling fast like a loose spool of thread. 

“Teddy,” he moaned her name as he got close – too damn close. 

He tried to tell her to slow down, but the words stuck in his throat. Nothing came out except grunts. Just short groans. Her lips kissed the cusp of her fist, completely engulfing him in her honey-slobber and the softness of her hand. 

His hips instinctively bucked, the head of his cock bumping the back of her throat and she gagged. The walls of her inner mouth shuddered and pulsed around him and – 

“Shit.” His eyes flew open but before he could warn her – she hollowed her cheeks and sucked. 

He groaned her name, low and unrestrained, as the pleasure electrified his spine. It arced down his thighs before he could push her off. For a moment, he lost himself in the high, in the tide of her mouth. His cock twitched and throbbed on her tongue as he came. 

Hard. 

As if he hadn’t come in months – years. 

In a daze, he blinked down at her and saw his cum dripping down her chin, leaking from the corners of her mouth as she continued to twist her fist and suck down the aftershocks. It would’ve been easily the most erotic sight, if it didn’t suddenly hit him how fast he came. 

The light-headed euphoria quickly morphed into vertigo. He was horrified, mortified, staring down at her. 

He didn’t know what to say, and for once, it seemed like neither did she. She released his cock from her mouth, but otherwise didn’t move. Not even to wipe the come off her face. 

She swallowed, and opened her mouth. But a familiar ding tore through the thick, sticky air. The bell above the front door. 

“Joel? Teddy?” 

No way. It was motherfucking Tommy. 

—-

The idiot had forgotten his house keys in Joel’s truck. In the cupholder, nonetheless. 

Joel had somehow managed to button his jeans, and hand her a tissue before Tommy busted into his office. She’d pretend to blow her nose to clean the come off her face, riddling him with another level of shame. So embarrassed that he could barely look at her without feeling like he swallowed a handful of nails. 

He threw Tommy the car keys to get rid of him, but found out that Aaron had  left. Tommy had told him that Joel could just drive him home without even asking. And usually it wouldn’t be a big deal. 

But Tommy was so goddamn clueless. He just swung around the door frame, blabbering about how the girlfriend showed up and there was a big blow up in the parking lot and Joel was just waiting for him to notice the smell of sex and sweat or even the cloying embarrassment. Or Teddy’s swollen and suck-plump lips and surely Joel looked like a flushed-beet wreck. 

So how did Tommy seem to remain completely oblivious? 

When Sarah called a few minutes later, Joel left. Well, first he made sure everything was locked up and she was safely in her car, but otherwise fled like a coward. 

The shop had officially disappeared from his rear view mirror and now Joel couldn’t remember if he even told her goodbye. She just gave him the best blow job of his life, and he couldn’t even wave? 

“Are you gonna get Sarah or drop me off first?” Tommy asked and Joel snapped at him like a venus fly trap. 

“Doesn’t really make sense to go out of my way just to drop you off first, now does it?” 

Tommy threw up his hands. “Well, fuck. How am I supposed to know where Sarah’s friend lives?” He hurled himself against the passenger seat and mumbled under his breath, “Asshole.” 

Joel winced. He was kinda being an asshole, taking out his anger on Tommy. He wasn’t even mad at Tommy. Annoyed, yes, but not mad. The only person Joel was mad at here was himself. 

He was mad at himself for cumming too fast, and even more so for running away afterwards like a scared hound with his soft, spent cock tucked between his legs. Recalling the complete shit show, Joel’s grip coiled around the steering wheel until the leather squealed in protest. He could still feel the ring of her spit drying around him. 

Joel sighed and stared out the windshield at the night sky, the truck bouncing along the uneven back road full of potholes. Why did it feel like he just fucked everything up? 

“Hey, are you alright?” Tommy’s voice was lower, quiet – concerned. 

Joel scratched at his jaw, at the bald patch she’d kissed, before nodding his head. 

“Yeah, sorry - I’m just tired.” He’d rather die and be reincarnated into a gnat than tell Tommy about how he just prematurely ejaculated. He’d had enough embarrassment for one night. 

“Did I-” Tommy paused and for a moment it seemed like he decided to keep his mouth shut. Until he sighed. “I don’t know, but did I interrupt something between you and Teddy?” 

A little too late to start being observant, Tommy. 

Joel approached a red light, the truck crawling to a complete stop. 

“Come on. What would be going on between us that you could interrupt?” Joel looked over at Tommy and his brows were furrowed. In the pool of orange light from the street lamps that speckled the cab, Joel saw the realization flash across Tommy’s face. The moment everything clicked into place. 

Joel abruptly turned away, not in the mood for pity. After what felt like forever, the light finally turned green. 

“Joel, I didn’t realize that you-” 

“Don’t.” His voice was quiet, stern without being rude. “Just don’t.” 

For once, Tommy didn’t demand to have the last word. Instead, he slowly and silently fell back into the seat as if to fade into the shadows. She still had a boyfriend as far as Tommy knew, and Joel would not be informing him otherwise. This way was easier. 

The rest of the drive was filled with Willie Nelson’s album Always on My Mind, the rumble of the engine, and the buzzing of Joel’s thoughts. 

How was he supposed to face her tomorrow? 

—-

On Friday morning, Joel drove to the shop with a terrible pit in his stomach. His eyes felt gritty, and there was a dark shadow of gray underneath from a restless night sleep. He ate a bland piece of toast for breakfast, and even that made him feel sick. When he turned onto the street, he thought it might reappear all over the windshield. 

But Teddy was not there. Just a pink post-it note on the full, freshly brewed coffee pot. 

Fox Ridge pitch - Wish me luck. 

He’d forgotten that it was this early. Joel supposed he’d have to get here on time this evening to see her. 

Joel spent the day trying not to go insane. Despite the pounding of his hammer, memories of last night beat against his skull. Anytime he touched his lips, or the spot behind his ear, he could practically feel the ghost of her kisses. They had been desperate, heated. Hadn’t they? It had seemed she’d wanted him, just as much as he’d always wanted her. She’d even admitted to imagining him in some sexual way. 

But what about now? 

He didn’t have a clue. 

Eight hours later, and halfway from a complete tailspin, the truck decided not to start. The engine clicked and clicked and clicked, but never went. Even though he begged for it to start. The concrete guys had tried to jump it with no success. It’d taken everything in him not to sock Tommy in the jaw when he gave him that told-you-so look while calling a tow truck. 

The concrete guys were still on their best behavior and gave them a ride to the mechanic shop. It was run by one of Tommy’s highschool friends, Zach, who was nice enough to stick around past 5 on a Friday night. 

5:25 and this was a fucking nightmare. He couldn’t imagine a worse day for the truck to die. As if he hadn’t fucked up enough last night when he bolted, the last thing Joel wanted as her thinking that he was avoiding her. The least he could do was extend the same courtesy she had this morning. 

So midway through Tommy and Zach examining what was under the hood, he broke away to call her. 

Joel slapped his cellphone against the flat of his palm as he headed outside the entrance. With a deep breath he dialed the shop’s number. The ring-ring-ring in his ears made his chest feel like it was about to explode. 

“Teddy’s Company, how can I help you?”

“Hey Teddy.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, it’s Joel,” he said, very awkwardly. 

“Hey! Hi. What’s up?” 

Joel kicked at the loose rocks by his feet. “Well, the truck - uh the truck’s acting up. We had to get a tow, and Tommy and I are - the mechanic’s checking it over right now.” 

“Oh shit.” 

“Yeah, so I just wanted you to know - I don’t know when we’ll get back to the shop.” Joel lightly hit the center of his head with the circle of his clenched fist. He sounded like an idiot. 

“No - yeah. That makes sense.” Silence crackled on the other line and it was unbearable. 

Joel scratched his temple, unsure what to say next. He wanted to talk about last night, just to get it over with, but it wasn’t the right time. That was not a conversation to have over the phone. Not like at work was much better, but still. 

“Well,” Teddy broke the silence. There was a rustling of something on the other line – papers? Her bag? “Do you need-” 

There was a massive boom behind him – Tommy pounded on the glass door and motioned him inside. 

“What was that?” she asked and Joel mouthed at Tommy to give him a second. 

“Sorry, it’s Tommy. I think the mechanic’s done with the inspection.”

“Okay - well, I was just gonna ask if you guys-” 

Tommy banged again – harder. It was Friday, so he probably had a date with his favorite dive bar. Joel glared at him and flipped him off. 

“It sounds like you need to go,” she said. 

“Sorry.” Joel rubbed the back of his neck and he was gonna kill Tommy. “But uh - have a nice weekend, alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, you too, Joel.” 

Once Joel found out the battery just needed to be replaced, Tommy’s pissy mood made a lot more sense. It would be a decently fast and easy fix – at most an hour. 

Joel plopped down in a chair in the lobby and mindlessly flipped through a car magazine. He didn’t even register the pictures that swished by, too busy reeling from that awkward phone call. 

Had he really told her to have a nice weekend? He wanted to melt into the cracks and scuffs in the black-and-white tiles. Real smooth, Joel. He sucked at this shit. 

What was going to happen next? 

He couldn’t tell where her head was at from the phone call that somehow didn’t even last as long as him last night. God – she probably thought he had some type of erectile dysfunction and he couldn’t even blame her. There was no excuse for a man at his age to cum that fast from a blow job, nonetheless. He was not a fucking teenager. 

The longer he sat there in the empty lobby with the melancholy of Johnny Cash’s voice, the more he began to doubt. It spread and swelled in his lower abdomen like a virus. Syphilis. If it festered for too long, he felt like it might turn him insane. 

He didn’t know how he would survive the weekend like this. 

— 

Saturday was usually his day for relaxing. All his responsibilities could wait until Sunday, but he couldn’t sit still. 

Up early, he and Sarah went to the Farmer’s Market and ran errands until lunch time. He deep cleaned the house in the afternoon. The entire main floor was vacuumed and swept, the kitchen counters looked brand new, and even his bed was freshly made with dryer warm sheets. He was determined to keep busy instead of wallowing in his looming conversation with Teddy. 

It might’ve worked if Sarah didn’t innocently keep bringing her up. With homecoming tonight, she was apparently in the mood to reminisce, especially after she’d gotten all dolled up. 

They were halfway to her friend Ashley’s house and the drive had been filled with Teddy. Their mall trip – the dress – the tiny details Teddy helped pick out. 

“I brought my polaroid camera.” Sarah pointed at her overnight bag in the backseat of his truck. “So, you can take a photo of me and show Teddy on Monday.” 

“Oh, yeah. She’ll like that.” Joel forced a smile as the hand of his knee flexed, biting into denim. 

He couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt every time Sarah mentioned her. Teddy would never cut Sarah out, he knew that, but things were bound to be different now. It couldn’t go back to what it used to be, not after she’d seen his cock and swallowed his come. The relationship would inevitably change between them. 

He just hoped their friendship could be somewhat salvaged. For Sarah’s sake, especially. 

Joel was able to push that out of his mind when they arrived at Ashley’s house. The Murphy’s had been nice enough to invite the entire group, including parents, to come over and take photos. He couldn’t imagine fitting 14 teenagers and their moms in his puny backyard where he could barely fit a playset. Luckily, the Murphy’s lived on a big, well-landscaped lot that backed up against a man-made lake, and not directly into a neighbor’s house. 

The few other dad’s who showed up were all huddled together under the covered patio with their eyes transfixed on the TV screen. The Longhorns were taking on the Wildcats. Still in the first quarter, so it wasn’t even a good game yet. 

Instead of cracking open a beer, Joel joined the mom’s by the rose bushes. 

“Oh my God, Joel. Sarah looks beautiful.”

“She’s gorgeous.” 

“Stunning.” 

They all complimented Joel as if his genes actually put up a fight. Sarah was Lisa’s exact twin. Even more so when her gorgeous thick curls were pulled back into a loose bun with a few loose strands framing her face. The mom’s were right though – Sarah did look beautiful. But then again, she always did; with or without all the glitter and make-up. 

Sarah’s date was a scrawny, soccer player with red hair who was her best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend. Eric. Joel could hardly believe his daughter was at an age to even have a date, even if it was just a set up. It made him feel incredibly old when the kid called him sir. 

Based on first impressions, Eric seemed nice enough. The kid took a few photos of Joel and Sarah together in front of the Mexican bush sage. The purple flowers were almost an exact match to Sarah’s dress. Joel had hoped that somebody would offer when he’d changed out of his dusty clothes earlier and into a different, slightly nicer white t-shirt and a pair of his best dark wash jeans. 

Still, while Joel wouldn’t threaten the kid with a fist or scare the shit out of him with a war story like Tommy would, Joel did give Eric the look – Don’t try anything, bud. When Joel shook his hand, it felt like wet paint. 

Good. 

Joel thanked the minivan moms for driving, Ashley’s mom for hosting the sleepover afterwards, while snapping enough pictures to fill up two of Sarah’s bulletin boards. 

“You look beautiful, baby girl,” he told Sarah one more time before hugging her goodbye. 

She promised to be good and handed him the developed Polaroid, specifically for Teddy. He stashed it safely away in the middle console of his truck then drove away. 

At home, an empty living room quietly greeted him. Not yet 6 P.M. – the sun continued to shine and slice through the curtains onto the beige carpet. Joel had no idea what to do with the rest of his evening. Football, he supposed. Maybe rent a movie – Ocean’s Eleven or Training Day, something Sarah had no interest in ever seeing. 

He whipped up a ham and cheese sandwich and cracked open a beer. Rather than eating alone at the dining room table, he set up on the couch and ate in the company of Longhorn football. 

It didn’t take long, not even halfway finished with his sandwich, before a Folgers commercial came on and he thought about Teddy. She never even used Folgers, but just coffee in general made him think of her. At this point, it was actually pathetic how everything reminded him of her.

For a few minutes, Joel debated on calling her and figuring this shit out already. This limbo was killing him. He even pulled out his phone from his back pocket, found her name in his contact list and let it taunt him, his thumb hovering over the call button for longer than he’d like to admit. 

But what would he say if she answered? 

It had been two days and he still had no clue. He was still trying to figure out how to navigate this whole situation. He wanted to handle it with care but it felt like holding a dandelion puff in his rough calloused hands. Inevitably, it would break and fall apart with something as simple as a gust of wind. Joel carelessly tossed his phone on the coffee table and groaned. 

