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joelsgreys · 6 months

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someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She is donning festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress; her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#asdfghjkl BYE #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #dbf joel miller #dbf joel x reader #fic: someone to be thankful for

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teapartyprincess4two · 2 months

Note

Can you make a Latina reader x Matt sturniolo smut? You can make it up how you want it

Lipstick- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Thick!Latina!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: fluff, smut

inspiration: request^^

translations: embedded within the story!

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of Spanish, Hispanic/ Latino culture mentioned, established relationship, slight cursing, traditional parents, mentions of alcohol, didn’t name any of the side characters, long

summary: Matt’s nervous to meet your family, but after making a good impression you treat him to a night full of kisses and lipstick stains.

—

Matt sits in the living room, nervous hands playing with the keys that hang from his belt loop. Your mother keeps him company, sitting on the sofa across from him as she asks him a plethora of personal and uncomfortable questions. Latina mothers are unashamed to prod into the personal life of others, especially when meeting their daughter’s boyfriend for the first time.

You’ve only been dating Matt for a couple of months, and although he seems like a nice kid, she’s not entirely sure she can trust your judgment just yet. The few boys you’ve brought home before haven’t always necessarily met her high standards. Matt hasn’t done anything to throw her off yet, but she’s sure she’ll find something to dislike. If he manages to stick around long enough, though, he’d surely grow on her.

“So what do you do for work?” your mom asks, momentarily looking up from her latest costura project to catch Matt’s anxious gaze. She expertly weaves the string in and out of the white lace, forming an intricate floral design in the process.

[translation: costura- sewing]

“Oh um… my brothers and I we make YouTube videos,” Matt doesn’t know where to look, he’s afraid to make eye contact but also afraid that if he doesn’t it’ll come off as disrespectful. He’s never been so nervous in his life, and from the look on your mother’s face he can tell that that’s probably not what she wanted to hear.

Your mother scoffs, obviously unimpressed with his answer. “Esta niña, siempre saliendo con los más huevones,” she turns her head towards the stairs. Matt’s been waiting for you to descend for over 30 minutes, and the awkward tension was even becoming too much for her.

[translation: “This girl, always going out with the laziest ones.”]

Matt coughs, taking a quick swig of the water bottle in front of him. He’s nervous, his hands are clammy and he has no idea what your mom just said. What was taking you so long?

“So is YouTube gonna pay the bills?” your mom was abrasive and she knew it, but she couldn’t help it. In her eyes, nobody was worthy enough of her babygirl. Matt remains silent, he doesn’t even know what to say, so she continues, “You know, when you two start having kids.”

The thought of having children at 20 years old terrifies Matt beyond belief, he can feel his hands getting clammier by the second. He understands that it’s a cultural dissonance, though, so he keeps his mouth shut. “We’re not planning on any kids soon, ma’am. We haven’t— Um, we haven’t really talked about it,” his voice trembles slightly, your mom was doing a good job of intimidating him.

Matt takes another swig of his water, his mouth was dry and he felt like his throat was closing up. “Oh, but you’re having sex with my daughter right?” the question is so unapologetically bold that it causes Matt to choke on the liquid, some of it managing to dribble down his chin.

“I’m sorry?” he chokes out, but he heard your mom loud and clear.

Finally, as if on queue, Matt hears footsteps coming down the steps. ‘Finally!’ he thinks, watching as your curvy figure rounds the staircase and enters the living room. Matt shoots up from his spot on the couch, his eyes immediately dancing over your entire body.

You’re wearing a fitted, black bodycon dress that reaches just above your knees. The spaghetti straps work to hold your bust in place, a gold necklace dangling delicately above the curves of your breasts. You push your freshly curled hair onto your shoulders, luscious locks framing your face perfectly. White lace-up sneakers adorn your feet, your ankle bracelet glimmering as you walk into the living room.

Matt can’t keep his eyes off of, every aspect of your being pulling him in and putting him in a trance. Your mom notices Matt’s inability to hide his attraction for you, “her eyes are up here!” His face goes beet red, eyes immediately darting up to your face.

You roll your eyes before sending Matt an apologetic smile, “Ya nos vamos, Ma.”

[translation: “We’re leaving, Ma.”]

“Bueno, mi niña. Pórtate bien,” she warns, bringing you in for a strong, warm embrace. Your mom’s change in behavior is so quick it gives Matt whiplash, but he can’t blame her for being standoffish with him. He understands that it’s her mother bear nature.

[translation: “Okay, babygirl. Be good.”]

You kiss your mom on the cheek, your red lipstick staining her face. You turn to Matt with a big, toothy smile sprawled onto your face. “You ready?” you ask, taking his hand in yours as you guide him outside. He nods and hums in response, squeezing your hand as he trails behind you in a lovesick daze. Your ass jiggles with each step and Matt wonders how he ever got so lucky.

“Sorry for taking so long,” you apologize once you’re in the car, getting situated in the passenger seat. “No problem. You look really beautiful,” he replies, starting the car and doing another once over on your body. You lean over the center console with puckered lips, “kiss?” He happily obliges, your red lipstick instantly transferring onto him. His pants are becoming tighter by the second and you notice it right away. Your relationship is still in its infancy, so even this has you blushing.

“Was my mom nice?”

“Mm yeah, some like that,” he replies with a chuckle, adjusting his pants and beginning the drive to your destination. You know he’s lying, but you’re grateful that he’s courteous enough to put up with your mom’s attitude.

“Just wait till you meet my dad and my siblings. They’re not as bad,” you say, the hum of the car engine and the low music in the background creating a calm atmosphere.

“Can’t wait,” he laughs, and although he’s nervous for when that day finally comes, he’s actually excited to become a constant presence in your life. It might be too early to say it, but he’s definitely falling in love with you, the tent in his pants making it obvious as ever.

—

A year has passed since that day and, as expected, your mom has warmed up to Matt. They aren’t super close yet, but she definitely sees him in a different light. She can tell that he truly cares for you and that what you two share is real, but the real test comes when Matt meets your dad.

Your dad works a lot, the manual labor taking a toll on his body that puts him to sleep as soon as he gets home. So, even if your dad is home when Matt’s around, he’s usually asleep or resting in his room.

