#jesus i'm so hungover
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a lover's pinch | seven
joel miller x f!reader
pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader
rating: explicit, 18+ mdni
summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel.
warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute.
word count: 11.1k jesus
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a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x
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this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.
Tuesday.
It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.
It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.
You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.
There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.
Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.
It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.
Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.
You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.
He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.
You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.
Still nothing.
Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.
You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.
First from yesterday afternoon:
Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x
And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:
It’s raining and miserable here
Wish I was still in new york
With you
Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.
You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.
No. You don’t think about that at all.
When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.
The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.
It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.
He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.
“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”
You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.
“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”
A family matter?
Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.
Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.
Numb fingers type;
Are you okay? Where are you?
But no response comes.
No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.
The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.
Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.
A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.
Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.
Thursday.
Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.
This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.
The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.
The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.
Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.
So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.
And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.
He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.
He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.
Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.
He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.
Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.
Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.
Where were you today?
You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.
“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.
Wednesday.
A week goes by with no word from Joel.
No word from you either.
You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.
So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.
“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”
“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”
An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.
The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.
“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”
A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.
The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.
He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.
And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.
You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.
‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.
Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.
For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.
Joel says your name then.
Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.
And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.
Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.
Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.
“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.
“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.
“What?”
“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”
“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”
“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.”
“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”
“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”
“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”
Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.
“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”
“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.
“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”
And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.
And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.
One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.
“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”
You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.
“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”
Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.
Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.
“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”
Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”
“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”
“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”
“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”
“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”
And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.
The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.
You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.
“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.
“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.
“Are you hungry?”
You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”
Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”
It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.
The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.
He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”
You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”
Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.
“Full?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
“Is this your house?”
“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”
A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.
Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.
“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”
When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”
You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.
“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”
“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.
“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”
He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.
And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.
“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”
Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.
“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”
“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”
“Do I?” you scoff.
“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that—”
“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”
You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.
“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”
“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”
“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”
And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.
“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”
“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”
You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.
“Then why do you keep letting me?”
“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”
“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”
You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.
“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”
He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.
“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"
“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”
He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.
You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?”
Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”
You blink.
Daughter.
Daughter?
“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.”
You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.
His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.
You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.
Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.
Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.
There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?
“Please say somethin’.”
There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.
Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.
“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”
“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.
“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”
“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”
“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”
“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.
“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.
“Is she okay?”
“Ellie?”
“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter. “Yeah.”
“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”
“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”
“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”
“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.
“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”
“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.
“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”
“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”
“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”
And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.
“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.
“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”
Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay then.”
You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.
“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.
Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.
It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.
And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.
He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.
“Talk to me.”
“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.
He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.
“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”
The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.
“Said you were sick?”
“Mhm.”
“What kind?”
“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”
In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.
“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.”
And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.
At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.
“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.
His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.
“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.
“So are you, Joel.”
“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.
“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.
“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”
“She just said it so well.”
“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”
“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him
“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”
You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.
And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.
He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.
The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.
Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.
It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.
“You should rest.”
But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.
“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.
“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”
His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.
His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.
And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.
Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.
Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.
The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.
He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.
Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.
Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.
It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.
His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.
He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”
Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.
“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.
“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”
“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.
“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.
“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.
“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours.
He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.
“Hmm?”
“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”
“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.
Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.
It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.
In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.
Thursday.
Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.
Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.
A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.
There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.
An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.
A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.
You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.
Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.
You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.
“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.
“Good morning, cowboy.”
Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.
“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”
“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.
“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.
“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”
“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.
Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.
“I could get used to this.”
“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.
“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”
“And what exactly is the whole experience?”
“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”
Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.
“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.
He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.
“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”
“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”
And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.
As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”
Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.
“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.
“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”
“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”
“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”
Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.
“Is that right?”
“S’right.”
“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”
And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?
You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”
“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”
“Then what?”
“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.
Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.
Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”
“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”
Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.
“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.
Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.
But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.
Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.
Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.
At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.
You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.
Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.
“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”
A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.
“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.
“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.
He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.
“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.
And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.
He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.
The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.
“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.
Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.
“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.
“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.
“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”
Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.
He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.
“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.
“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.”
When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.
He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.
The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.
And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.
Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.
But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.
Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.
A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.
“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.
“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”
“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”
The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.
The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.
Our little secret.
a/n refs:
in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.
the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]
the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']
the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]
eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]
thank you for reading! x
#finally am i right?#my writing#fic: a lover's pinch#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut
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Time & Temptation - Roommates w/ Benefits Pt. 1
Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader
Summary: While the compound is undergoing a security system update, the team is moved into an apartment complex. You were initially set to room with Wanda, but Bucky makes you an offer that you don't even consider refusing.
Warnings: profanity, wet dream with unprotected sex and teasing, alcohol consumption, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.
Word Count: 3.8k
A/N: Okay, I'm super nervous about throwing something out here after Needs & Wants BUT we're doing this. It was now or never lmao. Don't forget, if you want to be notified when new parts are posted, you can add yourself to the tag list using this Google doc. It's a bit easier to add yourself vs. commenting to be tagged, because I don't always see comments before posting other parts. As usual, I have to give extra thanks to @littlemiss-yeehaw for being such an encouraging friend and for continually saving my ass by telling me what warnings my fics need.
You had been drinking. That’s the excuse you’re going with. You’d both been drinking. But is that really a valid excuse when one of you is a super soldier who’s completely unaffected by alcohol? You decide to blame Bucky Barnes. He should’ve been thinking straight. If he had been, you wouldn’t have ended up as roommates.
As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you fight to quiet the thoughts rushing through your mind at warp-speed. You didn’t drink enough to be hungover but you’re definitely feeling the effects from the number of beers you had just a few hours ago. Your overthinking only intensifies the headache that’s currently pounding behind your eyes. Ibuprofen. You need ibuprofen. You can see that the sun hasn't come up yet, which means it’s still either very late or very early in the morning, so you try to be as quiet as possible. You don’t want to wake your new roommate. Of course, you wouldn’t have known since you've barely ever interacted with the man, but he doesn’t sleep much. When you stumble out into the hall, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of black panties, you fail to notice the way Bucky’s door hangs ajar, signifying he's not in bed. You run your hand along the wall of the hallway, feeling your way to the kitchen so you won’t have to make your headache any worse by turning on a light.
“Jesus, Bucky. What are you doing up?” You ask in a whisper, after being startled by the figure of the six-foot super soldier lurking in the kitchen. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of gray sweats and his dog tags, as he leans back against the edge of the countertop in near-darkness. As your eyes adjust, you let them linger over his defined chest and abs a little longer than you should have, and he notices your momentary ogling.
“Why are you whispering?” He questions, stealing a look of his own. And why the fuck are you walking around without any pants on? His eyes trail down your body, taking in the vintage t-shirt that barely skims the tops of your thighs and your toned legs that are on full display. You’re rubbing your temples with the pads of the middle finger and thumb of your right hand, so you don’t notice his gaze. Fuck. If you’re going to share an apartment, he may have to set a ground rule about pants. Though, he didn’t initially take you for the type to prance around half-dressed, otherwise he might’ve proposed the rule before you ever went to bed.
“What kind of beer did you give me last night?” The question rolls off of your tongue a little more accusatory than you intended as you take a few steps further into the kitchen and wave Bucky away from his place in front of the sink. He moves around the island and takes a seat on one of the barstools there, watching as you rise up on your tippy toes to pull open the medicine cabinet that sits high over the sink. Your t-shirt pulls up with the movement of your outstretched arm, dangerously close to revealing your ass to him. He clenches his jaw and looks down at the mug that’s gripped tightly between his two hands. He's dangerously close to breaking it into a hundred tiny pieces. Jesus. He’s definitely going to make wearing pants a ground rule, but he’ll wait until you’ve fully awoken to bring that up.
“It was just beer.” He mutters, taking a sip of his hot tea. He’s not usually one to drink tea, but he’s had a particularly sleepless night and sometimes it helps. It might’ve helped, if you hadn’t waltzed in here half-dressed and woken up his entire lower half.
“Beer from hell.” You grumble, retrieving the bottle of ibuprofen from the cabinet and shaking two of the little pills out into the palm of your hand. You put the bottle back in its place before fixing yourself a glass of water and downing the medicine. Bucky’s eyes follow your every move, but you aren't paying attention to him. “Did I really move in here?” You have to ask. You know it’s true, you know that you and Vision switched rooms last night. But still, you need to hear it from someone else.
“Yeah.” Bucky answers dryly. You don’t remember him being so short with you when he proposed the idea a few hours ago. You let out a deep sigh before taking another sip of water.
“There’s probably no chance Vision will switch back with me, is there?” You also know the answer to that one, but still, you ask.
“Throwing in the towel already?” Bucky taunts, raising an eyebrow at you. Is he really challenging you over this? He was the one that suggested you and Vision switch rooms, you merely agreed to it because there was no way you could survive practically being a part of a throuple in yours and Wanda’s apartment for the next three months.
“No, I’m just wondering if this was a good idea.” You retort, narrowing your eyes at him. Why the fuck isn’t he wearing a shirt? If you had known that he walks around like that, you definitely wouldn’t have moved in. He’s always been frustratingly attractive, even with his signature frown and reclusive nature. You really weren’t thinking straight when you rolled your suitcase in here, set your duffel bag and moving boxes down in the second bedroom, and decided to call this your new home.
“It was either this or you were going to have to knock on your door and ask Wanda and Vision to wrap it up so you could get some sleep. The choice was yours.”
���I was…influenced.” You claim, setting your glass on the countertop and crossing your arms over your chest. Your t-shirt once again rides up a bit and this time you catch Bucky’s eyes flitting down to your thighs. It’s fleeting, but you notice it. You know you weren’t really influenced. Bucky’s right. He simply offered a solution to your problem, and you took him up on it.
------------------ 7 Hours Earlier -------------------
It took Bucky less than ten minutes to unpack. He really only needs his clothes, a few weapons, and a decent book when he moves from one place to another. Vision, however, didn’t unpack a single thing. He quickly settled his suitcase and boxes into his bedroom before hurrying back out to the parking garage to help Wanda with her things. Bucky imagines he probably would’ve fared well with the ladies in the 40s, though the synthetic body and infinity stone might’ve scared a few off.
Once Bucky’s alone in the new apartment, he takes his time walking around and checking it out. It’s more spacious than he expected. When Tony said he was moving everyone into an apartment complex for at least the next three months while the tower undergoes a hefty security system update, Bucky definitely didn’t picture being moved into a luxury complex. The floor-to-ceiling windows on one side of the living room offer a stunning view of the city a couple of miles to the south, and the open floorplan makes the space seem that much bigger. Though, the kitchen being so open to the living room makes it so that the only privacy Bucky will ever have here will be behind his bedroom door. Not that he plans to hang out outside of his room very much. He didn’t do that very often back in the compound either.
Bucky’s gaze is broken away from the view when he hears the elevator ding in the hallway, followed by Wanda and Vision whispering back and forth.
“She’ll probably be out for at least an hour since she’s meeting Fury, but we might have even longer than that.” Wanda’s hushed tone is one that Bucky has heard plenty of times before. He’s heard it most often when it's late at night, and she and Vision are sneaking around together. They always think they’re being so stealthy, but honestly, the rest of the team has heard them getting it on on more than a handful of occasions. Tony should have just let them share a place, but Bucky understands why he didn’t. You would’ve been stuck with one of the guys. Tony thought he was doing you a favor by sticking you with Wanda, especially since the two of you are such good friends, but he failed to realize just how attached Wanda and Vision are lately. Bucky feels for you in this moment, he truly does. Though he’s never really been on your end of something like this, he was in Vision’s shoes often back in his early army days. He always had a pretty girl on his arm and he knows he made his fair share of people uncomfortable with his public displays of affection. He can’t imagine how much a roommate would’ve hated him if he’d had one back then.
He listens as Wanda and Vision pass by his apartment and continue on down the hall. The apartment immediately next to his is going to be empty for at least a few days, since it belongs to Clint and Sam, and neither of them were in town today to be able to move in. Yours and Wanda’s apartment is the next one over. However, even all of that space between your apartment and his is no match for Bucky’s heightened sense of hearing. It’s always been more of a curse than a blessing to him, and that proves true again now, as his ears are assaulted by the sound of Vision and Wanda tearing each other’s clothes off.
---
Your meeting with Fury was a lot shorter than usual, but he did send you back to your new apartment with an abundance of Chinese food from the hole-in-the-wall place that he chose to meet at. As you make the trek from the parking garage to the building, carrying an over-filled plastic baggy of food, you wonder if Wanda’s already started unpacking her things. Maybe she’s been working on setting up the apartment since you left and she’ll be ready for a food break. You glance down at your phone and see that it’s nearing 8 pm. You’re envisioning an evening of good food and friendly company in your new apartment, but of course, that’s not what you’ll find once you make your way upstairs.
As soon as the elevator lets you out onto your floor, you feel like you’re in college again, making your way down the hall of a dorm building. You probably shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up about the nice little roommate dinner. You’re not even three feet away from the door when you hear the distinctive sound of a headboard slapping against the wall and it freezes you in your tracks. Shit, you can’t even go into your own apartment. You stand there like a deer in headlights for about five seconds, horrified by what you’re listening in on, before you start backtracking to the elevator. You can enjoy the food from the comfort of your own car, even if it’s fucking freezing outside. As you start walking back down the hall, you catch yourself stopping outside of Bucky’s door. Surely, he’s home. You don’t know him as well as you know the rest of the team, but you do know that he spent a lot of time in his suite back in the compound. It’s unlikely that he’s out tonight. For a brief moment, you imagine yourself knocking on his door while he sits inside and completely ignores you. Is he the type to do that? To pretend he isn’t home? Hell, forget it. You’ll just go with your original plan of eating in the car.
Bucky heard the elevator ding when you arrived a couple of minutes ago. He probably should’ve stuck his head out into the hall and warned you, or even reached out to Sam and asked for your number so he could’ve texted you some kind of warning. He had every opportunity to spare you, but instead he sat in his apartment with some random documentary playing on the TV and a cold beer in his hand. He expected you to leave as quickly as you’d arrived, so he was surprised when he heard your footsteps stop short outside his door. If you’d had a sense of hearing anything like his, you would’ve heard him rise from the couch and make his way over to look at you through the peephole in the door. He stares at you now, seeing your nose and cheeks flushed pink from the cold weather, a bag of what looks to be takeout clutched in your left hand while your phone and keys are in your right, and an imperceptible expression written across your features. Why does he feel the sudden urge to invite you in?
Bucky doesn’t give the situation a second thought. His hand is tugging the door open before he even realizes what he’s doing.
“I…” You’re about to explain what you’re doing standing outside of Bucky’s door, but you don’t really feel like saying your roommate is fucking my roommate and I have nowhere else to go, so you simply hold the bag of takeout up and offer him a weak smile. “I’ll share.” You feel exposed as his eyes narrow and travel down your frame. He’s analyzing you, or maybe he’s judging you, you really can’t tell. Normally you’re someone who stands tall and holds their own, but in front of this man, you always seem to feel small. You’re about to cut your losses and ditch when Bucky pulls the door open a little more and tilts his head, inviting you in. No fucking way.
That’s how you ended up a few beers deep on his couch, feeling more comfortable around him than you’ve ever felt in your 6 months of living across the hall from each other. In fact, you felt so comfortable, that you were actively giving him shit about not finding a way to warn you about what you nearly walked in on in your apartment earlier.
“You knew they were going at it and you were just going to let me walk in there.” You accuse him, clutching your third beer bottle to your chest as you feign a look of offense. Bucky sits on the opposite end of the couch, his gaze feeling heavy on your face. He has this way of looking at people like he can see straight through them, and if you were a little less buzzed, you’d probably feel naked under his stare.
“How was I supposed to warn you? Leave a sign out in the hall?” He asks, taking a long sip of his sixth beer of the night. He’s far ahead of you, yet still, you’re the only one that’s feeling any effects from the alcohol. You wonder why he even drinks if it has no effect on him. Maybe he just likes the taste.
“You could’ve texted me, called me, sent a damn carrier pigeon, I don’t know.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you realize that he most likely doesn’t even have your number. Not once has he ever had a reason to call or text you before, so why would he have your contact? “Give me your phone.” You say suddenly, sitting up straighter and setting your near-empty bottle on the coffee table. You hold out your hand and wait patiently as he eyes you closely. He contemplates brushing you off, but he’s finding this new side of you surprisingly amusing, so he decides to let the moment continue. He grabs his phone off of the arm of the couch and unlocks it before placing it in your open palm. You quickly create a contact for yourself, putting in only your first name and phone number. “Text me next time and tell me to stay out longer.”
“They were going at it for nearly three hours, where would you have hid out?” Bucky wants to know. With the compound off limits, he can’t imagine anywhere else you’d go to waste that much time. Though, he doesn’t know you very well. Maybe you have friends in the city, or hell, even a boyfriend you could crash with.
“The parking garage, Sam’s house, anywhere but here.” It seems like it’s safe to assume there’s no boyfriend if one of your first choices was Sam’s house, which is forty-five minutes away. Not that he cares. “I guess I should work on finding a good hideout for next time.” You click Bucky’s phone off and lean over the center cushion of the couch, gently setting it on his leg. Once you lean back to your side of the couch, tucking your legs in beside you and grasping your beer in your hand again, you notice Bucky staring. The look on his face is indecipherable, but you can tell that he’s deep in thought. You stare right back at him, tracing the rim of your bottle with your fingertip as you wait for him to say something. What he decides to say though, catches you completely off guard.