At halftime, he went and cleaned off his empty plate in the sink. Using his hands always helped distract him. Maybe he needed a hobby. He could always play his guitar, finally learn Never Going Back Again. He’d always wanted to try out woodworking since it used to be his dad’s favorite pastime. 

Joel was drying off the dish when the doorbell rang. 

“Hold on,” he yelled, wiping off his hands with the rag. He didn’t know who that could be, but he’d bet everything in his wallet right now it was Tommy. He knew Sarah would be gone all night, and probably wanted to drag Joel to some bar across town for a wild night out. 

Joel was coming around to the idea of spending his night in a smoky, loud bar instead of cooped up in his house when he opened the door. It was definitely not his brother, not even close. 

“Teddy.” 

She was on his front porch in a pale blue sundress that instantly made his mouth water. The buttery light from the budding sunset sky behind her framed her silhouette. 

“Sorry to just stop by.” She smoothed down her dress and tugged at the hem. “But can I come in?” 

—-

She didn’t say why she was here when he let her inside, but he supposed she didn’t have to. 

It was actually Joel who broke the silence. “Do you want anything to drink?” he asked. His mom would lurch from her grave if he didn’t act like a good host. 

“Water,” she said with a small smile. “Tap’s fine.” 

It was a good thing she didn’t follow him into the kitchen. His hands were shaking so bad that he nearly dropped the glass on the tile floor. 

When he came back into the living room, she was sitting on the couch. He handed her the glass, his fingertips brushing over hers. She politely thanked him before taking a tentative sip. The cushion whined under his weight when he sat. These were the exact same spots from the night she was here with Sarah. This time, however, the empty cushion felt less like a safety net and more like a boulder about to crush him. 

He turned off the TV, the newfound silence giving further evidence of what happened the other night. 

She clinked the glass onto the coffee table, then clasped her hands stiffly in her lap. On the very edge of her seat, she looked ready to bolt at any moment. “I knew Sarah would be at the dance or, at least dinner.” 

“Yeah, dinner. I think the dance starts around 8,” he said and she nodded. He wished he would’ve remembered to bring the Polaroid inside. Maybe it would’ve helped ease the tension. 

But no – he needed to quit procrastinating and apologize for how he reacted the other night. 

Buck up – do it. 

For a moment, Joel searched for what to say, scratching the skin around his neck where it felt thickest. 

“Joel,” Teddy said before he could speak. She shifted in her seat and when she opened her mouth, he braced himself for her to call it nothing but a mistake. “I wanted to come by and apologize about the other night.” 

His brows furrowed. 

“Apologize?” 

“Yes, Joel,” she answered, very sternly. He noticed a pained look in her eyes before she stared down at her stark white tennis shoes. 

“What? I - what?” He sounded like a bumbling drunk and for once, he wished the right words would just come naturally to him. 

She sighed. 

“After our phone call yesterday,” she started, only stopping for a split-second to clasp her gold necklace between her fingers. “I feel like I might’ve pushed things too far the other night. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable-” 

“Uncomfortable? No. Shit.” Joel insistently shook his head. He would personally damn himself to hell if he sat here any longer and let her take any blame for this. Exhaling, he scruffed a hand over his jaw. “Look, I’ll admit - I panicked, but that ain’t on you.” 

“How is it not?” 

“Cause you did nothing wrong. Fuck. I’m the one who should be apologizing, alright? I acted like a goddamn idiot, Teddy. It’s just-” Joel let out a self-deprecating laugh, bashfully tucking his chin towards his chest. “I don’t usually, ya know - that fast. Just got embarrassed, that's all.” 

He absently rubbed at a patch of distressed leather on the arm of the couch. 

“Well, I never wanted to make you feel embarrassed.” She scooted closer – closer. Slowly. For what felt like the first time since the night in his office, Joel properly met her eyes. “All I wanted was to make you feel good, Joel.” Her voice was husky, almost seductive. She smirked and his heart banged inside his chest like a caged feral cat. 

“You did make me feel good,” he admitted, rather shyly. “Just wish I could’ve made you feel good, too.”  

“Who says you can’t?” Her eyes darted across his face, to his lips, to the rise and fall of his chest. She gripped his shoulders for balance before swinging her legs over him. Her knee lightly bumped into the arm of the couch and his hands instantly went to her hips, helping to steady her on his lap. 

Joel stared up at her dumbly for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. His thumbs toyed with the hem of her dress, bunching it up further until he could brush over the bare flesh of her thighs. Goddamn, she was so soft. So pretty. 

“What do you want, Joel?” 

Everything. “Whatever you’ll give me.” 

“No, Joel. What do you want?” 

The last two days – hell, the last two years bulldozed into him. Every feeling and thought he’d suppressed and ignored crashing into him like a wrecking ball. He’d spent so long convincing himself this would never happen, but now – everything he ever wanted and never thought he would have was right here. Right in his lap. 

And something inside him suddenly snapped. 

“You gotta know by now, Teddy. You gotta know.” The words spilled out of his mouth and he hated how it sounded. It didn’t make any sense. Joel shook his head and ran his hands down her thighs to lightly squeeze at the spot above her knees for stability. “Fuck, I ain’t any good at this shit,” he said, in a rare moment of vulnerability. 

She cupped his face so delicately like he was made of porcelain. With a small nudge, he met her gaze. 

“This is gonna sound very middle school, but do you like me, Joel?” she asked and he snorted. 

It did sound juvenile, but he instinctively tugged her closer and nodded his head. 

“Good. Cause I like you and I want you, Joel. Only you,” she said. “So what do you say? Wanna give this a shot?” 

“You fucking know I do.” His hand slid behind her neck, his thumb traced over the perfect curve of her hair line. “Now, come here.” 

When his lips met hers – it was desperate and sweet like cream soda. His mouth crashed against hers with every bottled up dream and fantasy of her mouth, her lips, her tongue. It surged hot and bright through him. 

His hand was a firm weight on the small of her back as he pulled her in as close as humanly possible, until only denim and a dainty sundress could separate him from her. 

She clutched onto his shirt collar before gently rocking her hips against his growing bulge. He tensed his thigh, catching on her panties. She whimpered, already so sensitive, and he couldn’t wait to learn all the sounds she made. 

He couldn’t fuck her on the couch, though. Not properly, at least. Definitely not like he wanted to or how she deserved. Still, he let himself enjoy this for a few minutes. Dry humping like teenagers in her parent’s basement before breaking the kiss with a soft peck to her top lip. 

“Would you wanna go upstairs?” He dragged the back of his hand over her thigh, his knuckles hiking up her dress to reveal a little more skin. 

“Oooh. Am I finally gonna see Joel Miller’s room?” She gave the tip of his nose a quick kiss before crawling off of him. 

She held his hands the entire way upstairs until he led her into his room. “Told you, you weren’t missing much.” 

“I don’t know about that.” She glanced at the navy blue walls, at the painting of a grazing deer in what appeared to be somewhere in Montana. It hung above his golden oak headboard. She pointed at the basic beige comforter, three pillows lined up against the frame. “I’m gonna be honest, though, I didn’t take you for the type to make your bed.” 

“I did a little cleaning today.” Joel shrugged as she kicked off her shoes by his laundry basket. 

“Well, isn’t that convenient?” 

Joel managed to only kiss her twice before getting on the bed. He scooted into the middle, using two pillows to prop and cushion his aging lower back. Again, she eagerly climbed over him. She yanked her dress over her head, leaving her in only a lacy black bra with a pair of matching panties that cut high on her hips. The tiny, pink flower on the waistband was just the cherry on top. 

She must’ve noticed the look on his face because she giggled as if she was completely innocent. “Do you like it? I wore it for you.” 

“Fuck me,” he murmured. “Look at you, you’re gonna fucking kill me.” His hands roamed from her ribs up to paw at her bra and he squeezed just hard enough to watch them pour out over the top. He growled from deep in his chest before shoving his face in between her breasts. He traced the lacy material with his tongue before kissing along his slick trail. “Can I take it off?” 

Smirking, she reached behind her and unclipped it for him. The bra joined her dress on the carpet in seconds. He licked his lips and admired her bare skin – the curves of her body in the coppery-golden glow from the sunset spilling in from the window. When he cupped her breasts, he swore they were made for his hands. His thumbs slid across her sensitive peaks, feather-light, but her breath still hitched – her head tip back and even the column of her neck was gorgeous. 

He replaced one of his thumbs with his tongue, flicking the tip of it over her nub again and again. Kitten licks that made her clutch the back of his head. The way her fingers rooted into his hair was almost possessive and she held him flush against her chest as he sucked her nipple into his needy mouth. 

Her breathing grew ragged and she tried to find friction. She rutted against him, but his hands captured her hips, holding her still before she could graze his cock. Too much dry humping and he’d be actually come in his pants like a teenager. 

“Be patient, sweetheart,” he murmured and she whined. He didn’t allow her another chance to complain before his mouth switched to her other breast and adored it with equal attention. It’d been ages since he took his time like this and he lost himself in the feeling of her soft, scented skin on his face. 

“Joel,” she moaned. It was desperate and raw and hands down the most erotic sound he’d ever heard in his life. It snapped him from his reverie and he grazed his teeth once more over her spit-swollen bud. 

“I know.” He petted her hips before cupping her sex. The lace was soaked and sticky around her cunt. 

Her hips bucked into the flat edge of his palm and for a moment, he watched her shamelessly ride his hand. Her brows furrowed – her fingers clutching his shirt for support. He was suddenly aware that he was completely dressed, and he found it strangely erotic. A part of him enjoyed it, maybe a little too much. 

“Let me take care of you.” He patted her on the hip before ordering her to lay back. She didn’t need to be told twice. 

Joel moved, so she could take his spot in the center of the bed. He tore off his t-shirt and threw it with her clothes. She watched him with glossy, moon eyes as he crawled between her spread open thighs. He captured her lips in a tender kiss before swerving to the swell of her cheek and down the slope of her neck. Gently, he nipped at her collarbone and she wiggled impatiently. 

But he still went slow when dragging the tip of his nose from her breasts and along her stomach where he placed a soft kiss above her belly button. 

When he settled back on his knees, he saw her chest rising and falling. Her bottom lip was stuck between her teeth and she was fisting the comforter. It was hard to believe she was really here, even as his fingers stroked her thigh. She was actually in his bed in nothing but soaked black panties. 

Joel laid down on his stomach, spreading her thighs even wider to make room for his broad shoulders. Face-to-face with her lace covered cunt, he could smell the sweet, primal musk. 

He sucked in a breath, suddenly feeling nervous. He enjoyed going down on women, but it had been awhile since he did anything more than just enough to get someone wet enough to take him. And he really wanted this to be good. 

It felt like it had to be good, after his last fuck up. 

“Joel? Are you okay?” She brushed back a tuft of hair that had fallen flat on his face. 

He shut his eyes but there was no hiding when his face was mere inches from her pussy. “It’s just been awhile.” 

“Well, we don’t-”

“No. God - I want to.” Joel groaned and dejectedly dropped his head against her thigh. He kissed at a mark above her knee. Her skin felt so warm against the stubble of his cheek. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” 

A moan dripped from her lips as he mouthed his way to the dip where her thighs met her hips. His nose nudging along the elastic seam. 

“I’m not usually like this, but fuck - I wanna make you feel good.” He sucked at the spot directly above that damn tiny pink rose and her hips lifted off the bed, almost chasing his mouth. “Want you to know I can take care of you.” 

“You can - you can,” she practically chanted. “Just God. Please, Joel.” 

“Okay, I got you. It’s okay,” he whispered before peeling off her panties. He lifted the flimsy to his nose and inhaled without thinking. She smelled so delicious, musky, like sea salt and jasmine. He lost himself in her womanly scent and stuffed the fabric into his mouth and oh God – the taste. Dully sweet, a citrusy-tang that tingled his tongue. He devoured it. 

It wasn’t until her panties were licked clean that he came up for air. His eyes opened to find her staring at him. Her mouth gaping – pupils carbon-black. 

With a shy smile, he tossed the panties, now soaked with his spit, behind him. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” she panted. “Fuck, that was hot.” 

He snorted. 

“Well, you taste damn good, sweetheart,” he said, situating himself comfortably between her thighs. Now, there was nothing, not even skimpy lace separating them. She was completely hairless, which was actually a first for him. Joel didn’t have a personal preference, though he did like how easily he could see how turned on she was. Her entire sex was swollen and glossy and perfect. Licking his lips, he peered up at her. “I wanna make you feel good, so let me know if you don’t like something, alright?” 

She quickly nodded, her chest hitching with anticipation. She wanted this. She did.

He kissed the top of her mound then experimentally licked her slit, keeping his tongue soft and flat. He deliberately stopped just before her clit, avoiding it. For now. He planned to build her up slowly, steady. Words had never come easy to him, so instead he’d show her what he could not articulate. 

Despite his own painful desire, his focus remained solely on her as he lapped at her cunt: He teased and nibbled and sucked on her folds. Letting her little sounds and sighs guide him to find her most sensitive spots. He didn’t know what he’d been so worried about before. Eating pussy was just like riding a bike. 

“More,” she pleaded, and how could he deny her after she’d been so patient? 

Her back arched when the tip of his nose grazed her clit. He smirked against her cunt, the pit in his belly stoked by how worked up she was. It fueled his confidence and his tongue swiped over her clit. She wound her fingers through his hair and tugged. 

Hard. 

And Oh – that did something to him. His cock twitched, or at least, tried to. Pack so tightly against the seam of his jeans. Again – he swallowed the urge to hump the sheets for some relief, snubbing his own arousal for hers. 

As he toyed with her clit, his fingertips skimmed over her slick, hot-heated sex. The thick bulb of his pointer finger caught on her entrance and she immediately clenched, as if trying to capture him. Greedy little thing. 

Still, he peered up at her for permission that she happily granted. He started out with one finger and inched inside her until he could not physically go any further. He cursed under his breath. She was warm and soaked and so tight. 

When finally he squeezed in a second finger, her knees slightly bowed. Even though she was wet enough for him to slip in without any resistance, he rocked into her slowly, mindful to let her adjust. He curled his fingers, trying a few different angles before finding that spongy spot. 

Immediately, she jerked with a deep, filthy moan. 

Got it. 

His fingers worked just as relentlessly as his tongue that was circling and swirling and flicking her clit. So responsive. Her walls spasmed around him as he thrusted into her a little harder. A little faster.

“Oh my God.” Her voice was as shaky as her thighs. He could feel her starting to swell under his tongue. 