Matt was nervous when he met your mom, but he’s TERRIFIED to meet your dad. There are so many factors to take into consideration; the language barrier, the cultural dissonance, the fact that he’s your literal dad! It doesn’t help that your siblings are gonna be there too, all of it makes Matt tremble with unease. But he’s been invited to your family’s cookout so he can no longer postpone it.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon. The weather is nice, it’s not too cold or too hot. It’s the perfect day for a cookout, and Matt should feel excited, but he doesn’t. Sweaty hands grip the steering wheel as he anxiously drives to your house. Chris and Nick are being dragged along as moral support, but unlike Matt, they’re not nervous.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you guys. I don’t even think they know I’m a triplet,” Matt’s words are coming out a mile a minute as he places the car in park outside your house. The panic is starting to set, and from the looks of it they’re the first ones here. Usually being on time would make Matt proud, but this just means there will be less people to hide behind.

“Dude, it’s gonna be fine. Plus, maybe Y/n has a cute cousin or something and we can be like brother in laws,” Chris is only half-joking. “Gross,” Nick grimaces, hopping off the car and beginning the short walk to your front door. Chris laughs, copying Nick’s actions and following closely behind.

That just leaves Matt. He’s glued to the front seat, mind racing uncontrollably. If he’s going to do this, it needs to be quick and painless or he’ll just psych himself out. He takes one deep breath in and out, unbuckling himself with such fervor that the seatbelt slaps the door. Once he steps out of the car, he takes a second to anchor himself before jogging to catch up to his brothers, who are already ringing your doorbell.

Three minutes pass and no one has opened the door, so Nick rings the doorbell again. “Allí voy, allí voy!” a voice shouts from inside, the door swinging open aggressively to reveal your little sister.

[translation: “I’m going, I’m going!”]

“Oh it’s just you,” she deadpans, moving aside so they can walk in. She slams the door shut, pushing past the stunned trio until she’s at the foot of the stairs. “Y/n’s upstairs,” she says, waving towards the staircase haphazardly.

“Y/N! YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE HERE!” she shouts up the stairs, the loud outburst taking the triplets by surprise.

Your sister is a good 4 years younger and the complete opposite of you. She’s a thin tomboy, wearing an outfit so oversized that she’s drowning in fabric. Her style directly resembles Chris’s, chunky sneakers adorning her feet and a backwards hat resting atop her long, curly hair. A long gold chain that she stole from your older brother hangs from her neck, swaying back and forth as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her makeup is nicely done and her glossy lips are resting in a smirk, she loved embarrassing you.

“Stop yelling, pendeja!” you shout back, head peering from your doorway. Your sister shoots you an unbothered shrug, turning on her heels and disappearing into the backyard. You descend the stairs, immediately hugging Matt and planting a fat kiss on his lips. Within seconds his lips are the same color as yours, your cherry lipgloss tasting all too familiar.

[translation: pendeja- dumbass (feminine)]

“You guys are early,” you chuckle, pulling away from Matt to greet the other two. “You can blame Matt for that,” Nick says, the four of you walking outside to the backyard patio. The setup is simple but nice, rows of foldable chairs and tables lining the grassy lawn. Coolers are up against the walls of the house, each one filled to the brim with soda, juice pouches, and alcohol.

As Matt is surveying the area, he sees your dad, or at least he thinks he does. A tall, muscular man is working the grill. His shiny, bald head reflects the sun and his tattoos are on full display past the sleeves of his ribbed cotton tank top.

Matt grabs your hand, pulling you back slightly, “Is that your dad?” His voice is hushed, afraid to be heard accidentally.

You follow his gaze, “What? No. That’s my brother.”

An audible sigh of relief escapes Matt, and you instantly clock it, “Don’t worry, babe. Everyone’s gonna love you.” The reassuring words momentarily calm his nerves.

Your older brother’s boisterous voice breaks the moment, “Y/n, go get the rest of the carne from the kitchen!” He’s pinching carne asada, elote, and cebolla off of the grill with long metal tongs, stacking it neatly on a metal tray.

[translation: carne- meat, carne asada- grilled meat, elote- corn, cebolla- onion]

Chris is the first to approach your brother, his friendly nature making it easy for him to talk to new people,“Dude, that smells good!”

Your brother is very kind, his scary appearance completely juxtaposing his hospitable personality. He’s wearing baggy jean shorts and black air forces with a matching gold chain and bracelet. The black sunglasses that rest on his face make him look unapproachable, but the warm smile he offers Nick and Chris makes up for it.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” you quickly peck Matt’s cheek, once again staining his face with your lipstick. Matt hums in response, joining the rest of the men around the grill.

“I feel like I’m seeing triple. I didn’t even know there was three of y’all,” your brother jokes, offering them each a firm handshake. Even though they’ve heard the joke millions of times before the triplets laugh.

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Nick laughs.

“Bet you do. Which of you is dating my sister, though?” your brother asks, but he knows the answer; the red kiss on Matt’s cheek is a dead giveaway.

“That would be this lucky guy,” Nick replies, shaking Matt’s shoulders playfully. Matt’s cheeks burn a bright red and he can’t stop himself from smiling, he truly was lucky. “If the red lipstick on his face doesn’t tell you, then his smile surely will,” Chris chimes in, his finger smudging the makeup on Matt’s face.

Your brother laughs, “Yeah you might wanna wipe that off before el jefe gets back.”

[translation: el jefe- the boss (masculine, a nickname commonly used when referencing one’s father)]

“Oh shit,” Matt mutters, scrambling for a nearby napkin and rubbing it along his face feverishly.

—

An hour has passed and no one else has arrived yet, I guess the triplets didn’t get the memo that Hispanics are almost always fashionably late. Your brother is still working the grill, immersed in an entertaining conversation with Nick about God knows what. Chris, on the other hand, is playing soccer with your sister. He keeps either kicking the ball over the fence or missing it completely, his clumsy actions make your sister laugh uncontrollably.

You sit with Matt at one of the many tables, hands intertwined as you both anxiously await your parents arrival. “He should be back by now,” you mumble, a restless leg bouncing up and down. You knew Matt would make a good first impression on your dad, but you were still nervous.

It’s almost like you summoned him, the familiar sound of your dad’s pickup truck ringing in your ears as he pulls into the driveway. “Is that him?” Matt asks, grip tightening on your palms. “Yeah that’s him. Don’t be nervous, my dad is nice,” you reply, but you’re equally as anxious.

Your dad’s first words do nothing to help your case, you’re just glad Matt can’t understand them, “Vengan a ayudar, huevones!”