“Maybe you and Vision should switch rooms.”
-------------------Present------------------------
That’s how you ended up here. Standing in your now shared kitchen while a very shirtless Bucky Barnes continues to wonder why the hell you’re not wearing any pants. You watch him carefully as his sips something from a white mug. It looks so tiny in his hands, so fragile. You’re amazed that he can handle such a delicate item without shattering it. Your eyes begin tracing the veins that decorate the back of his flesh hand, traveling up his forearm until you reach his bicep. God, he really never misses a workout, does he? Wait, why the hell are you looking? You shake your head to clear your mind of whatever thoughts were about to enter and then grab your glass of water from the counter again.
“Goodnight, roommate.” You say somewhat sarcastically, passing behind Bucky on your way back to your room. He catches a whiff of your scent as you pass him. It’s something sweet, maybe vanilla? Whatever it is, he likes it. He rarely ever stood close enough to you before to find out that you smell so damn good. Where is his mind tonight? He’s starting to wonder if something really was off with those beers that you both had earlier.
---
“Bucky…” His name leaves your lips as a needy moan while you arch your back and focus on his touch. His hands are alternately cold and hot, each sliding up along the outer sides of your thighs at a tantalizingly slow pace. You want to lean back against him, you want to reach between the two of you and line his cock up with your entrance yourself, you want to beg him to fuck you already. “Please.”
“Shh, be patient, Y/n.” He coos, pressing his lips to your left shoulder. You feel his hard length slip between your legs and brush against your wet folds, teasing you relentlessly. You can’t help the way your hips grind into him, your cunt searching for friction wherever you can find it. He’s quick to grip your waist and still you, ghosting his lips up the side of your neck before they graze over the shell of your ear. “Try that again and you get nothing.” He warns. You’re trembling and he’s barely even done anything to you yet, while you stand right there on display for him, nearly bent over the kitchen sink. You let out a shaky exhale as his right hand leaves your waist. He wraps that hand around his cock and guides the head to glide back and forth along your pussy.
“Oh, god, please, Bucky.” You’ve been reduced to a quivering, begging mess before him.
“Tell me what you need.” He demands, continuing his teasing actions between your legs. You let out a whimper as you grip the edge of the kitchen counter.
“You, I need you.” You say breathlessly, hoping it’s what he wants to hear.
“You can be more specific than that, Y/n.”
“I need you to fuck me.” That’s what he needed to hear. He begins slotting his dick into your entrance. You feel the tip just barely stretching—
You wake up suddenly in a cold sweat, your t-shirt sticking to your heaving chest and your thighs clenched tightly together under the covers. Holy fuck. That’s new. It takes you about a minute to recover and calm your mind enough to fully realize what you just dreamt about…having sex with Bucky Barnes. The man you barely know, who you now share an apartment with. The man who is currently right across the hall from you, probably still shirtless, and in his own bed, and fuck.
While you were working on coming down from your wet dream, Bucky was lying wide awake in his bed. It was only an hour and a half ago that the two of you exchanged a few words in the kitchen. You scurried off to your room and fell asleep pretty quickly after taking your ibuprofen, but Bucky laid awake, as he usually does. He was actually just starting to drift off to sleep when he heard something coming from behind your door. Great, you talk in your sleep. Or at least that’s what he was assuming, until he strained his ears a little harder and realized he couldn’t make out any fully formed words, only sounds. And the sounds you were making…fuck. They sent all of the blood in his body rushing straight to his dick. You were moaning. You were fucking whimpering. He wanted to write it off as nothing. Hell, maybe you were having a nightmare and those are the sounds you make when you’re scared. But who was he kidding? You were obviously having a sex dream, and his fucking insomnia was keeping him awake to hear it all. Every filthy sound that slipped past your lips was like torture. Bucky found himself squeezing his eyes shut and gripping his quilt in both hands, trying to use all of his willpower to redirect bloodflow away from his lower half. It was wrong to be so turned on by this, by his roommate being unconsciously aroused. When you suddenly went silent, he knew you’d woken up. He thanked every entity he could think of for that.
He seriously fucked up when he invited you to move in. Little does he know, he will soon be paying for his lapse in judgement, even more than he is right now.
Next Part
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childhood sweethearts (10) II a.russo x reader
playlist one two three four five six seven eight nine
childhood sweethearts (10) II a.russo x reader
"jesus." you mumbled to yourself, wincing at the bright beam of sunlight which blinded you as you cracked an eye open, rolling onto your stomach and exhaling deeply.
thats when you realised, these weren't the same bedsheets you'd changed over yesterday, the rattan bedhead behind you also wasn't yours, in fact this bed was not yours. given you knew your best friends house almost as well as your own you also knew this was not her spare bedroom either.
"oh christ." you hissed clutching your pounding head as you shot up in the unfamiiar bed, entirely too fast for the lack of water and abundance of alcohol still left in your bloodstream.
taking a moment and a deep breath you opened your eyes a little slower this time, looking around the unfamiliar room as your eyebrows knitted into a hopelessly confused frown.
lifting up the crisp white duvet you sighed a little in relief seeing you were fully clothed, though just exactly whose clothes these were that you were currently wearing was still a mystery to you. fumbling around to grab your phone you noticed a glass of water and two small white pills beside it on the bedside table.
having no clue where you were you were hardly about to ingest anything left wordlessly for you, for all you knew the water could be tampered with or the pills could be any assortment of drugs.
your confusion deepened though seeing your phone was fully charged, realizing whoever's house you were currently in had not only brought you home, changed you and neatly hung up your dress from last night on the back of the door but also made sure your phone had been on charge all night.
your vision adjusting to the sunlight streaming in through the open window meant you started to actually take in your settings, frown returning at the assortment of trophies and medals littering the walls and shelves in the corner.
hoping they might help you to put together the pieces of the puzzle you were currently living in you swung yourself out of bed, shivering a little as a crisp breeze whipped in through the open window and you made your way over.
but before you could even inspect the silverware your eyes were drawn to a large frame hanging on the other wall that you'd somehow missed in your hungover state, and there was no mistaking that infamous number and five letter word among the grass stains littering the england jersey.
23, russo.
you weren't sure if it was panic or relief which flooded your body now you'd finally cracked the mystery of just who it was who'd brought you home last night, which admittedly you were struggling to remember much of.
you jumped in surprise as your phone buzzed repeatedly on the bed, screen lighting up with a flood of notifications.
iMessages from; alessia r
10:04am - hey, i'm sure you have a lot of questions and are probably not feeling the greatest this morning. i'd totally understand if you left but i'm in the kitchen cooking if you wanted breakfast and a chat before you go :)
10:04am - sorry i don't know why the ':)' felt passive aggressive? lol
10:05am - maybe i'm overthinking this
10:05am - no im definitely overthinking this sorry
10:05am - sorry i'll stop messaging you now
10:06am - oh there's advil on the table too
10:07am - i am in the kitchen cooking though so i really could have just come and said this in person but i don't even know if you're awake or still here or anything
10:08am - also didn't want to freak you out
10:10am - sorry i promise im not usually such a spam texter lol
despite your mixture of both panic and relief at the fact you were in alessia's home and had spent the night you couldn't help but let out a small smile at the influx of messages, imagining the way she'd nervously ramble through the same sentences would she have come and spoke to you in person.
though the blonde wasn't wrong, you were far from feeling the greatest and you did have questions, the main one being why the hell you ended up in her spare bed and not at home in your own.
placing down your phone you rubbed your face tiredly, and now knowing where you were you were quick to down the pills and glass of water, not realizing just how dry your mouth felt until you had.
you spent a few more minutes ticking over in your head everything that you could remember, trying desperately to piece together the night from start to finish, but there was still a significant amount of gaps and right now there was only one person who could help you to fill them.
so with a deep breath and a long exhale your hand fell to the doorknob, tugging it open and being immediately hit with the smell of bacon and coffee.
alessia heard you before she saw you, the slight squeak of the door all she needed for her entire body to snap to attention, and with a glance up her eyes met yours, relieved to see no signs of distress or anger in your features at what was likely an uncomfortable situation to be waking up to.
"hi." you sent her a small smile which the blonde returned, and when she noticed it didn't seem you were in a rush to leave gesturing for you to take a seat at the bench. "coffee?" alessia offered as you shook your head declining politely, the thought of that already setting your stomach into a churn.
"water then?" the striker smiled as you accepted a bottle from the fridge gratefully, taking a large mouthful before pressing it to your forehead. "did you sleep alright?" alessia asked, slight concern present in her gaze which flickered between you and the food cooking on the stovetop.
"i think so? i don't really remember going to sleep if i'm honest."
~
"-then i got you out of the taxi and helped you inside and into bed." alessia finished recounting her recollection of events, shoveling another mouthful of breakfast into her mouth as you nodded along.
"i'm sorry you didn't really get a say in any of it. i was just worried about you hitting your head or falling over and having no one there to check up on you." alessia admitted softly, refusing to meet your eye line as she stared down at her plate of food as if it was the most interesting one she'd ever seen.
"hey less." you noticed her internal battle right away as her eyebrows knit into a frown, tapping your fork lightly against your plate to catch her attention.
"i appreciate that you were just looking out for me, thats what friends do right?" you smiled trying to be reassuring as alessia nodded, seemingly a little more settled. though unbeknownst to you that singular word was like a fork to her heart, friends. that's all the two of you were, friends.
and alessia needed to get out of her own head and realise that, or she risked losing you for good again and that wasn't worth the extra heartbreak it would cause her.
if it was a friend you needed then alessia would be the best one to you she possibly could be, because if thats what it took for you to stay in her life then thats all that mattered.
or at least, thats what she was telling herself.
"i can't believe that girl turned out to be such a creep. i dread to think what would have happened if you weren't there looking out for me less, thank you." your words felt heavy but you spoke gently, doing your best not to think about what might have happened had the blonde not stepped in.
"hey i'd have never let anything bad happen, i promise." alessia spoke a little more firmly, being sure to catch your eyes as a strange feeling settled in your stomach at the display of protection, nodding gratefully and putting the weird churning of your insides down to your hangover which was slowly starting to bleed away.
the two of you ate the rest of your meal in a comfortable silence, both admittedly a little lost in your own thoughts. you refused to listen to alessia's demands that you not help her wash up, the two of you also doing that task with minimal chatter between you.
"would you want to stay and watch some movies or something?" alessia blurted out suddenly, glancing to you briefly but unable to read your face her attention shifted back to the sink full of soapy water.
she had already prepared for the no from the moment that she'd asked the question, already kicking herself for being bold enough to ask after the weird situation already brewing after last night and the fact the two of you were still rebuilding things with one another.
but much to her shock, that no never came.
"yeah sure, that sounds nice."
"wait, really?" alessia asked, unsure if she'd heard you correctly as you gave her an odd look. "yeah...unless you don't want me to?" you clarified slowly, a little perplexed by her surprise as she was quick to assure you not.
"did you want a shower? i'll grab you a towel!" you bit your lip to stifle your laughter as the taller girl hurried away, tripping over her own feet in her haste and tumbling to the floor. "still don't know the size of your own legs then less?" you smiled in amusement as she stood, rubbing her tailbone with a wince.
"nah, ground just looked lonely."
~
"-i still say i could pull this off, easy." you shrugged, shoveling a handful of popcorn in your mouth. "no way! you'd be caught before you even assembled a team." alessia scoffed, doing the same.
"no! i'm a criminal mastermind." you disagreed. "you couldn't even steal a pack of gum for a dare." alessia grinned at the memory. "thats not fair! i was a dead nervous wreck and you're a terrible influence." you shook your head at her.
"terrible influence, excellent thief." alessia beamed wiggling her eyebrows. "can't wait till i leak that to the daily mail. i can see the headlines now; russo goes rough, opens up about grim life of childhood theft!" you mocked in your best newsreader voice, the older girl shoving your shoulder playfully.
again it was all too easy to fall back into your usual playful banter as if no time had passed, the two of you bickered back and forth for a moment before you shushed the blonde. "i love this scene." the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, both sat watching oceans eight.
"okay shoot, shag, marry. sandra bullock, anne hathaway, rihanna." alessia challenged, shifting her body to look at you as you let out a troubled sigh. "you can't expect me to shoot one of them!" you groaned with a shake of your head.
"i'd just shoot the guy she frames who got her arrested, marry any of them because they're all rich now and also shag, any of them!" you answered honestly, alessia laughing and accepting your answer.
"bet you i can catch more of these in my mouth in a row than you can." you challenged now, tapping the bowl of popcorn between you as alessia scoffed.
"please. you're on!"
it was a few hours later that you realized you'd fallen asleep, your eyes fluttering open feeling a little dazed and confused. the sun now having set alessia's living room was only lit up by the tv and you blinked a few times as your eyes adjusted.
it was then that you realised a warmth was enveloping you that you didn't remember being there when you were awake, and you quickly realised it was alessia's hoodie clad arm wrapped around your shoulders, your cheek pressed into her chest as the two of you were squished together on one end of her lounge.
your body tensing up at the new position you spared a glance upwards to see her eyes closed, feeling her chest moving up and down beneath you, the striker seemingly also dead asleep.
you carefully unwound her arm, hearing her stir as you sat up and shuffled a little bit further away from her, stretching out and rubbing your face tiredly.
"you alright?" you heard her ask, voice thick with sleep as she sat up with a small grunt, turning her head and cracking her neck. "i should get going, its almost dark and i have to prep for my class tomorrow." you smiled, trying to ignore the strange feelings arising in your stomach.
"course, i'll drive you." alessia exhaled deeply, clearly still tired as you hurried to shake your head. "it's literally a ten minute walk less. i'll be fine!" you smiled reassuringly, standing up and moving to grab your clothes from last night off the counter.
"you can't walk home in a dress and heels, it's freezing outside." alessia frowned, peering at you in concern over the top of the lounge. "i was fine last night!" you argued stubbornly. "you aren't drunk right now, there isn't alcohol to warm your blood stream up." alessia shot back as you struggled to come up with a response.
"i don't think that's how it works."
"just stay in my clothes, i'll get them off you another day." alessia heaved as she stood and stretched her arms up, your eyes wandering to the sliver of her toned stomach which flashed out as her hoodie rose up.
you quickly looked away feeling your cheeks warm a little. "i'll grab you some trainers." before you could even speak she'd darted off to her room, returning with a pair of brown dunks.
"might be a bit big but just do them up tight." she placed them on the table, excusing herself to use the toilet as you sat down at the table to put them on.
"ready?" alessia returned, grabbing her keys off the hook and waiting by the door. "i told you! i'll walk. driving literally five minutes away is a waste of petrol, think of the environment." you teased, bundling your belongings as she opened the front door.
"alright fair, i'll walk you then." she grabbed a puffer jacket which hung by the door, flicking her hood up and settling into it. "you're not going to take no for an answer are you?" you questioned, the blonde shaking her head firmly.
"of course not." you sighed knowingly, dumping your clothes and heels into a tote bag she offered you. "always trying to force the football on me aren't you." you tutted noticing the bright red arsenal crest donning the front of the bag and the pocket of her puffer jacket.
she shoved you with a smile grabbing her house keys and closing the door after herself, the two of you downing her front steps and starting to walk. "do you just wear this around sometimes so you get free coffees?" you smiled, tugging on her jacket.
"oh yeah absolutely. free coffees, free ice cream, free trainers and clothes, free social media abuse." alessia shot back, and though she said it jokingly you knew the element of truth which lay behind her words.
"i always knew you'd end up here anyway." you shrugged, not meeting her eyes which looked at you curiously. "where? london?" the blonde questioned with a frown.
"no you idiot. like a pro footballer, a proper one." you chuckled with a small shake of your head. "hello testing testing anyone home?" you teased, knocking on her forehead. "hey!" alessia laughed, grabbing your hands in hers as the two of you arrived out the front of your own place.
"you are still annoying as ever." the taller girl sighed, shaking her own head, your hands still clasped in hers. "i seem to remember i was always labelled the sensible, responsible friend, and you were the-" you paused to think.
"-i believe our teachers used to say you were distracting, loud mouthed, immature-" you recounted, only cut off by the blonde pulling you into a headlock not unlike she used to often when the two of you were younger.
"alessia!" you laughed, struggling to pull away. "i seem to remember this was one of the only ways to shut you up!" the striker teased, dragging you along with her to your front door.
"so immature." you mocked as she finally let you up, punching her lightly as your hand easily bounced off the thick puffer jacket covering her. "thank you. for a nice day and for last night." you smiled once the two of you had calmed down from your laughter.
"course. think that makes us even now!" alessia joked lightly, rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet.
"yeah i guess it does, maybe next time we go out for a drink we agree to be the same amount of tipsy. no need for any rescuing then!" you smiled, alessia having to control the immense happiness which flooded her entire body hearing you speak so loosely about the two of you spending time together.
"like i said, i'd never let anything bad happen to you." the taller girl smiling down at you sincerely as once again the strange twinge settled in your stomach, the two of you locking eyes for just a few seconds too long as you cleared your throat.
"let me know once you get home yeah?" you raised an eyebrow, one hand hovering on your door knob as alessia nodded. the two of you stood in silence for a moment, both clearly debating the same thing as the seconds ticked by and time seemed to stall.
then like magnets, you drew toward one another.
you couldn't ever deny that a hug from her felt good, beyond good. the way her taller body encased yours, your head falling to her chest as one hand always rubbed your back and the other grazed your sides she held you with just the right amount of pressure.
but it felt familiar, too familiar.