Joel didn’t want to stop, but he needed to see her come apart. When he leaned back on his knees, her hand shot out. She latched onto his forearm with a death grip. 

“Wait! Wait! Joel!” Her voice was high-pitched. Frantic. Her cunt clenched furiously around his fingers as if she could not bear to let them go. “I’m almost there. I swear, I’m close.” 

She bore down, attempting to fuck his hand as if she needed to prove she was telling the truth. Like he could do nothing but sit here, and she could get herself off. Joel felt something ugly and bitter twinge in his chest. It made him wonder how often she was left high and dry and unsatisfied by the people she fucked. 

Well, not anymore. Not with him. 

Once his hand lightly pressed on her abdomen, she stopped. Her gaze found his. Her eyes glossy and wild and fucked out. It looked like the only thought in her head was how badly she needed to come. 

“Don’t worry, I ain’t done with you, sweetheart,” he assured her as his hand on her stomach moved lower and lower. “Just wanna see you when I make you come for the first time.”

A filthy moan split her lips when he circled her clit with his thumb. The panic on her face was instantly replaced with relief. Pleasure. She looked gorgeous on the verge of an orgasm. 

“Does this pretty little pussy feel good?” 

“Yes - yes - don’t stop,” she cried out. “I’m so close.” 

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it.” And he could. “I got you.” 

She moaned his name as she came undone underneath him. Her arousal was dripping down his knuckles and onto his sheets. He caught himself grinding into the air, desperately wishing it was his cock instead of his fingers making her come. 

Her clit pulsed under the pad of his thumb like a beating heart. Insatiable, he sucked the taste of her off his fingers then wiped his mouth. 

She drew him down into a sloppy, wet kiss. The painful bulge in his jeans catching on her bare flesh. By some miracle, though he didn’t burst right then and there. 

She pawed at his bare shoulders. “I need you,” she murmured against his lips that were still buzzing with her wetness. “Please Joel, I want you.” 

“Greedy,” he mumbled, grinning against her cheek. He gave her hip a playful pinch before jumping onto his feet. 

Quickly, he shed his jeans along with his pre-come stained boxer briefs. His cock was heavy. The head swollen into a furious shade of red, closer to purple than pink. 

The light outside was starting to fade into gauzy, gray dusk. So, Joel flipped on the bedside lamp before pulling out a fresh box of condoms from the nightstand. He tore through the plastic wrapping with his teeth, but slowed down when opening the tin-foil packet. 

“How do you want me?” She asked as he securely rolled on the condom. 

Up? Down? He didn’t care. “Surprise me.” 

She shot him a mischievous smirk before flipping onto her stomach. Rising onto all fours. This woman. He had no idea what she would pick, but his first guess never would’ve been doggy. 

He admired the dream-like curve of her spine and she invitingly wiggled her ass. Seemed she was trying to give him a heart attack. Did she know how sexy she was to him? She had to. She had to know what she did to him. 

“Is this okay?” she asked, and Joel growled his approval. He climbed in behind her and palmed at the plump flesh of her ass. 

She opened herself wider until he could see everything. “Shit, sweetheart,” he hissed, marveling at where her sex glistened with his spit and her orgasm.

Joel had to squeeze at the base of his cock before dragging the tip through her slick folds, all the way up to her puckered hole. Even that felt good. Almost too good. And he wasn’t even inside her, yet. 

Once Joel was lined up with her entrance, he noticed how small her cunt looked next to him and didn’t even try to push in. He questioned whether or not he could fit. It was just a fact that he was thick. Even though she was soaked, this would be a tight squeeze. 

Fuck. Now, he was really regretting only using two fingers instead of three. 

“Joel” she whined, but he still didn’t move. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” 

“No, I can take it - I promise,” she whimpered. “Joel, please.” She tilted back against him, making it impossible to say no. 

“Okay. Alright,” he said soothingly, calmly rubbing the arc of her hip. “I’ll go slow.” 

And he did. For both his and her sake, he inched into the heat of her cunt. His gaze was welded to the painted deer above the headboard. Watching himself disappear inside her would’ve been too much. The feeling of her pulsing around him was already almost too much for him to handle. Without the condom, this would’ve been over before it could even begin.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re big,” she choked out, her walls fluttering around him. “I need - I need a second.” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Yeah – he needed one too. 

There was a long minute where the only sounds in the room were of his harsh breaths, her suppressed whimpers. Then, a slight creak of the bed. 

He leaned forward, his chest lightly pressed against her back. His arms caged in around hers, palms flat on the bed to help support his own weight as he draped over her body. 

“You feel so good.” His lips brushed over the top of her spine and she shivered. “I know it’s a lot. I want you to know it’s a lot for me too.” 

“Oh, Joel,” she mewled as he buried his face into her neck. She smelled and tasted just like salted caramel. 

“You’re perfect, sweetheart. So good.” He kissed behind her ear, along the back of her neck. “I’m gonna move now, alright?” 

“Please.” The word dripped from her lips – the only answer he needed. 

He stayed close to her, his breath puffing against her neck as he fucked into her. Nice and slow and tender, at first. She met his thrusts in perfect sync. Each one allowing him deeper and deeper inside her and he didn’t even know how that was possible. It was as if her pussy was molding to fit him, to take even more of him. It felt very intimate and overwhelming.

He thought if he was staring into her eyes that he might’ve cried. Sex had never felt like this before. Not with Lisa, not even when they accidentally made Sarah. If he was being honest, sex had always felt somewhat impersonal; stilted, distant, like a glory hole in a gas station, just minus the sketchy bathroom wall.

But here, right now with her – this felt sacred. He had no clue how he ever managed to live without this. 

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” Joel laid his damp forehead between her shoulder blades and picked up the pace. 

“Joel.” She gasped. His name seemed to be the only word she could say. It was as if he had completely consumed her. Her mind. Her body. Her every neuron. He kissed each vertebrae within reach, claiming more of her. 

More. 

“So damn long,” he answered. “And so fucking bad. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen and look at you now, sweetheart. Just taking it. So good, just like I knew you would.” 

“Oh God, Joel.” 

He felt her shake, her arms appeared ready to give out and collapse. He wouldn’t let that happen. So, he widened his stance, the comforter bunching up around his knees. Carefully, but without warning, he fully pulled out and she wailed like it physically hurt. 

“I got you.” He shushed her, wrapping his arm around her waist and sealing her to his chest. “Come on, come here.” He guided her upright along with him and she groaned once the weight was off her arms. 

She sank back down on his cock instantly, her ass flush against his thighs. He felt even closer to her, somehow, in this position. Her skin was on fire, the sweat making her back stick to him like gum. Her pussy was drenched and dripping down his balls. 

He could feel her all over him. Everywhere. It amazed him how he managed to last this long.

Joel gripped her hip, his other hand went to cup her breast. When he gently rocked forward at the perfect angle, she clenched. 

“Goddamn.” He squeezed her breast, continuing to hit that same spot. “How are you so tight?” 

“It’s you, Joel.” She gasped. “No one - no one has ever been this deep.” 

The dormant, possessive part of his brain lit up and he growled. Joel buried himself to the hilt, until he could not claim another inch. No one but him had ever touched her here. 

Just him. 

Just him. 

Only him. 

His. 

She was soaking wet, white-hot, and he could feel himself throbbing inside her. Joel wanted to come so badly. The spicy-musk of her skin was swirling in his lower belly with a powerful, burning heat. On the brink of bursting. 

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last much longer.” He pinched her nipple as his other hand went down to play with her clit. “I wanna make you come.” 

Her only response came in a whine, a frantic nod.

Joel thrusted into her with long, deep strokes that made the bed shake. The headboard hit the wall in a dull, rhythmic thud that filled the room. Just like her trembling, needy moans, his own low groans, and the heady-salt scent of sex. 

She threaded her fingers into his hair and haled his mouth toward hers. She kissed him, or more so, tried to. It was more of just lips devouring whatever was within reach: cheeks and chin and the curve of mouths. It wasn’t the best angle, but it didn’t matter. 

In this moment, nothing else mattered to him but her. 

Despite the tightness in his balls, Joel somehow held back his release. He gritted his teeth, burrowed his face into her neck, and quickly rubbed her clit. The high-pitched sound of his name lingered on her swollen lips as her walls squeezed around him like a fist. 

It wasn’t until her cunt was spasming around him that he finally drove forward. He was buried so deep inside her that he practically snarled when he came. 

He spilled into the condom, but pretended to be filling her up instead. He would watch his cum drool out of her, only to stuff it all back in with his fingers. 

Joel clutched her against him as his hips gave a few final jerks. He would have liked to stay inside her until he went completely soft, but the condom was overflowing. Cum or her slick or more likely a mix of both was soaking into the hair between his thighs. He decided not to test the durability of this specific condom brand. The last time he did that, well – it was obvious how that turned out. 

Holding the condom at the base, he slipped out of her and dropped onto his ass with a few pops and cracks. Damn, he really should stretch more.

His eyes fell to where her legs were spread and her sex was still gaping from him – for him. His mouth went dry. He wanted to lean over and quench his thirst, fill her with his tongu- 

“What’re you lookin’ at there?” The sound of her lilted voice made his gaze abruptly snap to her face. 

He must’ve been blushing because her lips split into a smug grin. Clearly, she knew what caught his attention. But even after two orgasms, she was still a little sassy. Still too damn perceptive for her own good, meanwhile he could barely form a coherent sentence. 

She straddled his thighs, careful to avoid his semi-soft cock. 

“It’s okay, you can look. I mean, it’s yours now, isn’t it?” Her soft, small voice cut through the post-sex fog in his brain. She was looking so vulnerable, so exposed, completely naked in his lap. Even he was more covered up than her, and all he had covering him was a flimsy, full condom that he had not yet found the energy to get up and throw away. 

Isn’t it? Joel got the sense it was not a genuine question, but more of a reiteration – a confirmation. Are we on the same page? 

Whatever she meant, he nodded his head. 

“It is.” He cradled her cheek. “But only if it comes with the rest of you. I’m a greedy man, sweetheart. I want it all.” 

She beamed at him. 

“Well, that makes two of us,” she declared while brushing a sweaty tuft of his hair out of his face. “I want everything you come with, Joel. And when I say everything - I mean everything. The whole package.” 

She might’ve not said Sarah’s name, but he knew that’s what she meant. 

His lips parted, amazed by how easily the words came out of her mouth. That was the first time a woman had ever acknowledged that he came as a two-for-one deal without even a hint of cynicism in their tone. Obviously, Joel realized a kid was a lot to take on. Especially since Lisa wasn’t in the picture at all, but there were some women who made it sound like Sarah was baggage, which was insane. Sarah was the best part of him. 

Speechless, Joel kissed her firmly on the mouth. It was warm and sweet and surging through his chest like an electric current. This is what it was supposed to be like. He could feel her lips break into a smile before he pulled away. 

“Stay here. Let me get you cleaned up.” 

She laid back on the bed without argument, and he disappeared into the bathroom. Joel stuffed the condom into the tin-foil wrapper, then buried it under wads of tissues and empty toilet paper rolls at the bottom of the trash can, just in case Sarah used his bathroom. He didn’t want her to see that. 

After cleaning himself up, he returned with a warm, damp washcloth. She looked pleasantly surprised, a little shocked. Wordlessly, she parted her legs with enough space for him to fit. 

“Such a gentleman,” she finally said after he gently wiped down her thighs. 

“Maybe.” He moved over her tender, swollen folders with even more caution. “Or maybe I just wanted to get a closer look.” 

He winked and she giggled. 

“You had your face buried down there like twenty minutes ago - don’t think you can get much closer than that.” 

True. Joel snorted and tossed the washcloth into his laundry hamper. He went over to his dresser and dug out an old, oversized t-shirt from the bottom of his drawer.

“Caught this at a Longhorns game from one of those t-shirt cannons,” he said when handing her the folded shirt with her panties on top. 

“Ooooooh impressive.” She playfully wiggled her brows, just slightly taunting him. He didn’t expect anything less. 

His boxers from earlier were still damp, so he put on a fresh pair. 

“So, what time are you picking Sarah up?” she asked, seemingly waiting to bring up his kid until he wasn't butt-ass naked. 

“Actually, she’s staying at her friend’s house tonight.” 

“Well, that’s interesting.” 

Joel hummed his response. He was grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the closet when suddenly the home phone on the nightstand lit up, ringing. Only solicitors called that phone, anymore – shit, his cellphone was downstairs. 

He would’ve ignored it, but what if it was Sarah? 

Joel raced to the phone with his pants still clutched in his hand. Once he saw the caller ID, he groaned.

“It’s Tommy.” 

She nodded for him to answer, and so he did. Very reluctantly. “Hello?” Joel swore if Tommy was in jail again, he was going to let him rot there until next week. 

“Hey there, Joel.” Definitely not jail – too happy. “What’s going on?” 

“Uh,” Joel paused and looked at his bed where Teddy was laying in only his t-shirt and a pair of panties. What a beautiful sight. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself; Tommy wouldn’t believe him even if he told the truth. Joel tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder, so he could put on his pants. “Nothing.” 

Teddy grinned at him like they were teenagers lying to their parents. 

“Nothing? Huh?” Tommy snorted. “Then what’s Teddy’s car doing in your driveway?” 

Oh no. 

Joel nearly tripped over his pant leg on his way to the window. The street lights were on, but the sky was still a light enough blue where he could clearly see Tommy standing in the driveway, waving with a classic little brother grin on his face. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“I was coming by to drag your ass out and wait - are you fucking shirtless?” 

Joel cursed, backing away from the window like it burned him. The cover was blown and he hoped Teddy didn’t mind, but it wasn’t his fault that his brother came over uninvited. He looked at her and she was just smiling, appearing wildly amused. 

She shrugged, then yelled. “Hi Tommy.” 

Tommy howled in his ear, loud enough that he could hear it through the glass. She immediately burst out laughing, no longer having to hide. Joel shook his head, but he couldn’t even be annoyed or mad. Not right now. 

“You dirty dog.” 

Fucking Tommy. 

#pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miler x reader #joel miller fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel miller

[sakkiichi]

TICKETS TO BARBIE.

watching the barbie movie with him.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao, Venti, Kaveh, Albedo, Arataki Itto x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, crack, modern au, headcanons.

word count: 1.6k.

so, i went to see the barbie movie the other day. my friend watched it too 🩵 (sadly we couldn’t go together, as we live miles away), but we both loved it, so i thought this would be a fun idea for some quick headcanons.