[translation: “Come help, lazies!”]

“Lemme go help, you stay here. Okay?”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

“Actually yeah, good idea.”

Matt follows you to the front yard, he’s so beyond nervous that his hands are practically dripping with sweat. Your dad senses Matt’s presence immediately, “Y este pinche güey que?”

[translation: “Who’s this fucking guy?”]

“Pa! No seas feo!” you exclaim, but your dad just rolls his eyes and silently instructs you to unload the truck. He bought more alcohol for the party, because when you’re Hispanic you can never have enough.

[translation: “Pa! Don’t be ugly!”]

“Es tu novio o que?” your dad asks, grunting as he picks up two cases of beer. He rests them on his shoulders with ease, he’s so strong that it intimidates Matt. “Yes, dad. He’s my boyfriend,” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes.

[translation: “Is he your boyfriend or what?”]

Your dad, much like your brother, is also bald. The greatest differences between the two men are the wrinkles that crease near your dad’s eyes when he smiles, his long bushy beard, and his protruding beer belly. “Nice to meet you,” your dad finally directs his attention towards Matt, offering him a genuine smile as his thick accent butchers the words.

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Matt replies, picking up a case of alcohol as to make himself useful. Your dad can tell that Matt’s nervous, and even though he doesn’t like the idea of you dating, he decides to take it easy on him. He’s heard stories about Matt from your mom and by the way you look at him, your dad knows he’s the one.

As your dad enters the backyard, absolutely shocked to see Chris and Nick. Never in his life has he met a twin, let alone triplets, “Ay güey! Hay tres? No chingues, creo que me mareé.” Everyone, except for the triplets who have no idea what’s going on, laughs at your dad’s statement.

[translation: “Oh shit! There’s three? Fuck, I think I just got dizzy.”]

“I think he likes you,” you shrug, a sly smile playing on your face. Matt suddenly feels confident, all the nerves washing away.

—

As the hours pass, the party becomes less innocent as everyone becomes more and more inebriated. Matt’s chatting with some of your uncles and cousins, a cold beer resting in his hands. He’s been nursing the same bottle all night, only sipping from it occasionally.

You’re on the opposite end of the lawn, sitting at a table with your chismosa cousin. “Your man is so handsome, prima. If you find another one like that, send him my way.”

[translation: chismosa- gossiper (feminine), prima- cousin (feminine)]

“He does have a brother,” you joke, eyes still trained on Matt. You needed to get him alone in the house, away from prying eyes.

You could think of so many actual reasons you needed him right now, though. First, he was being such a gentleman with your family. He introduced himself and made small talk despite the evident language barrier. Secondly, when you served him a plate, he finished it faster than you’ve ever seen him eat anything. Then, when he got up for seconds, he moaned as the delicious flavors melted in his mouth.

Everyone loved him, and for whatever reason that turned you on. The longer you looked at him, the wetter you became. You’re clenching your thighs together, the sheer thought of him making you squirm. Before you know it, you’re excusing yourself from your cousin and walking up to Matt with a random excuse as to why you need him inside.

“Hey is everything okay?” Matt whispers, hands resting on your hips. His head is crooked down towards you, lips capturing yours briefly before resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, just missed you,” your breathy words fan his lips as you place a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth and travel them down his neck.

Although he welcomes the feeling, you’re both standing in the kitchen and if anyone were to walk in they’d catch the intimate moment. That’s the last thing he wanted, especially not after making a good first impression, “not here, baby.”

You pout, completely retracting yourself from Matt, “okay.”

“No, wait. I said not here,” he pulls you back in as he looks around the house in search of another secluded area, not wanting to completely abandon your touch.

“Then where?” your voice is sultry and inviting.

“Outside?” it’s the first thing that comes to Matt’s mind, and the suggestion breaks you from the mood.

“Outside, Matt? Really? Like what, like a dog?” you have a dumbfounded look on your face, almost like you can’t believe he even suggested it.

“No, like, in my car,” he dangles the keys in front of your face before pulling you back in for a heated kiss.

The kiss seems to convince you because he’s successfully leading you to his car. The street is dark, only illuminated by a few street lamps, but you find it with ease.

You fumble into the backseat, Matt following behind you giddily. “We have to be quick, okay?” you whisper, pulling Matt in for another kiss by the collar.

“You know I like taking my time with my girl,” you can hear the smirk in his voice, a playful scoff falling from your lips. You scoot further into the back seat, making room for Matt as he situates himself between your legs.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he brushes a stray curl away from your face, a gentle hand caressing your cheek. “Hmm yes, but I could hear it again,” you turn your face, kissing his palm.

“You look beautiful today,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss. You mould into each other, your lips fitting perfectly against his. Matt grinds himself down on you, momentarily breaking from you long enough for you to feather kisses along his neck.

With each kiss comes an affirmation, “I’m. So. Proud. Of. You.” It’s too dark to see, but you’re leaving lipstick marks all over him. The praises send blood rushing to his dick as you continue, “You did so good, papi. Just like I knew you would.”

[translation: papi- daddy (bear with me ppl)]

“Yeah? How good?” he eggs you on, relishing in all your sweet words. His hands push your dress up, the fabric scrunching up around your hips to reveal the red lace panties you wore underneath. Matt swears he’s in heaven.

“You did perfect…” your words trail off as you watch Matt remove your underwear in a daze. “How about you show me how good I did?” he grabs your waist, flipping you both over so you’re on top. You let out an excited squeal, your bare cunt coming in contact with his rough denim jeans. His dick is straining against the fabric, begging for release.

You grind onto his clothed penis, one hand resting on his chest as the other pushes your hair out of your face. Matt’s hands instinctively find your hips, a firm grip guiding your swiveling motions.

“Tell me how you want me, baby.”

“Ride me?”

As soon as he says it, you’re wiggling down onto his thighs and unbuckling his pants. Your fingers dance along his erection, teasingly tracing it. Matt bites his lip at the sight, “Please don’t tease.”

“So polite,” you giggle, finally tugging his pants down. His dick slaps against his stomach, the swollen tip already dripping with precum. Your thumb runs across the tip, spreading the lubrication along his shaft.

Matt’s a whimpering mess, propped onto his elbows to get a better view of you. When his hips subconsciously buck into your hand you decide to stop teasing and situate yourself above his crotch, dragging his penis along your wet folds before positioning it right at your entrance.

