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katiexpunk · 5 months

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Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

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S P R I N G Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them.

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful.

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life.

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite. After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it.

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged.

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK.

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore.

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story.

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one.

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below.

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug.

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it.

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think.

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up.

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram.

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it.

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep.

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await.

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste.

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try.

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts.

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone.

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl.

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door.

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open.

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast.

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door. “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone.

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door.

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess.

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more.

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even.

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman.

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious.

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk.

Oh god.

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is. You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it.

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot.

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.”

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it.

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note.

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did.

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it.

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.”

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain.

God, he wishes you would have kept it.

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days.

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden.

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown.

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway.

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it.

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place.

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy.

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside.

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter.

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help.

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one.

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy.

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot.

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh.

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him.

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease.

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country…

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile.

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception.

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box. It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency.

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.”

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt.

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him.

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive.

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink.

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again.

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls.

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car.

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom.

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life.

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one.

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him.

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected.

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had.

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen.

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated.

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment.

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves.

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips.

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips.

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken.

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching.

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him.

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room.

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice.

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it.

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight.

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop.

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock.

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him.

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm.

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal #new york #firefighter smut #pedro stories

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zeldasnotes · 5 months

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ASTRO OBSERVATIONS PART 31 🎁

MASTERLIST

Having both 10th and 8th house placements is so annoying. If there is something an 8th houser need its privacy and thats the one thing 10th houser will never get.

Venus Square Pluto in a mans chart is the ”the girl i was in love with in my teens rejected me and I never got over it” kinda energy. Very often there is some kind of bitterness towards women.

Projection is not only projecting negative stuff onto others, its also projecting positive qualities on to people, something that neptune energy tends to do. They be like ”nooo she would never do that”.

People with Neptune/Pisces 2nd house are so confused when it comes to money. The ones to buy a Guccibag when they dont have a bed.

Pluto conjunctions in composite can indicate a relationship that never ends. ”We are not done with eachother” kinda energy. You might be in your teens now but trust me you will bump into eachother again when you are like 40. Not even moving to different countries can separate this bond.

Venus aspecting Neptune people are so damn artistic. Especially when Uranus is involved. My friend have the conjunction to both Uranus and Neptune and everything she wears look so good and unique. And she finds the clothes nobody else have.

People with 8th and 12th house energy needs to be careful because they attract people who are addicted to their energy. People who dont even like them wants to be around them bc of it. Same can be said about 2nd house placement and their possessions.

Mercury trine Ascendant makes someone a good actor because their body language and what they want to communicate works perfectly together.

Venus can shows a body part you like to take a little extra care of. My mom is a pisces Venus and growing up i always saw her do foot baths, etc. Libra Venus might like to work out their butt at the gym etc.

I just have to laugh when I see people with Lilith 11th house take the bullies side because trust me honey it will be your turn next.

Women with Cancer/4th house placements are the kind of women who are seen as good mothers by outsiders no matter what they do. Especially Fama(408) in Cancer. Might also hide behind their mom image when you accuse them ”I would never do that Im a mother for god sakes”

Moon Square Mercury is super exhausting to have. A lifelong battle between heart and mind.

A mix of Libra and Cancer in the inner planets in a womans chart almost always guarantees popularity. Especially if its Libra Sun with Cancer Moon.

People with Lilith 4th house might have had a mother who had issues with them being home alone. Their mom might not go to work when the lilith 4th house person is sick and home from school even tho the kid is over 15 and can be at home by themselves. Constantly in the kids face.

People with 6th house placements tend to be naturally gorgeous. A lot of them look better with no makeup or light makeup.

Moon Square Uranus people might cut the bond out of nowhere. A person in my town with this aspect is even known for this. She become best friends with someone and have these sleepovers and are constantly close to them then out of nowhere something happens and she never talks to them again. Uranus Square can make someone just snap out of nowhere.

People with Nessus(7066) conjunct Mercury have a habit of wanting to mentally undress people and make things into something more serious than it is. You wear a maxi dress and they be like ”you dont like your legs” uhm no honey I just thought this maxi dress looked good.

People with Jupiter in the 1st house can sometimes be a little too laidback and not make an effort because they always attracted attention without doing anything. They never had to ”fight” to get attention, social contacts, fame etc. This can make them socially lazy.

Pluto aspecting the Ascendant can give you the kinda energy that nobody will try you, but it can also do the opposite. Pluto either scare the freaky people or pull them in.

People with conjuntions to Chiron = being turned off by people who likes them and chasing people who will never want them instead. (Especially moon and Venus)

#astro notes #astrology #astro observations #astronotes #lilith #ascendant #birth chart readings #asteroids #astrotidbits

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proxima-writes · 5 months

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title: my tears ricochet | part i

pairing: husband's best friend!joel miller x female reader

rating: chapter - t; full work - explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 7k

summary: after moving from new york to texas with your fiance, you expect to jump right into wedding planning with his help. when he claims to be too busy, he suggests asking his best friend, joel miller, to help you instead.

you weren't supposed to fall in love with him.

author's note: this story is a three part fic inspired by the song "my tears ricochet" by taylor swift. this first part is reader's POV, part two will be joel's POV, and the third part will be dual POV. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

chapter tags: modern au, infidelity, emotional abuse, the fiance is shitty, no use of y/n, single POV (reader), wedding dress shopping and other wedding planning activities, angst, arguing, alcohol consumption/mention, kissing, no smut. please let me know if i've missed any!

major work tags: modern au, infidelity, explicit sexual content, character death

You stare out at the manicured yard, watching as guests move about the grounds and waiters in black uniforms carry trays of food and drinks through the crowd. Your boyfriend -- wait, no, fiancé -- Alex laughs boisterously with your father, a hand on his back in easy familiarity. You know you should be down there with him given that this is your engagement party, but you were starting to feel overwhelmed by the constant smiling and greeting strangers and showing off your shiny new engagement ring that you needed a break.

The door opens and a man you don't recognize steps into the room, pale blue dress shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and a pair of wrinkled dress pants. He runs a hand through his messy dark curls.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone would be in here," he says. As he looks you over, his brown eyes go wide with surprise. "Shit, you're the bride!"

You smile at him. "That's me," you reply. You hold a hand out towards him as you give him your name, his rough palm sliding against yours as he grips it firmly.

"I'm Joel Miller," he tells you. You know the name well, being that he's your fiancé's best friend. "Didn't mean to make our first time meetin' so awkward."

"No, no, it's not your fault. I've just been feeling a little overwhelmed with all the," you wave your hand towards the window, "festivities. It's great to finally meet you."

"I don't blame ya. They can get pretty stuffy down there. Congrats, by the way."

"Thank you." He lets go of your hand. "So, why are you hiding?"

He laughs, deep and full bellied. "Alex's mom doesn't like me much. I'm sure she was hopin' that we would stop bein' friends when he went to school on the other side of the country, but I’m like a stubborn tick."

"How could she not like you, Alex told me that the two of you have been best friends since kindergarten!"

"There may have been a few mishaps in high school," he says. "You ever tried eggin' your principal's house?"

"Can't say that I have," you reply.

"Well, it doesn't end well if you get caught." He looks out the window with a smile on his face. "We got arrested. Alex's dad had to bail us out. Probably had to throw some hush money around so that it wouldn't show up on his record when he applied to school."

"He's never told me that!" You say, laughing hard enough around the words that your stomach hurts.

The door opens and this time, Alex himself steps into the room. His serious expression morphs into a smile when he sees you and Joel.

"There you are," he says, crossing the room to kiss your cheek. He greets Joel with a hug, patting his back roughly. "What are you two doing in here?"

"I just needed a minute alone," you tell him.

"And I crashed her minute alone. Told her about the time we got arrested in high school," Joel adds. Alex's jaw tenses, his smile tight as his eyes flick to you, like he's worried about your reaction. "She laughed. It's all good."

"Right. Well, I came to find you because its time for the toast and dinner," Alex says. "Let's get back down to our guests."

A hand at the small of your back urges you towards the door before you can reply.

"Alex, are you listening to me?" You ask. Your fiancé looks up from his phone.

"I'm sorry, baby, I was finishing an e-mail," he says. He sets his phone down on the table, dark screen facing up, and gives you his full attention. "What were you saying?"

"I wanted to schedule the cake tasting. Do you have any free time this week?"

He grimaces. "I don't think I do, sweetheart. Your dad's got my schedule pretty packed."

"I can just ask him to--"

"No," he says sternly. "You know I have to make a good impression with the rest of the firm."

"But--"

"Babe, no. I can't do this week. Why don't you ask my mom? Or Joel?"

While your future mother-in-law is kind enough, you don't have much patience for the way she tries to take control of your wedding planning. Joel, however, might be a good idea. He knows Alex well enough to be a stand in for a decision like cake and icing flavors.

"Could you give me Joel's number?"

Alex smiles, seemingly pleased that he's off the hook as he takes his phone in hand and sends you his best friend's phone number.

You meet Joel at the bakery that week. To your surprise he's there before you, dressed in worn jeans and a t-shirt and he smiles brightly at you as you approach.

"Hey," he says. "Ready to eat some cake?"

"I think this will be my favorite part of planning this whole wedding," you reply. He laughs as he pulls the door open for you to step inside, following in behind you.

"Welcome to Buttercup Bakery! Can I help y'all with anything?" A young woman with a name tag reading BEVERLY asks from behind the counter, pink and white apron tied around her waist.

"I have a cake tasting appointment," you reply, giving her your name for the reservation.

"Excellent! If you want to go ahead and take a seat anywhere you'd like, I'll bring out the tasting options and we'll get you squared away in no time!"

She disappears through swinging doors as you and Joel take a seat at a pink acrylic table with matching chairs. He looks around the shop with interest.

"What made you pick this place?" He asks.

"Had the best reviews," you say with a shrug. His brow furrows.

"Alex didn't suggest it? He helpin' you at all with this weddin'?"

He says it with a laugh, but the question makes you dig your fingernails into your palm. "He's just really busy with work. I've been doing a lot of the planning."

“What about your uh, what are they called? Bridesmaids?”

“They’re all back in New York. It’s just me.”

“I thought your parents were here, too? Isn’t Alex workin’ with your dad now?”

“It’s just my dad, he’s back in New York. His partner opened a firm in Austin and Alex is working with that office. He’s hoping to make partner soon, too.”

Joel nods, eyes scanning your face but you keep your expression as neutral as possible. The swinging doors open and Beverly returns with a marble tray, bites of cake artfully arranged on the surface. She sets it on the table between you and Joel.

“Okay! These are our six most popular flavor combinations for you to start with and if there’s something more custom you have in mind, we can totally make that happen,” she says. “Starting at the top, we have classic vanilla with vanilla buttercream, chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and chocolate buttercream, our signature champagne cake with strawberry buttercream, lemon cake with lavender buttercream, caramel cake with caramel mocha buttercream, and white chocolate cake with raspberry jam and white chocolate raspberry buttercream.”

Joel grins at you. “This might be the best thing anyone has ever asked me to help with.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” Beverly says with a wink, walking back to the counter.

“I don’t know which to start with,” you say, eyes scanning the selections.

“That chocolate one is callin’ my name,” Joel replies, spearing one of the chocolate cake bites with a fork and taking a bite. He hums appreciatively. “Oh yeah, that one is a winner.”

You choose the vanilla to start, taking a bite of the moist cake with buttercream that tastes strongly of vanilla bean with a hint of cinnamon. The simplicity makes it good, but overall the flavor doesn't stand out to you. Joel continues to take bites seemingly at random while you opt to go around the tray in the order that Beverly introduced the flavors.

"Any of them stickin' out to you?" Joel asks when you've reached the half-way point.

"They're all delicious," you reply. "I think Alex would probably like the vanilla best, though."

"I didn't ask what Alex would like, I asked if there were any that you liked." He spears the remaining piece of white chocolate raspberry with his fork and holds it up to you. "Here, try this one next."

You eye the fork dubiously. "I don't think--"

Joel slips the bite of cake into your mouth despite your interrupted disagreement, smiling at you triumphantly. You chew the bite begrudgingly.

"I think that one and the chocolate one are my favorite," Joel says as you swallow.

Beverly returns at that moment, a notepad in hand as she pulls up a third chair to the tiny bistro table.

“So? What are your thoughts?”

“I think I’m going to get the vanilla,” you tell her. Joel’s jaw ticks, almost like he’s upset you’ve chosen the flavor that you said Alex would like. “But, could I get alternating tiers of the white chocolate raspberry, too?”

Joel’s lips quirk up in a small smile and you try to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.

Joel: Have you picked flowers yet?

Not yet.

Joel: I know a place. You busy today?

You stare the at the message in surprise. You weren’t expecting to hear from Joel again, but his name on your screen has you fighting back a smile.

I’m not busy. When did you want to go?

Joel: They open at noon. Here’s the address.

“Baby, have you seen my blue tie?” Alex calls from upstairs. You drop your phone to the counter like you’ve been caught doing something wrong.

“Which one?” You reply, pressing a hand to your chest.

“The plaid one!”

“Should be in your tie drawer!”

“It’s not here!”

You pinch your nose, making your way to the stairs to join him in your shared bedroom. He’s standing in front of his tie drawer, hands on his hips as he stares at the contents. You peek over his shoulder and reach into the back, pulling out the neatly folded blue and green patterned tie.

He takes it from your hand. “That one should be towards the front. Can you remember that next time you put away dry cleaning?”

“Sure.” You bite your lip to hold back the sigh that threatens to spill. “You want me to tie it for you?”

“No, thanks, I need it to be perfect. Big meeting,” he says, his lips tilted in a smile that feels condescending. He leans into you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you murmur, watching his back as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

Joel is waiting outside of a dark green storefront when you arrive at the address he’d sent you. He smiles when he sees you, a true one that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, and it gives you this strange feeling of emptiness because you can’t remember the last time Alex smiled at you like that.

When you’re close enough, he pulls you into a hug that envelops you in strong arms and the scent of woods at nightfall with a hint of citrus. Your eyes flutter shut as you hug him back and breathe him in.

He releases you and immediately you feel a chill in losing his warmth despite the oppressive Texas heat. You look at the shop as he steps back, taking in the gorgeous floral arrangements in the window and cursive script painted on the glass that says PETAL TO THE METAL.

Joel opens the door to the shop, a brass bell ringing to announce your entrance. A man at the counter in the center of the store looks up and grins at you both.

“Joel! Nice to see you,” the man says. You watch as they shake hands with familiarity, the man behind the counter smiling kindly. “You must be the bride. I’m Frank.”

You give Joel a look of surprise before introducing yourself and shaking Frank’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Do you two know each other?”