✧ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

— Kazuha just loves seeing how excited you are to watch the new Barbie movie. His warm eyes shine and his smile is lovestruck as he observes you rushing around, preparing your pink outfit.

— He’ll have to dedicate a poem to you, with Barbie’s signature color wrapped around you as the main theme.

— If you want to match outfits with him, your boyfriend will oblige, because even if the color choice is not something he’d wear usually, Kazuha loves the idea of matching with you and he adores even more how happy you look.

— Your sparkly gaze when you decorate his hair with pink strawberry and hello kitty clips makes his heart feel all warm and fuzzy, to the point of getting lost in your stare and completely spacing out when you call his name.

— “You’re so beautiful, dove.” Your lover dreamily sighs, when he finally comes to. Cupping your face, don’t blame him if he smudges your perfectly applied lipgloss with his honeyed kisses, alright?

— You and Kazuha are definitely that super cute and affectionate couple at the cinema. From holding hands, to him sneaking cheek kisses, to you feeding him popcorn… Everyone adores your little displays of affection, you two are just so sweet.

— Also, Kazuha looks so good in pink! If you tell him that, though, he’ll get all blushy. And oh, when you caress his face or kiss his forehead? He’s just like a baby bunny with how cute he is. However, he’ll be sure to fluster you with his multiple compliments…

✧ SCARAMOUCHE

— You quite literally have to drag him to watch the movie.

— “Barbie? Isn’t that for little girls?” He spat with a frown, arms crossed over his chest when you presented the idea to him.

— However, your boyfriend happens to be very soft for you, so just give him the puppy eyes and he’ll bend to your every wish.

— “Please?” “Ugh, fine, whatever.”

— He also pretends he doesn’t enjoy the hug and kiss you give him when he agrees to go with you.

— So, the day to go watch Barbie arrives, and Scara shows up at the living room of your shared apartment dressed in all black, ripped jeans on and purple headphones wrapped around his neck.

— “Well? Let’s go watch that stupid movie.” He says, purposefully averting his gaze from your all-pink outfit (he’s totally jealous he won’t be the only one to see you while you look this gorgeous).

— “Not dressed like that, you aren’t.”

— And that is how you proceeded to dress the angry cat that is your boyfriend in a pink top with frilly sleeves. (Alas, you couldn’t get away with making him wear a skirt, but at least you managed to put his hair in pigtails and snap a picture before he ripped the pink hairties off).

— Honestly, Kuni secretly enjoys the movie and thinks weird barbie is neat, even if he won’t tell you about it (yes, you definitely were imagining it when you saw him shed tears at that one scene with Ruth and Barbie).

✧ XIAO

— “Two tickets to Barbie.” And it’s two people, one clad in pink from head to toe, the other in all black, combat boots, and a bunch of tattoos and piercings. He’s wearing a pink butterfly clip in his dark teal hair, though.

— Xiao can’t say no to you, even if he’s overwhelmed by all the people present at the cinema, and the loud atmosphere and bright colors of a crowd dressed in shades of rose are not really his thing.

— But you squeeze his hand reassuringly, your gaze meeting his sharp golden one with that smile he adores to see on your lips. He gets to be with you when you seem so happy, so carefree, and that’s more than he could have ever wished for.

— Your boyfriend might not be wearing the signature color of the doll starring in the film, but his cheeks have certainly taken a deep flushed tone when you hold onto his arm lovingly, your fingers softly running over the swirling patterns of his inked skin.

— Please, please, please, buy something sweet for him to eat while you two watch the movie :( sweet pop corn, pastries, candy… Xiao enjoys mild and sweet flavors, so if you surprise him with a treat like that, he’ll get so flustered and happy! Are you gonna miss out on such an adorable sight?

✧ VENTI

— He’s right in his element!

— Totally wears pink clothes, pink accessories, heart shaped sunglasses and pink makeup.

— If you’d let him, he’d definitely show up in something like his archon outfit, but pink, wings included (yeah, he’s a victoria’s secret angel and he knows it).

— Don’t let him bring the bottle of rosé wine he tried to sneak past you, though, please.

— His mischief aside, Venti is actually one of the best people to watch Barbie with. He’s fun, is invested in the plot, songs and outfits, he’s a comforting presence and is well versed in pop culture.

— The only con is you’re a tad bit jealous that he looks better in pink that you do. He’s certainly slaying in that outfit. Rest assured, though, Venti is not at all shy when compliments are due, so he’ll be sure to shower you with plenty, and he means every single one of them.

— Loves the movie and loves getting to experience it with you. Under his carefree and cheerful front, your lover is someone who really craves for tranquil moments like this, just you and him, spending time together doing something you enjoy… Venti wishes all days could be like this, as much as he likes partying and drinks.

✧ KAVEH

— Similar to Venti, he’s thriving, and maybe he’s even looking forward to this more than you are.

— Has his outfit and makeup thought up days, if not weeks, beforehand (and obviously he has sparkly pink clips to combine with his clothes, as the babygirl he is).

— Kaveh will offer to do your hair, makeup and to help you choose your clothes. And who are you to refuse? Not when you know he’s amazing at it, not when he’s giving you the most precious puppy eyes this world has seen.

— He won’t let you pay for the tickets or snacks either, no matter how much you insist. Your boyfriend has a hard time accepting kindness, especially from someone as special as you; he could never let you invite him or even let you pay for your part and manage to sleep peacefully at night.

— During the movie, he’s living. Takes mental note of the dresses and fits, all the barbie dream houses and every different design he spots. His kind gaze is wide and sparkling and you find yourself staring at your pretty boyfriend more than at the big screen. To see him so… free and untroubled… You wouldn’t trade that for the world.

✧ ALBEDO

— You think it’s seriously unfair how good pink suits him (let’s face it, Albedo is royalty and will be pretty in literally anything) but right now, he looks not unlike a Barbie himself (unfair).

— If he’s in one of his teasing moods, he’ll give you the half lidded eyes and the shit eating smirk when you’re very much not inconspicuously staring at him with your mouth agape.

— “You look stunning yourself, my dearest.” The blonde will whisper, leaning close to your jawline as he cups the back of your head, the lingering caress of his lips on the skin right below your ear making your knees almost buckle.

— Actually is very interested in the critical message the movie intends to portray, and has everything figured out right before it happens (you can totally tell by the way his cerulean eyes glint knowingly, his chin cradled between his fingers, rosy lips titled upwards).

— Naturally, as an artist, Albedo takes note of every design and the whole colorimetry presented through the scenes. Your boyfriend hopes, one day, he can capture you in every shade of vibrant rose and sunshine, even if he believes no paint on canvas will ever do you justice.

— Definitely thinks weird barbie is cool and feels a little guilty because he knows if he were to give a doll to Klee, it would run the risk of meeting that exact same fate (probably accidentally, due to his little sister’s eh… rowdy and adventurous nature).

✧ ARATAKI ITTO

— “Itto, repeat after me: no, you can’t rename our shared apartment the mojo dojo casa house.”

— Itto probably relates to Ken, except for the latter’s actions, because your partner thinks all women are queens and he’d never do what Ken did.

— You probably have to keep an eye on him, to prevent him from being too loud during the movie; he means well, but he’s excitable and can’t help but comment and laugh noisily.

— Just give him a soft kiss on the lips and he’ll be silent for the rest of the film, wink wink. (Don’t blame him if he can’t pay attention to it afterwards, though, he’s just too entranced by your smiling expression).

— Itto would protect Ruth with his life. He adores his grandma, and somehow, the elderly lady from the movie reminds him of her; so, afterwards, he might beg you to help him choose a nice tea set as a gift and to accompany him to visit his grandmother.

— He’s definitely the type to buy some commemorative souvenir: an “I am kenough” hoodie; Ken’s fur coat, Barbie’s car… or any trinket made for the occasion. He’s just like a kid on a candy store, he looks so happy you don’t have it in yourself to deny it to him, even if he ends up buying some overpriced and maybe useless trinket.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact imagines #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader #venti x reader #kaveh x reader #albedo x reader #arataki itto x reader #itto x reader #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact headcanons #kazuha x you #scaramouche x you #wanderer x you #xiao x you #venti x you #kaveh x you #albedo x you #itto x you #barbie #genshin impact #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact modern au

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Hii i saw you have requests open and I was wondering if you'd write about DILF!Jean falling for his son babysitter (he's divorced already and he was when they met) or DILF jean headcannons in general

Hope u can and if not it's okay,have a nice Christmas!! Take care♡

pairing: dilf!jean x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

content + warnings: nothing really. just fluff & some kissing.

a/n: this was sooo fun to write tbh! thank u for ur request!! i hope you had a nice christmas!!

not too long ago, you started working for jean kirstein. well, more like baby-sitting. jean kirstein was a rich, recently divorced dad of one. he had a son who was about two years old and cute as all hell. despite jean not needing to work one more day in his life, he chose to. he wanted to set a good example for his son and quite frankly, he’d be too bored sitting around his house everyday. that’s when he found you, a nice young girl who had experience in babysitting.

when jean first met you, he could tell you were an ideal hire. you were well dressed. you weren’t wearing anything ‘slutty’ or too comfortable. plus, you were easy on his eyes. and his son had taken an immediate liking to you, which was the most important thing to jean. he didn’t hesitate to give you the job and he promised to pay you handsomely. hell, even if he didn’t pay you, you’d consider the job due to the fact of how good looking he was. you thought every woman in town should be jealous of you.

as time went on, you and jean developed a more than professional relationship. you two became friends. he liked you particularly because you’d listen unlike all of the douchebags at work. he liked that he’d come home to a clean house, a fed and in bed baby, and a pretty girl, although he told himself he’d never admit that to you. jean appreciated that you never complained about the hours and always offered to help out with other things around the house. jean knew he could count on you.

there became a time jean started looking at you differently. you weren’t sure quite when it started. the first time you noticed was when you were doing the dishes after you and his kid had just finished dinner. jean had gotten home early unexpectedly. you didn’t hear the front door open due to the running water. the sound of jean clearing his throat was enough to make you jump and drop a dish in the sink. luckily for you, it didn’t break. you turned the water off and turn around to find your boss leaning against the counter, with his arms crossed.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t expecting you.” your words fall out in a rush. to your surprise, jean just laughs. his eyes are shimmering with something you can’t quite put your finger on. that was the first night you suspected something was up with him.

after that, jean started paying you more. you weren’t going to complain. jean kept that glint in his eyes, at least whenever he was around you. you couldn’t help the feeling that his eyes were always on you when he’d come home. then, he started having you help out with his son when he was home. he said something along the lines of, “i want to work from home more to be more available for my son but that doesn’t mean i can always keep the best eye on him. i’d appreciate your help more than you’d know, (y/n.)”

how could you say no when he’d say your name like that?

eventually, staying during the day turned into staying for dinner. jean’d cook and you’d watch the baby while he did. jean’s son was an easy baby and you were grateful. you were being paid a lot more than you deserved. you liked staying for dinner. you liked playing housewife even if your fantasy was just one sided. or at least that’s what you thought.

you and jean continued on with this charade for a few months, blissfully unaware of the other’s feelings. you wish you could be with him. you’ve seen the type of man he is. he’s thoughtful, caring, a great cook, a great dad and incredibly handsome. the list goes on. on the other hand, jean was noticing all sorts of things about you. like the way you’d tie your hair up before getting a head start on the chores. or the way you’d blush when he’d pull a chair out for you. or how natural you looked holding his son.

everything changed one night. you had stayed extra late this particular night. jean had meetings all night long. he was doing them virtually but insisted you stay incase his kid woke up. you obliged, secretly hoping he’d ask you to stay. eventually, you pass out on the couch with the baby monitor on the coffee table in front of you.

you wake the next morning to find a blanket covering you. you start to panic, realizing you had fallen asleep on the job, when you were supposed to be keeping an ear out for cries. you dart up, looking for you phone to look at the time. it’s bright in the room and you know it’s the next day. you wander in the kitchen to find jean sitting at the table, reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee sitting in front of him. he’s wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajamas. you had never seen this look on him and quite frankly, he looked as good as ever.

he set the newspaper down at your arrival. immediately, you began profusely apologizing for your carelessness. jean smiles.

“i wouldn’t have let you stay if you weren’t wanted.”

these words make you blush. they make you realize how bad you want him and how you’d do anything to be his wife. was there a chance he wanted you too?

jean got up from his chair and pushed it in behind him. “you don’t have to apologize. you aren’t in trouble. the boy was just fine all night. it was unfair of me to ask you to stay so late.” he admitted, leaning against the counter next to you. “truth is, the real reason you were here is a little…selfish.”

your heart was beating so fast. your ears couldn’t believe what they were hearing. and god, your eyes could not stop looking at him. his kind, hazel eyes. his messy brown-blond hair. and his scruff. and his pink, perfect lips. “why was i here?” the words somehow find a way out while you hope you know the answer.

“because i wanted you here.” he moved closer to you. your stomach was in knots, twisting and turning. jean reached a hand up to hold the side of your face. your cheek where his hand rested was burning. you weren’t sure if it was you or him that was so warm. you can’t find anything to say. there’s nothing moving around in your brain except for him. “(y/n,)” he started, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “why do you think you’re here so much?”

“to do my job.”

“no. try again.” jean whispered.

“i don’t know.” you whispered back.

“i think that you do.” jean leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours. instinctively, your hand went up to grip his wrist. he was looking right into your eyes. his gaze never faltered. it was that look again. the one from all those nights ago. he pulled away. jean turned his head away and sighed. “(y/n), don’t make me say it.”

“you’re falling for me.” you whispered, your forehead and cheek still burning from his gentle touch. he turned his head back to you, eyes now filled with hope.

“are you…falling for me?” he asked but it came out as more of a plea. you nodded your head. you couldn’t believe this was happening. you were sure you were still asleep and going to wake up soon. “you’re certain?” he tilted his head.

“yes.” your voice still came out as a whisper, afraid the moment would end if you spoke any louder. this was all the confirmation jean needed to hear. it was music to his ears. he took a step closer. you’re afraid your heart might actually beat out of your chest.

jean’s face was leaning in towards yours. you closed your eyes, afraid but wanting. needing. his lips met yours. they are soft and gentle. they’re warm. you felt jean’s hands wrap around your waist as he pulled his mouth away from yours. you opened your eyes finally.