You’re going so slow, too slow, so Matt decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs handfuls of your ass, pushing you down onto his dick with force. “Matt!” you gasp, the delicious stretch sending you into overdrive.

He doesn’t respond, instead he pushes and pulls your hips so that you’re bouncing on his cock. Your breasts are jiggling rhythmically, threatening to spill out of your dress. Animalistic grunts fill the car as Matt watches your pussy wrap around him, his jaw is slack and his eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure. Your soft whimpers and moans motivate him to keep going.

“You like that?” The car is rocking with the intensity of your movements, windows becoming foggier and foggier with each breathy moan that escapes your lips.

“Yes!” your voice is high pitched and squeaky, the pleasure choking you up. “Use your words, pretty girl,” he grunts, feeling the familiar wave of pleasure approaching.

“It’s so good, papi. So, so, so good,” you babble, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. Your pussy is fluttering around him, the sensation bringing Matt closer to his breaking point.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers, large hands squeezing the skin around your hips so hard that it was sure to bruise. You place loving kisses all over his face, especially on his cheeks and the corners of his mouth.

“I love you,” you moan, chanting his name again and again right after. He’s thrusting up into you feverishly, his pace faltering slightly as you both near your climax. “I love you too, princess. So much,” his voice is strained, strong arms wrapping around your waist and holding you in place as he shoots his warm load into you. His affirmations send you into a state of euphoria as your orgasm washes over you.

He’s peppering kissing all over your chest, whimpers escaping his lips as he comes down from his high. You delicately push his hair off of his sweaty forehead, admiring him as he continues his gentle attack on your chest.

“We should probably get back, babe. They’ll be wondering where we are,” you whisper, but he doesn’t want to let go. He wants to stay like this with you forever.

“Let me enjoy this a little longer,” he murmurs, hooded eyes finally looking up at you. Your lipstick is smudged all over your mouth. “Aww baby, your lipstick is all messed up. You look so cute,” he laughs, attempting to wipe some it off but failing.

He shifts slightly, the streetlights briefly managing to illuminate his handsome face. Your kiss marks are all over, a clear visual representation of how much you love him.

“You’re wearing more of it than I am,” you joke, earning yourself a playful slap on the ass.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: clearly I couldn’t just write a smut right? Lmaoooo idk I had all the characters in my brain & it couldn’t just be smut 😭 hope u enjoy

This is so different from anything I’ve written before so lmk how yall like it & if you enjoy having Spanish in stories w/ the translations in the story💃🏻 also don’t kill me for using papi, i’d gladly call my man papi any day 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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penkura · 10 days

Text

where you belong [1/10]

Summary: As Luffy's big sister, you've viewed it to be your job to see him become King of the Pirates in place of your absent parents, even as you try to find where it is you belong in the world. You never really expected to draw the attention of Trafalgar Law in the process.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!reader

Warnings: Discussion of feelings of abandonment, age gap relationship (four years), brief secret relationship, mentions and heavy refences to sex, mentions of alcohol, typical One Piece stuff. Other warnings to be added if needed.

Notes: Hi, it's me again! Another fanfic here for you all! When this goes up, I'll be on my last day of vacation before I fly home, so I hope that you'll enjoy this! I know Straw Hat Reader x Law is popular, and I wanted to write my own, but with the Reader being Luffy's biological older sister. So for this, Reader is three years older than Luffy, 20 at the start and 22 after the timeskip, making Law four years older. I personally like older men, and age gap fics are just delicious reading material for me (within reason, nothing illegal).

Note 2: This is NOT the Law with vitiligo series. That one is actively being planned but will be separate from this one.

“And I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!!”

Luffy standing your tiny dingy boat worries you a little, but you still grin at him and nod.

“Hell yeah you will be!”

“Your turn! What’re you gonna do while we sail??”

Rolling your eyes, you make Luffy sit down while you stand up.

“Easy. I’m gonna chronicle your journey and write the greatest story ever told!”

Your younger brother watches you, tilting his head when you don’t continue. He believes there has to be more you want out of life, and tries to make you say what else is in your plans, what you have on your mind.

“And?”

Taking a breath, you nod. Of course he knew you had more, it’s Luffy, he’s been by your since he was just a few weeks old. Things you’ve said over time, to him and Ace, they’d both known for a long time what you’ve always wanted to find once you went out to sea.

“And find where it is I belong.”

+!+

Your arrival in Sabaody was a trip, in more than one way. You'd been excited to explore the place, hoping you could pawn your younger brother off on Camie, Pappag, and the others so you could have some time on your own to shop the stalls, maybe with Nami and Robin, turn it into a girl’s day. Of course, though, nothing could be so easy when your brother is the captain of the Straw Hats. You all find yourselves at the human auction hall, Nami willing to spend all the money possible to save Camie, but it makes you itchy while being there. You cringe to think about the things that happened in this place, how many people had been sold to Celestial Dragons. Your and Luffy's loss of Sabo due to the actions of one had severely soured your opinions on them.

You scan the crowd in the auction house, scratching at your arms which never seem to calm down while the rest of your crew discusses their plan to save Camie, and you end up locking eyes with another pirate captain there, unknown to you at that moment but somehow familiar.

A furry white, spotted hat, dark hair you can barely see, oddly enough you think his facial hair is attractive, and those yellow eyes that you almost would believe see right through you.

Trafalgar Law simply stares at you, realizing you’re a Straw Hat when he recognizes the rest of your crewmates. After a moment of fidgeting slightly you give him a nervous smile and a wave, which he returns with a nod before turning back to the auction stage as they continue to call bids on people.

Weird girl.

Strange guy.

Although she’s busy watching for Camie to be brought out, Nami still leans into you when you pull on her sleeve and start to whisper. “You see that guy in the white spotted hat?”

“What about him?”

“I think he’s Trafalgar Law, captain of the Heart Pirates. He’s more attractive than his poster makes him.”

Rolling her eyes, Nami pulls her arm away from you. “I don’t have time for you to be horny about some guy.”

“Wha—Nami!! I’m not! I’m just saying.”

She doesn’t listen to you anymore, focusing back on waiting for Camie and sending you to watch for Luffy, just so you don’t get distracted by the attractive enemy captain and defect to another crew.

You swear you never will, but do as you’re told to watch for your brother. Maybe one day you’ll get to properly meet Law, you’re quite curious about the young man.

+!+

“Another one?! Are you kidding me, Dragon?!”