“Joel’s an old friend of ours.”

“Ours?”

A back door bangs open, someone emerging with their arms so full of potted plants you can’t see their face. A deep voice let’s out a series of curses.

“This is my partner, Bill,” Frank says. “He’s not much of a people person. Great with plants, though.”

“A little help would be nice,” Bill grunts. Frank rolls his eyes but leaves the counter to take a couple pots from Bill’s hands, revealing a man with long brown hair and a grizzled expression hidden amongst a thick beard. Frank leans in and kisses his cheek.

“You need only ask,” Frank says. Bill’s cheeks turn pink beneath his thick facial hair. Despite the annoyed expression on his face, his eyes are soft as he watches Frank. “Let me grab you the event portfolio and we can talk about your wedding. Have a look around.”

As Frank leaves and Bill busies himself arranging the new plants, you and Joel wander the shop and take in aisles and shelves of different flowers with little gold name cards in their pots or on their buckets.

“So,” Joel says, “How are you liking Austin?”

“It’s…hot,” you reply. “Really, really hot.”

“That’s the south for ya, sweetheart.”

Your face grows hot at the endearment and how it seemed to just roll off his tongue. “Have you lived in Austin your whole life?”

“Texas born n’ bred,” he says proudly, puffing his chest out.

“You never wanted to live anywhere else?”

“I’ve always thought Wyoming sounded nice. A farm that I built, some sheep, no neighbors for miles,” he says wistfully. “Maybe someday.”

“Building a farm, huh? You good with your hands, Joel?”

He blinks at you. “Y-yeah. I mean, I’m a contractor. I gotta be.”

“That’s impressive,” you tell him, biting your lip to hold back your laughter at his flustered response.

Frank approaches, lifting a heavy book in his hands. “You ready to pick some flowers?”

Joel holds the door open for you as the two of you leave the flower shop an hour later. He waves goodbye to Bill and Frank with a promise to visit them for dinner soon before following you down the sidewalk.

“You wanna get lunch?” Joel offers. “My treat.”

You pull your phone from your pocket to check your messages and finding none from Alex, you think to yourself, why not?

“Sure,” you agree.

That's how you find yourself sitting on a bench in the park with Joel Miller, your husband's best friend, talking to him about everything and nothing as you eat street tacos from a food truck nearby. He makes you laugh so hard you choke on birria, the sauce dripping down your chin. He reaches out, wiping the mess with a brown napkin while he smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame.

Later that night, while you're in bed, you can't help but think today was the best day you've had in a long time.

And you're not sure what that means.

You begin texting Joel regularly. You ask him for his opinion on things that Alex can’t be bothered with — the suit colors for the groomsmen (navy blue), the invitation stationary (the linen finish), and favors (miniature bottles of hot sauce - Joel assures you this will be a hit with the Texas crowd). In between those conversations, he sends you pictures from his construction sites or asks you how your day has been and whether you had gotten the chance to check out that show he recommended.

When you tell Alex about the wedding decisions you've made, leaving out the extent of Joel's help, he hums and nods at the appropriate intervals, feigning attentiveness while his thumb moves rapidly across his phone screen. It should bother you, you think, that your future husband is so uninvolved with planning his own wedding, but then your own phone lights up with Joel’s name and a goofy photo he sent from a construction site, his hard hat askew on his head and his eyes crossed, and your annoyance with Alex fades into background noise.

There’s one last item on your checklist that you’re more nervous to ask Joel for help with than the others — dress shopping. You could probably fly back to New York and be with your friends for the momentous occasion but you’re certain that Alex wouldn’t appreciate your absence for something he considers so frivolous.

Not that you say anything when he’s gone for his golfing trips.

You’re staring at Joel’s contact screen, working up the nerve to call him and ask him if he’d be willing to come dress shopping with you, when it lights up with an incoming call, his name at the top of the screen like just your thoughts summoned him. You answer on the third ring.

“Hey, I was just about to call you,” you tell him.

“So that’s why my ears were itchin’,” he laughs. “You need somethin’?”

You take a steadying breath. “I just have one more thing I need help with and then you won’t have to deal with me.”

“I don’t mind helpin’ you, sweetheart.” You stomach flutters at the nickname and he clears his throat to fill the loaded silence that follows his words. “Now, tell me what you need.”

“Could you come dress shopping with me?”

“That all? Just tell me where and when,” he says. You breathe a sigh of relief, giving him the details of the appointment you made at a local boutique. He promises to meet you there this weekend before hanging up.

The word sweetheart in Joel’s deep voice echoes through your mind for the rest of the day.

Joel looks hilariously out of place on the pristine white couch located in the middle of the dress boutique, a dainty glass of champagne held in his large hand. You sit beside him, your legs touching as you watch the sales associate flit around the store, pulling hangers of dresses from the racks.

“That’s a lot of dresses,” Joel comments, taking a sip of champagne.

“You not up for the challenge?” You tease. He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his wide smile.

“Trust me, I’m up for the challenge. We’re goin’ to find you the best damn weddin’ dress Texas has ever seen,” he promises.

“Alright, I’ve got some gorgeous choices here for you,” the associate announces, holding up a handful of ivory hangers draped in all types of fabric from satin to chiffon. “You wanna follow me and we’ll get started?”

You follow her to the fitting room and she sets the hangers on a rack, fanning out the dresses so that you can get a better look. There’s five of them in a variety of styles, including an impressive ball gown boasting layers of tulle that trails to the floor.

“I’ll try that one first,” you tell her, pointing to ball gown.

“What’s your fiancé’s name?” She asks as you undress, taking the gown from the hanger and arranging it on the floor for you to step into it.

“Alex,” you reply. She drags the bodice up and instructs you to hold it to your chest while she laces up the corset back.

“I think it’s sweet that you’ve brought him with you.”

“Oh, no. That’s Joel, he’s my husband’s best friend.”

“Really?” She asks, the strings tightening around your waist. “The way you two look at each other, I would have bet money he was the one marrying you." You're about to ask what she means when she finishes tying off the bodice and says, "Wow, this dress is stunning on you."

Her comment retreats to the back of your mind as you look at yourself in the mirror. The strapless white gown hugs your chest and waist, flaring out into a layered skirt with lace appliques. There's beading on the sweetheart neckline that trails down the bodice in intricate patterns that catch the light of the fitting room. The dress is stunning.

Marnie leads you back out to the showroom, helping you step up onto a raised platform in front of a trifold mirror that shows you your reflection from multiple angles. You twist and turn, taking in all the details of it before finally facing Joel.

"Damn," Joel says. "That sure is one hell of a dress."

"It's...a lot." You twist your hips from side to side, the heavy skirt swishing across the floor. "I feel like a cupcake and I don't know if I'll be able to dance in it."

"You wanna test it out?"

He's standing before you can respond, reaching a hand into yours to guide you down from the pedestal. When you're on the floor, he wraps an arm around your low back, pulling you close while swaying side to side.

The world around you goes a little blurry and the only thing in perfect clarity is Joel. The feel of his hand in yours, the weight of his arm at the small of your back, the clean smell of soap and citrus, everything is just....Joel.

"How's it feel?" He asks, voice low. You tilt your head back to look up at his face.

"Huh?"

"The dress...dancin'...how's it feel?"

The question drags you back to reality, where you're currently dancing around a bridal salon with a man who isn't your fiance. You pull away from him, returning to the pedestal as the bridal associate joins the two of you again.

"Uh...I don't think this is the dress for me. Can we try the next one?"

You try on two other dresses in quick succession, neither of them leaving a lasting impression. It's the fourth dress that really gives you pause as you look at yourself in the fitting room mirror.

"Honey," the associate says, adjusting the off-the-shoulder sleeves of the dress, "This dress was made for you."

The scooped neckline highlights the lines and curves of your neck and shoulders, the corset bodice hugging your curves in satin folds. The skirt fans out from the waist, similar to the silhouette of the ball gown without all the additional weight and fabric and a thigh high slit allows for some extra movement.

She leads you back out into the showroom and helps you once more onto the pedestal. You grin at your reflection as she fixes the skirt into place.

"Well?" You ask, catching Joel's eye in the mirror. His mouth is set in a serious line, brows pinched together and his arms crossed over his chest. You own smile falters. "You don't like it? What's with the look?"

He shakes his head, his serious expression morphing into a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You look..." His voice trails off and he clears his throat. "Alex is a lucky son of a bitch."

You laugh, lifting the skirt so that you can step off the pedestal. Joel's eyes drop, his gaze fixing on the skirt as you walk towards him.

"You think so?" You ask quietly, stepping in close.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he murmurs. A single finger runs down your arm, goosebumps erupting over your skin in its wake. "I know so."

With the wedding plans finalized, your attention returns to your work as a web design consultant. Your client portfolio starts to build once more, keeping you busy in the months leading up to your big day. Alex remains focused on his work at the firm, working long days and longer nights that have him arriving home well after you've gone to bed, the two of you just ships passing in the dark. You would feel lonely, you think, if not for Joel.

The two of you still message each other frequently, though you don't see him again until a month before the wedding, when Alex invites him over for dinner one Saturday night.

The doorbell rings just as you put the chicken in the oven and you wipe your hands before going to answer it, your heart racing. Joel's sweet smile greets you when you open the door and seeing him across the threshold has the tension in your shoulders easing the slightest bit.

He steps across the threshold, strong arms wrapping around your waist in a tight hug. Footsteps on the stairs have him releasing you far sooner than you would have liked.

"Joel, my man! Glad you could make it," Alex says as he reaches the first floor. "Honey, is the table set?"

"No, not yet," you reply.

"You need any help?" Joel asks. You open your mouth to respond, but Alex jumps in to say, "No, she's got this. Let me give you the tour."

You watch as Alex leads Joel upstairs, commanding his friend's attention. You swallow down the anger that rises in your throat at your fiancé's dismissal and return to the kitchen, gathering the place settings and arranging the table to his liking.

"It's a nice place," Joel says as the two men enter the living room, which opens to the kitchen and dining areas.

"All that work finally paying off," Alex comments. You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to mention that you were the one who fronted the down payment for Alex's choice of home in Texas. The oven beeps and you pull out the chicken parmesan that had been baking.

"Smells good," Joel comments. You look up, catching his eye. A wordless understanding passes between you, a quiet appreciation that makes your blood run hot.

You plate the food while your fiancé uncorks a bottle of wine and pours it into the wine glasses at each place setting. Alex settles in at head of the table and Joel takes the seat to the left, leaving you with the seat to Alex's right, across from Joel.

The three of you make small talk between bites of dinner and sips of wine. Alex asks Joel about the contracting work he's been doing, Joel asks him about his work at the new office and how he's settling in, being back in his home state. It's halfway through dinner that Joel looks to you and asks, "Are you excited for the wedding next month?"

"Of course," you reply, fingers tangling in the cloth napkin resting across your lap. "Planning it was a labor of love."

"Right, thanks for helping her with the cake, man," Alex chimes in.

Joel chuckles. "Helped with a lot more than just the cake."

"What do you mean?" Alex asks, glancing between the two of you.

"Well, I helped get the flowers, the cake, pickin' out the stationary. Dress shoppin'," Joel clarifies. Your stomach drops as Alex's jaw grows tense, his brow pinched as he nods and pastes on a forced smile.

"Wow, I didn't realize you'd been so involved," Alex says. He removes the napkin from his lap, setting it on the table. "Would you excuse us for a second?"

Alex stands, looking down at you expectantly. You smile at him and Joel in turn, but the expression feels hollow and you taste bile in the back of your throat. As soon as you're on your feet, Alex has a strong hand wrapped around your wrist, urging you along behind him as he makes his way towards the stairs.

Once he's reached your shared bedroom, he turns to you, eyes filled with rage. “What the fuck is that about?”

“What do you mean?” You ask. He laughs, the sound devoid of any humor.

“He helped you pick out your dress?” Alex paces the length of the bedroom like a caged animal and for the first time in your relationship with him, a frisson of fear courses through your veins. “You can’t possibly be that fucking stupid?”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “You told me to ask him for his help!”

“With the cake!” Alex shouts. “Not the entire goddamn wedding! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“You weren’t exactly offering much help, Alex!”

His eyes narrow. “I thought you would be perfectly capable of planning shit on your own, but I guess that was giving you too much credit.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask. “Why are you being such a fucking asshole right now?”

“Because you’re my fiancé, not Joel’s!” He steps in close, towering above you as he hisses, “Did you fuck him?”

“No!” You shout.

His eyes search yours and whatever he finds seems to extinguish his anger, his coiled muscles loosening. He grips your shoulders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you head back downstairs and I’ll stay up here for a minute to cool off, okay?”

The sudden switch leaves your head spinning but you manage to nod. Alex kisses your forehead and you take that as your cue to leave, escaping the confines of your room. In the hall, you grip the banister of the loft that overlooks the living room and take the first real breath in what feels like ages, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to calm your racing heart.

You return to the kitchen and Joel’s head snaps up when you enter. He rises from his seat at the table, rushing to your side.

“Are you okay?” He asks, low voice filled with concern, his brows pinched with worry. “What the fuck was that?”

“Just a misunderstanding,” you murmur, pushing past him.

“That’s bullshit,” he hisses. “Is he always like that?”

“Like what?” You sigh.

“An asshole. Yellin’ and threatenin’ you.” His fists are clenched at his sides. “He ever hit you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You take a deep breath, beating back the wave of tears pressing at the corners of your eyes. “He’s just got a lot going on with the move and work and the wedding.”

Joel is quiet, watching you with keen brown eyes that you, for once, wish weren’t focused on you. He steps close, voice low as he says, “Be honest with me, sweetheart.”

“I’m fine, Joel,” you tell him. The lie claws at your throat and sends your stomach into a tailspin. “I promise.”

Footsteps echo on the stairs and you step away from Joel, busying yourself with loading the dishwasher, clearing the counters, anything to keep your hands occupied and stop their shaking. Alex enters the kitchen with a sharp smile.

“Hey, man, sorry about that,” he says, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “I think we’re ready to call it a night. Ain’t that right, honey?”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on Alex as you smile and say, “Yeah, baby.”

“Let me walk you out, Joel,” Alex says. “Honey, say bye.”

“Goodbye, Joel.”

Joel: Hey

Joel: You having a good week?

Joel: Been a while. You doing okay?

Joel: You’ve been quiet

Joel: I need to know you’re okay.

Joel: Just let me know

Joel: Please

“Just two more days until you’re my wife,” Alex says, pressing a kiss to your lips. He smiles at you and you mirror the expression as best you can.

“I can't wait,” you reply.

"I gotta get going," Alex says. He presses a kiss to your cheek as he passes where you're sitting at the bar. "Love you."