“i’m a cliche, aren’t i?” he asked. “falling for the babysitter?”

you can find my jean fic by clicking here

#attack on titan fanfiction #aot headcanons #attack on titan #aot smut #aot fanfiction #snk headcanons #aot fluff #attack on titan headcanons #aot fanfic #aot x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein fluff #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #jean x reader #jean kirstein x y/n #jean kirstein fanfiction #jean kirstein headcanons #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein fanfic #jean kirstein imagine #jean aot #jean kirschtein x reader #aot jean #snk jean #jean kirschtien #jean fanfic #jean x y/n #jean x you #attack on titan fluff

[apollostears]

SAY I’M UR LOVE ＃︎！︎

❤︎ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 + 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): 𝐡𝐜𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫. 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐟 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐦*𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐚, 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐮𝐡- 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫

❤︎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒊𝒎 𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

❥︎ aki never smokes around you. he’ll always go outside

❥︎ loves going grocery shopping with you. he doesn’t even care if power and denji tagged along. just the fact that he’s doing domestic things with you, makes his heart swoon

❥︎ always brings you home food. never has to ask what you want bc he knows

❥︎ reads to you! aki reads you to sleep sometimes. he often has a million thoughts running through his mind before he goes to bed, but reading to you helps him with that

❥︎ aki loves to stand behind you, almost like a shadow, with his hand resting on your hips, ass, in your back pocket, or w a finger hooked around the belt loop on your jeans

❥︎ he wishes he had a bigger tub bc he’d love to share it with you

❥︎ aki’s a morning riser but stays in bed twenty minutes more than he should, just to watch the way you sleep so easily in his arms

❥︎ absolutely allows you to do his hair ( he prefers it actually ) loves when you wash it for him too 🥹

❥ he loves to love you! he never thought he’d truly fall in love, especially with his work but he has you. and he’s ready to shower you in love

❥︎ picks up on your mannerisms and vice versa. it’s cuter when aki does it and power always teases him when he says/does anything similar to you

❥︎ went and got a ring for you after dating for ten months. really he knew after month two he wanted to marry you but was scared he’d scare you away 🥺 so now he’s just waiting for the right time

❥︎ has a playlist of songs that remind him of you ( plays it all the time )

❥︎ wears a handmade bracelet you made him, on his wrist and refuses to take it off.

❥︎ constantly dreams about retiring or working for the private sector just to be with you. but killing the gun devil is really important to him

❥︎ has an absurd amount of candids of you. had to get several disposable cameras bc he ran out of storage on his phone

❥︎ will NEVER pass on an opportunity for you to massage his scalp. NEVER. power and denji could be trying to kill each other ( he doesn’t care ) and he’ll stay blissfully ignorant in your lap

❥︎ is a 1000% a “my partner is tired so we’re gonna head out” member!!! honestly, he’s the club president likeeeee

❥︎ you could be across the room talking it up with kishibe and aki telling himeno that he’s gotta go. she seein right thru his shit but doesn’t press and lets it slide

❥︎ but everyone knows what he’s doing when they see him dragging you out as you fuss at him for ruining the talk you were having with his mentor.

❥︎ something about him having “no home training”

❥︎ i could keep going but like aki loves you, period. if you were a devil he’d have a contract with you that would require you to only be his devil contract and no one else 💀

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. @kennyackermanswhore @chaoticevilbakugo @indiecursor @gabzlovesu @desiray562 @brownmochii @knjkitten @sweeneyblue1 @namjoonswifeyy @nyxeclipse @rubinocore @somerandompipzsxh @dabilovesme @histarean @hannas16 @caribbeanwifey19 @emonaculate @po3ticb3auty @waka-umm @wilsonsbuck @ctrlstar @jealousfuckingcunt @savagemickey03 @dukina @saintblk @sisnot @littlemochi @hoohoohope @ruubric

#mayawrites #black!reader #anime #aki hayakawa #aki x reader #aki csm #aki headcanons #aki x black!reader #csm x reader #csm headcanons #csm x black!reader #anime x black!reader #anime hcs #anime fluff #fluff #csm fluff #aki fluff

[iambilliejeanok]

I feel like itachi feeds his s/o so good

And his cooking is like delicious

Okay I’m making this a request thanks🫶🏾

Warnings:18+, fluff, mentions of sex.

Coming home from work to indulge in your mans cooking.

He looks forward to it, smiling to himself in the comfort of the kitchen of your shared home after a short conversation over the phone with you.

You’re getting ready to knock off of work and he’s already rolling up his sleeves, opening the last drawer to pull out his favourite apron. It’s black with the words “butter my buns” written in bold red letters, small flames on each end of the phrase. You got it for him on his last birthday, and he thought it was funny and loved the denim material of it. It was perfect to his tastes and used it every opportunity he had. The two of you might of gotten down a few times with him still wearing it, with you butt naked of course, against the shelves in the pantry, the memories of your frequent mischievous adventures in the little room warming up his cheeks as he walks out of the pantry with a box of spaghetti, a can of peeled tomatoes, some seasonings and a few other things. He tries to move fast, carefully carrying all the ingredients in his arms, placing them down on the counter. Your commute back home would normally take you around 25 minutes if you didn’t stop to grab anything on the way way home and in those 25 minutes, he needed his meal to be hot and ready for you to eat.

He focused diligently on the task at hand, allowing his thoughts to drift to you every now and then. He looked forward to you coming home every evening, and for some reason, found himself feeling rather excited for you to fill yourself with whatever meal he prepared for you. He genuinely loves cooking. He always had, ever since he was just a child, still cooking the best meals for his younger brother, which you knew nothing of, nevertheless, you still felt somewhat lucky to have delicious meals prepared for you everyday by none other than Uchiha Itachi.

He loves that you have such an adventurous palette and that you scarf down everything he serves you, indulging in his cooking with moans and groans over every mouthful. You flatter him this way without fail, Itachi catching himself smiling again while he went to work on the sauce, adding every ingredient to thoughts of you, playing over and over again in his head, scenarios of how you’d walk into the house and he’d be ready to embrace you, and help you place whatever you walked in with away before the two of you attacked each other with hugs and kisses that he wished would last forever…but he was content with every moment anyhow, dumping the drained spaghetti into the sauce while eyeing the time. You’d be in here any minute now, Itachi growing warmer by the minute, feeling slightly anxious that you’d walk in before he could plate up the food, he takes this kind of stuff very seriously you know.

Wiping away the sweat that lightly drenched his forehead with the back of his hand, he heard the door open. He didn’t waste another second, speed walking to the foyer to welcome you. “Hey” His voice was so deep and smooth, the red words on his apron grabbing your attention, the memories making you blush for a second, which he noticed, standing there with his bare feet in some cozy, fluffy slippers, black jeans, a black shirt and his hair tied up into a bun at the top of his head, a few strands hanging down his face and a gentle smile plastered on his face as he neared you in a few slow steps. “Hey”, you squeaked. He looked incredibly sexy right now, something you found yourself battling to overlook since the first time you came home to him. And suddenly, you felt that familiar arousal slowly building up in your tummy and between your legs. You felt hungry too, your tummy grumbling as soon as you got a whiff of that wonderful aroma coming from the kitchen. “I hope you’re hungry, dinners already served” He spoke as he cupped both of your cheeks in the palms of his hands, tilting you face towards his as he leaned down to kiss you, the soft feel of your lips melting in between his somewhat sating the hunger he’d manage to keep well suppressed until this very moment, immediately breaking the kiss when he heard you moan ever so softly. He wanted to restrain himself for just a little longer. He still needed you to eat. “Come lets go”, he said, leaving you breathless as he dragged you by the hand into the kitchen, pulling out the chair underneath the counter, lifting you up to help you sit, making you giggle like a child.

You were so cute, he was happy he had something prepared to fill your grumbling tummy, placing a mat down in front of you before putting you plate on top of it. “Eat up babe, don’t wait for it to get cold” . He opened the fridge to retrieve a tall jug of lemon water, and you snuck a look at his ass, Itachi catching you as he turned around. You quickly looked down at your plate, feeling slightly embarrassed as you reached for your fork. “Come sit with me pleasssee”, you asked. “One second” Itachi said, finally sitting down on the chair beside you, placing two glasses down and planting a kiss on your head. “How did you know I wanted spaghetti tonight?”, you asked, twirling some on your spoon, ready for a mouthful of warmth and delight. He dug into his food next to you, the excitement for you to try his food never dying down, even in this moment. “Maybe I read your mind”, he teased, but you blushed, wondering if he read all the other stuff you hand in mind for the evening, his big dark eyes making you feel hot. You quickly stared down at your food, stuffing you face with the first bite, a soft moan slipping from your throat, the taste of the delicious ingredients gracing your mouth, unable to resist shoving more into your mouth. “And of course I’ll eat you out right here as soon as I clean up the table”, he casually mentioned and you nearly chocked on your food.

#naruto imagines #naruto smut #itachi x reader #itachi scenarios #itachi fluff #itachi x you #itachi uchiha #itachi imagines

[daggerspare-standingby]

The Chase - Part 1 | Hangman x Reader

Ok ok so I've had this in my works for a while and I couldnt find the guts to post it but here it is... my Jake x Reader Fic. Thanks to @roosterforme for helping me come up with a name :)

Summary: You've got a summer job bartending at the Hard Deck, and every night the same cocky naval aviator comes to the bar and flirts with you. You don't return his advances, heeding everyone's warnings and deciding to play hard to get, but jealousy creeps in each time he leaves with another tag chaser. Leaving you to your nighttime fantasies.

Jake secretly loves the chase you give him, he leaves with the girls but only for a hot and heavy make out session outside the bar. Since meeting you, and seeing the way his flirtatious advances effect you, or lack thereof, he's not able to get you out of his head. Your sassy attitude makes him weak in the knees, and makes his heart beat a little faster each time you give him a smart remark. There's no doubt in his mind, you're the one for him.

Warnings: none that I can think of in this one, smut for future parts, bar and navy inaccuracies for sure

Pairing: Jake x Bartender!Reader

Word count: 2348..

You had never met a more cocky and arrogant person than Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin. From the very first day you met the aviator, he crawled right under your skin with his constant smirk and holier-than-thou attitude. He thought you would simply fawn under his striking green eyes and sparkling white grin. He didn’t expect you to be immune to his advances each night.

When he saw you at the bar the night of your first shift, he was captivated by your long flowing hair and your cute ass in the jean shorts you wore, he sent up a silent thank you for the ac that couldn’t keep up. Then you turned around and he saw the little tank top you were wearing, which showed off a respectable amount of cleavage and he could swear he could pop a gasket right there. You were absolutely beautiful. When you laughed at something one of the patrons said, your smile brightened up the whole bar, he’d stood and admired you, frozen in place (right by the front door to the bar) until Fanboy walked right into his back “hey, watch it Garcia”, Hangman grumbled as he moved to their usual spot by the pool tables. Coyote followed his friend’s gaze, also landing on the pretty new bartender Penny had hired who was singing along to the music playing through the jukebox as she served beverages. “Hangman, let’s go get some beer.” Always the best wingman, Hangman gave him an appreciative nod as they both made their way to the bar, they leaned against it waiting their turn to be approached. 

Each night would be the same song and dance, you would be behind the bar lighting up the dingy floor boards and peeled paint with your smile, Jake and the Dagger Squad as they became affectionately known after their successful mission, would show up after work, order a few rounds and Jake would unsuccessfully flirt with you and try to get your phone number. It irked him that you called everyone by their first names, except for him. You and the squad had developed a friendship like no other, but for Jake, that beautiful smile and long hair was what he wished to see splayed out on his pillow beside him when he woke up. 

He had been flirting with you for months, you’d clocked the aviator a mile away every time he walked into the bar, oozing swagger and confidence. That damn toothpick gripped between those pearly white teeth, which simultaneously drove you mad and made you incredibly horny - especially when he did that thing with his tongue that flipped it around… the first time he did it he was standing at the bar waiting for a drink from Penny, and you couldn't help but check him out, he was attractive, sure you’d give him that. His piercing green eyes meeting yours “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before darlin’,” You straightened slightly, not expecting the attention and having only been hired by Penny a few days ago to help out with the summer shifts “Penny just hired me…” He smiled, “I’m Jake, but they call me Hangman.” Before you could respond, Penny returned with his beers and handed them to him “leave my bartenders alone Hangman” you bit your lip and watched as Jake retreated to the pool tables and his friends, but not before casting you one more glance before starting a pool game. 

He flirted shamelessly with you each time he came to the bar, and you couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach each time he did. He had done the toothpick trick a couple times and your mind wandered to what else he could with that tongue of his. By the end of your shift, he was long gone, usually with a pretty young thing on his arm, but you were left with thoughts of his steely green eyes, sharp jaw, witty mouth and wicked tongue. You returned to your apartment, shed your clothes and crawled into bed, but you were so keyed up with thoughts of Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin, that your hands wandered down your body, under your sleep shirt, and into your panties, already soaked with arousal. His honeyed voice echoing in your mind, saying your name to get your attention at the bar, the way he winked at you as he added a few more beer to his tab, and imagining that your fingers currently circling your clit was his tongue instead was what had you clenching around nothing and arching off the bed. 

It was the same, night after night. Jake would come to the bar after his shift, his khaki uniform straining over his biceps and making your mouth water and breath catch. He’d wink at you when he placed his order, and flirt with you shamelessly all night. But you’d seen the way he turned on the charm with every girl at the bar, especially when you didn’t reciprocate his advances each night. He eventually left with them each and every night, and the thought crept into your head that maybe everyone was right - Hangman only wanted one thing, and you didn’t want to be another notch on his bed-post. But that didn’t stop you from circling your clit with your fingers each night, shuddering with his name on your lips as you came. 

One Friday, Penny had an additional hand from Jimmy and gave you the night off to enjoy it from the other side of the bar. You sipped your drink sitting at a barstool, when just after 5pm the door opened with a roar of conversation flooding in, Jake followed by the rest of the Dagger Squad. You watched Jake’s eyes scanning the bar and a ghost of a frown touches his lips as he doesn’t see you working. He orders a beer from Penny anyways and your smirk grows, watching him make his way back to the pool table and dart board as the squad normally does. You sit on your stool opposite the bar, observing, the normal swagger and confidence he exudes is still there, especially when he throws a perfect game again, but his smile as he ribs his teammates doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You can’t hear the conversation, but you hear the rest of the team groan at presumably one of his cocky remarks, you nod Penny over and order a round of beers for the aviators, plus one for yourself and head over with the full tray. 