You’re three years old when you wake up to your grandfather yelling at someone in the middle of the night. Normally Garp is sure to keep things quiet so you, his sweet little princess angel granddaughter, can sleep peacefully. He’d leave early in the morning once your nanny showed up for the day, returning before dinner so he had the evenings with you before you had to be off to bed, to do the day over again the next morning. It’s rare for you to stay up late or wake up early, but the few mornings you’ve woken up before he left were some of Garp’s favorites.

You quietly slip out of your bed, blanket in your hand as you rub your eyes and go to the door, opening it just enough to see what’s happening. Garp is there with someone in a green cloak, you can’t see the other person’s face, but listen anyway.

“He’s the last one, there won’t be anymore.”

“You said [Y/N] was going to be the only one!”

“Things happened.”

“Obviously something happened, babies don’t appear out of thin air!’

You tilt your head, the man in the cloak catching your eye, which makes you shy away behind your doorway, glancing away before back to him as he looks to Garp again.

“Take care of them.” He goes to leave and is gone before Garp can even stop him.

“Dragon, wait--! That…damn idiot.”

“Grandpa?”

Garp is surprised to hear your voice, turning around once he closes the door, giving you a smile while you start to focus on the bundle he's holding.

“Hey there, princess, what are you doing up?”

“I heard yelling…”

Nodding, Garp apologizes as he picks you up, letting you settle on his free arm. “Sorry about that, angel. Just… an unexpected visitor.”

“Oh…”

Garp sees you staring more at the bundle of blankets in his arm than at him, and he sighs a bit, taking you to the living room and setting you on the couch, before showing you how to position your arms as he sets the now squirming bundle in your arms.

“[Y/N], this is your baby brother. His name is Luffy.”

How unexpected! You’ve never thought about having a sibling, just enjoying your childhood and life with your grandpa, but seeing this tiny little boy in your just as small arms makes you grin while you look at him. Dark black hair and just as dark eyes, scrunched up little face and tiny hands in fists while he starts to fuss and whine.

“Luffy…”

+!+

Luffy…

You hope your prayers aren’t going unheard, that Luffy will return to you safely. Ace’s death has long passed, but you’re more worried about your little brother than anything else right now. You’d both been sent off to Amazon Lily by Kuma, but after they’d all agreed to let you both stay, and Boa Hancock seems to have fallen in love with him, Luffy left you there to go rescue Ace, that was nearly three weeks ago now, you think. You want him back, both of them, but want to see Luffy more than anyone else.

“Luffy’s returned, [Y/N]-san!”

“He has?!”

Marguerite nods and you quickly get up from your seat and run after her to wherever Luffy is. The newspapers kept implying he was dead, you were terrified you’d lost him and Ace that day, no updates from anyone apart from the papers cheering for the Navy’s alleged victory, for the deaths of Ace and Whitebeard. The Amazons, all so kind to let you stay while Luffy went to try and rescue Ace, were unsure of how to help you the last two weeks once Ace’s vivre card burned to nothing in your hands and made you nearly inconsolable.

Despite that, your prayers hadn’t gone unheard.

Once you’re at the beach that Luffy should be at, you notice immediately the big yellow submarine with the word DEATH on it and it freaks you out more than anything. You don’t know who owns it, but when you catch sight of someone you’ve only seen in person once, you worry that he’s done something to Luffy. You don’t say a word, but someone in a jumpsuit (boiler suit you think?) calls out “captain” just in time for him to turn towards you as you shove the older boy to the ground, placing yourself on top of him and your knife to his neck.

Part of you wishes it was poisoned right now, just in case this Trafalgar Law has done something to your brother.

“Where’s Luffy?!”

The knife you have at his neck doesn’t phase Law even a tiny bit, it’s the fact that someone so much shorter and smaller than him was able to catch him off guard and shove him to the ground the way you did. You’re angry for some reason, giving him a nasty glare but look like you’re about to cry on top of it, as he just stares at you, his crewmembers shouting for you to get off their captain before he raises a hand to stop them.

“Who—”

“Tell me, where is my brother?!”

Oh so that’s what’s wrong, that’s who you are. Whether you’re related to Luffy by blood or by ritual cup like Ace was, Law doesn’t know, but he’s sure you want reassurance you haven’t lost two brothers in one day.

“Are you [Y/N]?”

You turn your head to look over your shoulder at Jinbei, still glaring. “Who’s asking?!”

“I was friends with your brother Ace, he told me about you and Luffy while we were in Impel Down.”

“He…did?”

You’ve calmed down so quickly hearing Ace’s name, retracting your knife just slightly, while Jinbei explains things to you. You don’t move off of Law though, listening quietly, fighting the desire to cry more. You’ve done enough of that, you don’t want to anymore today.

Law doesn’t even try to move you off, knowing, like Luffy, you’re emotionally hurting right now. He doesn’t want to risk you slicing his neck either, even as Jinbei finishes telling you everything Ace did, and you still don’t move or look at Law.

“Ace hopes you find what you’re looking for.”

You clench your jaw a bit at first, before smiling sadly and nodding, thanking Jinbei for the information before Law speaks up.

“If you get off me, I can take you to Straw Hat-ya.”

You blink, finally looking back to Law, and you feel your face burn with a blush when you realize your position and scramble to get off him, apologizing the whole way while he shakes his head. Once he’s on his feet, Law let’s you onto the Polar Tang and leads you down the hallway to the infirmary, updating you on Luffy’s condition the best he can with the knowledge he has.

“If he pulls through this, the most you’ll have to worry about is his mental health.”

“Mm.” You nod, grabbing Law’s arm as he stops to open a door, making him look back at you. “I apologize for shoving you down.”

“I’ve been through worse,” Law shrugs, you could tell just from looking at him, though he does smirk a bit at you, “Never had a girl push me down and hold a poisoned knife to my neck before though.”

“It wasn’t poisoned,” you almost shout, but keep your voice down to not wake Luffy, “…this time…”

He almost laughs, but when you see Luffy finally, you’re instantly but his side, taking his hand and trying to keep yourself from crying seeing him in such a state. He’d been injured badly before, but never like this, never this close to death.

“Luffy…oh Luffy, I’m here, Lu,” you brush his bangs away from his face before kissing his forehead, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, I should’ve come with you…”

Law doesn’t bother you for the next several minutes, stepping out so you have some privacy while you make sure Luffy is all right, your quiet prayers that he wakes soon and heals quickly don’t go unheard by the surgeon of death, who thinks back to his own sister and the prayers he’d once prayed for her health as a child.