"night less." you forced a smile as you suddenly pulled away, and then within seconds you were back inside and exhaling a breath you didn't realise you'd been holding in.
that strange feeling in your stomach not ceasing, that very same night was the first in a long time that you slept in her hoodie.
~
the rest of your week passed by in a blur. the stomach flu gracing the walls of your school had meant that your class was half its normal size with a lot of the kids out sick, which was bitter sweet.
you could no longer fend off your mothers insistence you come over for dinner so thats how your wednesday night was spent, admittedly quite enjoying a home cooked meal that you didn't have to make. it was also the night you found out your sister was pregnant with twins, a surprise for the whole family, her poor husband included.
by the time friday rolled around you were in disbelief at just how quickly the days had passed, and maybe now you could truly get behind that a four day work week was more efficient.
most of your students back and in full force from an unusual but gloriously sunny day, you'd struggled all day to keep their focus. so when it came time to take them all to the football clinic, you couldn't have been more relieved.
you gave alessia a small wave and a smile as she spotted you, falling back into conversation with your coworkers as she zoned back into the games she was running with her group.
the two of you had started to message more, the communication not constant but it was consistent. it helped ease your worries a little more that things would fall apart again right as they started to feel just slightly normal with the two of you trying to build up your friendship.
which is why you weren't surprised to find the tall blonde making her way over to you once you'd made sure your class all got off school grounds safely, and she'd assisted with the pack up of all the equipment.
wishing your fellow grade two teachers a good weekend and promising to organise drinks and dinner soon you'd turned and suddenly she was there. "hi." you smiled, pulling her into a hug much to both alessia's surprise and delight.
"hey." she murmured back, squeezing you for a second before letting go. "hope they behaved for you. god knows they were doing my head in today, bouncing off the walls!" you chuckled, alessia grinning at your words.
"definitely full of beans but a lovely bunch of kids, and they adore you. wouldn't shut up about you actually!" the striker revealed, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms, forcing you to notice just how in shape she really was as your eyes glanced over her biceps.
"fishing for information about me from my students? new low for you russo." you tutted, lips tugging into a smile as she reached out and pushed you with a roll of her eyes.
"very funny. they were actually telling me all about their excursion on monday, and how it wasn't the best one because you weren't there." she smiled softly, your heart melting a little.
"can see how much you love this, and how much it suits you. your eyes light up anytime you talk about it, you're clearly very passionate, the kids adore you and you just seem...well happy." alessia complimented as you blushed a little at her words.
"thank you lessi." you mumbled, turning to pack up your bags as she chuckled. "never could take a compliment, always so shy!" the older girl teased as you now shoved her. "i was only the shy one as a kid because you did all the talking for the pair of us, big mouth!" you hit back, alessia scoffing and holding her hand on her chest in mock offence.
"oi less!" she glanced over her shoulder, seeing leah gesture wildly at her and giving her a small thumbs up.
"i won't hold you up, enjoy your weekend less." you smiled sincerely, slinging your bag over your shoulder and going to leave but her hand shot out to gently grab your wrist.
"no no its not like that. leah just, well she wanted me to invite you round for a pizza night tonight at her place." alessia spoke, the invitation admittedly catching you quite off guard. "me?" you asked with a confused frown.
"yeah you. think you really got her on side the other night with those tequila shots." alessia chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck as she let go of your arm.
"look thats really lovely of her but fridays are sort of...my night. got a bottle of wine and some trashy reality shows calling my name." you declined as politely as you could but it seemed to fall on deaf ears.
"look i said invite. but with leah really its more of a courtesy to ask, if you say no she would just come over here herself and somehow either charm you into saying yes or coerce you into giving her your address so she can come and pick you up herself." alessia smiled knowingly making you laugh.
"i'm serious! she's nothing if not efficient, and very hard headed."
"lovely way to talk about the captain of england there." you teased, sparing a glance over her shoulder to see the older girl you were discussing staring at the two of you, hands planted firmly on her hips.
"well if i've not got a choice then i guess that sounds nice." you laughed giving in, getting the sense alessia was not joking about her friends insistence.
"really? great. i can take you if you like? since we're not far from each other and i know the address." alessia offered as you agreed gratefully, also knowing you'd be far less nervous walking in with her than arriving by yourself.
"i'll come and get you around like six?" she checked her watch and raised an eyebrow as you nodded, that gave you around two hours to get ready and psych yourself up.
"yeah that sounds good, i'll see you at six."
~
"hello! you came, lovely." you were pulled right into a warm hug by leah the moment she'd opened the door, alessia smiling at the sight as she and leah hugged before she lead you both inside.
"i'll give you the grand tour later but i'll introduce you to the girls. don't believe a word they say unless it's about less and a story about her falling over something at training." leah sent alessia a wolfish grin over her shoulder.
"oh i can promise i've got more." you smiled, alessia huffing and poking you in the back with a glare only making leah chuckle. "i'll be holding you to that later mate. but this is laura, lia, beth, viv and kim." leah introduced you pointing to each girl who smiled, introducing you back to them as alessia moved to greet them all.
"i would like to formally apologise that the last time you saw me i couldn't keep my head up." you joked awkwardly toward beth, remembering her from the group alessia was with on the weekend.
"ah don't worry about it. who hasn't had a big night with some regrets!" the girl waved off your worries, hugging you and pulling you down to talk with her and her girlfriend viv.
~
"so have they only left you in charge because you're italian?" you teased, moving away from the small group in the living room and joining alessia in the kitchen where she was busy kneading the pizza dough.
you'd been here an hour now and felt much more at ease than you'd spent the entire afternoon worrying about, all of alessia's friends and team mates nothing but welcoming and kind.
you were however grateful it wasn't the entire team, just a small handful of them with nothing much better to do, and based on your conversations with them this seemed to be the norm most nights that someone would be round since leah couldn't and didn't cook for herself.
"laura and leah are supposed to be helping me but laura just keeps eating everything she chops up and leah keeps getting fomo about what the girls are talking about and what she's missing out on." alessia chuckled with a playful roll of her eyes.
you offered to help her out, laura and lia joining the two of you after a while, your combined hands making quick work of the prep as lia called the other girls over to start assembling their pizza's.
"pineapple! honestly and you call yourself an italian." you tutted with a disgusted wince at alessia's choice of toppings. "hey! pineapple belongs on pizza thanks." she bumped her shoulder gently into yours as a debate quickly broke out among the group over the seemingly hot topic.
"yeah sorry, half italian." you smirked, laura laughing at the comment. "doesn't even speak the language!" you teased further. "do too! well, a little bit." alessia frowned making you smile.
"oi! hands to yourself thanks." you bumped into her as she stole a piece of pepperoni off your pizza with a grin. "hey listen to your own words!" the taller girl mocked as you dropped a handful of spinach onto hers.
"you wanted it anyway!" you laughed as she spread it out. "not with your grubby little hands all over it." she shot back. "less!" you pushed her away with her hip as she in retaliation dropped a few cut up tomatoes onto your perfectly curated pizza.
"no! stop it." you laughed as she grabbed a piece and tried to force it into your mouth as you pushed her away and attempted to hide behind laura.
"and they are just friends?" lia murmered quietly to leah who stood beside her, watching the two of you. leah only gave her a look in return which said something alone the lines of 'i'll explain more later' as lia smiled in silent understanding, the two heading outside to put their pizzas in to cook.
"right! you three, stop messing about. you two are on pizza supervision duty, and laur is on clean up!" leah clapped to gain your attentions as laura groaned loudly, her protests falling on deaf ears as viv stepped in to help.
"now you wouldn't happen to be meddling, would you williamson?" beth accused, nodding to you and alessia stood alone outside with a raised eyebrow, also having been watching how the pair of you were so comfortable in your interactions.
"who me? why bethany i would never." leah grinned holding a hand to her chest. "less is different round her though, not in a bad way. just-" the blonde struggled to think of the right word.
"more playful, outgoing, and also very clearly pining over her?"
"yeah you know what that just about sums it up."
~
"since when are you so into country music?" you laughed as alessia drove the two of you home, the last three songs in her playlist all of that genre you'd not ever known her to be so passionate about.
"cause it's great! i hate that it gets so much shit." she rolled her eyes, only turning it up louder and to your amusement starting to sing along, turning to grin at you every now and then, the melodic chime of your laughter echoing around her car only spurring her on further.
"well i actually had a really nice night less, thank you." you smiled sincerely as alessia parked out the front of your place, turning her music right down and putting her mercedes into park.
"even if i've learnt that you now like country music and pineapple on pizza." you grimaced in disgust, gagging as you unbuckled yourself. "least i didn't drop my pizza!" alessia quipped back with a smirk as your cheeks flushed bright red.
"that was laura's fault, she tripped me!" you defended with a huff, the memory of how embarrassed you'd been flooding your body, though despite a few light hearted jokes her friends hadn't made you feel that way.
"mhm i'm sure." alessia hummed with a grin and a nod as you playfully shoved her forehead. "i've been hanging around you too much, your clumsiness is starting to infect me like a rash." you scratched at your arms before slipping out of the car.
though as you walked around her car to the curb and alessia sent you a knee buckling smile through the window, you had a sudden realization that you didn't want to say goodbye just yet. and so before you could overthink and spiral over what that meant, you acted on impulse.
"it's not super late. would you want to come in and maybe watch a film or something?" you offered with a shy smile, alessia perking up in surprise as she nodded eagerly, internally berating herself for not trying to be a bit more subtle about it.
though it seemed her body betrayed her as well as she hastily opened her door, trying to step out and catching her foot on the curb, sending her hurtling to the ground with a thump.
"oh my god are you alright?" you hurried to help her out as she nodded with a wince, closing her door and locking her car.
"yeah yeah fine, ground just looked a bit lonely again."
~
"oh i love this!" alessia grinned as she returned from the toilet to see which movie you'd chosen, insisting that she didn't mind what you watched and hurrying off for a wee.
"still one of your favourites then?" you asked as she collapsed into your sofa nodding eagerly, the princess diaries loaded and ready to go.
"you remembered." she sent you a soft smile before you clicked play, both your hands wrapped around warm mugs of hot chocolate.
"how do you prefer him over michael?" alessia scoffed in disbelief, sprawled across your couch as you laughed. "i said i preferred his looks, not his personality! i like his blonde shaggy hair." you defended yourself as alessia gagged and you smacked her leg.
"you look like that when you dance." you teased her, pointing to the young security guard trying desperately to buck and shimmy his way across the dance floor.
"i do not!" she gasped, kicking you with her leg as you smacked her again, maybe a little harder than you intended. the two of you shared a look as if waiting for someone to say something, then within seconds she'd lunged at you.
your laughters floated around your living room, movie long forgotten as alessia desperately tried to grapple with you, the two of you rolling around and hitting and pinching one another just like you had when you were much younger.
"wait lessi watch the-" you started to warn but it was too late as she slipped off the edge of the sofa, hands curled tightly into your jumper she'd taken you down with her as she smacked her head on the coffee table and you landed on top of her with a grunt.
"fuck ow!" she groaned loudly clutching her throbbing head, both of you still laughing furiously as your face smushed into her shoulder, both your bodies vibrating with amusement against one anothers.
eventually after you'd confirmed she was okay your laughter died down into small giggles and you took a moment to catch your breath, glancing down and into her bright blue eyes.
your chests still heaving lightly trying to recover, a thick silence enveloped the room, neither of you paying attention to anything than one another when you suddenly found yourself admiring and studying over ever little feature of her face.
you couldn't explain where it came from or which cruel individual was responsible, but once more like magnets the two of you found yourself drawn together.
the longer you maintained eye contact the smaller and smaller the room seemed to become, alessia's eyes flickering down to your lips just for a fleeting second but it didn't go unnoticed.
thats when the alarm bells sounded in your head, loud and obnoxious and clearly trying to warn you of how terribly dangerous an idea this was.
but suddenly they weren't important and instead you could only focus on the small voice at the very back of your mind which egged you on to continue.
curiosity took hold of your mind, causing you to wonder how she tasted, how her lips would feel on yours again and in turn the effect it would have on your entire body, this time not fueled on by emotion or sadness or rage.
unable to lay there in limbo anymore, debating over and over all the possible pros and cons of the next ten seconds you once more let your impulses take over.
your hand moved to brush a few strands of her golden blonde hair out of her face, having fallen out of the bun which sat on top of her head, leaning in ever so slowly.
in turn alessia's own hand came to rest on the side of your face, thumb tracing a soft circle on your cheek, ever so gently guiding your mouth within millimeters of her own.
then before either of you could object the small gap was diminished, and your lips pressed together in an ever so tender kiss.
your stomach lurched at the feeling, alessias hand moving to softly rest on the back of your neck as yours tangled in her hair, your lips moving together in perfect unison, repeating a routine that despite the time that had passed was still burned into both your minds.
like clockwork alessia knew exactly how to kiss you to send your head spinning into oblivion like a top. ever so hesitantly her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, hand squeezing the back of your neck just a little bit as your mouth parted for her on instinct, her tongue roaming your mouth as the kiss deepened.
her hand let go of your neck, slowly slipping down to the small of your back as she tapped twice lightly, and without breaking contact for even a moment you both sat up.
alessias hands warm and familiar, gripped your hips to pull you to sit on her lap, her own legs stretched out straight as her hand returned to the back of your neck.
your own clasped her cheeks in your palms, pulling her even closer into you if that was even possible, your bodies flushed together tightly, blood racing red hot at the resuming of what once upon a time was both of your favorite past times.
but then still in a pleasure drunken haze, did reality actually kick in for the pair of you, both detaching and jumping away from one another as if you'd been electrically shocked.
you hastily sat back on the edge of the sofa as alessia scrambled to her feet, mumbling something incoherent and racing out the front door before you could even say another word, your head in the clouds and only yanked out at the sound of it slamming after her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
eleven
#alessia russo x reader#engwnt#alessia russo#woso blurbs#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso x reader#woso
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「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」
part ix
✧.* while the fans question your friendship with Carlos, you and lando have never been better
✧.* they are my babies your honor 🥺 google translated spanish. this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️
✧.* prev part - next part
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y/nusername
liked by albon_pets, cecilemoulin and 189,673 others
username oh..you're coming home with me 😻
view all 378 comments
y/nluv how many cats did you see so far?
y/nusername at least one!
y/nluv that's so many!
Hannahh this is indeed heaven 😭
norry4 get dash, leo and lola a new sibling!!!
carlossainz55 saca los gatos de tu maleta (get the cats out of your suitcase)
y/nusername no puedes detenerme 😉 (you can't stop me)
carlossainz55 oh, puedo 😉 (oh, i can)
sharl16 just some shameless flirting in Spanish 💀
landorfour lando reading this 😐😐
yourfriend1 te convertirás en la loca de los gatos (you will become the crazy cat lady)
yourfriend2 ¿Cuantos te vas a llevar a casa? (how many are you going to take home with you?)
norrizz comments being hijacked by the spaniards 😭
cecilemoulin you're going to need a bigger house if you're going to adopt a bunch of cats.
landonorris we don't need another cat..
landoscar WE?! y'all live together already?
bott_ass c'mon dad, what's one more kid?
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y/nusername
liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 203,102 others
y/nusername wedding season' 💍
view all 444 comments
hamilt44n 100% sure the garland in the last picture was y/n her idea 😂
yourfriend1 same dick forever season
lan4lan so is Carlos going to be your date to this wedding?
julieeeexo I've been a wedding where I got put with a date I'd never met before, nothing special going on if Carlos does end up as her date..
lan4lan Carlos and y/n actually dated though, it's weird
julieeeexo and they've been exes for a while without any of us knowing I think they're good.
carlossainz55 don't cause any trouble
yourfriend2 sabes que ella es la mayor alborotadora 🤪 (you know she's the biggest troublemaker)
y/nusername Por supuesto que sí, ha vivido con ello durante años 😉 (of course he does, he has lived with it for years)
yourfriend2 ¡Eras mucho peor entonces, pero todos lo sabemos y lo amamos! (you were much worse back then but we all know and love it!)
carlandooo yall worried about this wedding and Carlos and y/n being each other's date meanwhile I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to survive the day I'm going to hear y/n speak spanish 🥵
landonorris it's hot for sure
carlandooo STOP ITT 😭
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landonorris
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landonorris let's gooo
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norry4 jesus...
mrsnorris my day's been blessed for sure 🥵
y/nusername y'all seeing this? 👀
norrizz we definitely see this bestie 😭
maxmaxmax afraid you have to share your man with all of us :((
sharl16 I'm not a lando girl I'm not a lando girl I'm not a lando girl I'm not a lando girl I'm not–
landofooooour 😍😍😍
y/nusername now the question is: where was my invite, where was my front row seat to all of this?
y/nlandoo girlie, you and I both know you wouldn't let that guy continue working out if you were there
y/nusername you right..
lan4lan everyone: still asleep and hungover after last night's party. Lando:
y/nusername jesus christ
landonorris stop it, you're making me blush
norrizz 😭 😭
norrislando lmfao y/n acting like she doesn't see this man half naked everyday 😭
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Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @formula1bby @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @jjsprobablywrong @babyvinnie @mishaandthebrits @hockeyboysarehot @ironmaiden1313 @justdreamersdream
Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10
Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife
#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris#lando norris fanfic#lando norris smau#lando norris au#lando norris imagine#lando x reader
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I'm gonna start crying about jesus christ. what a guy. man volunteered to feel every affliction that a person ever did. he speedran drowning, burning to death, getting stabbed, getting shot, getting abused, being hungover, stubbing your toe, sleep paralysis, being abandoned, getting divorced, being imprisoned, dying in lava in Minecraft and losing your whole inventory, and listening to sad Taylor Swift songs, all in a few hours, just so we could be happy. then he defeated death itself???? AND THEN ATE FISH WITH HIS BROS???? mad lad. Cain asked "am I my brother's keeper" and the whole Bible is answering "yes," or whatever
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tw: mentioned suicide attempts, but Billy can't die, depression, drugs
Billy isn't sure he's alive, but he knows he can't fucking die.