"Love you," you repeat, out of reflex more than affection.

The front door slams shut and quiet settles over the house. All you want to do is crawl back into bed and pull the covers over your head in the hopes that it protects you from the way time continues to creep forward despite your uncertainties. Maybe, if you lay there long enough, time will move on without your involvement.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a heavy knock at the door. You’re not sure who it could be — your dad is scheduled to fly into town in the late afternoon and your friends arrive early tomorrow morning and you’re fairly certain you don’t have any deliveries scheduled. Sliding from the bar stool, you leave the kitchen to answer the door.

Joel stands on the other side of the threshold, haloed by the morning sun. For a brief moment, you wonder if you’re dreaming.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask.

“Can I come in?” He replies, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I need to talk to you.”

You step aside and allow him to enter the hallway, shutting the door behind him. You avoid his gaze as you return to the living room with him following behind you. The silence that settles between the two of you makes you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Why haven't you been talkin' to me?" Joel asks. He takes a step closer, brown eyes searching yours for an answer you try to keep hidden.

"I've been busy," you say.

"Cut the bullshit," he snaps, surprising you. "Is it because of what happened at dinner?"

"No," you reply. Joel must sense the brief hesitation, hear the weakness in your voice. His eyes go soft, full of pity, and you can't fucking stand it. "Don't look at me like that."

"Look, I've known Alex a long time, and all those years weren't exactly peachy," he says cryptically. "I love him like a brother but even family ain't without faults.” He steps in close, his hands cradling your face in a delicate grip. “Tell me this is what you want," he demands. "Tell me that you're happy with Alex. Tell me that there's nothin' here between us."

The words are there, right on the tip of your tongue, but nothing can bring them to life. Your heart beats a frantic rhythm against your ribcage, the rush of blood in your ears the only thing you can hear. He leans closer, eyes dropping to your lips and you know what's about to happen next but you can't bear the thought of stopping him as he closes the scant distance between your mouths.

For the briefest moment, you allow yourself the chance to just feel. No thoughts, no panic, no worry. Just Joel's warm lips moving against yours, the trace of his palm from you cheek to behind your head, pulling you closer even though you're already tightly pressed to him. It's slow and deep, like he's trying to convince you down to your marrow that this is where you're supposed to be.

But it's not.

You push him away and he doesn't fight you, but the look he gives you damn near shatters your resolve. His eyes are dark, jaw tense, hands flexing at his sides like he's fighting the urge to reach out and pull you back, damn the consequences. Your eyes and throat burn with the effort of holding back the tears that threaten to spill.

"You need to leave," you whisper. "You can't do this, we can't do this. I'm getting married in two days, Joel!"

He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on the strands in frustration. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't lay awake at night thinkin' what a fuckin' asshole I am for fallin' in love with my best friend's fiancé?!" He shouts.

"This isn't love, Joel--"

"Don't," he snaps. "Don't you lie to me. I know it, you know it, hell, the fuckin' lady at the dress shop knew it!" He takes a deep breath. "I'm showin' you my whole hand here and you won't even lay down a goddamn card!"

"There is no card!" You shout.

"You kissed me back!" He counters.

You stare at each other for a long moment, like two scared, wounded animals. Eventually, one of you has to back down, retreat, lick their wounds until they've healed in a messy pattern of scar tissue that will serve as a painful reminder of what could have been.

Joel sighs, another pass of his hand through his hair as he says, "You know what? Fine." He turns to leave, the line of his shoulder lower, his head low.

A glutton for punishment, you call out, "Joel?"

"Yeah?" He asks, weary. Bone tired. You feel it, too.

"Will you still be there tomorrow?" You ask, unsure of which answer would be worse.

Another sigh. "Yeah. I'll be there."

The door slams shut behind him.

Your rehearsal dinner is torture.

This should be one of the happiest events of your life but all your energy is being directed at avoiding Joel like the plague. He moves through the crowd comfortably, having known many people in attendance for most of his life, and you feel like an unmoored boat, hoping a wave doesn't crash over you.

Alex sits beside you, drinking from a glass of whiskey as he talks to one of his uncles that has been praising him for landing the opportunity to work with such a prestigious law firm right after college. A dizzying rotation of people approach you through the night - friends who chatter excitedly about the big day tomorrow, aunts who ask when you think you'll have children, uncles who tell you that they're proud of you for landing such a successful, promising young man. It's those last comments that have you hiding a frown in your champagne glass.

It drags on forever, this constant stream of polite conversation and forced smiles. When you finally return to the hotel that you're staying at for the night, you start to feel like you can breathe again. You have a suite separate from Alex's for getting ready early in the morning and he walks you to your room, hand on your low back, a smile on his face.

"I'll see you in the morning," he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "My almost wife."

The sentiment has bile rising in your throat and as he turns to leave you're blurting the words, "I can't do this."

"Sweetheart, you're just nervous," he says, voice surprisingly calm. He squeezes your shoulders. "You just need to sleep it off and everything will be fine in the morning."

"No," you tell him, shaking your head. "No, it won't be fine."

His smile drops, like a mask has just been removed. "Where is this coming from? Everything was fine at the rehearsal."

"Everything was not fine at the rehearsal!"

Alex takes the room key from your hands, unlocked the door and ushering you inside. He flicks on the light to the sitting area and takes a seat on the couch.

"What's going on with you?" He asks, exasperation dripping from his words. "What do you mean the rehearsal wasn't fine? Did you not like the food or something?"

You stare at him incredulously. "The problem wasn't the food, Alex! The problem is us!"

"There's no problem with us," he says. "Unless there's something you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He stands, coming close. "Is this about Joel?"

"No!" You snap, perhaps too quickly. "This isn't about Joel."

"Then what is it? Because as far as I know, we're a perfectly happy couple."

"Perfectly happy? Alex, you didn't even help me plan this wedding. Not a single minute of it."

"Not this again," he groans. "Sweetheart, let it go. I'm sorry, okay? Is that what you need to hear?"

Your jaw aches with how hard your teeth grind together as he dismisses you so easily. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth steadies you enough to say, "I'm not marrying you."

"Baby, please," Alex says. For the first time, he sounds panicked. "Don't make any rash decisions, alright? Whatever this is, we can work through it. If I lose you, I lose everything."

Maybe he's right. Maybe the stress of the last few months has just caught up to you.

"Okay," you whisper. He breathes a sigh of relief and presses another kiss to your temple.

"I love you," he says. "Everything will be okay after tomorrow. You'll see."

You don't say anything back, and he doesn't wait around for a response. He leaves your suite, the click of the door shutting loud in the late night silence. You stand there for who knows how long, wondering if he's right. Would everything be alright after tomorrow? Could you sweep those lingering feelings for Joel to the side in favor of the life you'd been building for the last few years?

You know what the safe choice is, but is it the right choice?

It's the morning of your wedding day and you've been poked and prodded with makeup brushes and your hair has been perfectly styled for the occasion. Flashbulbs have been going off on the cameras that are documenting your special day, capturing moments like your bridesmaids helping you into your dress and your dad's first look, a handkerchief clutched in his hand as he smiled at you.

For the first time in hours, you're alone in your suite. The makeup artist and hair stylists have packed up and taken their leave and your friends are downstairs, waiting for the limousine. You told them you would be just a minute longer.

A soft knock at your door has you realizing that you may have taken too long and you shout an apology as you rush to answer it. But it's not one of your friends on the other side like you had expected.

It's Joel.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. His hair is styled, curls smoothed and slicked back into submission. His white shirt is a stark contrast to his navy blue tuxedo, matching bow tie tight around his neck. His boutonnière is slightly crooked where it sits pinned to his jacket lapel. He looks you up and down with a small smile.

"You look beautiful," he says. He reaches for your hand, fingers tangling with yours. Never quite folding together, but never quite letting go, either.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Are you ready?" He asks. You wonder if he knows, if Alex told him or if he can just see it on your face.

"Yes."

It's a lie, one you've been repeating since your alarm went off this morning after a night of tossing and turning. His smile falters, but doesn't drop.

"Good, that's....good," he says. His hand leaves yours, and you feel like you've had an entire unspoken conversation that's left you both defeated. "Lets go get you married."

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

divider graphic by @saradika-graphics.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fic

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greynatomy · 2 months

Text

rivals?

alexia putellas x messi!reader

request here

with all the alexia angst being posted (my fault), here’s some fluff

———

In the world of professional football, rivalry between two players are always one that many fans are eager to watch.

In the men’s world of football, there was Messi and Ronaldo.

In the women’s, Messi and Putellas. Two of the most sought after female footballers of this time.

You and Alexia were known as fierce rivals on the field when competing for your country. You for Argentina, Alexia for Spain. Both of your competitiveness fueling debates among fans. Little did everyone know, behind the scenes, you both shared a secret that could rival the on-field intensity.

Away from the spotlight, you and Alexia were much more than rivals and teammates — you were married.

Your love story began when you’d transferred from playing in the Women’s Super League to Barça. From the first time she’d laid her eyes on you, there was an instant connection. At first she didn’t know how to feel about your transfer, only having played against you for the national team, where the rivalry grew and grew, but as you both played for Barça, the understanding and pressure you both experience helped you grow closer.

Late-night rendezvous, secret getaways, and coded messages allowed you to maintain your privacy. It was difficult to keep everything a secret, something you’ve both agreed on. Time moved quickly from the first time she’d seen you in a Barça kit to now, six years later.

You’re both cuddled up on the couch, watching a replay of the match you’ve just played, pointing out the things you and the team could have done better, when you heard some whining on the baby monitor searched up on the coffee table.

With a kiss to your head, Alexia got up to see what the fuss was all about. You watched on through the monitor, seeing how your wife delicately held and talked to your two year old, making you fall in love with her all over again.

“See look there’s Mami.” Alexia points you out, walking in with Rosa in her arms.

“Mami.” Rosa mumbles, arms reaching out for you, cuddling into your body once in your hold.

“How was your nap, bebé?”

All you got was a whine. Alexia cuddles back into your side as Rosa falls back into a slumber.

“I’ve been thinking.” Alexia starts.

“Uh oh. Mamá has been thinking.” You tease, earning you a playful shove.

“Seriously. Rosa turned two a bit ago and I want to be able to show her what her Mami and Mamá do or work. The environment which all the fans.”

Alexia starts to ramble. Saving her from spiraling, you place a hand over her mouth stopping her words.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

With a bright smile on her face, Alexia pulls you in a passionate kiss, careful to not wake your daughter up.

Three weeks later, Spain has a friendly match against Argentina. Everyone played hard no matter that it was only a friendly, the match ending in a draw.

As far as the public knew, you and Alexia were still rivals, enemies, or any other term they use, so whenever they see you conversing after matches, fans and media freak out, like right now.

What the fans didn’t expect was a small child running into your arms with laughter. Standing up with Rosa in your arms, Alexia wraps her arms around both of you, kisses being placed on her cheeks by both of her moms.

To say the fans and media were exploding was an understatement.

“Alexia, they need for media.”

Alexia settles herself at the table in front of all the press, waiting for the questions to come.

“Hola, Alexia. Great game today.”

“Thank you.”

After a couple of questions about the match, a little kid is seen throwing themselves onto Alexia.

“Mamá!”

A second person is seen chasing after the child.

“Sorry, sorry. She’s gotten fast.”

You run in, trying to grab Rosa from your wife, who is wriggling to make her harder to hold.

“You can leave her here.”

“You sure?”

She nods so you give them both a kiss on the head and walk out the room.

“Sorry about that.”

“Who do we have here? If you don’t mind us asking.”

“Bebé can you tell them your name?”

“Soy Rosa Putellas.”

The room let out a collective ‘aww’.

“So-so she’s your daughter?” A reporter stutters, stunned by the little girl.

“Yes.”

“And Messi’s?”

“Yes.”

The room full reporters burst, questions being asked over the others. Alexia just stands up, walking out of the room.

“I think you broke them.” Is the first thing you say when she walks into the locker room.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “Makes it fun.”

#woso x reader #woso #greynatomy #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso community #fcb femeni #barca femeni #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader

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sturniololoco · 2 months

Note

this might sound weird but her me out.

could you do one where like reader is matt(or chris’s) gf but the boys have a younger sister (like sls) and when the sister goes to stay with the boys her favourite is always gf and she tells all her troubles and feelings to her when she’s missing her mom and dad

i completely understand if this doesn’t make sense but the idea came to me randomly xx

Home Sick

Matt Sturniolo x fem! Reader

Warnings: kissing, cuddling, crying, home sickness, etc.

⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙⟡♡⋆˙

Y/N’s POV

My boyfriend, Matt, has been on the phone with his little sister the entire way to the airport.

This is her first time flying by herself and she just got off the plane so Matt is trying to walk her through it.

Chris and Nick have been talking excitedly about the plans they have made for her while they got their vlog camera ready.

I however, was nurvously picking at my nails, wondering what their sister will be like.

Will she like me?

I was pulled from my thoughts as I felt a hand on my thigh.

“Stop worrying baby. It’s gonna be fine.” He says in a low tone.

I smile and hold his hand, praying that he’s right.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as cute as Matt’s little sister sprinting into his outstretched arms.

Normally, he would call this cringy behavior, but I know he's so happy to see her, that he secretly enjoys it.

She does the same to Chris and Nick, somehow showing all of her love for them in one tight squeeze.

Then she came over to me.

I was shocked when she wrapped her small frame around me, hugging me tight.

I looked up at Matt, giving him the Are you seeing how cute this is? look.

He smiles back at me proudly while grabbing his little sister's bags.

Pulling away, but still holding my hand, she pulls me with her to the car behind her brothers.

To celebrate the little sister's safe journey across the country, we indulged in a pizza movie night for the occasion.

I was snuggled into Matt's side on the end of the couch, and both of us snuggled into a blanket while we held hands.

Matt's sister was on his right, leaning into Chris on her other side.

It was safe to say that the siblings had a very close relationship, just judging by how they cuddled close together on the couch.

At the end of the movie, Nick stood grabbed our plates, and started to clean up. Just as Matt and I were about to do the same, Chris began tickling his little sister with no mercy.

Matt was quick to join in, the trio laughing as her brothers held her down.

Once they gave in, she was half upside down and breathing heavily, smacking her brothers on the leg as they walked away to go and help Nick.

"You ready for bed, baby?" Matt asked me, seeing me yawn from m spot on the island.

I nodded and stood, giving everyone a quick goodnight hug.

But as I went to see their little sister, she was fast asleep in her spot on the couch.

Smiling lightly to myself, I called Chris over.

"You might wanna move her before she gets too comfy." I laughed as he scooped her up into his arms and whisked her off to bed.

I wasn't far behind, only I followed Matt, snuggling into his warmth as we lay down in his bed.