As an older sibling, he gets it. While he still doesn’t know yet if you’re related by blood or sworn siblings, he does see how much you care for Luffy, and for your sake he hopes your captain wakes sooner rather than later.

+!+

You spend the next two weeks in and out of the Polar Tang, checking on Luffy and praying over him to wake soon, Law being the one to take you in and lead you back out most of the time, even though you’ve memorized the path already. The next time you leave Luffy to continue recovering, the friends you and Luffy have made from Amazon Lily have shown up in the time you’ve been with him, bringing food and drinks for you all. As you walk over to where he’s seated, Law offers you a drink that you reject with a shake of your head, sitting on the other side of the tree and bringing your knees up to your chest, hiding your face in them.

“Any signs he’s waking up?”

Shaking your head, you sigh and lean back, looking at the people around to distract yourself from worrying over Luffy.

“That your crew?”

“Yep. All twenty of them.”

You smile a bit, watching the Heart Pirates goof off while some have their meal and share drinks. It almost reminds you of the Straw Hats and makes your heart ache from missing them deeply.

“You have a nice group there.”

“They can be a handful.”

It makes you laugh a bit, nodding before you decide to stop wallowing and get back up, standing beside Law where he stays seated.

“Think you should hold this for now.”

Law tosses Luffy’s straw hat to you, and you grit your teeth a bit while you stare at it. You had wondered where it was, seeing it wasn’t around when you were with Luffy. You hold nothing but the highest regards for Shanks, he'd been an inspiration for you and Luffy when you were children, he helped end the war and helped Law save Luffy, but how you wish he’d shown up sooner. Maybe he could’ve helped Ace too.

“Thank you, for holding this.”

“Seems important to him, he’s not Straw Hat-ya without it.”

Smiling a bit, you nod. “He’s certainly not.”

“How do you—”

“I’m his big sister. I was three when our dad dropped him off with me and grandpa. We’ve been together almost every day since.”

“I see.”

You’re not entirely sure you trust Law, despite his saving Luffy, but you’re willing to give him a shot. At least let him know a bit about your history with Ace too, since he'd been there when you hadn’t been. Where Luffy asked you not to go.

“We met Ace and another boy when I was ten, and become sworn siblings with them soon after. The other boy died a few months later,” you grip the straw hat a bit tighter, but loosen your hold after being stabbed in the hand by sharp bits of straw, “a Celestial Dragon did it, we’ve not been fans of them since, so Luffy punching that one in Sabaody felt like some payback.”

“That makes sense.”

After a few minutes of silence, you finally realize something and turn to Law, sticking your hand out for him.

“Never introduced myself. Monkey D. [Y/N]. I don’t really use my last name though.”

Law takes your hand after a moment, nodding. “Trafalgar Law.”

“Thank you for saving my baby brother.”

“Don’t thank me until he wakes up.”

As if almost on cue, the door comes flying off the Polar Tang and you both whip your heads over, Law running ahead of you as you follow, and Luffy’s the next thing to almost fly out of the ship.

“Luffy!!”

You’re about to run to him before Law grabs hold of your arm, pulling you to himself and holding you still, even while you thrash around and listen to Luffy call for Ace. It breaks your heart to see him so upset, and you just want to console him, have him do the same for you, while you both continue to grieve for Ace. But Law won’t let you go to him, fear or concern your brother might hurt you while he fights through pain and raging emotions, before he disappears into the forest.

“Luffy, come back!!”

You barely register Jinbei asking what’ll happen if Luffy continues to flail and run off like that, before Law speaks and your heart almost drops to your stomach at the thought.

“If he continues to move around like that he could reopen his wound and bleed out. He’ll die.”

Quickly you turn around and Law isn’t at all shocked to see the tears welling up in your eyes as you grip his shirt, still holding Luffy’s straw hat.

“Don’t let that happen!! Please!! He’s all I have! Luffy is my whole world, I can’t lose him!!”

Unsure of what to do, especially once you lay your head on his chest while you cry, Law hesitantly wraps his arms around you and watches Jinbei go off to Luffy. Maybe he’ll be able to calm your brother down before he really hurts or kills himself.

You’ve both been through a lot the last few weeks, losing Luffy would break you more than losing Ace did to him.

+!+

“I’m sorry I got snot on your shirt.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll wash.”

You glance away and keep your eyes averted while Law changes shirts, having taken you onto the Polar Tang while Jinbei attempts to calm Luffy down. He didn’t fully mean to bring you into his room, but he never let go of your wrist while he led through the ship, making you sit down to hopefully calm you down. You do catch sight of his tattoos, wanting to say something but you don’t want to sound like a creep or a pervert at the same time.

“Why don’t you use your last name?”

Law surprises you once he’s changed shirts, this one almost the same as the yellow one he’d been wearing, but now a dark blue with a furry, feathery collar that you really want to pet, it looks soft. But again, you don’t want to seem like a creep.

For a moment you’re quiet, before you cross your arms and lean against the wall, shrugging.

“Why should I use the name of someone who abandoned me? I only have one memory of my father, and it was when he dropped off Luffy.”

“Your grandfather is Garp, isn’t he?”

“I love my grandpa like he’s my dad…but I don’t want to use my last name.”

Law nods a bit, seeming to understand. You felt abandoned, and wanted nothing to do with your biological father, instead viewing Garp in that light, which makes sense.

He'd viewed Corazon in the same light at one point.

“Your mother?”

“I know nothing about her. It’s like…” You start to bury your head in your knees again, almost digging your nails into your arms, “Like I don’t know who I am half the time…”

He gets that too, the same feelings after Flevance, after losing Corazon and leaving the Don Quixote family, leaving Doflamingo behind. Many times of looking in the mirror and asking “who the hell am I”.

Law is about to respond, before one of his crewmembers yells for you both that Luffy and Jinbei have returned to the beach, and you’re out the door so fast he isn’t able to believe it. He follows you out, not all surprised to see you and Luffy hugging each other tightly once he exits his ship.

Your bond with Luffy would be on full display the next few days, Law truthfully does wonder if he and Lammy would’ve been the same.

+!+

“I met some people who are friends with our dad.”

“You what?”