The doctors call it a miracle, he thinks it's a curse. The wounds healed, turning into thin scars, starting to fade after a few days. All the pain becoming only a faint ache. Starcourt is a memory, a bad dream, a fucking joke.
It can't be right. He feels like he's dying, when he's back at Cherry Lane, when he's at home, but far away from California.
His skin feels all wrong, too tight, too cold.
Neil says he's glad Billy survived the "fire at the mall", but he isn't happy about the hospital bills. He's disappointed that all of this happened, but Billy still isn't a man, knows nothing of respect and responsibility. Beating are lessons, but not lasting anymore, the bruises are gone after an hour.
Neil notices. Calls him a freak, a monster - like he has ever seen a real monster, like he knows what it feels like to have one inside his head, like he doesn't see one in the mirror every day.
It's the last day of 1985. Billy can't fucking die.
He tried to using the gun Neil shouldn't have, he tried to using too many pills, he tried to let the Camaro's engine running until he couldn't breathe - but he always wakes up. Sometimes hungover, sometimes hurting, always not dead.
He sits on the Camaro's hood at the quarry, after snorting a line of coke and drinking a bottle of vodka. His heart races, but he still doesn't feel shit.
"Jesus, Billy." Harrington's voice is soft, almost worried. It makes Billy turn around, before he can help himself.
Harrington's got a freaking suit on, tie loosened, hair tousled. He looks as tired as the world is. As Billy is.
"That's one hell of a New Year's party," Harrington says.
"Fuck off." Billy looks away, before he can get lost Harrington's stupid big brown eyes.
"Still better than the Harrington's annual New Year's function." Harrington sits next to him on the car, his knee bumping against Billy's.
"Why are you here?" Billy huffs, staring into the dead of the night. He wants to tell him to piss off, too, but he can't. His pulse is thundering in his ears and he's pretty sure it's got nothing to do with the coke.
"I don't know," Harrington admits. "Maybe I'm... alone."
Billy gets that. He's been alone ever since she walked out of the door.
Harrington laughs and it's a bitter parody of what it should sound like. "I don't know, it's stupid."
"It's not." Billy makes the mistake to turn towards him. Steve is so close. Steve is so warm. "Not at all."
He feels like Steve just offered him a piece of himself and he should give something back, but all he's got to offer is worthless.
"You should stay away," he says, heart in his throat. "I'm a monster."
Steve shakes his head. A curl tickles Billy's skin.
"I've seen monsters and you're not one of them," Steve whispers. His breath is ghosting over Billy's mouth.
Billy shakes, letting go of the breath he didn't know he held. He leans forward, presses his lips against Steve's.
There are fireworks illuminating the sky, pink, gold and blue chasing the darkness away.
Steve kisses back. Billy's lips tingle.
It's the first day of 1986.
Billy is alive. For the first time in months, maybe years.
#immortal billy hargrove#harringrove#billy x steve#billy hargrove#harringrove ficlet#superhero au basically#steve x billy#tw sucidal ideation#tw mentioned suicide attempts#tw drugs
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Daniel Ricciardo - Does Your Mother Know?
Requested: yes
Prompt: Does Your Mother Know - Abba
Warnings: mentions of a one night stand
Daniel sat in the meeting room of the McLaren technology centre. He was out two days ago but couldn't shake that hungover feeling. "You'd wanna act sober Daniel, Zak is coming in soon." One of Daniel's engineers said. Daniel groaned and sat up, forcing a neutral kind of smile, hoping he came across as fully recovered. Daniel was full awake once he heard the door open and in walked the American with what looked like an assistant. "Alright, how's everyone doing today?" Zak asked in his usual chirpy voice. "A lot better today." Daniel lied. Daniel looked over to the assistant who looked like she had just seena ghost. "Who-" Daniel stopped himself from speaking further. Fuck. Surely this was a nightmare of some sort. No way she was here. "Oh sorry, I almost forgot. This is my intern for the month. She's acting as my assistant. Daniel, guys, this is Y/n Y/l/n." Y/n and Daniel stared at eachother and when they were required to look at something else, they still managed to glance eachothers way. 'This cannot be happening." Daniel thought to himself. "There is no way she is an intern here. No...fucking...way."
Daniel moved his way through the crowd, trying to make his way to the bar for another drink. His friends only brought him out so he could try get over his ex. It wasnt working. They insisted that he tried to make some moves on some girls but he wasn't feeling it. He wasn't quite ready to move on, which he thought was perfectly okay. But with how everyone was telling him he was wrong, he was starting to rethink himself. "Jack Daniels and coke." He shouted over the music. He finished the last dribble of his previous drink and set it down. "Oh come on! It's just sambuca!" He heard a girl beside him say. He turned to see a girl with four shots of sambuca and her three other friends laughing and telling her no. "We aren't drinking, Y/n. We're going back to our flats. There are these really good looking guys that want to get with us so we're not ruining this for us just so you can drink!" Daniel pulled a face at how rude they were being. "You don't ditch your mates for some dick!" The girl shouted, standing up for herself. "No? Well I'll gladly ditch you!" And with that, the other three walked away.
Daniel was confused. He's never seen such a second in his life. The girl turned back around and stared at the shots. It was like he could almost see her train of thought, whether she should down them all or chance asking for a refund. The girl then turned to him and gave a light hearted smile. "You'd hardly like to do some sambuca, would you?" Daniel chuckled and nodded out of pity. "Of course. Can't turn down free shots." She said two over to Daniel and kept two for herself. "Alright, ready?" He asked. She nodded and the two backed their shot. Daniel coughed as the sambuca tickled his throat, but when he turned over to the person he was doing the shot with, she had a straight face and ready to do the next. "Jesus, how do you not even make a face?" He asked, reluctantly grabbing his second. "I'm used to it. It just tastes like Bonjela." She insisted, clinking her glass with Daniel's. "Do you think you like it because you maybe drank too much?"
"I didn't drink too much. I never drink too much." The girl replied. The bar tender put Daniel's drink down in front of him and held out the card machine so Daniel could pay. He swiped his card along the screen and slid the bottle of coke over to her. "Drink this, it might make you feel better." He said. She shook her head and slid it back over. "Water makes you feel better. Not coke." She waited for the bar tender to come back and asked him for a glass of water which was gotten quite quickly. She started by taking sips. She'd been here way too often recently. "You're quite handsome." She said. Daniel was taken back by her sudden compliment. "Don't take it in a weird way. You don't even need take note of it. I'm probably drunk." Daniel laughed.
"You're very young, no?" He asked loudly over the music. The girl shook her head and drank the last of her whiskey. "Not at all! I'm 24!" She replied. Daniel chuckled. "Does your mother know you're out here trying to chat up drivers?" He asked. "Who says I'm trying?" Daniel let out a light hearted laugh. "There's that look in your eyes." He said. She looked confused. "What ever do you mean?" She batted her eyes. "Does your mother even know you're out?" He teases. "Im not not young."She paused. "But what mother doesn't know, won't hurt her." Daniel felt a smirk growing on his lips. "Care to dance?" She asked. Daniel looked around but couldn't see his friends anywhere. His gaze fell back onto her, before he agreed. "I can dance with you." He said. "We can do a lot more than dance." The girl tried to say it quiet enough, but Daniel had caught it. "What? You want to chat? Or we can flirt a little maybe."
Once the pair found a place to dance, Daniel pulled her in closer. "I know what you want but you seem a little young for that kinda thing." She groaned. "I'm not young. I'm old enough to know what I want and when I want it." Daniel looked at her through hooded eyes. She was driving him crazy. He couldn't bare remember the reason he was in the club in the first place, but he was more than happy to be there now. "Do you think we should go somewhere more private?" She asked. "Only if I get a name." She replied as quick as he asked. "Y/n."
"Daniel." He took her hand and led her out into the carp park at the back of the club, opening his McLaren sports car, and climbing in with her. From then on, everything was a bit of a blur.
"And that concludes our meeting." Zak announced, standing up to leave. Y/n stood up, holding her laptop into her chest and walking out quickly to avoid any further conversation with the Australian driver. Daniel caught onto this and chased after her, trying his bets to play it off as casual. His eagerness to speak to the intern earned some very confused looks from other engineers in the meeting room. "Y/n!" He called after her. "At least let me introduce myself properly this time!" Y/n spun around and looked at him blankly. "I knew you looked so familiar in the club. I knew I knew you from somewhere. I just feel so fucking dumb." Y/n said. "If it's any constellation, I feel stupid as well." Y/n arched an eyebrow. "Well I usually ask girls out first before I- well-" he paused. "You know what I'm on about." Y/n gave a light hearted chuckle and nodded. "Yeah, I get it. Ugh, this feels so weird." Y/n admitted. "It does. How about wr resplve it over lunch? Maybe dinner?"
Y/n didn't expect that but nonetheless, she played along. "Is this some half asked way of asking me out?" Daniel smiled. "Only if it worked." Y/n felt herself giggling like a school girl, leaving Daniel unsure as to what her answer really was. "I can do lunch." And so, Daniel walked to the canteen with the intern. Where will this take them? Who knows. I'm sure it can only end well though, right?
#f1 blurb#f1 imagine#f1 oneshot#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo one shot#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo
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Falling for you - M.H x Reader // pt. 8
A/N: i'm getting sort of sad now that the end has come. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for being an absolute legend and beta reading everything and being mental in my dms for the majority of it. @vinylandcoffeecollection and @sugar-coat-it you lot have been so nice to me this entire time and made me feel welcome and like i wasn't doing everything wrong, you're absolutely amazing❤️ This chapter is NSFW minors do not interact. Also terribly sappy and sweet cause i can't help myself.
wc: 4k
The light breeze made wrappers fly through the air, George chasing after them, ever the eco conscious one. Matty laughed, rolling his eyes before biting into his burger, sauce covering his face. The five of you had ended up where you always did: The McDonalds parking lot. It was almost sad, with Caroline's having too many horrible memories connected to it, the only place that felt nice was a parking lot next to the highway.
Sometimes, you’d go to your respective houses, but with Mattys place being far too posh for Ross’ taste, and Hann and Ross’ flat feeling quite cramped when you all piled in, the great outdoors was your only option.
George had somehow found another shopping cart on the side of the road, and was now sitting in it with you, your legs draped over each other as you shared a spliff over burgers and ice cream. Matty, not being able to ask for the spliff like a normal person, started making grabby hands at you, his mouth filled with bits of food. You roll your eyes, handing it to him reluctantly.
Hann was going on about his girlfriend (well, now ex-girlfriend) and how much he missed her. She had broken up with him a few days prior, stating he “acted like a single mother to his friends”, calling him weird for not answering her calls the day Matty had finally come back from his ‘bender’.
Matty was making his weird food-eating sex noises again, and Ross groaned, closing his hands around his ears, trying to muffle the sound. You giggled at his reaction, Matty turned to you, giving you a subtle wink.
“You look nice today, have you done something with your hair?'' The question came from George, his eyes trying to figure out what you did. “I straightened it properly, you like?” he nods, turning back to the floor of the shopping cart you were both in, picking up his milkshake and taking a sip.
“Oh for fucks sake Matty, you got your fucking hair in my food.” Hann holds up a blonde strand, clearly belonging to Matty, the curl pattern giving him away. Matty just shrugs, blowing Adam kiss before turning to you. His eyes pierce yours, and you can feel your heartbeat speed up.
“Cunt.” Adam mutters to himself before trying to throw the hair onto Matty, failing miserably.
“Let's go to the lake, I fancy a swim.” Ross pipes up. You immediately agree, the weather was warm enough and a night swim sounded fantastic right about now. George whined about how unsanitary the lake was, but everyone knew he would be the first one in it the moment you got there.
The walk there was calm, Ross and George leading the way, with you and Matty right behind them. Adam was trudging along beside you, loopy and tired and hungover. You take a stab at him for acting like an old man, and he shoots you a glare that shuts you up, holding your hands up defensively as he turns back to stare at the ground in front of him.
The field was slightly damp, the grass wetting your back as you laid down on it. The sounds of crickets and trees rustling filled your ears, and you see Matty walking towards you. He had taken his shirt off, nipple piercing on display.
“Jesus, is that a nip ring?” you hear Ross comment, hiding his laugh behind his hand.
“Yeah, this one is an aspiring piercer.” he gestured to you, and you nod at Ross, confirming that you had done it for him. It was almost healed at this point, and you were begging him to switch it to something pink and girly. He tried to fend you off, but eventually agreed to let you swap out the black ring for a pink one.
“It would look so good on you, I promise.” you assured him, your hand grazing over his chest. As long as you kept doing that he'd let you do whatever you wanted to him.
Peeling off your shirt, you lay back down onto the grass, patting the space next to you while looking at Matty. He grins, spinning around and letting himself flop onto the ground, his head immediately resting on your chest. The soft curls of Mattys hair brushed against your face, tickling slightly.
“Get in the water and stop lying there like a bunch of pricks posing for a summer edition of Vogue!” The yell comes from Ross, who was already knee deep in swampy lake water, waving his hands over his head as he flung insults at the both of you. Like second nature, two aggressive middle fingers fly up, telling him to promptly go fuck himself.
The sun had set, stars littering the sky, lighting it up. Your legs had started to go numb from the weight of Mattys body on yours, so you had decided to switch places. Arms draped over each other, he held you close as you watched the stars sparkle.
“I want you.” The words sound nonchalant, almost disguising their meaning as they leave Mattys lips. A laugh escapes you, and you trail a hand up his chest, tracing the indents of his ribs.
“Alright, i'm going to the shop for some booze,” you announce, getting up from Matty. From the water, George shouts at you to get a bottle Tequila, with Adam not far behind, asking you to buy him a pack of his fags. You commit the requests to memory, kicking Matty lightly, motioning for him to get up. He quickly does, his hand intertwining with yours as you walk to the road that was maybe a few hundred meters from the edge of the water.
Once you were out of their earshot, Ross pipes up:
“D’you reckon they're shagging?” his question sounds more casual than it actually is. George shrugs his shoulders, going back to fixing his shorts.
“I’d bet money on it. Have you seen the way she looks at him, or the way he looks at her? He's whipped.”
The knowledge hangs thick in the air, not as uncomfortable as they thought it would be. It was fine, they concluded, even if a bit weird.
Meanwhile, Matty had you pressed up against the wall of the alley next to the corner shop, his hands clawing at your tits with such an intensity, you’d have thought he’d been celibate up until this moment.
Not caring if anyone saw, you run your hands up his chest, looping your finger through the piercing on his chest, playing with it. He never failed you, eliciting just the reaction you were hoping for. A pathetic moan, and his hands tweaking your nipple in retaliation.
He taps your shoulder three distinct times, a provocative grin spreading onto his face. A desperate hand grabs his wrist, and you lead him into the shop, quickly rushing past the cash register in favor of the one stall bathroom you knew was in the back. The fluorescent lighting made your eyes burn for a second as you locked the door behind you, turning back to face Matty.
If heaven could be cultivated into one image, it would be the one standing right infront of you. Messy hair, wide eyes and a naked, sweaty chest graced your line of sight, wasting no time to press him against the sink, the ceramic digging into the small of his back. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, with him licking into your mouth in a way that makes you slightly dizzy, your knees buckling beneath you.
A wave of pure adoration washed over you as he pulled back, his eyes darting over your face, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Such a sweet expression on the face of someone who was currently grinding onto you like his life depended on it. You could feel him growing harder the more you kissed him, sharp nails raking down his back, leaving raised scratch marks that reflected off of the mirror behind him.
“You want me, yeah?” you quote his words back to him, his eyes screwing shut in pure ecstasy as you reach a hand down his loose basketball shorts, ghosting over his underwear. His hips buck forward, a moan leaving his lips as the pressure increased. A wet patch formed on the front of his boxers, his cock leaking into your hand.
An idea pops into your head, and your hand leaves his pants, opting to grab his waist. He whines at the loss of contact, burying his head into your shoulder. A yelp of surprise sounds from him when you flip him around, pressing his front to the edge of the sink, making eye contact in the mirror.
Your hands move over the expanse of his chest, watching his face closely as he hangs his head, trying to catch his breath.
“Look at yourself,” you tell him “If you don't, I'll stop.” your voice is firm, and his eyes snap up to meet yours before landing on his own reflection.
A sigh leaves his parted lips as your hand finally travels lower, the tent in his pants now painfully obvious. The cool air of the bathroom made his nipples hard against your fingers as you ran your other hand over them.
“Please- i've done everything you wanted.. please.” his voice cracks slightly as you squeeze him through his underwear, his cock pulsing in your hand. Your movements are slow as you take him out of his boxers, collecting beads of precum at the tip before smearing it back down.
You hold your hand out, Matty looking slightly confused when you do. A raised eyebrow makes it clear what you want him to do, and he spits into the palm of your hand, making eye contact with you as he did. Matty knows what he does to you, no matter how badly you try to hide it. A grin makes its way onto his face, quickly transforming into a blissed out expression as you speed up, thumbing his slit as he lets out a low moan.