Who knew a light coming all the way from downstairs could be so annoying.

It was the middle of the night and got up to pee, but haven't been able to fall back into my slumber thanks to the obnoxious LED light coming from the kitchen.

Giving up on any more rest, I kept out of the room and made my way down the stairs, to be met with a sight I was not expecting.

The Sturniolo sister was there, scrolling on her phone as tears poured from her eyes onto her cheeks.

I hesitantly sat next to her, and when she tried to stop her tears, I pulled her in for a hug, only making her sob harder.

"What's wrong sweetheart? Do you need me to go get Matt?" I asked, rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her.

She shook her head no and calmed herself, taking in a deep breath before saying,

"I just miss my brothers being at home so much. But I also miss not being with my mom and dad. I wish they could just come home with me." She said, sheepishly.

I gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Your brothers talk about you every day. They miss you just as much, but that's what makes these visits so special. You get to spend special time together." I said.

this seemed to cheer her up slightly. She sighed and smiled before leaning in and giving me a tight hug.

"Thank you," she mumbles into my shoulder.

"Any time kiddo. I'm always here, just as much as your brothers."

I feel so bad, this was so rushed! Lemme know if you want me to add more or redo it, or just do something simular. <3

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq @idkhowtosleep @sturnolio-luvs @rubyjaneaxx @avatarloverlol @vickyzloserz @whoreforchrissturniolo @artloo123 @oliverstarksbae @heartzz4k @lily-strnlo @annalovesbooks-https @girlfriendvlogz @draculaura123

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inkskinned · 11 months

Text

one of the things that's so frustrating is how often the arguments against us are actually happening to us. we said - you need to watch out, this will evolve into allowing fascism into legal statute. and we were told: you're a sensitive snowflake. you're annoying and stupid and have no concept of reality. nobody really believes that stuff.

but it's indoctrination for kids to even see queer people. it's grooming for kids to even be around queer people. it's disgusting to even put rainbows on kids clothes. it's inappropriate, shameful, still-an-argument. like any of this is new - we know already. for you, even seeing someone unashamed is the same thing as "forcing" it onto you. because god-forbid you confront any internal thought you have. because god-forbid you practice empathy. rage is better, i guess. it keeps you pretty.

this has always been the way of some people - a while ago, it would have been "sinful" for my white mom to marry my hispanic dad. once, in the year of our lord 2015, someone told me that "mutts" deserve a woodchipper. that one particular insult stayed with me - not because it was the first or last, but because there was something so unbelievably violent about it that i couldn't figure out how to hold it. the idea that someone is so assured of their bigotry and rage that they would paint this kind of a picture. even jokingly, even with the anonymity of the internet, it kind of centered things for me. a sense that, for some people, their rage burned so unimaginably large that it blocked even the basic fact of my humanity.

at one point, while i still had enough fire in me to get into long arguments, one of the bigots i was "debating" (being harassed by) said: to be honest, it's about the sex, not the love. between you, me, and the four walls of this blue hellsite, i actually didn't really care for "love is love" as the slogan of our community. it seemed so placid, so gentle, so ally-focused. where was the vitriol? where was the hours i spent agonizing over myself? where was the quiet moments of my life, filled with the sound of other people's hatred? this static that settles over everything; even for the action of holding her hand.

the world is unfair. i am an adult, and without the veneer and small-pond syndrome of my teenage years, the slogan has started sounding more desperate. the more places i went, the more people i met. love is love. love is defending him on a rooftop bar. the drink she throws at me goes down into my shoes while i stand there, wishing i had a better retort than what the fuck. love is both of us, keeping our heads down, the black SUV full of frat boys (?) pulled up next to us, howling, for five whole blocks, until we both gave up and had to stick our bare legs into the thicket by the side of the road, giving over into tick country rather than let it go on any longer. love is a lazy spring afternoon, my hand on her belly, the fan spinning overhead. did you hear the whole thing about target?

did you hear about being the target? that's a fun little parallel, isn't it. it almost feels like the game that-is-about-me is being played without-my-participation. someone wants to set fire to my life, and i have to wait for a response from a capitalist institution. i am watching a tiktok where a white woman under white lights complains about adult swimsuits, even though i think a lot of people would benefit from having swimming options that are not "instagram-inspired bikini" or "impossible to move in but otherwise pretty".

sometimes it just seems so fucking stupid. like, just to check, the rage you feel and the hatred - you could really just avoid all of that by minding your fucking business. sometimes (and this is true): it's not about you, and people don't need your permission. like, i don't understand any obsession with sports, but it seems to make other people happy. american football literally results in grievous bodily injury - and yet there are onesies for babies that say future quarterback. i personally don't love it, so i just don't buy that stuff. i walk by it, and don't let it bother me. there have been so, so, so many times that i was told - "so what if he's a little bit homophobic, if you don't like him, don't watch his movies." "so what if they fired her. don't buy their product." "so what if they wouldn't make a rainbow cake. just don't support them."

sometimes i feel the meaning of it scud against my body, an orca whale inside of me, threatening the boat. it is too large to see from my place; this shadow of a thing that dwarfs my petty other-concerns. i need to find a dress for an event, and florida is passing more anti-gay legislation. i need to text my friend back and confirm our plans, and someone is throwing beer bottles to the floor in a walmart because a different case had rainbows on them. it is a long fall, if i look down into it; this sense like the bottom doesn't exist. like i have only ever dipped my toes in.

sometimes i am unbelievably tired of talking about it. it feels like it has become too trite in my own poetry - queer writer complains about the state of the world! how original! - and then something else happens, and i am here again. i remember that it isn't a moment. i remember it isn't a scattered population of cartoon evil-doers, intent on world domination from behind handlebar mustaches. it is a concerted effort of real people with real power who really-do want to see my end. it is a lifetime of dodging the beercan as it sails out of the back of the van. it is a lifetime of not-kissing once we leave the apartment. it is a lifetime of watching someone protest our existence and then, very slowly, giving them the finger. it is a lifetime of holding my friends' hands and hearing the same agony in their life that i lived through. it is us, together, our faces turned upwards, the night sky so vast, milky way overhead like a lacework zipper.

it is a lifetime of staring down woodchippers.

#writeblr #this got away from me #i love you #whereever you are. u are mine. i am yours. i am sorry this is happening

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tatoda · 9 months

Text

You v’s Me || conrad fisher x fem!reader

!!MINORS DNI!!

request

masterlist

summary: you’ve always been in a competition with conrad which grew both of you to hate each other…or maybe it’s love?

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT towards the end but it’s not much, fem receiving, conrad being cocky and hot duh CHARACTERS ARE 18

wc: 1.8k

susannah is not sick in this fic! hope y’all enjoy :)

Ever since you were kids, you and conrad have had competitions every summer. It’s something that was never forgotten and the person who won got bragging rights the whole year until it was summer again. The tradition started when you were 10 and conrad was 11. It started sweet when your families visited the boardwalk but soon enough conrad was the competitive side to you, and he knew he needed to beat you in any game or challenge.

You both were now 18 and 19. You were starting your first year of college and conrad was going into his second year. He bragged in your face for getting into your dream college Brown last year and now this year, you get to brag and tell him you got into pre-med early for Brown during early admissions back in november but couldn’t tell him so you had to wait to see his reaction at dinner.

Everyone saw it but you and conrad. The whole family could see the tension between the two of you guys and your competition. It was declared that conrad had a crush on you the second year you visited cousins, laurel was the first to point it out to susannah, and then the whole family knew by the end of the summer but you and conrad didn’t believe any of it. But you wouldn’t lie, you had a crush on him and were just hoping to hate him to get rid of the schoolgirl crush.

“so y/n,” susannah began “what was the big news you wanted to share with everyone?”

“oh yes.” and put your fork down “i got into Brown pre-med.” you smiled and conrad’s fork froze with his mouth open and all you did was smirk at him “actually susannah, i got in early admissions in november. i’ve just been saving the news up for this very moment.” you gave conrad a tight-lipped smile

“that’s amazing news!” she cheered “we should celebrate with a late movie tonight!”

“a-actually we were gonna head to the country club, they are playing all the avengers movies in order,” jeremiah spoke up stopping his mom from getting too excited

“of course! we can do something tomorrow night.” she gasped “oh gosh connie, that means y/n will be going to school with you!”

“yep.” he moved some food around on his plate not looking up

“don’t sound too excited connie.” you mocked and he rolled his eyes without looking up at you

“yippee, what do you want? a golden star?” he huffed and pushed out his chair before leaving the table

“y/n it’s the first night, lay low.” laurel said from her spot at the table

“you know whoever gets the first point basically wins the summer, it’s guaranteed.”

“you and you’re little competition,” she muttered

After dinner, it was time to head to the country club for the movie. It was only a few people who got invited to the place so you all fit into the movie room. You brought a blanket with you because you know it gets cold there. You all filed into the room once cam arrived and sat down. You went for the top to have some space for yourself. But before you could do that conrad plopped his body in the chair next to you.

“no, absolutely not.” you groaned

“there’s nowhere else for me to sit.” you glanced down and there was a seat next to taylor and steven

“literally right there!” you gestured to the spot

“and watch them make out all night, no thanks.” he reclined the chair back and put the middle console up so there was more room for y’all

“why would you put that up?”

“because it’s a waste of space and my elbow runs into it.” you huffed and fell back into your seat “so, Brown huh?” why was he being nice?

“yeah, so what?” you looked at him but he was looking at cam who was trying to use the remote to get the movie started

“nothing, just congrats. i know you have been wanting to get in your whole life.”

“thanks,” you whispered not used to getting compliments from him

“i’ll still beat your ass at everything there though.” and he was back

“yeah right dumbass.” he flicked your forehead “ow!”

“you’re the dumbass when i get a higher gpa than you.”

“like that’s even possible! you know i’m already ahead of you.”

“you can’t process any information in that pretty little head of yours!”

“you can’t because you’re too busy drinking all the damn time!” you yelled back

“at least i can relax-“

“guys!” jeremiah yelled throughout the whole room “shut the fuck up for once! y’all have to come help with snacks.” you both sighed and got out of your seats. you passed by steven and he winked which you flipped him off

“that was your fault,” you muttered walking past him as he held the door for you—so kind—

“oh yeah, sure drama queen.”

You both followed jere to the kitchen and he opened one of the doors for all of the snacks in a closet before waving at you both and closing the door.

“five minutes to work out whatever is happening and then i’m coming back so we can start the movie!” he yelled locking the door

“fuck you jere!” conrad let out but his brother was long gone “this is all your fault.” he walked around the room. the only light was the upper one that was slowly running out of juice

“oh yeah sure it's all my fault!” you sassed back

“if you would just shut up about always being the better one then we would never be here.”

“oh and you’re so great conrad?” stopped about 10 feet away from you on the other side of the closet

“i mean i won our little contest 5 years in a row so i should get a nice pat on the back.” he shrugged

“you’re so full of yourself.” you laughed

“thank you. i appreciate that.”

“it wasn’t a compliment asshole.” you went and tried opening the door but it was in fact locked

“do you not want to be trapped in a room with me y/n?”

“no, you should have an illness that could spread to me through the air.” you turned to look at him “why can you just let me win, for one time in my life i want to have something to be proud of conrad!” he was taken back by your statement “i never get anything! i have to watch it all get ripped from me and compared to something better! i can never win anything! and you and your rude comebacks don’t help!” you ran your fingers through your hair “belly gets volleyball captain and a new fancy boyfriend, steven get taylor, jeremiah gets into a frat and has a girlfriend! i got pre-med, which is amazing but it’s nothing compared to yo-“ you mouth was shut. no, you didn’t just stop talking. there were hands on either side of your face and lips pressed against yours that were definitely not your lips but conrad’s he kissed you hard and you let your eyes close and fall into the kiss as you kissed him back softly and when he pulled back he looked into your eyes

“shut up.” he breathed out “you are amazing, okay? i’m sorry for the fucking competitions. it was the only way i got to spend time with you.” you were starstruck maybe this was a dream “you’re too good for me, you’re too smart, too beautiful, overall i feel like i should never be seen with you because you’re too good for me.”

“kiss me.” he blinked at you “kiss me again conrad.” he smiled before kissing you again backing you up into a shelf and holding your face tight. you brought one hand to run through his hair and the second one slowly lifted his shirt so you could slip your hand under and feel his skin and he shuttered under you “sorry, are my hands cold?” you didn’t stop feeling around his stomach and chest area which made him breathe out a long breath

“no it feels nice, different.” he moved back down to your lips and your hand slowly went around his body but you two were cut off my knocking on the door

“times up shitheads!” you moved away from each other and conrad fixed his shirt and hair before stepping out of the room and you followed. you made it back into your seats and cam started the movie switching the lights off. conrad’s cheeks were flushed in the darkness as he took some of your blanket from you to cover him and you

The movie went on and everyone was in their own place. Conrad slowly moved his hand to rust on your thigh and you froze as his hand moved towards the waistband of your pants. You looked at him but he was just looking at the screen. His fingers messed with the waistband before going past your shorts and underwear. You slowly moved closer to him and his hand was extremely close to your clit. Before you could say anything he took one of his fingers to rub it softly and you gasped, but no one looked back thinking you were doing it at the movie.

“you have to be quiet,” he muttered into your ear before continuing his movements over your clit faster this time making you open your legs for him

“con,” you laid your head on his shoulder not trusting your head to stay up and he moved slowly to your entrance sliding a finger up feeling the effect he has on you

“i’ve always wanted to do this.” he then slid one finger into you and his thumb rested on your clit adding pressure to the pleasure

“fuck.” he moved his finger in and out feeling the breathing from you on his neck and he was slowly getting hard under the blanket hoping no one could see “another.” you sighed digging your fingernails into his arm and he slid a second finger in moving faster in and out rubbing your clit and he also used another finger to pinch it causing you to jump

“careful.” he moved his hand faster now wanting you to finish, just from him and him alone. “come on baby.” he kissed your head “give it to me” he rubbed your clit harder and his fingers moved faster you could definitely hear the wet sounds if the movie was not at an intense moment

“cumming.” you bit down on his neck cumming on his fingers as he slid them in and out to let you go through your high before pulling them out and slowly bringing his fingers to suck on them “my gosh.” you looked up at him

“if it isn’t clear now, i’m done playing games with you.” he leaned toward you almost enough to kiss

“me too, no more games.”

tag list:

@maybankslover @safeplaceholland @mysticalstarlightflower @stylesyourmine

join the tag list here

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher #conrad fisher one shot #conrad fisher x fem!reader #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher smut #conrad x reader

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nipuni · 10 months

Text

My dad died yesterday, he was 63

I would like to share a little about him and our story if anyone wants to read, this is not a happy story

My parents divorced when I was three and I went to live with my mom so I saw my dad's life in snapshots, once a week at first and then once a year when he moved abroad and I would spend the summers with him. Every time I would catch up with him he would have a different partner or apartment.