Luffy nods, giving you this information during dinner one evening, while you stare at him with such a blank look that Law thinks you’ve completely shut down. You didn’t say too much about your dad while you relayed some of your childhood to him earlier that day, apart from your perceived abandonment, but the look you have isn’t a very happy one.

“They’re were some cool people! They helped me escape that prison and…tried to help me save Ace.”

“So they were revolutionaries.”

“Yeah, they…they said they didn’t even know we existed.” Luffy scrunches up his face a bit while you frown, then pat his head.

“I’m not surprised, Lu.”

Luffy makes a face now, one that’s almost disgusted but annoyed but upset maybe. Law swears he isn’t trying to eavesdrop, you two are sitting too close to him anyway, you’re practically pressed up against his side. You both appear to have problems with your father, after the little bit you’ve told him and how you confessed to feeling abandoned by your parents. He wonders briefly is Luffy feels the same, even as your younger brother leans against you, pushing you fully into Law’s arm and making you glance up at him apologetically. He doesn’t move, once again doesn’t push you off, instead shifting his arm enough for you to be comfortable.

When Luffy falls asleep, you finally speak again.

“Luffy met our dad once, in Loguetown”

“Oh yeah?”

“Neither of us knew until grandpa told us…he didn’t even stop to say anything to me…”

“…I’m sorry.”

You shrug, watching Luffy. It still stung to know that, to know that Dragon didn’t even seek you out when he must’ve known you were on Luffy’s crew, that you’d never leave him to do this alone. When Garp told you he’d been in Loguetown that day, it felt like a knife in your heart that you didn’t even get to see or speak to your father.

Law, while he watches you start to drift off to sleep yourself, thinks about his own dad and Corazon at the same time. He had two fathers in the end, who both cared about and loved him deeply, both wanting to protect him as long as they could. He had his mother and Lammy too, you had Luffy and Garp, but it wasn’t enough for you, and it makes sense. To not have that connection with the people who gave you life, Law can’t even imagine how difficult that must be.

He ignores the slight snickers and comments from his crew when they see you leaned against him, even has he slightly tilts his head towards yours, not going all the way to lay his against your own. Even when Shachi makes a small comment about ‘love’ being in the air at Amazon Lily, Law doesn’t open his eyes to respond or even Shambles his friend away.

You won’t see each other again for a long time after this, most likely, so he’s willing to give you some comfort and allow his crew to see him a little softer than normal.

+!+

“Bye, thanks for your help, Traffy!”

Law tries not to grimace at the nickname Luffy’s given him over the last few days, nodding to you both as his crew also shouts goodbyes and wave to you both, you personally sad to see them leave. You’d spent so much time getting to know them while taking care of Luffy, that it felt like you were losing friends again. You’d probably see them one day, maybe as friends but maybe as foes, yet, you’d like to see more of Law and learn about him like he had you.

Luffy notices your face, the sad look it has, then looks back to the Heart Pirates as they start to disappear below deck. You’ve already chosen to stay on Amazon Lily the next two years and learn from the women there how to fight, but even watching you the last couple days, he could see your heart wasn’t in it. You more so loved using your knives and making poisons, he remembers the one he and Ace mistakenly drank thinking it was lavender tea from Makino. You weren’t an archer or a swordswoman, you much prefer close combat and paralyzing your enemies. Your work during Enies Lobby earned you your $25 million berri bounty, the Navy having trouble recreating antidotes from the one you’d left with a knocked out marine, they knew you’d be trouble one day.

With all that in mind, Luffy sneaks up behind you, wrapping his arms around you in what you first believe to be a hug, before he lifts you up and you look at him. He’s got a grin that concerns you greatly as the color drains from your face.

“Luffy.”

He giggles a bit, nodding at you to brace yourself.

“Luffy, don’t you dare.”

“Have fun with Traffy for two years!!!”

He doesn’t give you anymore room to argue, flinging you towards the Polar Tang, making you yell for Law to pay attention, and he barely does in time to catch you, knocking both of you to the ground, several Heart Pirates making sure both of you are all right and that Law didn’t hit his head on anything.

You’re up and holding onto the railing, yelling at Luffy, “You’re an idiot!!!”

He pretends he can’t hear you, waving widely and shouting another goodbye, but to you this time.

Once Law is sitting up, realizing what the hell has happened, he sighs a bit while you look back to him.

“I’m sorry, Trafalgar. You can turn back and I’ll beat some sense into him!”

One of his crewmembers, you’re pretty sure it’s Shachi, leans down to ask him, “Should we? Kinda seems like Straw Hat wants us to take her along.”

He sighs, taking his hat off and running his hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“You can stay.”

“…huh?”

You tilt your head in confusion, Law doesn’t think it’s cute at all no matter what that weird feeling in his chest is, while he stands up and nods at you.

“The Amazons might get angry if we return without permission, so we’ll just…take you along…and then bring you to Sabaody.”

Blinking several times, you’re still confused while some of his crew laugh, Penguin coming up to pat you on the back.

“You’re a temporary Heart Pirate! We’ll take care of you!”

Nodding, Law turns to go below deck.

“Say your goodbye, we’ll be going under shortly.”

While the rest of them follow after their captain, you turn back and see Luffy still waving at you, which makes you sigh and shake your head. You do smile though, you had wanted to continue getting to know Law and his crew, this was a perfect opportunity, and maybe he could help you with creating effective antidotes for your poisons.

“Luffy! Love you, see you in two years!”

“Okay!!!!”

Once you go below deck, Penguin being the one to wait for you in order to close the door properly, he starts to show you around a bit, the rest of the crew happy to see you’re staying with them for now, while Law keeps a slight distance unless he’s asked about something. You looking around and being so impressed by the submarine caused another weird feeling in his chest, and he fights to ignore it, especially when you thank him for letting you stay with a smile, which he waves off with an “It’s nothing”.

It's going to be an interesting two years.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #where you belong #fem!reader

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beautifuldisaster88 · 4 months

Text

Pairing: Boyfriend!Rafe Kook!Girlfriend

Summary: Rafe has been in a relationship with his best friend, Topper's, younger sister for four years. When Rafe reluctantly decides to agree to letting his girlfriend go to a party with Topper, without Rafe, he makes Topper swear to not let her out of her sight. When Topper doesn't follow through with the promise, Rafe receives a call that he never wanted to receive.

Warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol, mentions of almost rape, slight mention of violence. I think that's about it. Reader is female, but no mention of Y/N or readers name just the pet names Rafe calls her.