He listened, never letting his eyes leave his reflection, though occasionally they flick over to you, your pupils completely blown out, watching every little move he made. He looks absolutely beautiful, like putty in your hands, you mold him with your words.
It was moments like these that made your heart swell up at the sight of him, fucked out and begging for even the smallest touch. One of his hands slam against the glass of the mirror, holding him steady. The faster you move, the more he reacts, filling the small bathroom with groans and pleas, the sounds reverberating off of the walls.
The mirror has not been a coincidence, no matter what you led him to believe. Reaching into the back pocket of your shorts, you feel around for a certain familiar object. The camera. You didn't know what it was, but whenever he was like this, twitching under even the slightest brush of your fingers against his cock, you felt the urge to immortalize the moment.
His eyes widen when he spots the lens in the mirror, reflecting the light of the lightbulb above you. His mind was fuzzy, and honestly, so was yours. Your fingers fumbled a bit, missing the shutter the first time. Even if he played dumb in the moment, he knew you kept the photos of him close to you, so he always made sure to give you what you wanted.
A sly grin, half closed eyes, maybe even parted lips with a hint of tongue between them. Sweat needed on his forehead, dripping down his face and onto his chest, and he could feel him throttling towards his orgasm.
A flash.
A particularly harsh tug of his cock makes his mouth fall open just as the picture is taken, the expression on his face one of pure ecstasy. Your core flutters at sight in the mirror, even letting out a small moan as his eyes meet yours.
Flash
This time, he’s ready, his head tilting back, showing off the numerous hickeys you had left days before, slightly faded but still visible. His hair is thrown to the side, tangled and unruly, blonde, grown out highlights peeking through the mess of curls. He parts his lips, on purpose this time, letting out an exaggerated moan.
Your hand had now left his cock, a groan of protest coming from Matty as you shush him, your hand tracing up his chest and settling around his throat. Squeezing experimentally, Matty whimpers at the sensation, nodding vigorously to get you to do it again. You do, tightening your grip.
Flash.
This picture is your absolute favorite. Your hand is small around his neck, yet still overpowering him. The way he looks at you in the reflection convinces you an actual angel has been plucked out of heaven and handed to you in the form of Matty. His hands clutch the edge of the sink, head thrown back once again.
Deciding you had given him enough, you reach back down, squeezing his cock just like you did his neck not three seconds earlier.
“I didn't think you’d be kinky like that, hm?” He tries to seem cocky, but his voice betrays him. He can't control the shakiness of it, the way his breath catches in his throat whenever you change up your rhythm, throwing him off.
“Didn't take you for such an attention whore either, did I? I guess we’re both full of surprises.” you retaliate, and you know he’s almost there, the way his thighs tense and his cock twitches in your hand a telltale sign.
“I’m so close- fuck.” He’s asking for permission, you know he is. His eyes find yours in the mirror, and you nod.
“Go on, Matthew, you know you want to.” you urge him, hand speeding up as his legs buckle underneath him, the only thing keeping him upright being the ceramic of the sink his hands are holding on to.
He comes with a cry of your name, shuddering in your grasp, ropes of cum painting the white of the sink. Small, short gasps leave his mouth as you work him through his orgasm, only letting up when his hand goes to grab yours.
Matty turns around, planting a kiss onto your wet lips, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling flush against him.
“You got to show me those pictures sometime.” he gestures to the forgotten camera hanging off your wrist, along with the polaroid tucked into the band of your pants.
“No fuckin way-” you giggle “knowing you, you’d probably add them to your personal wank bank.” His eyes widen in offense, slapping the side of your arm in protest.
“I know you think I'm just some egomaniacal tosser, but look at me!” He points his index finger to his chest. “How could you not?” Another laugh escapes you as you roll your eyes at his proclamation.
The walk to the counter post bathroom sex was nothing but awkward, with the cashier eyeing you as you walked up to the front to pay. Matty takes out a wad of cash, slamming down a twenty and grabbing the stuff off the counter, quickly spinning around to leave.
The other three questioned why you were gone so long, but really, they knew why. That conversation was one for another day.
—---------------------------------------------------------------------------
It had started to rain shortly before you got home, your clothes being completely soaked through as you stepped through the front door. Matty groaned as he took his shorts off, laying onto the couch in exhaustion. The two of you had booked it down the street the last few hundred meters, neither of you fit enough to get out of that sprint alive.
The heat was cranked up, warm blankets covering you as you snuggled up to each other, Amy Winehouse played softly in the background, the vocals calming you as you talked softly. Matty held you close to his chest, his breathing regular as he stroked your hair, running his fingers through it over and over.
You wanted to freeze this moment in time and relive it forever until you died. The gentleness of his hands paired with the hoarse but small sound of his voice made your insides melt. Looking back, this was truly a long time coming.
But what was ‘this’?
The two of you hadn't talked yet, blatantly ignoring the elephant in the room. Your feelings for each other were undeniable, but what then? What did that mean to you, but more importantly, what did it mean to Matty?
The next few moments feel like a dream. His hands wrap around the base of your neck, pulling you up. He kisses you, sweet and innocent, almost chaste as his lips move with yours. He pulls away quickly, eyes darting over your face before settling on your. A small sound escapes his lips, and you can see him hesitate.
A deep breath.
“I love you.”
The words hit you like a freight train. His eyes search yours for a reaction, wincing when you remain expressionless. That is, until you speak.
“Fucking idiot.” it sounds harsh, and you can see him deflate.
“I love you too.” his fucking angelic smile graces his face, and you pull him in for another kiss. The feel of his hands on yours makes your heart flutter, your heart swelling up with love.
“Does this mean-” he cuts himself off before starting his sentence again. “Can I be your boyfriend?” His voice is small, and you can tell he feels slightly insecure.
“Only if you promise not to wank to those pictures.” you burst out into delirious laughter as he pulls you back in, he grasps your face, mushing it against the palms of his hands.
“Only if you promise to stop taking my fucking clothes, jesus christ” he tugs at the shirt youre wearing. His stupid blue Barcelona shirt.
Kisses litter your face, and the blanket starts to feel warmer, like you were trapping heaven itself under the covers. It sure felt like it, with Matty looking at you with an expression so filled with love and adoration you thought it might spill out of his ears.
In a way, you knew it would end like this.
You and Matty
Matty and you
“What are we?” you ask, repeating his question from so many nights ago.
“I'm yours, forever.” he answers, his hair falling into his face as he looks down at you.
You and Matty, forever.
// THE END //
#epic finale#not even epic#just sweet#the 1975#matty healy#adam hann#ross macdonald#george daniel#matty the 1975#matty x you#matty healy fanfiction#matty healy smut#matty healy angst#matty healy fluff#matty healy x reader#matty healy fic#matty healy x you#noacf#bfiafl
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I'm sorry for this being late! I was sick all week and just had zero motivation, but here's the fanfic from my voting, and they have spoken, they want a Colby fanfic! Genuinely excited for this!
I want an angsty story, so, here I am!
Use of Y/N and cussing
Happy reading!
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Sure, Colby had hooked up with plenty of girls, but never a long term relationship. And, yeah, he's had a few girls that stayed for maybe two months but he got bored of just sex and them begging to go public after barely two months. How was he supposed to react when he got a woman?
"Girls and women are the same thing, brother. Just another girl after your fame." His friends would tell him, and as much as he knew that his precious woman would never treat him like the girls in the past did, he was still scared. How could he not be? He's never had a real woman. He didn't know how to act. It was just different. Naturally, he started acting like a douche. staying out light with no clear answer on when he'll be back, and most nights be won't even come back until the next morning.
You, obviously, were getting tired of this behaviour.
"Colby, what the fuck? Where were you all last night?" You look at him in frustration, so close to screaming at him. "Calm the fuck down, jesus christ. I was with Sam and a few friends." He replied, not sounding the least bit interested in having this talk again. "Do not tell me to calm down. You could've at least texted! I was worried!" You're voice on the brink of raising. You were fucking pissed. Nearly five months of this shit.
"Does it really matter that much? I'm safe." Colby replys, he groans, his head pounding from the hangover. "That doesn't mean I don't deserve a fucking text. You're treating me like I'm just an annoyance to you at this point." You huff and cross your arms. He snorts. "Not wrong there." He mumbles and your eyes widen, you laugh. "You know what? Fuck you, Colby Brock. I'm done with this shit. We've been dating for nearly give months, and you still treat me like a hookup! We're done. Get out of fucking house, now." You demand. Colby sits up and looks at you. "Over a text, Y/N? Grow up." He chuckles, yet in a condescending manner. What a prick. Did he think he was too good to be broken up with?
"No, Colby, not over a text. Over your lack of commitment. I get it, you've haven't had healthy relationships in the past but you can't just assume the worst." You look at him in anger. "Don't raise your voice at me, Y/N." Colby ordered, you laughed. "Shut the fuck up, Brock. Do not tell me what to do. And get out of my apartment." You yell, he rolls his eyes and stands up, grabbing his phone and walking out of your room to grab his backpack, not realizing the gravity of his actions. "Leave the key." You cross your arms. "What?" His eyes widen.
"You heard me, leave my key." Those words pull him back to reality as he reaches in his pocket for your spare apartment key you gave him. He sets it on your counter and leaves your apartment, his shoulders slump as he heard the door lock and he walks downstairs, taking his phone out and calling his friend, Sam. "What's up?" Sam asks, Colby sighs. "Can you pick me up?" Colby sighs. "Thought you were with Y/N until we leave tomorrow?" Sam questions confused. "Yeah, well, she broke up with me.." He mutters, shame and sadness in his voice. "Oh, shit..why?" Sam's concern evident in his tone. "I don't want to talk about it right now, too hungover. Just please come get me, man.." He rubs his eyes. "Yeah, of course, send your location."
After a long 15 minutes, Sam's car slows down in front of Colby and Colby gets in, Sam looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "I was a dick. I rarely told her when I'd get home, where I was and who I was with. I messed up, man.." Colby voice breaks and he covers his faces, trying not to cry. Sam looks at him in pure shock, he's never seen him nearly cry over a girl, hell Colby barely cries in front of same. "Shit, brother..you must've really liked her.." Colby looks at Sam. "I loved her.." He mumbles, love is not a word he throws around a lot.
They arrive home and Colby immediately goes to his room, he lays in his bed and holds back tears. How could be be such an idiot? He lost an amazing girl. He grabbed his phone and went to check social media, his eyes starting to water as he noticed that you blocked him in everything, besides Instagram. You didn't use it much, so you most likely forgot. He was quick to make a post, he posted a picture of you two, you cuddle into his chest as he smiled and took pictures, he typed a caption explaining how he was a douche and how much he was sorry, asking you to talk to him and ending it with a "I love you, Y/N. That's not a word I say to everyone, you're the first girl that treated me good and I took advantage of that, and I'm sorry. Truly."
He posted it and it got over a a million likes and hundreds of thousands of comments tagging your account and asking him if he's okay.
He just hopes you see it.
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The end! Yes, there will be a part two and I'm happy with how this turned out, let me know if you have any suggestions for part two and feel free to send requests as well, tell me something I could do better for future fanfics! Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!
Thanks for reading!
-★⋆Dani⋆★-
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Hate To Love You - Chapter 6 - The Lady Doth Protest (Charles Leclerc Series)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (OFC)
Warnings: language
Word Count: 3200
Tag List: Drop a comment or add your name HERE.
Synopsis: Enemies to lovers + sizzling banter + fake dating with Charles Leclerc. Full synopsis & master list HERE.
Author’s Note: Wow, it's been way too long and damn it feels good to be back with you all. I'm feeling good about posting 3-4k words each week, probably on Thursdays or Fridays. THANK YOU for your patience!!! It's been a crazy summer and fall, here's to a nice and settled winter ❤️
A Man's World has officially been PUBLISHED. Interested in a copy? Click HERE!
As always your feedback on my content is truly INSPIRING and makes my day, so if you liked the chapter let me know what you think below in the comments! I eat them up like DESSERT!
Want more updates or just want to launch at my hilarious Georgia and Lily reels? Follow me on TikTok Or Instagram! @authorgracenewman
Now enough of my shameless self-promotion... let's get back to Lily and Charles!
You'll definitely want to chapter up with Chapter 5 HERE.
I woke up the next morning to the ringing of my cell phone. With my eyes still groggy with sleep, I turned over and groaned, reaching over to the bedside table as I fumbled for the device. The phone stopped as soon as I grabbed it, and I sighed in relief, hoping that whoever was on the other end of the phone call had realized that it was still the morning, although I knew I should already be awake.
As soon as the ringing stopped, my mind wandered back to last night, and the horror of what I had done settled on my chest. I’d done what I had promised I would never do again – I’d ended up back in bed with Charles fucking Leclerc. Charles had once again dragged me back under his spell, and just like last time, he had managed to leave me feeling as if I was trash in the gutter just by one look on his face.
Regret.
Charles had regretted me the last time we had traveled down that road, and I knew he regretted me this time. As much as I wanted to tell myself that I didn’t care about how Charles Leclerc felt about me, I knew deep inside my soul that it wasn’t true, especially not when that feeling was regret.
I looked at my phone and immediately went to open Instagram, but before I could open the app my phone rang again, and Georgia Dubois’s name flashed on the phone’s screen.
What on earth did Georgia want with me on a morning after a night out?
“Georgia… I feel like the pre-season debrief could wait until we’re back at the office, hmm?”
“Lily, I need you to come to my room, now. Floor 15, room 1568.” There was urgency in her voice, urgency and something else., something that sounded like panic.
“… Now as in… now now?”
“See you in five.” Before I could protest, Georgia hung up the phone. I looked at the clock - 10:10 a.m., which meant the hallways would be fairly empty since most guests had either left on early flights or were still hungover in their rooms. I threw on some clothes and made my way up to Georgia’s floor, which was of course much higher up than mine.
No expense spared when it comes to Ferrari and their drivers, I scoffed to myself. The Mercedes F1 team was known for its cost savings when it came to hotels and drivers. Lewis used to always complain that as a 7x World Champion, he was lucky to get a suite when it came to Toto and Mercedes’ purse strings.
I headed straight to the room that Georgia had texted me and knocked on the door. It was as if Georgia had been standing there waiting for me, because she opened it on the second knock, causing me to fall forward, only to catch myself on the coat rack that had been placed right next to the door.
“Jesus, Georgie…” I grunted, shaking off the small moment of shock as I walked into the room. Seated on the couch was her fiance Carlos, who just nodded my way as he kept his eyes on the TV, glued to the Real Madrid game going on in the background.
Georgia motioned for me to take a seat, which I obliged as Carlos immediately lowered the volume of the television, finally turning to face me and Georgia. As soon as Carlos looked at me, I felt dread take over my entire body. Carlos was always so happy-go-lucky – and I likened him to a golden retriever, barely anything got him down, but the solemn nature of his face told me exactly why I was here.
“Is someone going to tell me what is going on?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence that had settled between the three of us. I could see that Georgia was trying to find her words.
“So… after the pre-season party last night, what did you do?” Georgia finally asked, and I frowned, giving her a pointed look to let her know that I wasn’t thrilled with her nosy question.
“Not really any of your business,” I scoffed at my ex-teammate, but I knew my cheeks had gone slightly red. I wasn’t sure what Georgia had heard, but I wasn’t about to admit that I had slept with her brother last night.
“Well, it seems like it is my business now,” Georgia quipped, clearly unimpressed with my snarky reply. Her tone sounded like a mother who had just caught a child stealing from the cookie jar.
“… just fucking spit it out, Georgia.”
“Lily, I don’t care if you and Charles are fucking. I don’t care that you and Pierre are fucking. Hell, I don’t care if you have slept with the whole fucking grid…” Georgia’s tone was sharp, and I could feel her words start to slice through me.
So she did know that I had slept with her ex-boyfriend Pierre. Guess I wasn’t as discreet as I had hoped.
Before I could get a word in, Georgia continued, “… but what I do care about, is your reputation. As only one of two women on the grid, you know what is at stake here. I fucking hate that the entire world looks at the female drivers through a magnifying glass, but they do. The world shouldn’t care about who you are with, and quite frankly, it’s none of their business… but that just isn’t the case.
What we do is, and for the foreseeable future will be, looked at through a microscope. Am I making any sense to you?” Georgia sighed and looked back at Carlos, who just grabbed her shoulder and gave it a squeeze before nodding at her in supportive agreement.
As if out of instinct, I felt my lips starting to apologize to Georgia. “Look, Georgia… I’m sorry about…” But before I could finish, Georgia cut me off, putting her hand up to signal that her tirade wasn’t yet complete.
“I’m not done, Lily,” she said tiredly. I could see that the actual lecture was about to happen, and I felt my stomach sink to the floor. By the look on her face, I knew she was more upset with me for something other than sleeping with her brother – and that thought disturned me more than Georgia admitting she already knew that I had slept with her brother and ex-boyfriend.
“Lily, someone caught you and Charles in the elevator last night. And to make matters worse, as of this morning, the video is all over Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, you name it. I had a call from Toto this morning, who debriefed me on the situation…
Lily, are you listening to me?”
No, I wasn’t listening one bit. Truth was, I had stopped listening after the word ‘caught.’ Dread started to fill my entire body, and I could feel my hands and legs start to shake from all-consuming panic.
How could I be so fucking stupid? Of course, someone had caught us. Charles was the number 1 driver on the grid, people knew his face everywhere, and this hotel was crawling with tourists.