My time with him was always fun, he was laid back, adventurous and open, he would let me do all kinds of crazy stuff while my mom was the strict one. He was a genius to me, he taught me how to program my own games when I was nine, he would make me take computers and appliances apart and reassemble them to teach me how they worked, he made me love science, the outdoors and travelling. He was great at teaching and cooking and driving. He worked on tours for famous musicians as a sound tech, he made 3D films for museums and theme parks when it was all very new, he was a photographer, a programmer, electrician, mechanic, artist and could play many instruments and write poetry!!

The first crack between us was when there was a huge split between my mom's side of the family and his over money and a lot of ugly truths stared coming to light. I realized that when it came to money he was willing to put himself before me and the fights between him and my mom were awful. But in the end once the dust settled we both pretended it never happened.

One weekend I went to visit him and realized his current girlfriend would stick around at last and she had a daughter almost my age!! I now had a little sister and I loved it.

A year later the country fell apart and he fled abroad along with them and even though I missed them I would visit for months at a time every year. I saw him start his life over, he started his own company and I was so proud of him!!

Everything was great for eight years, until one day he told me that my step mom and sister left him and he would sell everything and come back to the country. This was the last time I would ever hear of them, they vanished, I mourned my step sister for years. This was also when his life fell apart.

At 17 adulthood came with a lot of revelations. My mom told me that my dad had been an addict since he was very young, before I was born, my whole life, cocaine and alcohol amongst other things, and everyone around him had been putting up with it and helping him but couldn't take it anymore. He had cheated on her when they had me and had cheated on my step mom too. He would lie to get what he wanted and trusting him was getting increasingly harder.

All of my memories of him were now seen through a different lens. I felt betrayed. I could now tell every time he had been high, and knew where the money he asked of me when to, I was aware of every little lie. I was angry and frustrated at him for the pain he caused my mom and everyone around him. And for squandering the potential I knew he had, for always making the wrong decisions, one mistake after another. And I hated feeling this way the most.

After he came back to the country alone he could never recover, he would relapse, overdose, refuse rehab or any medical help. He would escape psychiatrics facilities and hospitals in the middle of the night, he was a menace!! lmao.

Our relationship was still good despite all this, different but still standing, he had always been my friend even if he wasn't the best at being a dad or partner, I would always scold him and tell him of different job opportunities I came up with for him to try out but now there was this distance between us. I became the parent of the relationship in a way and he didn't like being told what to do. I saw him spiral and I was scared for him.

I've always heard all these stories about addicts finding purpose and fighting for their loved ones, so every time he would jokingly talk to me about how high he was and seemed to enjoy it despite my warnings and pleading it made me feel like I was not enough of a reason to get better, as self centered as it may be I was a teen and I felt powerless to stop him, insignificant. People could get better for their children, but not for me.

I knew this way of thinking was flawed and selfish and he was the one struggling, I knew he was a victim. I spent the last of my teenage years and early twenties trying to fight back this feeling so I could preserve our relationship, we always kept in contact but over time he changed and was no longer the person I knew.

He became a stranger, often times incoherent and delusional, his views changed, he was paranoid, his addiction got worse and worse and now all I could feel was pity and guilt, our once good relationship was now reduced to a few interactions where he would ask me for money, I knew I was possibly funding his self destruction and he was likely lying to me but he also needed to pay for medication and so I couldn't refuse him.

I had my own life now, a husband and plans for the future. When I decided to move abroad a few years ago I knew our hug goodbye could be the last, he was broke and unstable but I thought once I was settled and had a job and a citizenship I could have enough money to get him tickets to visit and show him the life I had made for myself like he had done in my childhood.

But then Covid happened, and he would never agree to make calls. Soon after he was diagnosed with cancer, I would ask about his health and he would say he was fine. He wasn't fine, he was smoking 4 packs a day. He got the cancer removed but refused further treatment, he said he didn't have any purpose left in life and no reasons to keep living, he had a stroke and couldn't feel half his body when he was forcibly hospitalized, his cancer had spread and he hadn't been eating for a long time, he hid all this from me, I first heard it from my aunt in tears over the phone yesterday, he tried to escape the hospital in the night and had to be tied up and sedated, he never woke up.

He died alone, all that is left of his family is me and my aunt and we both live in different countries. There is nobody there to even bury him. I feel like I abandoned him. I've always known I would feel this way when this day came, in a way I've been mourning him for many years and have carried this guilt for even longer.

I had the coolest dad, cocaine took him away. I wish this had a better and uplifting message. I just wanted to get this off my chest. He taught me a lot and made me who I am, and I have a lot of great memories with him. He struggled all of his life with his mental health and despite it all he was still amazing and deserved so much better.

He always said that when he was a ghost he would follow me around, I hope he isl!! so I can live for both of us, I love you dad!! and I'm so sorry 🕯️

#personal #extremely so #tw death #tw drugs #I'm sorry for the depressing post

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sharararararara · 4 months

Text

FINDING YOU

Paring: Percy Jackson x Child of Demeter reader

Summary: You were Percy's first friend, you were the only one who did not think he was weird. It was like you understood him, it was like you were like him. That was when you disappeared, leaving Percy alone with people bullying him. Percy promised that day that he would find you, no matter what.

Warnings: The reader is female(sorry) and angst.

Author's note: So I just realised that I was not writing for Percy so here it is!

Luke was showing Percy around Camp Half-Blood. Introducing his friends to him, and showing what they do.

"I wonder what your friends back in your school would think when they found out that your missing," Said Luke to Percy, making Percy frown.

"I don't have any friends, I only have Grover," replied Percy, making Luke frown. "You don't have other friends?" Asked Luke.

"Well, I did have one but...she went missing," Said Percy as he looked down at the ground. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that..." Said Luke, as he did not say anything after that, realizing his mistake for asking him that question.

"She was my first friend, the only one who understood me for who I was. But one day she just magically disappeared, leaving me alone with the bullies," Said Percy, walking side-by-side with Luke.

"She sounds like a good friend," Said Luke, trying to lighten the mood. "She was, and I hope she's ok," Replied Percy.

"Oh! it's time for Lunch come on! You don't wanna miss it," Said Luke dragging Percy to one of the tables.

Luke made Percy sit down on the seats, "I'm gonna get food, I'll be right back," Said Luke as he walked away.

Percy gave Luke a simple thumbs up, before sighing to himself. He does not want to be here.

He felt like he did not belong in camp-half blood, he felt like an outcast.

If you were here, he would not feel so nervous, not so alone. He missed you, and he did not know what happened to you.

Did you get kidnapped? Did you move to another country or state? Did you run away?

He never really knew your parents, every time he wanted to meet them you always denied him saying that they were "busy" or "at work."

He never saw your parents since you always walked home. Once he asked to walk you home and you denied saying "Oh it's not that far" or "I can do it by myself."

He did not know why you were acting suspicious, but after a few years, he got used to not seeing your parents, acting like their just a ghost.

"You must be the new kid!" Percy snapped his head to the side, getting startled by the sudden voice.

A girl sat beside him, placing her food on the table. "What's your name?" She asked before taking a spoonful of her food.

staring"Percy," He replied as he looked at the rather cheerful girl. The girl froze. "Percy? Your name is Percy?" She asked before staring at him seriously, making him want to run away.

"Is there a problem with the name Percy?" He asked, awkwardly chuckling.

"N-no it's just..." The girl became quiet, before turning back to her food. "It's nothing, sorry I just uh...Your name just reminded me of Perseus, the one who killed Medusa," She replied, before taking a bite of her food again.

"Well that was where my Mom got my name, so I guess that makes sense," Percy replied, before looking down at his hands.

"Oh, yeah I remember...," said the girl. "What do you mean by "you remembered?" Percy asked as he turned to the girl.

"Oh uh- Nothing sorry- uh I need to go," said the girl before taking her half-eaten food and running away.

"Well that was weird"

Percy whipped his head to the right only to see Luke holding two plates of Mac-n-cheese.

"To be honest she reminded me of someone," he replied as Luke placed the plate in front of him and sat down.

"You know Y/N never really acts like that, I don't know why she was acting weirdly today," Said Luke as he took a full spoon of his food.

Percy froze, it's all making sense now. "Her name is Y/N?" Asked Percy, as he waited for Luke to answer his question.

"Yeah? Do you know her?" Asked Luke, making Percy widen his eyes.

"How long has Y/N been here for?" Asked Percy, "What-"

"Answer the question Luke," Said Percy, tightening his grip on his spoon.

"Oh uh- I think for 4 years?" Said Luke, getting a little nervous by the sudden change in Percy's behavior.

Percy was silent, too silent.

That was the same amount of years that you went missing for, you were here the whole time.

"She got claimed 2 years ago by Demeter," Said Luke, trying to break the suffocating silence.

"Sorry I need to go-" Said Percy before standing up, leaving his food behind.

"Well that was weird'," Said Chris before sitting beside Luke. "Yeah," replied Luke.

"I think he knows her," said Chris, stuffing his mouth with his food. "But Percy said that he did not have any other friends except Grove-"

Luke became silent, thinking about what Percy had said about his missing friend.

"Oh," Said Luke, realizing the situation. "I think I know what happened," said Luke, making Chris look up at him.

"What?" Asked Chris, obviously confused.

Luke explained everything to Chris, making Chris widen his eyes.

"Damn," said Chris, covering his mouth in shock.

"Yeah," Agreed Luke, "I hope he finds her."

"Yeah same," Replied Chris.

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

"Y/N!"

Shouted Percy as he entered Cabin 4, making your half-siblings look at him like he was crazy.

"Hello to you too," Said one of the boys awkwardly as he walked towards Percy.

"Have you seen Y/N?" Asked Percy, looking around the Cabin. "Hey- Slow down-" Shouted one of your half-siblings.

"Where is she?!" Shouted Percy.

"Percy?"

Percy turned around only to face you, "What are you doing here?" You asked, obviously concerned.

"I need to speak with you," Said Percy, taking your hands into his. "I- uh ok?" You replied leading him outside.

You lead him somewhere private, somewhere far away from the rest of the kids.

You stopped walking as you turned to him, "What do you want to tell me so badly?" You asked, making him inhale deeply.

He exhaled, preparing himself. "I think you were my friend back in school," said Percy.

"So you found out?" You asked sadness in your eyes. "Why you didn't tell me?" Asked Percy grabbing your shoulders.

"I've been looking for you for years! And all this time you were here?" Said Percy.

"I did not know how to tell you, I'm sorry for hiding this from you," You admitted, looking down at the ground ashamed.

Percy widens his eyes, "No, no- It's fine, it's ok..." Said Percy. "Really?" You asked, hope in your eyes.

"Yeah, it's fine, as long as your safe then it's fine," Said Percy as he smiled, making you giggle.

"I missed you so much Y/N," Said Percy and pulled you in a tight hug. "I missed you too," You replied before hugging him back.

The hug lasted for 20 seconds. It felt good to be finally in each other's arms again.

You pulled away from the hug, "It's been a long time since we hugged," You said, giggling.

Percy chuckled, "Yeah, it has been a very long time," Said Percy as he smiled admirably at you.

"But do you know what else we've never done in a long time?" Asked Percy, slowly walking closer to you.

"What?" You asked, your eyes focusing on his. "Kiss," Whispered Percy, making you giggle.

"Percy we were 6 years old the last time we kissed! And the only reason we kissed is because we both thought that we were gonna be alone forever so that's why you bought 2 candy rings so that we can be "married" You replied, making him laugh.

"Ok, ok, How about a real kiss?" Asked Percy, moving closer. You giggled, "In your dreams Percy," You pushed his head away and walked away, giggling at his reaction.

"Okay fine, maybe we might not kiss now but we will kiss in the future," said Percy, making you laugh.

"Yah, yah, whatever," You said smiling as you took his hand into yours.

"I missed you Y/N"

"I missed you too Percy"

#PJO #Percy Jackson and the olympians #Luke #Annabeth #Percy x reader #Percy jackson #percy jackson tv show #Thalia grace #grover underwood #luke castellan #Pjo x reader #Percy Jackson #Percy jacksonxreader #fem reader #reader #fanfiction #angst to fluff #fluff

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ddejavvu · 4 months

Note

eddie and v may argue a lot, but the one thing they agree on is making sure reader is protected 🙏 !! venom using his tendrils to pull you the safe side of the sidewalk while eddie glares at any guys staring at you

"I'm a big girl," You glare sideways at Eddie, even if it's Venom you should be griping at for pulling you around to Eddie's other side. You're more than capable of walking down the sidewalk without falling into the street, even if your boyfriend and his parasitic friend disagree.

"I know you're a big girl." Eddie promises, "Venom knows you're a big girl. But that's a big car in the street, too. Even bigger than you. So if you two got into a tussle, the car would win. And then Venom would rip the doors off, and eat the driver's head, and I'd have to change my name and move to another country, and I really don't feel like doing that right now. So stay where you are."

"I'm not planning on tussling with any vehicles," You vow, trying and failing to avoid a man striding down the street past you, his shoulder knocking into yours even when you try curling it inwards by ducking into Eddie's side. The man lets out some scathing combination of a scoff and a grunt, and you're not sure if it's Venom or Eddie that makes your boyfriend's feet stop in their tracks.

"Hey, asshole," Eddie drawls, and you silently pray that Venom is the sensible one today, and that he'll drag Eddie backwards where he's planted firmly on the sidewalk, chest puffed and muscles tense. Unfortunately, the symbiote seems to be on his side, Eddie's veins flashing dangerously dark for a split second.

"Are you talking to me?" The man turns, eyes dangerously sharp. You know that Venom could easily take on any human, but Eddie is notably shorter than the other man, and you're not keen on needing Venom's help in such a public place.

"No, he's not," You promise, taking his hand and pulling him backwards, even though he refuses to budge, "He's- uh, he's on the phone. He's got an earpiece," You fib, "It's- it's bluetooth, he's talking to his... mom. We're going now."

When the standoff has been safely defused, and Eddie finally remembers how to move his feet, his scowl doesn't subside until you're at least a block away.

"You should've let us clock that guy," Eddie grumbles, "He was a douche. And for the record, I'd never call my mother an asshole."

"You say that word about me a lot," Venom chimes in, waiting for an empty street to ooze out of Eddie's shoulder, only enough of his goopy matter present to form a face, "Do you like your mother more than me?"

"I like a lot of people better than you," Eddie confirms, but you know for all he teases the symbiote, their bond is strong, "In fact, I think I like that asshole that ran into Y/N better than you."