“Rooster, if you fly the way you play pool you’re definitely going to run out of gas. Make the shot man” You set the tray of cold beers down on a high top table and watch Rooster take the shot and scratch. Taking a beer from the tray you approach the group of pilots, “Can I tag in Roos?” Everyone - including Hangman - straightens up at your arrival. Jake’s grip on his pool cue tightens slightly, not enough for you to notice, but enough for Javy to smirk around his bottle as he brings it to his lips, knowing his best friend is hooked and falling real hard for you. Rooster happily hands you his pool cue and takes the beer from you instead “good luck, you’ll need it to beat Hangman.” Your eyes finally meet the blonde pilots “you’re not gonna go too hard on me, right Hangman?” Jake’s eyes softened slightly at your gaze, oh yeah, he was hooked. “Course not darlin’.” He racked the balls again, trying to keep composure and not give away his feelings about you “you’re not working tonight?” You shook your head as you chalked your cue “nope, got the night off. A girl deserves to have fun every now and again, you naval aviators can’t be the only ones.” The Dagger Squad was watching the banter, keeping their conversation low, but with invested interest. Hangman’s signature smirk grew on his face “You can break darlin’” You nodded, rounding the table and laying out the cue ball, lips pursed in a small smile as you bent at the waist eyeing the shot you were about to make, purposely taking your time, making sure he would take full advantage of your ass basically on display.

Jake inhaled deeply, watching you lean over the pool table and willed his mind to think of anything but the inappropriate thoughts that were trying to push in. “You sure you don’t need a hand there sweetheart?” he made sure to add a little extra bravado in his tone, hoping that it would mask the desperation he felt seeping into his bones at how badly he wanted to wrap his body around yours. You cast him a sideways smirk and took the shot, sinking two right off the break. Standing, to move around the table you brushed right against his chest, his scent overwhelmed your senses, sandalwood and cinnamon, but you kept your chin up “you’re in the way of my next shot Hangman.” Jake’s eyebrows raised, almost to his hairline as he steps out of the way, unable to wipe the grin off his face. Finally, someone who could keep up with him.

This was a welcome change to the flow of the usual evening, the light chatter from the squad surrounding you as you and Jake battled it out over a game of pool. He made a smart alec remark just as you took another shot, causing you to misalign and miss slightly, giving him the upper hand. His grin widened, making the corners of his eyes crinkle “Oh darlin’ that’s too bad. Let me show you how a real winner plays.” You stood back, picking up your drink and watching his confidence come back with each shot he made. Just before he sunk the 8 ball, his eyes reached yours “thanks for the challenge sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes watching as the ball sunk into the pocket “they should call you Hangover, you just give me a headache. Sorry I couldn’t take him down a peg, friends.” You handed the cue stick over to Coyote who took it with a small chuckle and you made your way over to the bathroom. 

The rest of the team returned to their conversations, Payback and Fanboy arguing about which Star Trek rerun was better, Phoenix, Bob and Rooster discussing different flight plans but Jake approached Javi watching your retreating form and let out a small sigh “I’m gonna marry that girl.” Javi looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow “you sure about that man?” Jake turned his attention to Javi with a serious expression “yes! name another girl that can keep up with me.” Coyote shrugged “All I’m saying is, if that’s your plan, stop leaving every night with some tag chaser for a heavy petting session.” Jake frowned, his brows knitting in the middle but the look disappeared as quickly as it arrived when you exited the bathroom and were making your way back towards them. 

You needed a break after being in such close proximity to him for so long, bodies brushing each time you passed each other to make another shot, feeling the heat of his gaze on you the entire time, you retreated to the bathroom and splashed some cold water on the back of your neck and on your cheeks. You knew he was going to leave with another girl tonight, why did you still let him get to you? a small voice in your head told you it was because you hoped that he would leave with you tonight, but did you really want to be another conquest? another name on the bathroom stall under his callsign. Another small voice in your heart told you that the two persona’s were different, and Jake wouldn’t treat you that way, but you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, settling on better never than maybe, and made your way back out to the aviators around the back area of the bar. Seeing some of the usual customers you waved and made some casual conversation as you moved through the space, completely unaware of the way his eyes followed your every move. 

What you were also completely unaware of, was the young officer who had had a little too much to drink, was sloshing his beer all over the place, and knocked into you accidentally, causing you to slip on the spilled liquid and as you squeezed your eyes shut bracing for the pain of hitting the floor, you realized that pain never came. The scent hit you before you could open your eyes, but as you did, you were brought back to a standing position by Jake, his hand firmly gripping your upper arm, which loosened once you stood straight and he briefly ran his eyes over you, giving you a once over “are you ok?” You needed to blink a couple times before words could form on your tongue, but when they did, they sounded too breathless “yeah.” He was still holding your arm, it was almost too much, feeling of electricity running through your system stemming from where his calloused hand was touching your arm. You looked back at how far you were from the pool tables and silently wondered how he had gotten over to you so quickly, your ears were buzzing and he was saying something to Penny, who then quickly turned to ring the bell. You recognized the cheer of “Overboard” Jake turned to look at you and you registered that he was talking to you “stay right here, I’m gonna toss this loser out and then I’ll take you home.” You started to protest but he was gone before you could even get the words out. Coyote and Payback assisted him with tossing out the young sailor and then he was back in front of you “I paid your tab, come on.” And that would be the first time you followed Jake out of the Hard Deck, with him holding onto your hand.

—

Tagging some friends who might be interested?

@djs8891 @blue-aconite @midnightmagpiemama @rosiahills22 @hecate-steps-on-me @cherrycola27 @roosterforme @roosterbruiser @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @paigewinchester67 @horseshoegirl @potatothatcanwrite @theharddeck @thedroneranger @hangmandruigandmav

Let me know if you want to be added or removed or if you can think of someone that may like where this is going! I appreciate it <3

x Brina

#top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman fic #top gun hangman #jake x reader #Jake x you #jake seresin #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin x you

[hippolotamus]

tagged by the lovely and talented @daffi-990 (new chapter!) @mountedeverest @wikiangela (be sure to check out their things) and various other people through the week. Brain did not wish to write this week, but I put together some unexpected words on a thing that's been bothering me in S7 😅 anyway, have some of Eddie's complicated mental gymnastics. (and I did another lil thing earlier but didn't tag everyone because i know not everyone likes BuckTommy but if it interests you...)

As much as Eddie gave Buck hell about Natalia, about dating someone from a call, he easily categorizes Marisol separately. Because Eddie is good at that, at making different mental compartments for sorting the things he needs to. Things like work (people they saved, people they lost), Christopher (school, growing up, friend circles), his time in the army, family (his sisters, abuela, Pepa, his parents, safe topics of conversation). Even one for himself (father, son, brother, husband, widower, firefighter). Needless to say, it’s an extensive list. A well practiced method that allows him to say ‘Marisol from the hardware store’, not ‘Marisol from the 911 call’, without feeling guilty or like he’s lying.  Other than the convenience of a half truth, he was genuinely pleased to run into her there. She’s pleasant, helpful. There’s something kind of adorable about her overalls and the way her hair is pulled into a messy ponytail. Something that makes her a little less intimidating and a lot easier to talk to. Like he doesn’t have to perform or put on an act. He can just be a guy trying to figure out the right adhesive for his son’s school project.  It’s a nice role to slip into. Easy. Simple. Easier still to justify having Chris there when he calls Marisol to ask her out.  That all comes screeching to a halt when he picks her up for their date. They're only supposed to be going for a casual dinner and movie. He chose a black button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up on his forearms, and one of his nicer pairs of dark jeans. What he considers a respectable yet casual look. Marisol opens the door to greet him and something in his brain goes offline. Not for any of the typical reasons people usually get thrown off. But when has his brain ever acted the way it’s supposed to? It’s not- she’s not unattractive or off putting. Necessarily. But she’s… girly, soft, feminine. Her hair falls around her shoulders, slightly curled at the ends, and she’s applied enough makeup to be noticeable but not too much. She’s wearing a short-sleeved olive green dress that falls to mid-thigh and strappy heels.  Several of the neatly arranged boxes in Eddie’s head, with their partitions and labels, tumble together, spilling and jumbling their contents with another unmarked box full of thoughts he’d like to pretend he doesn’t know exists.

@actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @loveyouanyway @a-noble-dragon @tizniz

@fortheloveofbuddie @weewootruck @saybiwithme @bidisasterevankinard @shipperqueen6

@ramonaflow @taketheplanspinitsideways @spotsandsocks @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley

@stereopticons @kitteneddiediaz @mrs-f-darcy @diazsdimples @drowsy-quill

@your-catfish-friend @thekristen999 @filet-o-feelings @underwaterninja13 @lizzie-bennetdarcy

@rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings @queenmabcreates @inell @jesuisici33

@bucksbiawakening @shortsighted-owl @queerbuckleys @bi-buckrights

@elvensorceress @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @indestructibleheart @ladydorian05

@lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @the-likesofus

@thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to 😘

#hippo writes #i assure you i am very unhappy to mention... *her* #but this is genuinely about eddie and his thoughts #idek wtf to call this one honestly #fuck it friday #i'm just making all the boys have Feels and then making it everyone else's problem too

[mickittotheman]

hii 🤗 for the kiss trope: Gallavich and 11 or 49

Hi!!! 🤗🤗🤗

49. ...out of necessity

Ian sighs, drumming his fingers against sun bleached red plastic. Debbie pops out of the water for the millionth time, shoving her soaked hair out of her face and turning to beam at Ian excitedly. He gives her a stained smile and a halfhearted thumbs up.

Okay, yeah, he could probably be more enthusiastic. That had been a pretty impressive flip. 

But he’s tired, and he’s bored, and he feels like he’s cooking in the sun, the shade of the ripped umbrella above him not nearly enough. By the end of the summer, he’ll be nothing but one big freckle. 

It's a good gig. They need the money. He’s been trying to avoid the Kash and Grab, trying to avoid Kash. The pay is decent, and his siblings get free admission. He’d been excited about the prospect of maybe helping someone, maybe saving someone, maybe being the hero for once.

So far, he’s only had to save the occasional bee, and, on one notable occasion, a rat.

He sighs again. Gazes at the water longingly. He wishes he could jump in. He wishes something exciting would happen.

He scans the surface again, scans the perimeter, looking for trouble. It’s busy today. Crowded. Probably because it’s hot as fuck.

There’s a few people from school he recognizes, but there's one group in particular he’s been eyeing, one person in particular.

Mickey Milkovich.

Ian’s never actually talked to him before. But he’s seen him. 

He leaning his back against the fence, smoke wafting up from his lips to the “No Smoking” sign posted just above his head. He’s hot as fuck– in every sense of the word. He’s wearing all black. Black tee with the sleeves cut off, black ripped jeans, black heavy boots. He’s in the shade, but Ian can see the sweat glistening on his skin from all the way over here, and it’s kinda making his mouth water.

He swallows. Looks away. Inevitably looks back.

Mickey’s sister is sunbathing face down on a lounge chair, a skimpy black two piece on her steadily reddening skin, a handful of boys drooling over her, only kept at bay by Mickey’s glare. One of the other Milkovich brothers is there– Iggy? Colin? Ian can never tell them apart– but he’s preoccupied, having ditched guard dog duty in favor of rubbing sunscreen onto some college girl’s back.

He forces himself to focus on the water again. If a kid dies because he was too busy thinking with his dick he’d never live it down.

He’s trying so hard not to look. He blames that on why he misses the initial commotion. When he finally glances over at the sound of raised voices Mandy is standing up, a red mark the shape of a handprint on her ass and a murderous expression on her face. Mickey is already decking the one Ian assumes is the culprit.

Shit.

Ian fumbles for the little whistle around his neck.

Mickey whips around at the shrill noise with a glare, and the other guy seizes the opportunity to shove Mickey into the pool and run.

There’s gasping. Some yelling. A few people scatter, not wanting to be around for when Mickey clambers out and goes fucking ballistic.

But Mickey doesn’t clamber out. He sinks to the bottom in a mess of flailing limbs. 

Shit. 

Ian is in the water in a heartbeat. The shock of cold against his flushed skin is jarring, but he barely pays it any mind. Mandy had jumped in too, and together they manage to haul Mickey up and out and onto the searing hot pavement.

“Shit, Mickey, come on you stupid shithead,” Mandy mutters, smacking at his face.

“I need you to move,” Ian says, and he’s distantly shocked by how calm he sounds.

She doesn’t put up a fight like he was expecting, just scrambles back to give Ian room.

He’s only ever had to do this on crusty foam dummies, but miraculously, muscle memory takes over. He starts compressions. Quick, quicker than you think they should be but not too quick, deep but not too deep. He reaches thirty. Moves his hands up, tips Mickey’s head back, ducks down.

He barely has his lips sealed over Mickey’s when Mickey gasps.

It’s not as romantic as it is in the movies. 

The first thing Mickey does is turn his head and cough up a mixture of chlorinated water and bile. The second thing he does is start biting out curses and kicking.

“Shit,” Ian hisses, scrambling out of range of Mickey’s heavy boots.

“Mickey, Mick, stop,” Mandy scolds, slapping at Mickey again. 

Mickey’s gaze darts around, taking in the situation, the way Mandy is pale and wide eyed, the fact that his clothes are soaked through, the people standing around gawking. 

His skin goes pink. He scowls mutinously. “What the fuck are you people looking at?”

People look away so fast, Ian wouldn’t be surprised if they had whiplash.

Ian laughs, nearly giddy with adrenaline and relief. “Come on. I can get you a towel.” 

And some privacy, goes unsaid, but Mickey picks up on it anyways. He drags himself up, unsuccessfully trying to bat away Mandy’s and Ian's arms as they hook under his shoulders. 

They find the second lifeguard in the locker room with a fresh hickey on his neck and a giggling blonde clinging to him. He goes wide eyed when he sees them, shoves the girl away unceremoniously. “Holy fuck. What happened?”

Ian rolls his eyes. “I’ve got it covered. Will you please just go do your fucking job while I handle this?”

“Don’t need your fucking help,” Mickey grouses. Ian and Mandy ignore him and wrangle him into sitting on one of the benches. “Where the fuck is Iggy?”

“He went to chase after that guy. I’m gonna go grab our bag before someone steals it.” Mandy pats Mickey on the shoulder once. Turns to the door. Pauses with just one foot out to look back.