I just stared back at my racing coach, not able to utter a single word. The silence for the next minute was deafening, and it was clear that even Georgia didn’t want to continue with this conversation, but I could see from the urgency in her eyes that we had no other choice.
“How bad is it?” I eventually managed to force out my question, gazing up at Georgia through my flooded eyes.
“Salvageable,” was all she responded.
“What are they saying?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I knew from the look in her eye and tone of her voice that it did matter.
“Bull shit, Georgie. We both know I’m going to hear it eventually from my mother, so you might as well spit it out.” The uneasy expression on her face and exasperated sigh told me exactly how bad it was, and I immediately pulled out my phone, but Georgia grabbed it from me, placing it back on the table screen facing down.
“Let me guess, it’s a lot worse for me than it is for your brother?” I scoffed, and the lack of response from both Georgia and Carlos confirmed my suspicions.
It was always worse for the woman.
“It’s not great for either of you, honestly.” Again, she paused, and as I watched her mouth something to Carlos, the anger inside of me started to explode into full-blown rage.
Fuck this.
“Georgia, if you don’t tell me what’s happening this instant, I am going to go down the hallway and start yelling until I find someone who does. Clearly, Toto and the team have asked you to tell me what is going on, so spit it out. This torturous silence and limbo you have me in is crucifying my soul!”
“I know, you’re right,” Georgia sighed. “Here’s the lowdown. You and Charles were caught, in the elevator, before rushing into his hotel room. The tourist, or whoever it was, filmed the two of you. Unfortunately, they also caught you coming out of Charles’ room, looking like you were doing a walk of shame.
“By early this morning, the photos were all over the internet, and The Sun posted a ludicrous story a few hours on the matter.”
“Please, no one believes The Sun. I mean, it’s The Sun, the crappiest tabloid ever made. Plus, these photos should blow over in a week - maybe two tops, right?”
“Yes… except this morning, someone decided to fan the flames of the article.” Georgia didn’t have to say the words for me to know exactly who it was.
Fucking Louis, my ex-boyfriend, and the gift that kept on giving. Every fiber of my being told me he was behind this, and if he wasn’t behind it, I knew he damn well would make the most of it.
“Louis was caught this morning at the airport offering up his opinions on the photos in front of tourists, VIPs… anyone that would listen…”
“Lucky me,” I sneered. “And tell me, what did my dear ex-boyfriend have to say about this?”
“He insinuated that you and Charles have been sleeping around for a while.”
“And by ‘insinuated,’ he just fucking flat out said it, didn’t he?” Again, the silence between the three of us told me everything I needed to know.
Oh, Louis.
He must have been immensely pleased with himself in that moment. He had always believed Charles and I had slept together during my first season in Formula 1, something I never confirmed as I knew it would only serve to make him more jealous.
I couldn't risk Louis's suspicions of Pierre growing further by making him aware that I had slept with someone else on the grid – that wasn't a reputation I wanted for myself.
”Georgia’s foot was now tapping up and down as she eyed me warily, not ready to utter the words that I could see were killing her on the inside.
“He accused you of sleeping around the grid, said that Charles wasn’t the only one…. Lily, Louis said that’s why you came third in the championship behind Charles last year, because you have been sleeping with him and a few of the guys.”
“I’m sorry… did my ex-boyfriend, who I caught in bed with another woman, dare to accuse me of cheating on him when he's had his dick in how much pussy?” I was now standing, my arms outstretched as I just motioned to me and then back to my phone like a buffoon. I was both speechless and had too much to say at the same time.
“Not in so many words.”
“Good grief, Georgia, just say yes.” My voice was laced with sarcasm as I said the words. I knew lashing out at one of my closest friends was not the answer, but the utter despair and frustration of this conversation was starting to get the best of me. My racing coach was phenomenal with data –bad with people.
“Look, he didn’t directly say it, but it’s clear that social media is inferring it from his words, especially considering everyone assumed you guys were dating… and now you aren’t.”
“Everyone thinks we currently aren’t dating because he was seen with a new blond bimbo!” I exclaimed, still waving my hands frantically in the air as I stood up, as if that was going to make my point hit home. “Of course, everyone was going to think it was my fault. No one ever blames the white man… Let me guess, Charles is coming away unscathed from this one?”
“Now that is where you’re wrong. Apparently, his sponsors and PR team aren’t thrilled about him sleeping with one of the two women on the grid, especially not one that just got out of a relationship with a supposed friend of his.”
“I didn’t think who either of us slept with was any of our sponsor’s business.” Georgia just gave me a pointed look that told me to stop daydreaming – of course, sponsors cared. I was their property until they stopped paying my bills.
“But the good news is, there is a solution to this.” Georgia’s face slightly lit up, and I immediately knew where she was going with this.
“You’re out of your mind. Like hell am I going to pretend to date Charles Leclerc. I don’t care if he’s your brother. I don’t care if he’s Ferrari’s golden boy. I don’t care that his stupid smug face could save my career. No. No way. Not a chance.” I downed my coffee and began pacing the room, but Georgia’s silence and slight uptick of her mouth told me that nothing I said had gotten through to her.
“Why do you hate my brother so much?” Georgia’s tone wasn’t as upset as I had expected. As twins, she and Charles were incredibly close, and yet Georgia always seemed so amused by the visceral reaction I had every time I saw her brother.
“I don’t hate your brother,” I bit back – unconvincingly.
“Me thinks the Lady doth protest too much,” Georgia winked.
“There’s no way Charles would agree to this! Why would he? The sponsors aren’t actually going to drop the racer all of the bookies have their money on.”
“No, you’re probably right, but his sponsors could make this very, very painful for him. Being seen having a one-night stand with a female driver who was dating your friend and a fellow racecar driver jsut days after their supposed break up, is a very bad look for Charles – and judging by the comments on his Instagram this morning, the fans have noticed. Believe it or not – Charles loves his golden boy image, and that image is unmistakably tarnished.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I believe that Charles loves his golden-boy image.” I couldn’t help but snicker, as if Georgia thought the entire grid wasn’t constantly witnessing Charles enjoy his status as the grid’s most desirable driver. The press loved him. The fans loved him. All of Monaco loved him.
Well, I guess until he slept with a certain rebellious Brit. That thought had me slightly grinning, a grin that was quickly wiped off my face as Georgia cleared her throat; her look of disappointment was noticeable.
“Georgia, there’s no way Charles is going to agree to this,” I insisted. The only thing Charles hated more than losing his precious reputation was the idea of dating the rebellious, stubborn British driver whose dirty laundry filled up a laundromat full of machines.
“He already has.”
Stunned didn’t describe how I felt as Georgia said the words. Not a single bone in my body believed what she was saying.
I was speechless.
“There’s no way…”
“There is. I spoke to my brother this morning after I chatted to Toto. Toto didn’t ask me if you were dating, but I could tell by his voice that he was definitely hopeful the two of you were dating. The Mercedes social media posts have been full of fan’s inquiries – and Toto said Petronas were asking as well.”
“So what you’re saying is none of these traditional sponsors want a grid slut… really puts a new meaning to grid girl.”
“Lily….” Georgia chastised as she rubbed her temples.
“No, no, it’s fine. No need to remind me of my place Georgia. I suppose I should be happy that my ‘hero’ Charles has come to my rescue, hmmm? Best to not look a gift horse in the mouth.” Again, I knew the sarcasm was untimely and incredibly rude, but the entire thing felt like a slap in the face.
“Look, I know it’s not what you want, but not only will it help boost both of your images, but it’ll put all of those dating rumors from Louis at bay and shut him up.
We’re looking to get ahead of things. If you and Charles announced that the two of you are dating, then Louis can’t exactly come out and say that 'no, in fact, Lily and I were dating.’ It would be much too embarrassing for him, especially since he has a new girlfriend. This stops all of the rumors about you and him and settles it once and for all.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There’s no way this was a good idea. Even if this worked, it wouldn’t matter, Charles and I would kill each other before either of us could see the benefits of this arrangement.
"And what does precious Charles get out of this?"
"Charles can restore his image and reputation. He's always been a relationship boy, and his relationship with whatever-her-name-was has been out of the public eye for some time now. He's never been the one-night stand type of guy, and this way he can have a positive relationship that won't get in the way of his racing."
I threw my hands up in disbelief as I exclaimed, "That's just great! So now I'm helping not only my rival with his PR image but also his racing? Fabulous!" I could only hope that Georgia would pick up on the sarcasm in my voice.
"As far as I see it, you're helping each other," she said pointedly, and I knew she was reminding me of what I had at stake here. "Look, you don’t have to get back to me today. We have a couple of weeks’ break, and you have a few days at home. Take a day to think on it?”
“I don’t have to think on it. It’s a no.” Georgia just smiled at me as she sipped her small decaf coffee.
“Just take some time to think on it, Lily.”
Without sparing Georgia a glance, I stormed out of her hotel room and marched myself back to mine.
The notion of even considering this idea was so absurd that my blood boiled in rage.
Hell would have to freeze over before I would ever date Charles Leclerc.
Hate To Love You Tag List
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#charles leclerc x reader#Charles leclerc#f1 x reader#f1#charles leclerc imagine#Charles Leclerc#Charles Leclerc smut#f1 smut#Charles Leclerc x you#formula 1#charles leclerc x ofc#f1 fanfic#cl16
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Brozone (and friends (and enemies)) twitter drama au
Collaborative between me and @squirrelpatties. Truly our magnum opus
Jd: previously a frequent twitter e-clown infamous for name searching and starting beef with people who insulted him. His fanbase thought it was hilarious in a "grandpa escaped the hospital" way. Eventually was forced to relinquish control of @/brojohndoryofficial to his pr manager (clay) after he responded to 14 y/o @/j0ndryballzweat.
Floyd (part 1): his sex tape (with a fan he didnt know was a fan but thats hardly relevant) gets leaked. For the first three days everyone's timeline was full of "do NOT share it around, dont even look for it, if someone sends it to you IGNORE it, this is a disgusting breach of privacy" until Floyd addresses it by tweeting "decided to put on a different kind of show for you guys" and all hell breaks loose. Every tweets hidden replies are full of screencaps and reuploads for a month. People edit the video so just before anything explicit happens it's replaced by a video game cutscene or meme, which Floyd retweets a lot of. His brothers ask him to stop (both for publicity and bc it makes them uncomfortable) so he starts posting thirst traps on insta. Clay yells at him so Floyd tweets "clay just asked when I'm gonna get a girlfriend :/" which brings us to-
Clay: homophobia allegations. Admittedly the least serious and would have blown over quickly if it weren't for him panic tweeting "I'm not homophobic! My girlfriend is a bi lesbian!" People were NOT happy. It takes him three days of retweeting 'helpful educational threads and carrds' on lesbianism written by 14 y/os for people to get off his back. Viva understands.
Bruce: stays off social media bc its the mind killer so he lets clay take care of @/brobruceofficial. This goes well until clay gets drunk and thinks he's on his private account but is actually on Bruce's public. When he wakes up (hungover) in the morning hes got Bruce banging on his door asking why TMZ is reporting on him cheating on his wife. Bruce tells him to clear things up but clay JUST got the lesbians off his back and can't afford to be back in the hotseat...
Branch and poppy: branch was annoyed by all the branch/poppy rpf fanfic (poppy likes them bc she thinks they're cute and funny. When brozone go on tour she reads the smutty ones) so he suggested to poppy that they stage a fake breakup. Poppy is initially against the idea until branch brings up how much fun itd be to sneak around like a couple of teenagers. Poppy scrapbooks the tabloids about their breakup. Clay and Bruce blame clays drunken tweets on branch so clay seems like the victim. Poppy acknowledges this on twitter in a way that very heavily implies they broke up bc branch was cheating on her with her own sister. Viva does not understand. This one doesn't have a resolution yet bc we moved onto:
Barb: previous lesbian icon turned reactionary transphobe. Riff stopped associating with her once she started getting really public with it and now she keeps tweeting stuff like "you-know-who left me just to work with misogynists. Really makes you think 🤔 " which he ignores.
Riff: while still working with barb he was approached to collab with creek (damage control for the... unsavoury things he said about rock trolls). The second the song released he tweeted "wow that guy was an asshole LOL" bc he didn't realise he wasn't supposed to do that. Cut contact with barb once her transphobia went from "mild, I can fix her" to "jesus fucking christ". Briefly worked with Floyd until his second controversy at which point riff tweeted "cmon, man" and turned off his phone. Riff hasn't done anything wrong and he deserves a lot better
Velvet: crafted the perfect expose thread on Floyd when she was in prison, including "pro life" "publicly sharing inappropriate sexual content" and "uses the toothpaste flag". Posts it the second she gets let out of prison and instantly becomes #1 on trending (alongside "floyd" "pro life" and "#HUGS4CLAY).
Floyd (part 2): tweets "why does it even matter that I'm pro life if I'm gay and don't 'believe' in 'voting'" before doing another line off his boyfriends torso. People bring his leaked nudes back up and start insulting his dick size and its the first time hes ever let a controversy bother him. His next tweet is "I am not ashamed of my body" and the top reply (creek pfp) is "you should be ❤". Clay is biting the skin off his own tongue.
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All the boys waking up with wavy heads from potion shenanigans the night before (Hungover basically)🤣
Sebastian: *rolls over in his bed coming face to face with Leander* URGH?! *kicks him out of bed*
Leander: *lands on the floor ontop of Amit* Oi?! What did you do that for?! ARGH, my head!
Amit: *groans* Get off me please....
Leander: Sorry Amit, blame sallow.. *crawls across the floor over to Garreth, who's spread out on a sofa snoring, with Everett curled up in ball next to him*
Sebastian: Why the fuck were you in my bed? OOOH GOD, I feel like death..
Ominis: *popping up from the covers on the other side of Sebastian* Me too..
Sebastian: AAHH! Jesus..Where did you come from?
Ominis: *confused blinking* ...I dont know. Stop talking...*grabs his own head in agony*
Leander: How the hell should I know why I was in your bed!? Garreth..Hey Garreth, wake up.
Garreth: *lazily* Sleeeeeeep
Leander: No, come on *pats his face*
Garreth: *Opens one eye* Fuck off..
Amit: *sits up too quickly* Oh god..I shouldn't of done that! Uuuurgh..Whoevers idea that was last night is a fool..
Everett: *stretches out his arm and hits Garreth in the face*
Garreth: Fuck *grumpy mumble as he sits up*
Everett: Oh! Sorry!
Ominis: Everett shhhh, no shouting, I beg of you.
Everett: ...*whispers* Sorry
Leander: Are you ok Garreth?
Garreth: *face like a moody child* Fuck...Off...All of you.
Sebastian: *chuckles* OooOooh look at you, don't think I've ever seen you so grumpy.
Leander: ooof..I'm hungry.
Sebastian: Make yourself useful and go and grab us all some food then..
Leander: Get your own damn food Sallow! I can barely stand right now though..
Amit: .....What time is it?
Everett: 10 o clock.
Amit: ....Oh no. Oh nononono.
Ominis: What's wrong?
Amit: I have an exam today.....
Sebastian: Shiiiiit *laughs* what time?
Amit: Half an hour ago..
Leander: Pffftt! *laughs*
Amit: I don't know why you're laughing Leander....We're in the same level for charms class. So you had an exam too.
Leander: .....What?!
Garreth: *flinches awake from falling asleep again from Leanders shout*
Sebastian: Paaaaahahahahaha!!!!
Ominis: *irritated moan as he puts a finger over Sebastians mouth* Shhhhh, *snuggles into his back still sleepy*
Sebastian: *whispers* Ominis..Don't cuddle me in front of everyone.
Ominis: SHHHHHH. My head hurts.
Everett: What are you two doing over there?
Sebastian: Listen its not what it looks like, he's not well ok, shut up.
Garreth: NONE of us are WELL..I feel like absolute shit...
~
#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy drabbles#hogwarts legacy headcanons#headcanon#drabbles#sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow headcanon#hogwarts legacy fanfic#ominis gaunt#ominis gaunt headcanon#garreth weasley#leander prewett#amit thakkar#everett clopton
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It Wasnt in my Head (4)
(a/n: pls lmk if u see any typos! )
Summary: Abby is the starting linebacker at UW and when her team starts to falter her coach decides to get the team into ballet, in order to teach them that grace and stability is important in football too. Abby is just as upset about her teammates about this, until she sees her pretty new ballet teacher...
dancer!reader x football!abby
!!ABBY IS STRAIGHT IN THE BEGINNING. READER IS HER GAY AWAKENING!!
˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖
The light of my slightly opened blinds shone through onto my eyes. The birds were chirping and the sky was a lovely light blue.
And I was pissed off and hung over.
I decided now that its 10 am I should probably pick up Dina's incessant calling and answer Ellies 'im sorry i got u fucked up' text.
My dimly lit kitchen smelled of lavender and burnt toast as I dialed Dina's number and listened to the tone ring.
Oh, so now she isn't going to pick up?
"Hey, D," I said when the ringing stopped.
"Ugh, finally!! I've been calling you all morning," Dina scolded me as if I wasn't so obviously hungover.
"Yeah believe it or not I know,"
"Ok, so, I called to ask you...something,"
This tone with Dina was never good.
This tone means Dina is up to something.
"Oh, jesus, ok what,"
"So, my master plan went perfect last night, and I saw you talking to our new favorite muscle mommy-"
I cut her off by saying "Oh, that was your master plan? It had nothing to do with leaving me to fend for myself so you can make out with Jesse on a couch?"
".....No?"
I let out a quick exhale through my nose, "So whats the question?"
"Obviously my question is: How did it go?"