"That is outrageous!" Venom roars, and you nervously glance at the surrounding homes, "I am way better than that asshole!"

"I don't know," Eddie hums, "You rough Y/N up all the time. He only bumped into her once."

"That is different," Venom grins, the expression somehow wolfish despite his alien features, "She likes it when I rough her up."

583 notes · View notes

leclucklerc · 4 months

Text

A Fool's Flowers MV1 - Oneshot

Pairings: Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: She's a fool in love. Too in love and way too enraptured in her own romantic delusion to see the signs.

Words: 6.2K

Materlist

“So, university in Monaco,” started your mom. “You really didn’t meet anyone during your time there?”

Y/n laughed, tone light and airy as you continue to mix the cake powder on her hand. “I met many people you know,” she said, a bit teasing. “Many friends, many acquaintances.”

She hoped the woman doesn’t realize the tensioning of her shoulder. Or how her words waver a bit at the start. She hopes, she doesn’t realize the obvious sign of nervousness and fear that started to creep into her throat.

Slowly but surely. As if, it’s going to chock her silent.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” replied the older woman as she raised her eyebrow. Her hands still busy with the batter in front of her. Kneading it firmly.

“Why?” asked the younger, a bit teasing. “A bit sudden don’t you think?”

Truthfully, this question had been something that she dreaded to hear when she decided to move back to her parents house after her short stint in Monaco. That her mother – who’s lately been wanting more grandkids after seeing her older sister second child – will surely notice that there’s something wrong with her.

The older woman huffed. “Well, I just can’t wait for you to bring home a boy,” she replied wistfully. “How about one of your guy friends? Max? he seems cute.”

It was such a sudden name drop that you immediately froze on spot. Brain going thousands kilometrets an hour to process that statement.

“Max?” you said, a bit shaky and hoped your mom didn’t catch it. “No, we’re just friends.”

“You never talked about him anymore,” prodeed her mom. “You used to go on and on about Max this and Max that. Though you’ve been surprisingly silent about him lately.”

Ah, she thought. How to put his delicately.

“We’re fighting, currently,” she managed to say. “Nothing serious.”

“Hmm..” hummed the woman. “The both of you look cute, I think.”

Yes, she wants to reply.

Yes, they look cute together.

Attending a university in Monaco had never been in y/n’s plan.

Maybe it’s because she had grown up in a big city all her life, making her childhood home pretty accessible to many universities without her needing to even move out. Maybe it’s because she had lived her life here, all of her family and friends resided in the residential area around her house.

Maybe it’s just for the simple fact that y/n doesn’t want anything to change. Too afraid to disturb this comfortable rhythm that she called her life.

Though everything changed when she visited Monaco for the first time.

There’s just something different about the small country. The beautiful streets and the warm feeling that the country exudes. The flowers that bloom on the side of the street and the busy shore full of yachts and private party. The close-knit community that blended perfectly with the wealthy extravaganza that the country is known for.

It was something that y/n had never seen before.

It was something, that made y/n fell in love with the country.

She throws all of her plan sideways and decided to attend a university there. Her parents had objected, of course, considering she used to plan to go to Oxford or other reputable universities all around the world. But y/n had always been a bit too headstrong. A bit too caught up in her own want and needs.

It really was not long before she began packing and her life in Monaco starts.

The change of scenery is a good thing for her. She started meeting more and more people. She began opening her heart, letting more and more people inside of her orbit.

She never thought that making friends and spening time with them could be so enjoyable. After all, as an introverted at heart, she was used to have a small friend circle. But there’s must be something in Monaco’s air. Something that made her a bit wild and uncontrollable. Something that made her want to live her life unlike before.

The nightlife in Monaco is always bustling.

Maybe it’s due to the fact that majority of the country consisted of too rich person with too many time on their hand. Maybe it’s due to the fact that the casinos are open all night. Or maybe it’s just for the simple fact that people in Monaco can enjoy their nightlife better than any other countries.

Whatever the reason is, y/n always enjoy her trip to the club with her friends.

Tonight, was such night. One of her friends had just gone through a terrible breakup, making their whole friend group mission to be absolutely hammered at the club.

Y/n knows she was pretty. She knows that there are couple of guys that wants to talk to her every time she went to a club. Tonight though-

“He’s staring at you,” murmured her friend, a teasing grin already on her lips as she gulped down from her glass. “Ever since you arrived here.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Which one?” asked y/n, discreetly looking around.

“The cute one,” said her friend as she nudged her chin softly towards one corner of the club. “Blond, blue eyes, white shirt.”

It took y/n a couple of second to locate the man that her friend mentioned. Though, the moment, she saw him, she felt her world stopped for a bit.

Tall, blond, blue eyes. A cute face and a nice body.

Her type.

“You are sure he’s been staring at me?” she whispered out, averting her gaze once again to not make it to obvioys that she’s been ogling him. “He’s cute.”

“I know,” giggled her friend. “Definitely your type.”

Y/n was about to answer when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Hey,”

She turned, eyes meeting blue ones. Oh, she thought, a bit dazed. It’s the cute guy.

The lighting at the club is a bit dim and the music is so loud that it hurts her heart a bit. Though she swears when the man let out a huge grin, her world cleared up a bit. It was as if the both of them are not in the middle of a loud and bustling club. It was as if that they’re not standing in the midst of sweaty and drunk bodies.

It was as if, this meeting had been decided by fate.

“I’m Max,” he said, smile almost blinding.

Y/n felt tongue tied as she stared at him.

She really can’t suppress the smile blooming on her face too. “Y/n” replied the girl. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Really?” pressed on her mother once again. “No cute boys that gives you flower or anything?”

Y/n laughed at that. “Who still gives flower now? That’s so old school mom!”

Y/n stared at the bouquet of flowers in front of her.

The grin that appeared on her face must’ve looked a bit silly and dumb. Though, she doesn’t seem to mind.

“You brought me flowers,” she breathed out, taking the bouquet from the man in front of her.

“I did,” replied Max. “I didn’t know what your favorite flowers are, but I hope you like this.”

It’s roses. A classic and safe choice for a first date. And yet, Y/n found herself liking it way too much.

“I love it,” she said, marveling the flowers with a large smile. “You’re a gentleman aren’t you?”

Max laughed at that, hand curling around her waist as he guided her outside of her apartment. “I try,” he said. “Though with how beautiful you look tonight, I don’t think I can.”

It’s such a cheesy thing to say that it made her broke out into a laugh. “I don’t give kisses in first dates, Verstappen,” she said, cradling the flower close to her chest. “It’s my dating policy.”

The man hummed at that. “Well, there’s a first for everything I guess?”

“Unbelievable,” she giggled. “The date should be exceptional then.”

Their first date was exceptional indeed.

Max seemed to have done some research because everything about their first date had been perfect. From the dinner that they shared to the walk that they did across Monaco’s harbor. Everything about that night had been so unbelievably romantic that she could swoon at the mere thought of it.

It was a perfect first date. Something that came out of a romance novel. Something that she had imagined to herself during her period of girlhood. Still too young to have a romance of her own and yet never stopped daydreaming about prince charming and princesses.

Tonight, she felt like a princess and Max is her very own prince charming.

“I look like a fool,” laughed y/n as Max escorted her towards her door when their date is ending.

“Believe me schat, no fool look as beautiful as you,” said Max with a grin.

“No, no, I mean,” she started. “I look like a fool because despite all of my declaration earlier about my no kissing policy in a first date, I think, I really want to kiss you right now.”

Y/n felt warm after that, mouth still smiling like a lovesick fool as she stared at Max’s blue eyes.

“Yeah?” breathed out Max as he leaned closer. “Then I must’ve been a fool too?”

Their face is so close that she could feel their breath mingling with each other. “Why?” she asked.

Blue eyes stared at her and y/n felt as if she was going to drown in them. As if, the entire galaxy is in there and she wants nothing but to gaze it all eternity.

“Because I want to kiss you too.”

Their lips met each other for the first time that day.

“I really don’t believe you,” sighed the woman. “How can you stay single throughout university?”

“What can I say?” laughed y/n, humor evident on her tone. “No one wants me.”

“But you’re a really beautiful girl-“

“You’re beautiful,” breathed out Max, eyes unblinking.

Y/n giggled, mocked curtsying towards the man in front of her who let out a burst of laugh at that. “You think so?” she said, eyes crinkling from how wide her smile is. The dark dress she’s wearing made an amazing contrast on her skin, hugging her figure at the right place.

She looks beautiful. Almost divine even.

“I know so,” said the man as he curled an arm around her waist. It’s a tight gripped. As if he doesn’t want to let go of her. “I don’t want anyone to see you like this.”

“We’re going to be late,” she replied simply, hand goes towards around his neck as she cuddled closer towards him. “I don’t want to make Daniel waiting.”

“Daniel can wait all night long,” grumbled Max.

The girl let out a laugh at that, releasing her hold. “Come on, Romeo,” she said, dragging the man towards the door. “We have a dinner to catch.”

“-And a charming girl!”

“She’s a charming one, isn’t she?”

Y/n stopped, hiding herself behind a pillar.

A few moments ago, she had left the table to go to the bathroom to do some touch ups, leaving Max, Daniel, and Heidi on the table.

She didn’t expect that she will accidentally eavesdrop their conversation.

“I know,” replied the dutch, making Daniel grin wider.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” murmured Heidi as she leaned towards Daniel closer. “The both of us knows you when you’re still a teen and we’ve never seen you looking so…”

“In love,” continued Daniel without missing a beat. “I never saw you so infatuated with someone before.”

Her heart hammered wildly inside her chest.

Love?

… Love???

“I think so,” replied Max, much to her surprise. “I know that we started dating not too long ago, but really, I think she’s the one.”

Daniel let out a loud laugh at that as he pat Max’s back violently. She could hear the teasing that the Australian gave Max and how the younger male let out a chuckle. They continue to talk after that, though Y/n doesn’t even bother to listen.

After all, she’s a flustered mess there behind the pillar.

She could hear the blood rushing towards her face and how her heart began to beat loudly on her ears. She knows that her relationship with Max is good. More than good in fact. It was as if she had met her soulmate in the form of Max Verstappen.

They have many shared interest with each other. Max had always managed to make her laugh and she too, had always managed to make him laugh. She felt comfort every time she goes with Max.

As if, the man that she now called her boyfriend, is the very man that the universe had shaped specifically for her.

But love?

My,

Oh my.

She could feel more and more blood rushing towards her face.

Is she, in love with Max Verstappen?

(Yes)

It should scare her a bit how fast she knows the answer to that question.

“Really, I can’t understand why you don’t have any boyfriend,” lamented the older woman dramatically.

“Maybe it’s my personality,” laughed the younger. “I think I have a really bad personality.”

“Of course not,” replied her mom. “You’re an angel, darling. Always willing to listen to everyone problem and make it your mission to solve it.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” admitted Max once upon a time. The both of them sat on the floor right in front of the sofa. The tv in front of them is playing a movie that they don’t even bother to watch at this point.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” answered y/n immediately. “You’re perfect.”

“No, I’m not,” said Max as he leaned towards her. His weight is a comforting presence next to her. “I just- I don’t think I should be doing what I’m doing.”

Y/n stared at him, a bit shocked.

After all, this is Max Verstappen. Formula One worl champion. A prodigy of the sport. The very man that had dominated the track with his style of driving. Max had always looks confident and sure, especially if it relates to Formula One.

He had started driving an F1 car before he have a normal driving license! He had been the youngest world champion in the history of Formula One! He had been what many dubbed as a once in many years talent.

And he too, is a man who’s questioning about his position in Formula One.

“What made you say that?” she asked softly as one of her hand began caressing his hair. She had learnt that Max likes something like this. The gentle touches.

“I just think… I think my path in Formula One is not my decision,” he said. “It was just always there, you know? My dad is an F1 driver, and ever since I was small, he had always encouraged me to take on this path… So I just thought that maybe in actuality, I don’t even like to drive. But considering it’s the only thing that I ever know i…”

“Because you think that F1 is the only think you ever know, it made you love the sport?” finished Y/n.

Max was silent a bit before that before he let out a nod. “Yeah,” he said. “Maybe like that.”

“Have you ever feel forced every time you drive?” asked Y/n. “Have you ever feel that you don’t want to drive?”

“No,” replied Max. “No, I don’t.”

Y/n let out a hum at that. “Don’t you think that’s enough of an answer?” asked the female with a soft chuckle.

The female pondered about that for a bit. There’s a silence between the two of them before he let out a sigh. “Maybe it is,” he murmured. “But i… Schat, people doesn’t even like me there.”

Ah, she realized.

Max, despite his tough demeanor and aloof personality, is a bit of a soft heart.

He thinks way too much about everything. About himself and about people around him. To people that doesn’t know him, they would never guessed that Max is the type of person that actually listens. That he’s the type of person that will think way too deeply about people reaction of thoughts about him.

It was something that she tried to change about him.

“Babe, you are welcome, people doesn’t hate you, especially F1 fans,” said the female softly.

She could hear the scoff that he let out.

“No, no, no, you have to believe me,” she said, moving her posture so that she could see straight to his eyes. “You have to believe me, no one dislike you. You are an amazing driver, and moreso, an amazing man. People who hates you must’ve been crazy.”

Max let out a bitter chuckle at that. “There must’ve been a lot of crazy people in the world then?”

“Well, we do live in a crazy world,” she replied. “But that’s not the point. Babe, I really don’t want you to question your place in Formula One just because there are people who doesn’t like you. You’re talented. You love F1. Don’t you think that’s enough of a reason for you to be welcome in F1?”

“Maybe,” answered Max. “It’s just… never mind. I- I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

“No, no, no, let’s talk, okay?” said Y/n. “If… if you really think that there’s may be something out there that you like more than F1… do you want to try it out?”

The male stared at her. “Try it out?”

“Yes, let’s try to find you a hobby,” said the female. “We could sign up to short classes or maybe try something online. You know, to try and find something that you might like.”

Max stared at her as silence bestowed between the two of them.

“A shop down the street will actually have a pottery class next Wednesday, I could sign us up. Or maybe you like to try new sport? I heard padel tennis is popular these days? Or we could-“

She stopped her rambling when she felt Max’s lips on hers. He didn’t stop kissing her until he hovered on top of her as the both of them parted their lips to gasped for breath.

“Max?” she breathed out, hand reaching upwards.

“Thank you,” he murmured as he closed their distance once again. “I just want to say thank you.”

There’s a bouquet of roses on her kitchen counter.

Y/n reached out to it almost immediately, giddy and heart hammering loudly.

“Please,” replied the female. “I know you’re my mom, but you can’t overpraise me like that.”

The older woman laughed at that. “I’m not overpraising you!” exclaimed the woman with a good humor. “You’re a beautiful and smart girl, I remember your first piano recital as if it was yesterday.”