She bites her lip. Drags her gaze up and down Ian’s form, lingering on his lips, on his still heaving chest, on where his wet swim trunks are clinging to him. “Thank you. For saving my brother. I owe you one.”

“Oh. Oh.” Ian feels his ears go red. He occupies himself with fumbling around in his locker for his towel. “Uh, thank you, but it was nothing, I–”

The door slams shut, Mandy already gone.

“Shit.” Ian sighs. Closes his eyes for a moment. Rubs at his forehead.

Mickey eyes him skeptically and snatches the towel Ian holds out to him. “You know by ‘owe you one’, she means a blowie, right?”

Ian burns even redder. Doesn’t quite manage to keep the grimace off his face. “Yeah.”

“What? You think you're too good for her?” Mickey sneers, bristling like a porcupine.

“No, no! She’s just. Uh. Not my type.”

Mickey glowers at him. Scowls. “What are you, a fucking fag or something?”

Fuck. Mickey wouldn't kill the guy who just saved his life, right? 

Right?

Mickey scowls even harder when Ian flounders. Brings his tattooed fingers up to rub at his mouth. “I oughtta cut your fucking tongue out for putting your goddamn lips on me like that.”

“Trust me, I didn’t exactly enjoy it,” Ian snarks, and he swears, he swears, he sees something like disappointment flash through Mickey’s eyes. Something like hurt. 

His breath stutters. He swallows hard.

“I mean. I didn't exactly get the chance to.”

Mickey freezes.

Ian holds his breath.

Mickey stands abruptly. Tosses the towel towards Ian's chest. Stomps towards the door. 

Oh.

Ian deflates a bit.

Well. Could be worse. Mickey could have straight up murdered him.

Mickey pauses just inside the doorway, one foot out. Looks back. Shoves his tongue out to lick at the corner of his mouth. Looks Ian up and down with a cocked brow. “I owe you one.”

Ian’s eyes widen, but Mickey’s already gone.

send me a number~

#i will most likely come back and do 11 too so keep an eye out!!! #prompt games #gallavich #my scribblings #is this unrealistic? yes. do i care? yes. but i am trying very hard not to #cmonnnnn they do it in movies all the time #let me get away with it just this one pretty please???🥺

[sagesolsticewrites]

Better Kind of Best Friend

Anthony, your friend-with-benefits, stops by for an impromptu visit after an interview.

a/n: Alexa, play Style (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift 😏 And once again hugest of shoutouts to my darling Winnie for another fantastic playlist!!

Warnings: mature content (oral (f receiving), PinV penetration, Anto being a tease), swearing

Word count: 2.1k

Masterlist

“Stupid—” You grumble, shoving the closet door closed. 

You had just finished your fight with the broom, who simply refused to fit in the tiny storage closet where you kept all of your cleaning supplies, when your doorbell rang.

Sending up a silent thanks that whoever decided to call on you had done so after you had finished your fairly productive cleaning day, you moved to answer it.

And you couldn’t stop your jaw dropping when you saw who was behind it.

“Anto?”

“Hey,” he breathes, scanning you up and down, and it’s at that moment you realize just how little you’re wearing, having opted for a simple tank and your comfiest pair of shorts.

You step aside to let him in, taking in his appearance as he does so.

Messy hair, but messy in a way that lets you know it was styled that way. A simple, well-fitting white t-shirt, and what you had to admit were the best-looking jeans you’d ever seen in your life. 

As he turns to you, you note his face looks smoother, almost matte— makeup.

“I— did you just come from an interview or something?”

“Yeah,” he says distractedly, “It finished, and I realized how close I was to your place, and I just… I wanted to see you.”

You both know he means something other than “see”, there.

“Is it, uh…” He glances around, seemingly realizing that he’s dropped in on you with zero warning, “not a good time?”

You shake your head.

“No, it’s fine.”

It could be 3am on a Wednesday, and you’d still be happy to see him.

“You want a coffee— or, sorry, tea?” You ask, nodding towards your now-spotless kitchen.

A minute later, he’s leaning against your counter as you rummage through the cabinets, though you know the mugs will likely be left to go cold sooner or later.

As you go through the motions of tea preparation, your mind drifts back to how this… arrangement started.

You had met on set several years back, and there was an instant connection between you two. Neither of you were looking for a relationship at that time, but what was supposed to be a one night stand turned into two. Then three. And now when he was in town every so often, he’d stop by. No matter how many times you swore to yourself that this is the last time… when he showed up with those damn puppy eyes practically begging to take you to bed, you couldn’t find it within yourself to say no. Even if it hurt every time he left again, because somewhere along the way you’d started wanting to be more than friends. And you’d kept that wish tucked close to your heart, because it had been a while since the last time he stopped by, and doing so right after an interview? You were sure he just wanted to… destress after a long day.

You hand him his mug, moving to lean against the kitchen island across from him.

After several minutes of silence, you speak, hyperaware of his gaze pinning you in place.

“So how’d the interview go?”

“I don’t think I wanna talk about the interview right now,” he replies in a low voice, and the way he scans you up and down has you squeezing your thighs together as if your life depends on it.

You try to think of something, anything to say in response, but your mind goes blank as he moves towards you — mug abandoned like you knew it would be — pinning you against the counter as his hands trail up your sides.

Your body goes loose and pliant under his touch, your head falling to the side to expose your neck as he noses at your jawline.

“Been too fucking long,” he breathes against your skin, and you barely have time to sigh his name before his lips are on your neck.

You arch into him as he scatters kisses all along your skin, making liberal use of his teeth to leave deep purple marks all over your neck. Your hand finds its way into his hair, fisting his curls as his mouth trails along your collarbone.

“Wanna taste you,” he murmurs against your skin, your spine tingling at the heat of his tone and the utterly molten look in his eyes as he looks up to meet your gaze, “Can I? Please?”

You nod furiously, your “yes” escaping as a soft moan.

He grips your hips firmly, lifting you onto the counter with an effortlessness that has heat pooling between your thighs — an effect heightened by the way his mouth remains on your skin as he steps between your legs and begins fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

You lift your arms to allow him to peel it off of you, your nipples pebbling in the cool air of the kitchen.

Anto swears softly as he drinks you in, eyes darkening, and you draw your bottom lip between your teeth as you wait for him to do something.

His mouth returns with a vengeance to attack your collarbone, quickly moving south to skim along the tops of your breasts.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he murmurs in a tone that has you letting out a moan even before his mouth moves to capture your nipple, the hand that isn’t still firmly attached to your hip moving up to toy with your other breast.

You whine his name as his tongue swirls expertly around you, his hand quickly replacing his mouth as he pulls away to repeat the action where his hand just was.

His ministrations soon have you grinding against nothing, hips bucking desperately against the air, and you can feel the teasing bastard chuckle against your skin as he mouths his way down your stomach.

“Impatient, are we?” He hums, something sparking in his eyes at the yelp that escapes you when he digs his teeth teasingly into the soft flesh just above the waistband of your shorts.

“You said yourself it’s been too fucking long,” you pant, sighing out a “finally” and lifting your hips as he makes quick work of removal your shorts and panties.

Your relief is soon replaced once again by impatience as he kneels between your legs, fingertips lightly dragging through your slick folds, and then putting his mouth…

On your fucking thigh, nibbling and sucking his way almost to your core before repeating the motions on your other thigh.

“Anto, you fucking…”

You can’t even finish your complaint, words escaping you as you whine at the feeling of his teeth grazing against your skin.

“What was that?” He hums, a teasing glint in his eyes as he looks up to meet your gaze, “Something you wanna say?”

“Quit being a teas— oh my god.”

Your plea is cut off with a cry as his mouth finally reaches your core, licking deep into your folds.

He lets out a groan, the vibrations of which send delicious shivers throughout your body as he drags his tongue through your core. 

You moan, long and loud as your hand finds its way into his messy waves, pulling him closer. One of his hands remains on your thigh, keeping your legs spread, while the other moves upwards, his thumb expertly circling your clit.

“Fuck, Anto,” you whine, your head falling back as his mouth and fingers work overtime on your core, tightening the growing tension just below your belly.

He hums in satisfaction against you, recognizing the signs of you reaching your peak, and it takes no time at all for him to guide you through your climax as you release with a cry of his name.

Legs shaking, your eyes flutter open in time to see him mouthing his way back up your body, lips dragging deliciously against your skin.

He sucks at the tender skin of your neck, and you can feel him grinning against you at your shaky exhale.

“Oh Y/N, you didn’t think I’d forgotten what you liked, did you?”

Fucking tease.

“Oh Anto, you're not done already, are you?” You manage to quip back, squeezing his hips between your thighs.

“Definitely not,” he says lowly, pulling away to shuck off his shirt as your hands move to fumble with his belt.

You lean forward to drag your mouth along his neck, lips gliding up the hollow of his throat and along his jawline as he retrieves something from his pocket before his remaining clothes join the pile on your kitchen floor.

A huff of a laugh escapes you as you see the familiar foil packet in his hand.

“You came prepared, huh?”

“Don’t I always?” He says, mouth twitching up into the smallest of smiles.

You expertly tear it open and roll the latex onto him, unable to hide your smirk at the way his breath hitches when you drag your fingers teasingly back up his shaft.

He swears under his breath at your touch before planting his hands on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. He leans in, his breath hot on your skin as he lines himself up at your entrance with a whisper of “I’m gonna fuck you now, yeah?”

You just barely bite back a ragged moan, settling for a shaky “yes, please” as he slowly presses into you.

“Look at you, getting your manners back as soon as I’m inside you,” he teases once he’s fully entered you, hips pressed flush to yours, “You missed me that badly?”

I did, I really did, is what you long to say, but you can’t bring yourself to say the words that could ruin the delicate balance of your relationship, so you settle for stammering: “Shut up and fuck me already.”

A wicked grin crosses his face, and he slowly pulls out and thrusts back into you, your breath hitching as his hips snap into yours repeatedly.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he pants against you.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Your only response is a desperate whine, your fingers tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck.

He mumbles praise against your skin, the tension within you building with every thrust.

Your ankles lock behind his back, pulling him closer as he drives deeper into you, your nails grazing down his back as you let out a loud moan.

“Anto— Anto, fuck, ‘m gonna—”

“Oh, yes,” he growls into your ear, continuing the punishingly fast pace, “C’mon, Y/N, come for me—”

His thumb moving to circle your clit as he continues to pound into you is the thing that sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

With a muffled groan, Anto quickly follows suit, spilling into the condom after two more erratic thrusts before slumping against you, utterly spent.

He presses sloppy kisses up your neck as the two of you attempt to catch your breath, swearing softly as he pulls out of you and huffing out a laugh as you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“You alright?” He asks softly once you’ve both got your breath back, wriggling back into his boxers and t-shirt after he’s discarded the condom.

You nod, slipping back into your tank and shorts.

“Wanna hang out for a bit? I’m on a bit of a Bake-Off binge right now…”

Your heart soars at the way his eyes light up at the chance to watch something mindless after a day of answering endless questions about his career— he loves it, you know he does, but you also know the toll it takes.

“I’d love that,” he grins, making quick work of wriggling back into his jeans and following you to the living room.

You find yourself curled up next to him, his arm around your shoulders as you both point out the clear mistakes each contestant is making (mistakes that you both would definitely make, but that’s not important right now).

— — —

You groan, eyes fluttering open against the bright sunlight streaming through your windows, a blanket that you didn’t remember pulling over you falling to the floor as you sit up. Blearily, you glance around, feeling like something’s missing…

Your heart sinks the tiniest bit as you realize he must have left at some point in the middle of the night.

It would’ve been awkward if he stayed, you scold yourself, it’s better this way.

That logic doesn’t stop a smile growing on your face as you notice a thermos of tea on the coffee table, next to a scrap of paper with Anto’s signature scrawl.

Y/N,

Thanks for letting me barge in yesterday. Sorry I couldn’t stay, but I promise I’ll drop by again soon. Thanks for the tea and… everything else ;)

Yours,

Anto

You take a sip of the tea— just the way you liked it, of course— relishing the ache between your legs. If this was all you could have of him for now, well… 

You’d take it, happily.

#don’t worry i do have a part 2 planned y’all <3 #anthony boyle x reader #anthony boyle smut #anthony boyle #anthony boyle imagine #anthony boyle fic #my writing #anthony boyle rpf

[cherryxcadbury]

OK HERE'S YOUR NEY REQUEST:

You know that drake song "childs play"? In the intro of the song a guy says something along the lines of "if your girl asks you to go to a nba game.. she is probably fcking some guy on that team". My idea for you: how would ney react to you asking him to acompany you to a man city game? Idk maybe mix in some sweet jealousy and him being excited when haaland loses?

Love ya take care xoxo

love love love you xx

I used to not understand anyone’s attraction to Neymar, bc he’s a bit older than me. but now, I get it, I really do.

2nd person pov

“Look what I got!” You smirked as you walked into the sitting room where your boyfriend, Neymar was lying on the couch, scrolling through his phone.

He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You flashed him two tickets, Manchester City vs. Arsenal.

“Come with me to the Man City game! They’re going to be playing in London, Emirates Stadium.” You begged.

Neymar sat up, his phone barely hanging onto the sofa.

“Why do you want to go watch this game? It’s just a regular premier league match.” Neymar questioned.

You rolled your eyes at his question.

“It’s going to be such a good match. Arteta, Jesus, and Zinchenko against their old team! And I finally get to see Haaland live!”

Neymar narrowed his eyes at the last part of your sentence.

“Haaland eh?”

You nodded enthusiastically, “He’s so good! Honestly better than Mbappe.”

Neymar furiously shook his head, “There is no youngster better than Kylian.”

You had to stop from laughing. It was clear he was a bit jealous.

“Whatever. So you coming? Or are you too jealous?”

His eyes bulged out of his sockets.

“I’m not jealous.”

You rolled your eyes at his clear lie before he pulled you to sit on the couch with him. He cupped your face, and kissed you deeply.

You pulled away at a loss for words, while he pulled away with a smirk.

“Still want to go to that match? We can just stay here you know…” He suggested.

It was your turn to smirk now.

“Of course! I spent a fortune on those tickets. Come on!” You had decided. ***

“Right here.” You gestured to a set of two seats in the fourth row.