I sighed and thought back to my interaction with Abby the previous night. "Good. No, bad. Well, good and bad. Gad,"
"What is that even supposed to mean?"
"You knowww, we like talked for a bit and got to know eachother, but the heartbreaking news, is that she is not a carpet muncher,"
"WHAT! NO WAY!"
"I KNOW. You should've heard me she was all: 'you're gay?' and I went: 'you aren't??'"
Dina snorted into the receiver as I laughed along with her.
"Well shoot. That's a bust," She said, still chuckling. "Hey, wanna go to Laverne's? I'm craving pancakes and french fries real bad,"
"Yes please, 'vernies is the best hangover cure"
"Kay, Ill be at your place in fifteen,"
I hung up the phone as my kettle began to whistle at me from the stove.
I walked over, grabbing a mug on the way and poured in the boiling water. I grabbed my favorite tea and walked into my bathroom to help myself to look slightly more presentable.
Jesus I looked like shit.
I began brushing my teeth before there was a knock at my door.
I rolled my eyes at Dina's overestimate of arriving in "fifteen".
"Dina you said fift-" I cut myself off as I swung open the door and was not met with Dina's face.
Are you fucking kidding me.
Abby fucking Anderson was standing at my front door (looking handsome as ever of fucking course) while I looked like I had just crawled out of the sewers.
"Hi" She awkwardly said with a half smile.
"Oh, hey Abby,"
There was a moment of awkward silence before Abby seemingly jolted in memory of why she was at my door to begin with.
"You, uh, left this on the chair you were sitting on last night, figured you might be looking for it," She said, pulling my pink hello kitty wallet out of her strangely large pocket.
"Oh, shit, thanks Abby," I answered before grabbing my wallet back. "I guess that's pretty important,"
Abby exhaled through her nose in a chuckle. "Yeah well I cant be your knight in shining armor every time. Last night hitting hard, huh?" She looked my slightly up and down teasingly and I suddenly felt very aware of my messy hair, thin sleep tank, and pajama pants.
"Yeah yeah I'll be more careful. Thank you again."
"Yeah no biggie. Um, I gotta run, but I'll see you?"
"For sure, see you Abby,"
We smiled at each other before I shut the door.
Oh my god that was so embarrassing.
I glanced at the time and realized I didn't have long before Dina actually got here.
After fixing myself up and being halfway dressed the real Dina knocked on my door. I shouted a "just a sec" before throwing on my jeans and getting my things and opening the door.
"Hi D,"
"Hey sweets, how ya feeling?" Dina teased with a smirk.
I gave her a playful eyeroll accompanied by a middle finger.
She threw her head back with a laugh and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. "I told you not to do that shit anymore,"
"Yeah well after my wakeup call this morning I won't,"
'You're welcome,"
I sighed before replying with "Not yours, although that one was miserable too,"
"Oh? What wakeup call are you referring to, then?" She asked, turning her head in my direction.
"Ugh I'll tell you at Laverne's,"
‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.‧₊˚
The familiar diner smelled like coffee and pie as it welcomed my senses.
Dina and I made a beeline for the back of the restaurant, where our usual table resided right by the kitchen door.
We plopped down in out usual seats and told the waitress our orders before Dina shot me a look.
"...What?" I asked looking around.
"Helloooo, your 'other wakeup call'??" She said looking at me as if I was stupid.
"Oh! Right right, well I had gotten your call, right? And no kidding like two minutes after we hung up there was a knock at my door, so, obviously I thought it was you and answered the door looking like some sort of extraterrestrial and you will literally never guess who was at the door,"
"Was it...girl I don't know just tell me,"
"It was our favorite muscle mommy," I said laughing with embarrassment.
"WHAT?? You're telling me Abigail Anderson was at your fucking apartment this morning??" She asked, a little too loud.
"Jesus, D, keep your voice down. And yes, she was totally there, and looked totally smoking hot,"
"And what did she want?" Dina suggestively wiggled her brows.
"Ugh, unfortunately that's never gonna happen. She was bringing me my wallet, said I dropped it last night,"
"Wait, what? She already have a girlfriend or something?"
"Dina, she's straight, remember?"
"Psh, are you sure? She's like the gayest looking girl I've seen,"
"Dude, I asked. She's straight as a square,"
"Whatever more like a circle"
"Wh-"
I was interrupted by what I thought was the waitress coming in, but was actually Ellie sliding into the seat next to me.
"Hello gentleman" she said with a smirk.
"Hey Els," I greeted my friend.
"Hey Ellie is your f-" I cut off Dina's sabotage with a kick to the shin and my best "you better fucking not" stare before she embarrassed me further.
"What?" Ellie confusedly looked between the two of us.
I gave Dina another look, this time softer and more pleading and I saw her give in.
"Oh, nothing, not important,"
"Hey, liar. What were your gonna say?"
Before Dina could conjure one of her perfect excuses the actual waitress came to give Dina and I our orders, while Ellie made one of her own.
"Ordered a lot of food there, Williams," I teased with a smirk.
"Nah, not all for me," She brushed off my statement.
"Who the hell else would it be for?" I asked, as the answer to my question walked right through the door.
You have got to be kidding.
a/n: hey...hey...how yall doin....
im so sorry for being gone for so long pls forgive me!! Starting up uni again has been rough, especially moving back in for the year. but i promise i will try and update as much as i can.
p.s...it's prob not who u think walking into the diner :3
ok thats all i will say luv u bye
˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖
#tlou#ellie williams#x reader#abby anderson#joel miller#dinatlou#abby anderson x reader#abbyanderson#jessetlou#abby x reader
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Good Omens Incorrect Quotes 5
Still not mine.
Crowley as Aziraphale: *gets set on fire and screams in agony*
Crowley as Aziraphale: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.
Crowley: I'm a firm believer in "if you're going to fail, you might as well fail spectacularly."
Warlock, T-posing in the doorway: Greetings, Nanny.
Crowley, not looking up from their coffee: Good morning, problem child.
Aziraphale: Please say words of encouragement to me so I don’t murder someone right now.
Crowley: There are no books in prison.
Aziraphale: *sighs* Thank you.
Aziraphale: Jesus Saves.
Crowley: Passes to Moses, SCOOOOOORE!
Crowley: Well, if you're not at least a little bit gay for your friends, then what kind of friend are you?
Crowley: If you don't stop talking, I'm going to jump out of that window.
Aziraphale: ...We're on the ground floor.
Crowley: I know but I want a dramatic exit.
Aziraphale: I made this friendship bracelet for you.
Crowley: You know, I’m not really a jewelry person.
Aziraphale: You don’t have to wear…
Crowley: No, I’m gonna wear it forever. Back off.
Crowley: So jellyshish-
Aziraphale, laughing: JELLYSHISH!?
Crowley: You know what I meant!
Crowley: What's gone wrong, Aziraphale?
Aziraphale: Hey! That’s one heck of a thing to say to a person. Just because I’m calling doesn’t mean there’s a crisis.
Crowley: That’s technically true, I suppose. Why are you calling?
Aziraphale: Well... There’s a crisis.
Crowley, hungover: Please tell me I'm imagining that I claimed I was king of the ducks.
Aziraphale: I would, but then I would be lying to the King of All Ducks.
Aziraphale: Crowley? What are you doing here?
Crowley, wearing a hawaiian shirt, sunglasses and holding a gatorade: My best.
Newt: I’m here for the cult stuff.
Shadwell: How did you find us?
Newt: I saw your ad on craigslist.
Aziraphale: I am in charge of this disaster!
Crowley: I have a name, you know.
Crowley, wiping tears from their eyes: If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, it’s meant to be…
Aziraphale: I’m literally just going to the store.
Crowley: I have issues.
Gabriel: Finally, you admit it! The first step to redemption is accept-
Crowley: With you.
Crowley: *on the phone with Anathema* I can’t talk right now, I’m doing hot girl shit.
Anathema: You’re pulling Oreos apart and saving off the frosting to make a mega Oreo, aren’t you.
Crowley: Maybe.
Crowley: Now, the recipe calls for 2 shots of vodka.
Crowley: *upends the bottle*
Aziraphale: Sorry, I'm late to the party. I've been doing things.
Crowley, entering in an unbuttoned shirt: I got caught up doing things too.
Anathema: Wow, Aziraphale was late too! What a coincidence!
Aziraphale: You spent all our money on THIS??
Crowley, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.
Crowley: Where are you going?
Aziraphale: To get MYSELF a gift cause somebody didn't get me one!
Crowley: I told you I did! Its coming here on Friday!
Anathema, knowing full well that Crowley got Aziraphale an engagement ring: *eating popcorn*
Crowley: The only thing keeping me from running away and hiding from society for the rest of my life is spite. I could disappear forever, but there are some bitches whose downfalls I have yet to witness, and I wanna be around when that happens.
Aziraphale: You’re drunk.
Crowley: Correction: drinking. Present tense. Grammar, Aziraphale.
Aziraphale: Do you see yourself as a glass half-full or glass half-empty kind of person?
Anathema: Half-full, definitely.
Anathema: Half-full and constantly rising.
Anathema: Soon the water will escape its container and consume us all.
Crowley: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time?
Aziraphale: AS ENEMIES?!
Crowley:
#good omens incorrect quotes#crowley loves aziraphale#aziraphale loves crowley#crowley and aziraphale#aziraphale and crowley#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x arizaphale#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#ineffable idiots#good omens
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Hi!! Just wanted to start off by saying I love your writing. I enjoy it so much truly. Next I wanted to send in a request with one of the prompts you provided!
How about Rooster x reader with the dialogue prompt - "it's pitch black in here and I can see that you're blushing"
Much love ❣️❣️
drunk in love.
BRADLEY "ROOSTER' BRADSHAW X FEM!READER
cw reader has a hungover headache, thats it. FLUFF. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.
a/n so many ppl wanted a part two!! so here you go!
masterlist | taglist
The first thing you notice when your eyes open is the head-splitting headache you have. You have to close them immediately, as the curtain's in the room weren't shut, meaning that sunlight found its way inside.
The next thing you notice feel is the heavy mass wrapped around your waist and the breathing on your neck that sends shivers down your spine.
Oh God, oh Lord. What happened last night?
The images come to you faster than you expected. Bradshaw—your extremely hot rival, who you definitely don't have a crush on—bringing you home—to his apartment?!—changing your clothes, and putting you to bed. And then you'd done the unimaginable. The only thing you feared more than your superiors. You'd slipped up, calling him to lay down with you and cuddle you.
Holy shit, I'm in Bradley Bradshaw's bed, wearing his shirt, my back touching his bare fucking chest and his arm wrapped around my waist. Holy fuck, holy shit, holy fucking cow poop.
What do I do now? Do I get up? Or do I fall back to sleep? Sleep does sound enticing, but you want to look at his face. Wow—what the fuck are you thinking? Okay. Maybe looking at him for a bit doesn't sound that bad.
You manage to turn slowly and gently to his side, your head tilting up to meet his handsome and peaceful face. It's a rare sight to see him this relaxed. With your job and the stress you're always under, everyone has permanent frowns etched on their faces.
You trace his face with your eyes, taking notes of the faded scar on his right temple, long eyelashes and the curve of his nose. Oh, his lips look so kissable—all pink and plump. Tone it down a bit, you stalker. You've never noticed how perfectly trimmed his pornstache was before now. You have to stop your hand from reaching to touch it, fearing that he'll wake up and find you in this compromising position.
A few serene moments pass, where you hear nothing but your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Your eyes are shut, and you're almost asleep when you feel Rooster move. You pretend to sleep, but your ears perk up, listening to Bradley's every movement.
He walks over to the window, shutting the heavy curtains. You can open your eyes now, for the room has been submerged in darkness. Rooster lays down again, his arm finding your waist again, pulling you impossibly close.
There's silence, and then there isn't. "I know you're awake."
God, his morning voice is so sexy. Jesus Christ, what am I thinking? Wait, did he just speak to me?
"Could feel you staring at me."
Your eyes open, and your breath hitches. God, you hoped he didn't hear that. But of course, he did. You're so close to each other, that he can probably feel your heart beating out of control.
You decide to play it off casually. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
He snorts softly. "Oh, please. It's pitch black in here, and I can see that you're blushing. Can practically feel the heat radiating from your cheeks."
The embarassment is eating you alive. Bradley knows you like him now, and he'll make fun of you for it for the rest of your life. There's no way he'll ever let this go. God, why did you have to turn around? Why couldn't you have fallen back to sleep? Or better yet, gotten up, dressed and run?
"I can practically hear the gears turning in there." You hear the smile on his tone. "I like you too. Thought it was obvious, but I guess not."
"What?"
"Go to sleep, pretty girl. I'll explain when you wake up."
previous | next
—
[ taglist: @roosterschanelslut @maverick-wingman @amnmich @mattyskies @wildcole @gretagerwigsmuse @bespinnn @collaps3r @caldodemazapangourmet @oikawasblueearbud @rip--tide @barryswifey @fanboyluvr @spookys-girl @lonelywitchv2 @j-deimos @heywheresemily @avengersfan25 @piceous21 @sarahjoestewy-blog @n3ssm0nique @mouseymagines @xx-kate-xx13 @vaporub4ever @reading-rosa @marie1115 @dxvanadeline @plaboneruda @awesomebooklover17 @mxlsmith @mak-32 @torresbarnes @depressed-focker @kwanimations @magicstrengthandcourage @graysondanvers @danielmarie @giuliamunson @this-is-a-bad-idea @bordelhoe @melody-death @studentville-struggles @desert-fern @tw1l1ghtlvr @idkwhattodowithmylife67 @kenobiow ]
#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster top gun#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw fluff#rooster x reader#rooster fluff#bradley bradshaw fic#rooster fic#miles teller#miles teller x reader#top gun#top gun: maverick#top gun fic#fluff#rivals#frank writes#frank's asks
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birthday girl | v.v
there’s only one thing you really want for your birthday, and ville’s swallowing his pride enough to give it to you.
warnings: smut, there is literally no plot, sub!ville, choking, handjobs, ville calls the reader ma’am, light mentions of crying
word count: 4.8k
a/n: this will end up being two parts, neither of which will have any plot, so here’s the first one for now :)
tags: @asskickedbygirl @lieutenant-cinnamon-roll @kissofdawn666 @brandons-wife @valos-venus-doom @ghoulishguns @4377666
— —
Sometimes, you really stopped and realized how fucking lucky you were. Sure, you had to travel around a lot, and sometimes Ville wasn't the easiest person to be in an all-over-the-place relationship with, but even despite that, you were really fucking lucky.
Unfortunately, Ville was on tour on your birthday this year, but despite the fact, he'd planned the tour around the weekend that it fell on just so that you didn't have to go anywhere and that you wouldn't only have the morning before he had to get back up on stage once the evening came.
He'd also booked the both of you a honeymoon suite at a hotel in Prague, which was the country the tour had paused in, and which had a fucking hot tub on the private balcony outside. All of this while he was close-to burnt out from months on end of touring and a little chronically hungover from the nights of partying that went with it.
But despite all that, there was only one thing you really had on your mind when you came back to the room after eating breakfast. And that one thing was dressed in only one of the nice white robes that fancy hotels always had while he chugged down champagne in bed next to you where you were winding down from the rest of the band giving out their makeshift birthday presents (the best of the worst being a large bottle of whiskey that was actually almost full from Gas) at the breakfast bar downstairs.
"You know, you're supposed to sip that." You said dryly as you watched Ville down the rest of the champagne in his (third) glass like a shot. You were only on your first glass, as you'd only been in your room for around ten minutes. Ville liked to do fancy things in his own way, apparently.
"Yeah. If you're twelve." He scoffed, turning to look at you with an unimpressed look on his face. "You're supposed to party on your birthday."
"You know what else I'm supposed to do on my birthday?" You asked coyly, turning and wrapping both arms around his arm where you were leaning against his shoulder. When he continued to look at you, you grinned. "Whatever I want to you."
"I thought the presents would be enough to tide you over." He grumbled, his face filled with irritation despite the fact that he sounded nothing but wary. But, he could be wary all he wanted, because it was finally your time to repay him for all the shit he'd put you through, and there was no way you were passing up the opportunity.
"Okay. First rule of my 'do anything I want' present is that you're not allowed to have any attitude. You have to be nice and well-behaved." You announced, pulling away from him and then up onto your knees. "Second, I've got two different ideas, so you have to do both."
"Jesus fuck. You better not break my cock as your birthday present." Ville grumbled in response, his hand coming out to rest on your bare thigh where you were wearing shorts due to the high heat of the Prague summer.
"Depends on how well you behave." You said coyly, beginning to play with the tie of his robe where it was still tied around his waist. He pursed his lips, eyeing you over as he let out a small sigh.
"I suppose I'll be doing whatever you say, then?" Wow. How incredibly intuitive of him. In actuality, there was no way he couldn't have known what was coming, because there were only a select few things he generally didn't let you do, but still. You were a lot more excited than he seemed to be.
The reasoning behind Ville's apprehension and general disinterest towards what was coming to him was simple; he was in no way submissive whatsoever. You'd tried about a million times, but the simple fact remained that he was about as much of a control freak as one could be (you'd been subjected to hours of complaints about Ville's tendency to 'take over' during band rehearsals), and it translated heavily into the bedroom. There was no taking control from Ville in the places that he felt he had earned it.
But he was going to have to cope, because it was your birthday fair and square. You were willing to be a little lenient to let him ease into it because you knew he was going to have an attitude, but he hadn't drawn the line against it, so you were getting your turn whether he liked it or not.