“Mom,” she whined out. “I was like, six, when I did that recital!”

“Oh, but you played it so beautifully!”

“You can play the piano?”

Y/n grinned. “Took lessons when I was a kid and I guess it stuck,” she replied, taking his hand and drag him to sit next to her in the piano chair. It’s a snug fit, but the laughter that the both of them shared made as if they’re sitting in the comfiest chair in the world.

She guided his hand towards the black and white keys, making him touch some of it.

“Sorry, schat, I’m afraid my only talent is driving a car,” said Max, letting out a laugh as she continued to make him press some of the keys.

“I can see that,” replied the female cheekily. “Do you want to hear me play?”

Max hummed as he rested his head on her shoulder. She began playing, fingertips touching every keys as if it was her old friend. Her mind began to wander to the countless recitals that she had attended when she was a kid.

Her mom had been convinced that she’s the next Mozart in the making. That her musical talent will soon take over the world.

Though, the woman had to hide her disappointment when Y/n doesn’t become too interested to play piano professionally. Now it just become a hobby to her. Or a good way to impress someone at a party.

Max lightly hummed as she continued to play the instrument next to him. His hand had found itself wrapped around her waist as the soft sound of her playing slowly lulled him to dreamland.

Y/n doesn’t know how much time passed, the only thing that she knows was when she finished the piece, the man besides her had been sound asleep. The fond smile that crept into her face made the moment a bit more tender.

“You sound as if you regret letting me to stop playing the piano,” teased the younger female as she bumped her shoulder to her.

Her mother shook her head at that. “I probably would’ve become more regretful if you’re a bad student, but you’re such a good student!”

Y/n gave Max a small kiss on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered out. “I really want to come to the race, but you know I have exams coming.”

“It’s okay,” answered Max as he wrapped an arm around her. He nuzzled his face towards the crook of her neck, staying in that position for some time before he looked up towards her. “I know how important it is for you.”

The female bit her lips.

Truthfully, she really wants to go and support Max. After all, racing is his lifeline. It’s practically already on his blood. All his life, it had always been racing and racing for him. She really wants to go there and support him in what he loves.

But alas, her professor is a jerk.

“I’ll come during the Monaco racing calendar,” she said, regretfully. “I’ll… I’ll check my classes schedule to see if I can sneak one or two travel in between to see you race.”

The joy that appeared on Max’s face made her a bit giddy.

“You will really do that?” asked the male.

“Of course,” she said, cradling her face. “I want to support you in your element you know,” at this, a smile crept into her face. “So you’re better leading the championship when I come, okay?”

Max laughed at that. “I will,” he said. “I already can’t wait.”

The kiss that they shared before Max left is way too warm and tender. Y/n can’t help the giddiness and the love that’s threatening to burst from her chest.

“Welcome back,” she greeted him with a kiss. “I saw the race live, congratulations on the win.”

“Thank you,” he said, hugging her tightly. “I passed by a florist earlier so I just thought-“

Y/n can’t contain the giddy grin that appear on her face at the sight of the fresh bouquet of roses.

Good grades had always been the norm for her. It always come easily, good grades and praised from the people around her.

She knows that she’s someone with a good head on her shoulder. That she will always be able to think rationally and logically. That she will never let her emotion influenced her decision on anything. Always doing something logical and rational. That’s why, y/n never thinks that she’s a fool.

But alas, often times, love will make you a fool.

“What is this?” asked the female, hand shakily holding her phone. “Max, what is this?”

Max doesn’t even meet her eyes.For her, it’s enough of a confirmation.

On her phone is a video that’s clearly being taken in the middle of a nightclub. It’s loud and the lighting is a bit bad, making the numerous people inside the place a bit hazy to see through the phone screen. Though, y/n will never mistake the man dancing in the video.

It’s Max. Her boyfriend.

It’s Max who’s in the middle of the dance floor. Dancing and sloppily making out with another girl that’s not her.

“Max!” she said, voice raising. She ignores the tinge of nervousness that appeared inside of her. After all, she had never raised her voice like that towards anyone before. “Max, answer me- what- what is this!?”

“Y/n” said Max, finally opening his mouth. He reached towards her hand, intertwining their fingers together. She really wants to slap it away. To turn her back from those blue eyes of his that never fail to make her knees weak. “Baby, please, I- I was drunk.”

Drunk?

He was drunk?

Why is he saying it as if that simple act justify him cheating on her? Y/n had been drunk plenty of time before. But she had never-

She had never even thought to make out with another man when she has a boyfriend. She had never thought to cheat on her significant other even when she had been batshit drunk.

“Why are you saying it like that?” she asked, voice shaky. “So what if you’re drunk? That doesn’t even explain anything!”

“I don’t remember anything about that night,” replied Max immediately. “I- I must’ve thought it was you!”

Does he think she’s a fool?

“Do you think I’m stupid?” she grits out. “I’ve been drunk before Max and I never even thought to cheat on you!”

“Well I probably wouldn’t have done that if our relationship is not like this!”

The sudden yell from the man in front of her made her flinch a bit. Her eyes stared at Max’s blue ones as the man too, continue to stare at her. There’s a sudden silence between the two of them as Y/n try to process what the man had just said to her.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Our relationship,” started the man as he sat on the sofa, dragging her to sit besides him, knees touching. “I- you know my job demand a lot of things from me,” he continued, hand flying towards his hair in frustration. "It's been hard, every races, especially when I don’t have my own girlfriend to support me.”

“You know why I can’t,” the female protested immediately. “I have university, classes, my own life- i- I just can’t drop everything for you!”

“But other drivers girlfriend did that!” said Max, turning his attention back to her. He sighed in frustration before he slumped back towards the sofa. “All the other drivers significant others are in the paddock constantly and is supporting them throughout the season, I just think that I should’ve been nice if my own girlfriend can come and support me in one of my races!”

And oh.

Oh.

Max… had been comparing himself with the other drivers. That he saw other drivers to have a working support system around him and him, not having any.

She knows how deeply rooted insecurity had ingrained itself inside of the male heart. That from he was a child, he was always comparing and comparing himself with people around him. That he’s weak with that.

Maybe,

Maybe, just maybe.

There’s a reason why he did what he did.

Was he lonely?

Was he craving for her presence? Does he really need her support that much?

(She ignores the fact that she knows that Max’s parents and sisters often come to the races too. She ignores the fact, that his very own best friend is a F1 driver too. That Red Bull had become his family. That he has a whole support system in the paddock besides her. That even without her, there will always be someone supporting him.)

Her anger and the feeling of being betrayed slowly seeped away as regret and sorrow made its way up. Max seems to notice too as the hold that he has over her hand tightened.

“I’m sorry,” said Max, bringing her closer for an embrace. “I really missed you and i- I thought that she was you.”

The female in the video does have the same hair color as her. Maybe he missing her that bad back then. That’s why he did what he did.

“I’m sorry too,” said y/n, enveloping her arm around his neck. “I- I should’ve supported you more.”

Y/n had never thought she’s a fool.

She’s a woman with a good head on her shoulder. She’s a woman with vast knowledge and high education. She’s a woman who always think rationally and logically. Emotion had never affected her decision.

But that decision, is the start of her foolery.

“I- I forgive you,” muttered the woman. “Just- please make sure you will never do that again.”

At that, the smile that Max let out brightened up her world just a bit.

“I promise,” answered the man as he leaned towards her for a kiss.

As they sat there, lips touching with each other, Y/n can’t help the nagging feeling that made her felt as if she’s the clown of this story

“Yes,” she muttered softly. “I am… a good student.”

There’s a bouquet of roses on her kitchen counter.

Y/n stared at it silently.

“But I think, I’m a fool,” continue the girl as the put the cake on the oven.

Her mother stared at her.

“Dear,” she started, hand reaching towards her. Her touch is soft and warm. It’s always welcoming. Something that she had always fall into when she was a child. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

There’s so many things that she’s not telling her and she wants nothing but to tell her all of those things.

All of those months full of agony and tears. All of those sleepless night and insecurity.

Everything that she had felt these past few months, she wants to tell it all to the older woman.

But no.

She didn’t.

She decided long ago, that these emotions- this feelings that she had buried inside of her heart should never be uttered out loud. That the only closure that she will ever have, is by burying all of these messy emotions deep inside of her heart.

Not opening her heart anymore. Not letting anyone in.

A fool.

A girl, with nothing but a clown costume.

Well, y/n is a fool indeed.

There’s a bouquet of roses on her kitchen. Sitting there unmoving. The previous bouquet had not even wilted yet. She felt a bit sick at the mere thought of it.

Roses after roses.

Tears after tears.

She should’ve known that this relationship would never last. That this blissful feeling and tender care that they share with each other is not something that will last forever.

A famous formula one superstar like him with a normal university student like her.

How laughable.

Y/n felt stupid that she actually thought that this relationship will last.

Because it’s not.

“You said you won’t do it again,” she said, eyes staring at her plate intently. Not wanting to see the man sitting in front of her.

How many times is it now? She doesn’t even bother to count.

It was always like this. Every time she saw him with another girl – always though social media, or through a friend. Never had it been from Max himself. There will always be a bouquet of roses on her kitchen. As if, those roses are enough.

As if, those roses are enough for her to forgive him.

(It did.)

Max shifted, “You have to believe me,” he said, hand reaching towards her own. Though, she immediately flinched, retreating. The male seems to have noticed it too, as he too, froze up on his spot.

“Schat,” he called out, tone pleading. “You have to believe me. I- it was not my intention to touch her like that.”

“And yet you still did,” replied the female, curling herself into a ball. It was a bit dangerous position considering she’s sitting on their dining room chair. Though, she really can’t help it. She wants to disappear. To stop this hurtful feelings that’s threatening to overflow.

She hates this so so much.

“I was drunk!” exclaimed Max as his tone went higher and higher. “I thought she was you- that’s why I was so receptive!”

There was something on his tone that sounds almost frantic. As if he’s desperately trying to put everything together. To make this thing between the two of them works. Max too seems to realize as he stood up, circling the dining table so he could stood by her side.

Y/n could feel his hands curling around her shoulder. “I thought it was you and I was missing you really badly because we haven’t met each other in weeks,” he said, face so close to hers as his hands scrambling to wipe of something from her face.

Oh.

She’s crying. She didn’t even realize that.

“I miss you so much, that’s why I went with her to the hotel and-“

And that really is the thing that made y/n snap.

Because the way he said this, the way he’s trying to direct this conversation, was as if he was going to blame her about this mess of their relationship. As if, him cheating was her fault. As if, him sleeping with another girl is her fault.

She hates it so much she wants it to end.

The last string, finally broke.

She should’ve known that this relationship of theirs is not something that could last forever. After all, the both of them led such a different life with each other.

Too many differences.

Too many hurdles.

Back then, she thought that she could face all of it. All of those hurdles and problems. She used to believe that both Max and her could resolve it. That they could triumph each one easily.

But now?

She’s far too tired.

She’s too tired to hang around this relationship of theirs. Too tired of the countless sleepless nights and all the overthinking that she did. Too tired to scroll through her social media only to see her with different girl each time. Too tired, to put her expectation to this man before her.

Y/n is not a fool.

She doesn’t want to be a clown anymore.

And so, this is the end. The end of everything that they had built. That this sacred commitment between the two of them is nothing but a thorn on her side.

“I’m tired,” the family let out, eyes still streaming with tears as she stared at Max’s blue eyes. Blue eyes that used to make her weak on the knees. The blue eyes that never fail to make her heart race.

Though this time, she felt empty as she stared at those blue eyes of his.

“I’m tired, Max,” she repeated once more. “Let’s end this.”

Y/n moved back to her parents’ house not long after that. Transferring university to that of her country. Leaving all the memories that she had made in Monaco in that country.

There are many things that she wants to left there. Too many things.

(They didn’t even managed to say I love you yet. Those simple words that remained inside her heart.)

And as she landed back on her home country, eyes staring at the plane that had taken her from Monaco, she can’t help the small smile that appeared on her face.

Yes, this is a new start for her.

She’s tired of being a fool.

“There are many things that I want to say,” started the younger as she stared at the older woman with a bittersweet smile on her face. “But I think- I think I’m still not ready for it.”

Her mother hummed at that. “Of course,” she muttered, hand enveloping her in a hug. It’s warm and it reminded her so much of her childhood. She wants to stay like this forever. Enveloped in her mother embrace forever. “You can always tell me later. I’m always here, remember?”

“Yeah,” y/n said as she released her embrace. “Yeah, I know.”

That answer seems to have brightened her mother up a bit. “Well okay then, enough of the depressing talk!” she said with a clap of her hands. “Tomorrow is a big day for us so-“

What her mother was going to say was interrupted by the loud sound of a ringing bell.

Both female exchanged glances with each other, eyebrow raising. “We’re having guest?” ask y/n.

“I doubt s,” said her mom. “Will you be a dear and open the door? I’m going to call for your dad.” She muttered out before she’s gone to call for the man.

Y/n shrugged, not seeing any problem with that as she walked towards the front door not expecting anything. After that shocking and a bit emotional talk with her mom, she’s not in the mood to entertain any guest today.

Maybe it could be a mailman? Doubt so.

Her sister? No, she’s on a vacation to Greece.

Then who could possibly be ringing their door?

She opened her door, not expecting anything, only to found herself rooted on her spot as she stared at the sight before her. Because there he stood, blond hair, blue eyes, and white shirt. Somehow, her heart started to betray her and it began hammering wildly inside her chest.

“Hey,” said Max Verstappen, standing in front of her door with a bouquet of roses on his hand.

Ah, thought y/n.

Maybe she is a fool after all.

#formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #f1 fic #formula one fanfic #f1 fanfiction #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic

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mandosaur · 6 months

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This Little Slice of Life (Mike Schmidt x Reader)

Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's Film

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Reader

Word Count: 1,025

Estimated Reading Time: 3:43

Summary:

A tiny little drabble that takes place before the film's events.

When you imagined what your life was going to be like as an adult, you didn’t imagine this.

In your dreams, you saw yourself as a world famous pop star. You imagined yourself in sequin dresses that would cost a fortune standing before a stage of wild fans all screaming your name. You saw yourself on every magazine cover, touring every country, and attending the Met Gala. Paparazzi would flash your photos in your day dreams all while you rode in a limo spending thousands on any little thing that caught your fancy. You had always imagined a life of luxury and wealth for yourself as an adult.

You never imagined your current life.

You never imagined that you’d be in your mid twenties still living in the same street you grew up in. Never imagined that the fancy little college degree you got to appease your parents would bring you nothing but student loans that kept piling on. You didn’t think you’d be working some dead end job for minimum wage at a company with a shitty boss and worse hours just barely scraping by.