Despite your wishes to wear a kit from one of the teams playing, your boyfriend had convinced you to wear one of his many Brazil hoodies. You wore a gray set of leggings underneath, paired with the viral ugg booties. Neymar on the other hand, wore a plain white hoodie with some branding, and tight black jeans with slight rips in them. He of course paired this with a baseball cap and some trendy Jordans.

Once a fashion icon, always a fashion icon.

You both sat down into your seats and got comfortable. The match was just about to start.

“I’m thirsty.” You whispered to Neymar, signaling for the bottle of water in his hand.

“Thirsty?” He smirked.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier we could’ve just stayed home in Paris an…” He began to say.

You slapped his leg and shot him a look, “Get your head out of the gutter idiot.”

“How am I supposed to when you’re sitting there looking like that in my sweatshirt?”

You rolled your eyes at his lack of self control.

Within a few minutes, the match had begun. Manchester City was very clearly dominating, as expected. Haaland had several chances courtesy De Bruyne but had been unlucky thus far.

Neymar had told you he’d be rooting for Arsenal. This was a bit strange to you because he’d never been an Arsenal supporter in the slightest. He claimed it was because Arsenal had a more overwhelming number of Brazilian players than Man City so he needed to support “his boys.” To you however, it just didn’t add up.

He was enjoying the game though. When Arsenal went up 1-0, thanks to a Jesus goal, his grin became wider. Neymar would constantly look over at you to see what you were thinking, what you were feeling.

Things changed however in the 86th minute, when Man City scored on a Haaland goal. Like many other away fans, the terrific strike brought you to your feet and you cheered as loud as possible, much to Neymar’s disappointment. You’d figured he was a bit jealous. And if he wanted to play this game, so be it.

“COME ON!” Cheers were heard all around you.

Neymar face curled up into a scowl as he watched you clap for Haaland’s goal. Once you finally sat back down, his arm was again around your waist, trying to bring you as close as possible to him. Your head rested on his shoulder while his head rested on yours.

“City’s gonna win.” You whispered to him.

“Not if my boys have a say in it.” He mumbled back, kissing your cheek.

You turned to face him and stuck your tongue out at his smug look.

Truth be told, on the inside, he was praying Arsenal didn’t lose. He couldn’t bear watch you cheer for City again.

In the 89th minute, his wish came true. City defender Nathan Ake was unable to track back fast enough, and was so match for Bukayo Saka who received the ball and banged it in the net.

Your mouth had fallen open, and Neymar had gone to his feet, cheering as loud as possible.

He looked down at you in your seat and shot you a wide smirk while you gave him a pissed look. He sat back down and grabbed your chin before kissing you again. The stadiums cameras had been able to find you two meanwhile.

After pulling away, you and Neymar had realised you were on the cameras (pretend they do this at the Emirates, idk if they do). You looked down and blushed while Neymar shot a wink at the camera. Eventually, the cameras found someone else to bother and the match ended, with Arsenal winning. Neymar had a smug look on his face when you two were leaving the stadium.

“Just say it.” You sighed.

“Haaland was kind of invisible today, don’t you think?” He smirked.

“He still scored Ney.”

“Yeah but they lost.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “He’s still a star.”

Neymar furrowed his brow, “And me?”

His jealousy was insane.

You turned to face him, and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You’ll always be my superstar.”

as a spurs supporter, writing abt an arsenal win was quite painful.

as a side note, thank u sm for ur requests! I’m writing them based on which ones I’m feeling! but at some point, they’ll all be done.

#neymar jr #neymar #psg #brazil nt #neymar junior #neymar imagines #neymar imagine #neymar jr x reader #ney #neymar blurb #paris saint germain #neybappe #fc barcelona #man city #arsenal #erling haaland #footballers #football imagines #neymar fluff #neymar angst #neymar headcanon #neymar x you #neymar one shot

[iheartjameshetfield]

I WROTE THAT REQUEST ABOUT JAMES EATING PUSSY AND NOW I’M THINKING OF BEING HIGHSCHOOL SWEETHEARTS WITH HIM

like, imagine you’re both doing homework or studying or wtv, you’re parents are gone and you two end up making out, which leads to him having a boner cause he keeps thinking about THAT

and he’s super embarrased bc it has never happened before and ends up in being THE first time 😝‼️

ugh like come on man be my first bf please ☹️

AHH NO CUZ THE SECOND YOUR PARENTS WOULD LEAVE, HE WOULD BE ALLLL OVER YOU

he’d be so fucking cute as he presses kisses all over your face, telling you you’re so smart n pretty and how you’re gonna ace your exams and shit. after thanking him and returning a few kisses, you eventually tell him that you both have to get back to studying, which makes him groan in annoyance but he listens to you.

you were trying to help him memorize but he couldn’t care less about studying, so you made a compromise; whenever he answers a question right, you’ll kiss him. that quickly brought his attention forward, suddenly being able to answer everything with almost no hesitation.

when he answered the lengthy question, the one that he found most difficult, you were so happy, practically jumping on top of him to smother him with kisses while you tell him you’re so proud of him, making him laugh.

you feel something against your lower stomach, and when you shuffle on top of james to see what was pokin you, james let’s out a guttural moan, causing you both to snap your heads and face each other.

“shit, i’m sorry.” his face turns red as you get off of him, he looks at anywhere but you, embarrassed since this was the first time you caught him with a boner.

you were perched on your knees in front of him while he had himself rested on his arms, sitting up and not knowing what to do in a situation like this.

“does it hurt?” you whisper after a moment, your voice barely audible as you ask your question, worried that he might laugh at you.

instead, he shrugs and then nods. “a little.”

you feel your cheeks getting hotter as he keeps gazing at you, almost seeing what thoughts are going through his head. experimentally, you bring your hand towards him, placing it on his front before giving it a soft squeeze.

“is this okay?” you ask just to be sure.

“yes. yes more than okay.” he eagerly reassures you, watching you make your move.

you start to palm him, enjoying the faces and the little panting he was making. you had never gone this far before. the most you both had done was just making out, maybe james would rest his hand between your lower back and ass since he was a little shy, but this was new for the both of you.

the wetness in between your legs had started to become too much to ignore. “do you wanna…?” you shyly mumble, hoping he’d get the hint.

you sigh of relief when he nods excitedly, immediately leaning forward to take your lips into a kiss. without disconnecting the kiss, you both shimmied back so you would be resting against the pillows and he would be on top of you.

you tug on his shirt, which makes him quickly discard it somewhere on your bedroom floor, along with his jeans. he helps you get out of your pants and shirt, but he doesn’t get the chance to admire you when you put your arm around yourself, feeling super exposed.

“we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” he reminds you.

“no i want to.” you take a deep breath and then sit up, unhooking your bra and tossing it next to the other discarded clothing items. you frown at the sight of your panties, wishing you were wearing something sexier other than a purple one with a navy blue bow and lace on the hem, but it was too late to change.

“you’re so beautiful.” james sucks in a deep breath as he takes in the sight of you and all your naked glory. he leans down to connect your lips in a sloppy kiss, kissing down your jaw, neck, and eventually your breasts.

he takes off your underwear, rubbing the sides of your upper thighs when you’re finally fully undressed. he strokes himself a couple of times before lining his tip with your heat.

“you ready?” he asks and you confirm by nodding your head, bracing your arms on his shoulders. he slowly inserts himself inside of you, wincing at the faces your making. you feel him stretching you out, more pain then pleasure but when he starts to kiss your cheeks and lips, the pain sort of fades away.

“tell me when i can move.” he says wanting you to take your time. when most of the pain settles, you nod your head, giving him the okay to start moving. he starts to thrust inside of you, the pace slow, speeding up only when you’re okay with it.

“you’re so tight.” he shuts his eyes, eyebrows fusing together as his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, letting out a breathy moan. “feels so good.” he whimpers

he starts to hit that sweet spot inside of you, making you squirm and clench around him repeatedly. his head drops against you shoulder, biting his lips to keep him from screaming, but you can still hear his sweet moans and cries.

“james, i think i’m gonna…oh god.” you cry as you orgasm, clenching around james as he stills inside of you when you try to close your legs.

with the new added slick between your legs from your cum and the faces and pretty little moans, this tipped james over the edge, cumming along with you as he mutters curse words under his breath. once you both settle down, he pulls out of you, making you wince from the sudden emptiness.

“are you okay?” he asks, swiping away the hair that got stuck to your forehead so he could place a kiss.

“uh huh,” is all you could mutter, snuggling close to his chest. “are you?”

“never been better.” he beams, loving the feeling of you being settled against him.

tell me why i wrote a whole ass novel??

#james hetfield #metallica #james hetfield smut #metallica smut #james hetfield fanfic #james hetfield metallica #james hetfield x reader #asks and replies

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart  || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You're Alone, Do You Let Go? ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin

Here I go and I don't know why I spin so ceaselessly Till I lose my sense of gravity

- Patti Smith, “Dancing Barefoot” (1979) [click here to listen]

Pittsburgh || Early October, 1988

Five knocks had been their signal all tour.

He had told her that she could just walk in – that she was always welcome in his dressing room, that nobody else would disturb them. Yet she still didn’t feel comfortable doing that – respecting his space, and the quiet time he needed to collect himself before every show.

Never mind that these days, more often than not Jamie would bolt the door so that they could love each other quickly and quietly before he went on stage.

She was always ready for him – but tonight, when he answered the door, she knew he would need something different.

At about half of the concerts this tour he would wear a simple black tank top with his jeans. For the other half, he’d forgo a shirt entirely. Not that Claire minded either way, though she did love how the tattoo of her name over his heart would be proudly on display for the world to see.

Tonight he had opted for no tank – which is how she quickly noticed the rapid rise and fall of his chest, as he took very quick and shallow breaths. Eyes wide and unfocused, piercing into hers, impossibly blue amid his black eye makeup.

“Jamie,” she breathed, rushing inside and closing the door. “I’m here. Tell me.”

He swallowed, pushing her against the dressing room wall. Hips flush with hers as her cool hand rested over his heart, fingertips tracing her name inked on his body.

“I…” he gaped, then closed his mouth. Breathing deeply. Eyes wild. “I…Claire…”

“I’m here,” she repeated softly. “I love you. Do you love me?”

“Forever,” he choked. Hand fluttering under her Print t-shirt, thumbnail digging into the bone of her hip.

“I’m here, Jamie. I’m not going anywhere.”

He swallowed.

“Let me call Raymond right now. We have his home number for a reason, that’s what he told us when we called last week. We have time before the show. Everybody can wait. You have a phone in here, right?”

He shook his head. "No. Not tonight."

She frowned. “Did you take anything?”

“No,” he replied instantly. “No. No. Definitely no. Wouldn’t do that to you. To us.”

Her fingertips skimmed down the inside of his arm, and his gaze followed. She turned her hand palm upward. “Do you see your letter on me, Jamie? The one you inked yourself, in Boston?”

“Yes,” he breathed. Reached a fingertip to touch the J tattooed below her thumb.

“Focus on that. How much I love you. And do you remember when I inked my letter on you?”

He turned over his hand to proudly show her the C tattooed below his right thumb. “Your touch. Always with me.” He swallowed. “Every note I play, it’s with me.”

“That’s right, Jamie. I’m always with you, and you’re always with me.” She reached up to caress his cheek, smiling at the rasp of his stubble. “We have time. Do you want to love?”

Her hand drifted down across his chest and rested on the belt loops of his jeans. Waiting. Giving him the choice.

He leaned down for a long, slow, sweet kiss.

She felt the tension seep from his body.

“Want to wait to love you tonight,” he whispered against her lips, hips still flush with hers. Teasing. “But only if you can wait, too.”

She nodded, kissing his lower lip. “I can. But I’ll be thinking about it the whole show. How amazing it will be, later. Will you, too?”

He deepened the kiss. “Fuck yes.”

“And not here,” she gasped between kisses. “Back at the hotel. I want to take my time.”

He bit the side of her neck.

Three pounds on the door. Colum’s signal for five minutes until showtime. Because he knew better than to barge in. The one time he had…well, that was enough.

Jamie pulled away only slightly, his body still pressing Claire’s against the wall. He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. Breathing deeply. Inhaling the scent of her skin.

“What happened?”

He sighed. “One of the fans at the meet and greet told me that I inspired him to get clean. Go to AA. Deal with his shit. He actually thanked me.”

“Oh, my love.” She kissed him. “That’s so wonderful.”

He sought shelter in the safety of her neck. “I fucking did that, Claire. I can’t believe it. It's...it's unreal.”

She nodded, arms winding tight around his shoulders. “You did do that, Jamie. That’s so amazing.”

“He was so fucking happy. So proud. I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s all right. You don’t need to say anything. Knowing is enough.”

He kissed her collarbone. “I just can't get over it. For all this time, I've only thought that all that shit I used to do could only have one result. That it was all bad. And now it's messing with my head to know that my fuck-ups actually helped someone. Kind of makes me happy in a weird way that all that shit happened, because it helped him.”

She carded her fingers through his hair. “It makes it worth it. Will you promise to tell Raymond about this?”

He nodded. “Yeah. We need to talk with him about this. Not gonna lie, it's fucking with my head a bit. Because I’m nobody’s hero, Claire. Nobody in this world who has any sense should look up to me. I’m an addict, and a musician who just got insanely lucky.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

Jamie smiled. Thrust his pelvis into hers. Smiling when she whimpered.

“I think it's impossible that with all the records we've sold, and with all the sold out shows this tour, that only that one person has changed their thinking. So what about..."

He swallowed, a bit unsure. Claire ran her thumb over his cheek.

"Maybe...maybe I do something official. Like, launch a sobriety support program for fans. Encourage them to have sober meet-ups with each other.”

She smiled, ecstatic. “That would be so amazing, Jamie. We should tell Colum - he can get the publicity people on it right away. You’ve got a voice – you should use it.”

Four loud knocks.

“Kiss your bride goodbye, Jamie! Everyone is waiting!” Colum yelled through the door.

Claire smiled. “You’re gonna do so great tonight. I’ll be right there with you.”

Jamie smiled. “I do have a voice, Claire. And I sing for you.”

He darted in for a kiss. And another. And another.

Neither heard the door open, until –

“For fuck’s sake!” Colum screamed. “I said kiss her, not swallow her!”

Jamie pulled away. Light. Happy.

“See you after the show,” she smiled.

“Can’t wait,” he grinned. Slung his guitar over his shoulder. Waited for her to find and pick up her medical bag. Gripped her hand. Led her to the stage.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be