"Just relax, baby. It'll be fun. I swear." You soothed, shifting into his lap so that you could kiss him gently. When he relaxed into the kiss after a second or two, you slipped a hand under the material of his robe to rub from his chest up and over his shoulder. "I love you."
"Are you going to be gentle with me?" That was funny coming from him of all people, but you nodded and did a dramatic crossing of your heart for added effect before you went right back to kissing him.
As his muscles began to relax with each kiss that you gave him, your hand found the tie of his robe, and you began to pull it undone slowly, aiming to savor this experience as much as you could before you had to wait a year or so to get it again. His breath caught in his throat slightly when your hand finally made contact with the warm skin of his abdomen, and his legs subtly opened a little wider underneath you at the same time.
"You're so handsome." You cooed softly as you skated your hands over his chest, your lips moving to the line of his jaw as you continued to suck at his skin softly with each kiss. He gently tipped his head a little further to the side to give your lips more territory, and you purposely sucked a little harder once you moved down to his neck to leave hickeys on his pale, soft skin. "You're the best birthday present I could've ever asked for."
"Y/n." His tone was soft, almost as if he was trying to draw your attention. You had pulled his robe completely open now, and his cock was lying completely hard against the tattoo on his stomach, but he must've been crazy if he thought you were going to give in that easily.
You were also subconsciously musing over the fact that he'd been walking all over the lobby and breakfast cafe of the hotel in a robe and literally nothing else. And had been wearing it tied pretty loose, on top of that.
You dragged your fingertip in a half-circle across his lower stomach, purposely avoiding his cock as you pulled back to watch his face. His unimpressed look still hadn't wavered, but you knew it wouldn't take long. Ville was used to getting what he wanted as soon as he wanted it, and that was very well about to change in your favor.
You leaned in further to let your lips travel further down his neck and over his collarbones. His chest was heaving by this point as he tried to take deep breaths to hide the fact that he was making any noise, and you broke away just as you got to the start of his chest to grin coyly at him.
"Does that feel good, baby?" As you spoke, you danced your finger across the taut muscles of his abdomen, reveling in the way he inhaled slightly at every individual touch. To give him credit, you could definitely understand why he liked teasing so much.
"It would if you actually did something." He muttered impatiently, looking up at you with a defiant look that he would've smacked your ass into high heaven for had you been the one giving it. You tutted.
"Be patient and ask nicely." As you said it, you wrapped a hand around Ville's throat, forcing him to look directly at you as you took your other hand completely off of him. Jesus, it was fun to say things like that to him. You could very clearly see a bead of precum pooling right onto his tattoo, and you grinned even wider. "Come on, baby. You know what to say."
He said nothing at first, but you didn't mind waiting. You had all the time in the world, and it wasn't like he had forgotten. Finally, after a moment of that defiant stare, he closed his eyes.
"Please touch me. It hurts." His voice came out as almost a whine, and it shot heat throughout your entire body at the sound. It wasn't often you ever heard that tone of voice out of your usually-baritone-spoken boyfriend. You leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger against his skin.
"Please what?" You knew he knew, and you also knew that he was just avoiding it on purpose. He shot a look at you before clenching his jaw.
"Please, ma'am." He breathed, swallowing thickly where your hand was still wrapped around his throat. You hummed in satisfaction, your free hand moving back to his abdomen to ghost touches along his sensitive skin.
"Good boy." As soon as those words were out of your mouth, he gasped just a little bit, so quiet that you could tell he was trying to hide it, but you heard it anyway. You let go of his throat, your hand staying at his shoulder. "What was that?"
"Please touch my cock, ma'am. I need you." This time, Ville seemed to have no qualms about begging you, and you could tell that he was starting to get desperate. His hips were pushing up as inconspicuously as he could manage, but you still noticed, and you also noticed the small pool of precum on his lower abdomen that was spreading more and more with every touch to his overactive skin.
So, at that moment, you took the tip of your finger and dragged it feather-light up the underside of his cock, watching as he jolted while his lips parted and his eyes fell closed for just a second or two at the feeling.
"Calm down. I haven't even done anything yet." You patronized him at his intense reaction, using the exact phrase that he'd said to you hundreds of times before just for the fun of it. His eyes shot back open at that, and you could tell that his favorite unimpressed look was fighting and failing to break through the pleasured frustration on his face. "If I touch you, are you going to be good?"
"Yes." He said immediately, once again trying his best to discreetly push his hips up where you had drawn your hand back from his cock. When you raised an eyebrow, he exhaled slowly. "Yes ma'am."
You leaned in and gave him a soft kiss, distracting him momentarily before you were finally wrapping your hand fully around his cock and beginning to stroke it slowly with the slick of his precum. At that moment, he full-on whimpered into your mouth, his hips immediately bucking up towards your hand. When he continued to move around, you stopped.
"Stay still. You said you'd be good." You warned, watching the desperation forming in his eyes at losing the friction of your hand. He stilled completely then, his only movement being his fingertips circling gently over your knee where you were straddling him. Who would've thought the infamously iron-willed Ville Valo knew how to be so obedient. You then slowly started to move your hand again, relishing in the sound of his low groan. "You're such a good listener."
As he moaned in response, you began to kiss from his jaw down his neck again, sucking softly and leaving marks in your wake as you moved further and further down. His chest was heaving as your lips moved down to the beginning of his sternum, the line of rosy pink marks you'd left with your mouth slowly deepening into a dark red.
Just as you began to speed up your hand, you dipped your head and licked over his nipple before beginning to suck. That was something he absolutely never let you do, but you could tell by the way his voice shot up in his throat that he liked it. Who could've guessed.
"Fuck, Y/n. Please." He whimpered, his fingers lacing into your hair the same way yours often did into his when your positions were switched. You ignored him, swirling your tongue slowly in circles while watching him the whole time. After you stopping before, his hips stayed where they were now, but you could tell by the desperation in his eyes that he wanted nothing more to fuck your hand where you were still stroking his cock just a bit too slow to be enough.
When you switched to his other nipple he moaned again, his hand that had been gently brushing against your knee now gripping it tightly as his back arched just slightly. The muscles of his abdomen had contracted tightly where your free hand was resting, and his only movement was his shaky, uneven breathing as he attempted to hold control over himself.
When you finally pulled off of his nipple and leaned back up to look at him fully, you could see that there was a thin sheen of sweat coating both his forehead and his chest, and you grinned widely at the fact. It was clear that he was now completely at your mercy, and you were basking in the fact.
When you picked up the pace of your hand and applied just a bit more pressure to make him squirm, a sharp whimper shook in his throat, and his hips bucked upwards just slightly before he let his head fall back with a desperate sigh.
"I'm sorry. M' sorry." He went still again, and you could see the muscles in his abdomen still contracting with the effort of doing so. You cooed as you moved your free hand to cup his cheek, drawing his eyes open and back to yours again as you continued to pump his cock at an increased pace.
"It's okay. Shh. You're being such a good boy for me." Your tone was reassuring, and he leaned heavily into your touch as he moaned again at the sound of your voice. Your heart ached at seeing him so shaky and desperate, because you had never really gotten the chance to see him like this before, but you were imagining all the times he had seen you in the same state and had yet hailed no mercy as a way to keep yourself from giving in. "What's wrong, baby? What do you want?"
"Just...fucking...more. Please." He seemed to catch the attitude in his voice, because the 'please' was thrown on quickly at the end of his sentence as his eyes stayed glued to where your hand glided languidly up and down on his cock. "Just feels so good."
"I know it does." Your coo prompted a whimper from his lips that went about five pitches above his normal speaking voice, and you silently wondered how you were going to get through this without caving and just fucking him right then and there. "If you want more, you're gonna have to beg for it."
You expected to get another defiant stare at that, because Ville Valo prided himself on being everything but a beggar, but it only took him a second to control his breath before he was doing exactly that. And doing it well, at that.
"Please. I'll be a good boy. I'll be so fucking good, ma'am." He pleaded, speaking through desperately frustrated moans and gasps as every individual muscle in his abdomen seemed to constrict and move on its own. His voice then went softer. "Let me cum. Please."
Hearing the words 'I'll be a good boy' out of the mouth of your boyfriend who even hated being told to say please about did you in. Almost. You felt a jolt of arousal at how quick he'd listened to you, and you ran a hand over his hair before pulling back so that he was looking right at you.
"If you want to cum, you have to do it yourself." God, this was a great fucking birthday present. If you could immortalize the way that you had Ville now in some form, you would've done it in a heartbeat. He let out a miserable whine at that, and you only grinned. "Aw, what's the matter, baby? Did you think you were just going to get whatever you wanted?" Like you always do?
He just held your gaze with pained eyes, his soft moans of pleasure cutting off sharply into a gasp of protest when your hand completely stilled on his cock. You didn't pull away, but you didn't move, either, and you watched as he visibly tried to regain his already long-gone composure as you gave him an expectant look.
"You should be thankful you get to cum at all." You said strongly, using his own often-used words against him and then deciding to do just that again with a little more fervor in the form of his all-time favorite demand. "Thank me."
After all of this, Ville was really going to enjoy your requested second half of your birthday present.
"Thank you, ma'am. Fuck, thank you. Tell me what I'm allowed to do." Ville breathed, eyes stuck in limbo on your unmoving hand around his cock before they flitted up to yours as he waited impatiently for your response. You let out a hum like you were deciding, leaning forward to press ghosted kisses along his jawline and cheek as you drew it out to make him wait. Finally, you kissed his lips before withdrawing to see the pout on his pretty face.
"You can fuck my hand." You could physically see him straining to keep the disappointment off of his features, and you only held his face softer in your hand before you let your hand go looser on his cock so that it would be more difficult to get any friction. His mouth opened, and you immediately stared hard at him. "What? Would you rather get nothing at all, and I bring you right back down to the breakfast bar while you're shaking like a little bitch for me so that your friends can see?"
That shut him up really quickly.
He then slowly began to thrust up into your hand, lip drawn harshly between his teeth as he worked with the little amount of friction that you had allowed him while his head fell heavily back against the headboard.
"Fuck, Y/n. I love you." He breathed, rolling his hips up earnestly into your loose grip as he whispered out your name sporadically with every slide of his cock between your fingers. His back arched off the mattress with the effort, and despite the fact that you were still straddling his legs, he was able to find a quick pace in mere seconds.
Your free hand that had been at his cheek dropped down so that you could rub your thumb over his nipple that was still slick with your spit, watching the way he exhaled shakily at the feeling.
"I love you more. Especially when you're so well behaved and pretty for me." You switched to his other nipple for a little while, reveling in his now-constant moaning as he fucked your hand as best he could before you instead moved your hand back to his throat. "Only me, right?"
You were just toying with him for the fun of it at this point. You knew he was close to cumming; you could easily tell by the tone of his voice and the uneven pace of his hips, but it was too fun not to. His eyes opened again, and you grinned at the sight of his blinded-by-pleasure-but-still-enamored look as he nodded immediately.
"Only you, ma'am. Always—ah!—always you." He agreed, his hand that had been resting on your knee this entire time digging his nails into your skin as he fucked himself closer and closer to his climax. "I'm gonna cum. Please—I need to so bad."
"Shh. It's okay. You're gonna be okay." You squeezed your fingers around his throat a little tighter just to hear him whimper, and then smirked when that's exactly what he did. "Be my good boy and be patient for me."
"I can't. I'm gonna—" He tried to slow down the pace of his hips in order to keep himself under control, but at that same time, you tightened the pressure of your fingers around his cock to balance it out. He let out an almost-hysteric moan at that, his eyes starting to visibly water at the feeling, while you just shushed him.
"No. Don't cum until I say." You said firmly, squeezing at his throat a little tighter just as you let your hand go almost completely loose. You knew he had been just on the verge of cumming, and that thought was confirmed when his cock twitched and he half-restrained a harsh cry.
"Love, I don't know if I can..." He trailed off as you cut off his ability to talk completely with your fingers around his throat, his lips still parted in a silent moan as he continued to thrust into your loosened hand shallowly. However, that wasn't enough for you, and you waited until you visually saw him start to regain his self-control before you retightened your fingers just enough to make him cry out for real this time.
And again, you repeated the same pattern, watching him get close enough to feel his cock twitching in your hand before you let your fingers go lax once more. By that point his back was permanently arched, and when you watched the first tear slip from his eye and down his perfect cheekbone, you felt triumph rise in your chest.
That had been what you wanted all along. Getting you to cry every time he fucked you was like Ville's own personal competition he liked to hold for himself, and you'd been itching to repay the favor ever since you'd come up with this idea in the first place.
"Aw, are you gonna cry just because you're not getting what you want?" Also a line that he'd used on you about a million times. You could see his whole body shaking in one form or another, and desperation was painted so hysterically on his beautiful features that you knew he truly wouldn't be able to go for much longer. His voice had died hoarsely in his throat long ago despite you loosening you hold on his airway, and all he did was let out a quiet whine as his hips hesitated and jolted where he was both trying to stave himself off from cumming before you said and simultaneously trying to achieve more friction where you were giving him close to none.
He didn't answer you (not that you expected him to), but you could see the way that the head of his cock had turned an angry red color with the lack of release, and both your fingers and his cock itself were coated in the precum that was more than steadily rolling down in beads. You’d teased him to his limit, and could tell by the way that more tears continued to fall slowly down his cheeks after the first.
"You wanna cum?" You finally asked, pressing your lips gently to his overheated cheek and kissing away the tear that was currently rolling down his skin. He nodded frantically, but you pretended you didn't see it, waiting for his vocal confirmation that he knew he had to give you. He seemed to be able to tell what you were waiting for, and he swallowed harshly.
"Yes. Please." His voice was airy and taut, and his eyes sought yours out with a look that portrayed just how completely under your control he really was. You were starting to understand why he lived wholly for seeing that look on your face.
"Please, what?" It couldn't hurt one more time. He let out a broken, impatient groan, his nails digging even further into your knee as he did so. You were too focused on the view in front of you to really pay any attention to the pressure of his blunt nails in your skin, but you knew you'd definitely feel it later. Worth it.
"Please, my love. I've been so good." Ville's voice was suddenly small and soft as he continued to hold you with those eyes that you just couldn't look away from, and although that hadn't been what you were asking for, it was somehow a million times better. You let your lips travel from his cheek before you kissed him, smiling at the way he immediately pressed into the kiss before he was gasping completely against your mouth when you once again retightened your fingers before beginning to stroke him at the same pace he'd been fucking your hand.
"It's okay, baby. You're okay. You can cum." You confirmed, pressing your foreheads together and moving your hand from his throat to rest warmly on his chest where he was close to hyperventilating. You glanced to the side to confirm that his inhaler was sitting close by on the nightstand as a reassurance before focusing back on him.
It only took a few seconds of you stroking his cock before Ville was cumming, his breathing going completely uneven and sharp as he moaned the loudest you had ever heard him moan before you pulled back to watch him spill his release all over your hand and all over his heaving lower stomach.
"Fuck, I love you. Oh my—thank you. Fucking shit." Ville babbled as he came down from his high, shaking and twitching heavily with the aftershocks before you slowed your hand to a stop on his cock. He was fully sweating now, and his hair was plastered to his forehead in places as he slowly caught his breath.
"You're not done. Clean up your mess." You reminded him, holding out your cum-coated fingers to his lips after you'd cleaned up what had spilled onto his stomach. He stared at you for a long moment before he took your wrist gently and sucked your fingers into his mouth. His tongue swirled over each one individually until they were clean, then he pulled them from his lips despite how hard you tried to keep them in his mouth for just a bit longer.
"Holy fucking shit." He mumbled that quietly after a moment as his head fell back against the headboard and his eyes closed, his hand still holding onto yours as he continued to take heaving breaths. You finally slid off of him, instead sitting at his side and grabbing his inhaler before handing it over.
"Look at you, soldier. You survived." You teased, reaching out to wipe any wetness away from his cheeks with your thumb as he took two long inhales off of his inhaler. Once he had settled his breathing, you laid next to him and slipped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him against your chest as you smoothed his hair out of his face. However, even though you were trying to help him relax, you couldn't help yourself. "Oh my god, babe. That was so fun! I want to do that seven times a day for the rest of our lives. Best birthday present ever!"
"I don't understand how you enjoyed that at all. I literally didn't touch you." Ville grumbled, allowing you to pull his robe back closed so that he wouldn't be cold. "And hell will have frozen over when I let you do that shit seven times a day."
"I think you should receive an award for how quickly you get an attitude." You replied dryly, running your fingers through his hair and smiling at the way he groaned softly at the feeling. "And it doesn't matter that you didn't touch me. I said there were two things I wanted, didn't I?"
"Oh, pray tell. I suppose you'll want to shove an extremity of some sort up my ass." There he went, completely ignoring your pointing out his attitude that had come back full force the second there was no one touching his cock anymore. Figures. You snickered.
"Nope. I'll save that for your birthday." You then stretched out, throwing a leg gingerly over his hip and hugging him tightly against you. "Let's relax for a little bit, drink the rest of the champagne, and then you have to fuck me good with no teasing allowed. Of any kind."
"I have to fuck you. That's a funny way of putting it." He snorted, pressing a kiss to your neck before he let out a soft sigh and relaxed. "You can have whatever you want, love. You're going to have to give me about half an hour for my cock to recover, though."
#ville valo#ville valo smut#ville valo x reader#ville valo fic#ville hermanni valo#HIM#his infernal majesty#jackass#jackass imagine#jackass movie#jackass mtv
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