However, despite the huge deviation from what your childhood dreams believed would be a good future for you, you find you can’t be happier.

There’s something warm and familiar in the way your life works. Like a puzzle piece clicking together, everything just seems to work. Your life isn’t glamorous or extravagant the way your elementary school dreams all mapped out, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Hell, you wouldn’t trade Mike or Abby for the world either.

Mike and Abby were perhaps the greatest riches you had. Mike had been your childhood best friend. You’d met him in the first day of Pre-K. A little boy holding a metal, superhero lunch box while his mom and dad kissed him goodbye. You’d befriended him on the playground of that first day and formed a friendship that had lasted all your lives.

You’d known him forever. Been there for him when Garrett had been taken, when his parents had died, and when he’d become Abby’s guardian. You’d always been there at his side.

First as a friend, then as a lover.

When you both turned 16, you had started dating. A simple choice between you both. By then, you’d both loved each other and had been pining for years. It was only natural for the two of you to start dating. Both of your parents encouraged the shift and the two of you were very happy.

10 years later, and the two of you had been together for a long time. You’d moved into the little home he shared with Abby. You shared his bedroom and was there to take care of Abby when Max couldn’t. Abby too was a joy in your life.

She had been born when you two were older and you and Mike had become her guardians. Abby really only knew the two of you. She doted on Mike, treasured him deeply if her drawings with him center stage were anything to go by, but she adored you too. She talked to you more than other kids her age, liked you staying home with her when your work allowed it, and drew you in some of her drawings holding hands with her and Mike.

She was a little gift in the life you had just like Mike. You loved them both deeply to the point where nothing else mattered.

To you, it didn’t matter that both you and Mike didn’t have money. Between your student loans and both your minimum wage paychecks, you two weren’t raking in much. Neither of you could boast being wealthy, hell, sometimes you couldn’t even boast being comfortable either.

But that didn’t matter.

Every day that you woke up to that poster of Nebraska on the ceiling and Mike next to you, every day that you got home to Max and Abby in the kitchen table working on homework, and every day that you were able to kiss Mike when he got home from work from the mall covered in fast food stains and all, none of it mattered. Not the debt, not the hardships, and not the struggles.

This little slice of life you’d built with Mike and Abby were paradise. Even if Mike’s aunt threatened custody every once in a while, even if Mike sometimes came home flushed and upset with a new termination notice in hand from his current job, and even if Abby sometimes preferred to talk to her imaginary friends than join you and Mike for dinner. Despite it all, this little home the three of you shared was your personal heaven.

And when Mike came home one day and suggested the two of you marry after talking to Abby, your little paradise increased.

Your wedding wouldn’t be anything that would elicit chatter among your friends. At most, you two would just wear your nicest clothes in your closet and walk down to the court house with cheap rings from Amazon. At most, your honeymoon would be a day where Max took Abby to her house and you and Mike ordered some take out from that Italian place in the mall that was about as fancy as any other fast food place. At most, you’d probably have one weekend to celebrate being married before Mike went to work at the mall and you back to your shitty job.

But it didn’t matter.

You loved Mike and Abby enough to the point where all of that sounded like a luxury. It might not have been the fancy delusions child you had about your future, but it was home. Mike and Abby had always been your home and any moment spent with them was better than whatever money could buy.

So, smiling, you had accepted Mike’s proposal and enveloped him and Abby in a tight hug. Had laughed when you felt Mike’s grin against your cheek and heard Abby’s little giggle against your arms.

Your life might not have been much to someone else, but to you it was paradise. A treasure nothing could ever replace.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fnaf #divider by Saradika #michael schmidt x reader

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bbrissonn · 16 days

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𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

in which you lay alone in your bed at night wondering where your relationship with the young star went wrong

disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting

HUGH DISCLAIMER: this fic doesnt have a clear ending. i literally have no motivation to continue this, but i cannot find it in myself to start my next work for this album until this one is out. so yeah, sorry about that :)

warnings: angst, swearing , not proofread

pairing: jack hughes x reader

wc: 2.6k (including lyrics)

guts masterlist

Cat got my tongue

And I don’t think I get along with anyone

Blood runnin’ cold

I’m on the outside of the greatest inside joke

And I hate all my clothes

Feels like my skin doesn’t fit right over my bones

So I guess I should go

The party’s done, and I’m no fun, I know, I know

I know, I know

Ever since you had moved to New York in early 2022, it felt like it had been living a lie. Like this life you were living wasn’t yours, like you had just stolen it from someone. Growing up, you had always been homeschooled, meaning your social life was slime to none. So, it was safe to say that when you chose to move to New York for a job your mom’s friend had offered you, you were scared.

You only had two real friends, who you barely ever saw because of their busy scheduled with school before, and even more now since you three were all over the country doing your own things. Luckily for you, there was a girl only 2-3 years older than you at your job, meaning you had someone to talk to if you felt the need. After a month of two, the two of you became friends, growing ever closer when you realized you lived in apartment blocks next to each other.

Which is how you found yourself at a bar on a saturday night in October of that year. Mailey had convinced you to come with her, claiming the two of you needed to decompress from your busy week at work. You rolled your eyes at first, but agreed none the less. Ever since this summer, you found yourself starting to go out more, joining Mailey and her friends every once in a while. Only this time was so much different than the others.

There was a big group of maybe 20ish guys, age ranging from young adults to full grown men, taking up most of the place. The two of you were confused, seeing as this bar barely ever had people coming in, and it was mainly the same people coming here every week. So, a group of random guys neither of them had seen around before certainly peeked your interest.

“What do you think they’re doing here?” You asked as the two of you sat down at your usual spot. The group occupying the opposite side of the room.

“Don’t know. But they’re not buying that cheap booze.” Mailey mumbled, her eyes focused on the insane amount of liquor at the couple of tables they were occupying. The two of you eventually started forgetting about them, talking about random things that happened throughout the week.

“Not to freak you out, but there’s a guy that keeps looking at you. A cute guy.” The girl across from you said after about an hour of the two of you being there. You furred your brows slightly at her words, before turning your head in their direction. That’s when you met his eyes for the first time. He had a slight grin on his face as he stared into your eyes, nodding along to whatever the guy next to him was saying. You sent him a small smile, waving slightly, which he answered with a nod.

“More like hot guy.” You mumbled, looking back over at your best friend. You had had a couple of flings here and there, but nothing ever serious, and you were never used to getting boys’ attention on a night out.

“He’s going to the bar. Go talk to him.” Mailey announced, making you turn your head to look at him. At the same time, he looked over at your table, sending you a small wink when your eyes met.

“Rich coming from someone who always says girls don’t chase, they attract.” You teased, making her roll her eyes. You eventually decided to go up to him later that night, talking for a bit before exchanging numbers. Jack, you learned his name was, didn’t seem to want to get into talking about his group of friend too much, so you kept all your questions to yourself.

Over the next couple of weeks, the two of you got to know each other. Your friendship slowly formed and the two of you grew closer each other. But, clearly Jack was still holding back on some stuff. He still refused to open up about his friends and what he does as a living exactly. You told yourself that he’d tell you when he was ready, but you were getting a little impatient, which is why you pretty much forced the answer out of him when you went over to his apartment one day.

“When are you gonna tell me?” You asked, pausing the show the two of you were watching. Your words made him look over at you, a confused expression on his face as his eyes met yours.

“What do you mean?”

“When are you gonna tell me truth, Jack. If that’s even your name.” You sassed, making the boy next to you let out a deep sigh as he threw his head back.

“D’you wanna see my birth certificate?” He answered coldly, making you scoff. “What I do doesn’t matter, Y/N, so just drop it.”

“If it doesn’t matter than why won’t you tell me, Jack? You know pretty much everything about me and my life, and barely know anything from yours. God, you won’t even tell me the names of your brothers!”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because I like you, Jack! And… and I though you liked me back, but clearly I was wrong.” You admitted, standing up from your spot on the couch as you started packing up your things. “Just forget it.” You mumbled as you started making your way to the door. You were stopped right as you were about to grab onto the doornob.

“Y/N, wait!” He said, grabbing your wrist and turning you around before you could leave. “I like you too, Y/N, and I’m sorry I haven’t been honest with you, but I didn’t want what I do in life to influence how you see me. I’ve had way too many people use me and I didn’t want that to happen again because I really like you.”

“Jack, I made it clear hundreds of that time that I what you do in life wouldn’t change the way I see you, but you kept hiding from me. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me.” You explained with a scoff. The boy in front of you sighed before cupping your face in his head, his forehead leaning against yours.

“I know, I know, I should’ve told you a long time ago. But what we have, it’s really special to me, and it’s so good. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“You’d have to be a serial killer for me to change my mind about how I feel, Jack.”

“Stay. Please. I’ll tell you everything, I promise, just don’t leave me, please.” He begged, his thumbs rubbing small circles under your eyes. You swallowed harshly before slightly nodding your head yes. Jack then brough the two of you back to his couch, and he stuck to his promise. He started going on and on about his life, starting with the fact that he played hockey for the Devils. Then he moved on to telling you pretty much every single memory he had about the sport, a wide grin plastered on his face.

In exchange, you opened up to him about some of the insecurities you had because you were homeschooled, including having to attened big parties and being surrounded by large crowds. Jack had promised that was something he would never put your through, but you quickly learned that his promise meant nothing to him.

I broke a glass, I tripped and fell

I told secrets I shouldn’t tell

I stumbled over all my words

I made it weird, I made it worse

Each time I step outside, it’s social suicide

It’s social suicide, wanna curl up and die

It’s social suicide

It had now been three months since Jack asked you out. You had met his brother Luke when the boy came to visit, talked to his parents through face time a while ago, but you had yet to met his friends. You tried hard not to let it bother you, but it did. He didn’t want you attending his games either, claiming he didn’t want people to hate on you because you were his girlfriend. You couldn’t help but overthink the fact that maybe it was just because you were his girlfriend.

You had seen pictures of the other players wives and girlfriends, and you looked nothing like them. They all seemed so outgoing and the life of the party. Not to mention all of the models Jack followed, all of them being the exact opposite of you. You had questioned him about it one night, he just scoffed and said you were being petty and pathetic asking him a question like that.

“J?” You called out. His arms were wrapped around your waist, your back pressed against his chest.

“Mm?”

“When am I gonna meet your friends?” You asked quietly, making the boy sigh harshly against the back of your neck.

“Got to sleep, Y/N.” He mumbled.

“Could you at least answer me?”

“I don’t know, okay? Your weird fear of crowds or whatever makes it impossible for you to meet them all at the same time, and I’m not gonna go through the burden of setting up little dates with my teammates just so you can meet them. Can I sleep now, mother?” He answered harshly as his arms left your frame and he turned around, his back to yours. You felt tears prikle in your eyes at his words.

“I can handle it.” Your voice was low, not trusting your voice not to crack if you talked any louder. Jack let yet another sigh at your words.

“We’re getting together after the game tomorrow, come if you want.”

“To your game?” You asked hopeful. You were growing tired of just watching him play through your TV screen, when he was close to your home.

“No. After.” And just like that, all your hope was crushed.

“What should I wear?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” He grumbled, getting out of bed making your head snap towards him as he approached the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Guest room. I need peace and you keep talking.” Was the last thing he said before leaving the room. When you woke up the next morning, he was gone, no text no notes, nothing. He didn’t come back for his pregame nap either, which scared you a little. But all your nerves went away when his face appeared on your Instagram feed, a bright smile on his face as the picture the Devils posted illuminated your screen.

All of your texts to Jack had gone unanswered, as well as your calls. Thankfully, you knew where the team would be heading after the game, it was a local bar near the rink they went to almost every time after a game. You had gotten there a lot later than everyone, spending thirty minutes in your car deciding whether or not Jack would still want you there. You figured there was only one way to find out so in you went.

The place was crowded, the music loud as the bartenders prepared multiple drinks. Realistically, there wasn’t that many people here, just the team and a couple other regulars, it was just a really small room. It took you a couple of minutes to spot Jack, who was sitting at a table with a couple of his friends and lots of girls. You tried to look as confident as possible as you made your way over to him. Some of his friends and their partners started at you, wondering what someone like you was doing here.

“Jack?” You called out as you stood behind him. His arm was resting on the chair of a pretty blond girl next to him. You couldn’t quite describe the look in his eyes when his head turned to face you, but the words he was about to say completely crushed you.

“Do I know you?” He questioned, and you could feel your heart shatter inside of you. You tried your best to keep a brave face on, but you were dying on the inside.

“J, come one, this isn’t funny. I’ve been texting and calling all day, you were gone when I woke up this morning.” You mumbled, taking a step closer to him. The girl on his right could read you perfectly, and she realized that you two were a couple. When it clicked in her mind, she sent the boy a judging look before standing from her seat and walking back to her friends.

Jack got up right after her, gripping your wrist and dragging you outside the bar. “What’re you doing here?” He asked harshly once the two of you stood outside alone.

“No! What are you doing, Jack?”

“I’m enjoying a night with my buddys!”

“Yeah, the friends you said I could meet. Tonight!”

“When did I say that?” His words were harsh and rude, making your heart shatter even more. You truly did not understand why he always acted this way towards you lately, but you were growing tired of it.

“Last night! You said I could come if I wanted to, and I want to be here, so here I am. And here you are, with your arm around another girl!” You said, your tone matching his. You were tired of letting him walk over you all the time.

“I said that so you would shut up and leave me alone. God, you’re always just complaining about everything and anything. It’s like nothing’s ever enough for you, you always need more–”

“Oh, nothing’s enough for me? What about you, huh? Am I not enough for you?”

“There you go, making it about you like always.”

“Because this is about me, Jack! I am your girlfriend of three months, and I don’t know any of your friends! It’s like you’re ashamed to be with me. Do your friends even know about me?” You asked. There were tears in the back of your eyes threatening to spill, but you blinked them away. You had cried enough over him for the last couple of weeks. The boy in front of you stayed silent at your question, making you scoff.

“Of course they don’t know, just like your brother’s weren’t suppose to know, or your parents. You don’t want anyone to know that your girlfriend is me.” You spoke with your voice low. This exact though had been in the back of your mind for a long time, but saying it out loud made it feel so much more real.

“Things were better before you knew–”

“They were better for you! You lied to me for weeks, and you’re still lying. All you do is lie, Jack. I can’t believe I waisted so much time and energy on you. You never wanted this relationship, did you? You just wanted someone to fuck whenever you needed, someone to be there for you. You didn’t care who it was, you neved cared about me. You’re pathetic, seriously.” You mumbled before pushing past the hockey player and walking to your car.

You were done with Jack Hughes.

#bri writes #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes angst #new jersey devils #guts series

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