A/N: This is not proofread, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. I wrote this in like 15 minutes, after it randomly came to me... Like half my writing 😂 there's no smut in this. FYI, for this little piece, Rafe is 21 and reader is 18.

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Rafe angrily slammed open the door and came barging in, veins popping out and huffing. Topper opened his mouth to say something but was quickly cut off by Rafe putting his hand up.

"Don't." Rafe seethed, shaking his finger in Topper's face. His jaw clenched and his usual piercing blue eyes were full of rage. "Just tell me where the fuck my girlfriend is!"

"In her bedroom with Sarah. Look man, I fucked up and I'm sorry. I let her out of my sight for like 20 maybe 30 minutes." Topper began, his words only adding fire to Rafe's already burning rage. His mind kept playing back to the phone conversation he'd had earlier with his girlfriend. A call that will forever haunt his mind.

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~Hours Earlier~

Rafe was relaxing on the couch, watching some movie that his girlfriend had been going on about for weeks. Of course, Rafe being Rafe, he just rolled his eyes saying how you couldn't pay him to watch another fucking chick flick. Yet, here he was, home alone, snuggling with his girlfriend's favorite soft and fuzzy black blanket that had little cherries printed on it, loving how it smelled just like his girlfriend.

He'd never admit it, but he was really into the movie, finding himself getting invested in the relationships and friendships and all the drama. The sound of his phone vibrating beside him made Rafe side eye the phone, his brows furrowed together when he saw his girlfriend's face on the screen and her nickname 'Bunny❤️‍🔥'. It's not that he wasn't happy to see her calling because he was.

The problem was, his girlfriend was supposed to be out having fun with her older brother, Topper, who also happened to be Rafe's best friend. Rafe had business to take care of and wouldn't have been able to make it to the party until late, which is why Topper swore he'd keep an eye on her. Rafe told his girlfriend to call him if there was any trouble, and made Topper to promise to bring her back to Tannyhill after the party. Seeing her name on his phone instantly had Rafe regretting to ever agree to let his girlfriend go to a party without him.

"Is everything okay, bunny?" Rafe asked, trying to hide the concern in his voice. His knuckles were already turning white from gripping the side of the couch.

"R-Rafey.." His girlfriend slurred her words on the other end of the phone, sounding completely out of it. "I don't feel good... Make it stop spinning.. c-can't find you.. Rafey..."

"Baby? What did you take and where the hell is Topper!?" Rafe flew up off the couch, pacing back and forth as he ran his hand over his buzz cut out of habit. He was already seeing red, his girl was in trouble and he wasn't there to protect her. Damnit, why the fuck did he agree to letting her go without him!? This is why he doesn't let her go to parties without him. People are fucking irresponsible enough and when you add drugs and alcohol, they become fucking idiots.

"Topper... Dunno... h-he went upstairs with Sarah.. so sleepy, Rafey... J-just gonna take a nap." His girlfriend's words were even more slurred, causing Rafe to panic.

He was out the door in a flash, running to his truck. After jerking the door open and hopping inside, he fumbled trying to get the key in the ignition. "Fuck!" He yelled, hitting the steering wheel before trying again. The engine roared to life and Rafe took off like a bat out of hell, connecting his phone to the Bluetooth.

"Listen to me, baby. I need you to stay awake, yeah. I'm coming for you, just focus on my voice, okay, bunny? I ne-"

Rafe was cut off by the sound of a male's voice and he knew damn well it wasn't Topper's.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? Damn, you are really fucked up ain't ya, darlin'. Don't worry I'mma take real good care of you, baby." The male said, making Rafe's blood run cold and then begin to boil. He yelled his girlfriend's name over and over, but got no response. All he heard were her weak calls and begging the guy to get his hands off of her, before the call ended.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Rafe screamed, pounding his fists against the steering wheel.

He had to get to his girlfriend immediately. Shit, he forgot where Topper said the party was at. This could not be happening. Not his girlfriend, anyone but his bunny.

Just as Rafe was about to call Topper, his best friends name popped up on the screen in the middle console of Rafe's truck. Rafe immediately answered it, yelling at Topper.

"You fucking swore you wouldn't let her out of your fucking sight, Top! What the fuck is wrong with you!? Where the fuck are you guys!? I just received the worst fucking call of my life! My girlfriend, your fucking sister, Topper is completely out of it and who the fuck knows what someone slipped her! Wanna hear the worst fucking part!? Some asshole thinks he can take advantage of MY girlfriend! I swear I'm going to fucking kill him!"

"Rafe, look I know, I fucked up and I feel awful. Trust me, man. I've got her, she's with me and Sarah and I'm taking her home. I walked in just in time, that asshole didn't touch her. I-I can't believe I let my baby sister almost get..." Topper couldn't even finish his sentence, feeling the bile threaten to come up.

"I'll deal with you tomorrow. Right now, I need to make sure my girl is okay. I'm on my way to your place." Rafe ended the call, driving as fast as he could towards the Thornton residence.

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Rafe took one big step, putting his face in Topper's. "I don't want to hear your fucking excuses! The one fucking time I trust you to keep her safe when I'm not there, and this shit happens! You're lucky I don't fucking kill you, Top. Like I said, I'll deal with you tomorrow. My girl needs me, not you or my fucking sister."

Rafe pushed past Topper, purposely slamming into his shoulder as he ran up the stairs. Opening his girlfriend's bedroom door, he immediately glared at Sarah, clenching his jaw and balling up his fist. "Out." Was all he said, earning a few sorry's from his sister, which made him scoff.

As soon as Sarah left, Rafe locked the bedroom door behind her. His heart wrenched at the sight of his beautiful angel, seeing her smeared mascara from crying. He immediately walked over to the bed and climbed in beside her, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend and pulling her against his chest.

"I'm so sorry that I wasn't there to protect you, bunny. I promise, this shit will never happen again. Tonight was the first and last time you go to a party without me. I've never been as scared as I was tonight. The thought of you being hurt, and another man putting his grimy hands and shit on you... Fuck, I'm never going to forgive myself. I'm sorry, baby. I love you, you know that right?"

She shifted in his arms, turning to face Rafe. Taking one of her small hands, she placed it on the side of his face, her bloodshot eyes staring into Rafe's ocean blue eyes. A soft smile formed on her perfect plump lips. "Hey, look at me." She spoke softly and Rafe looked into her eyes, leaning into her soft and warm touch. "Don't you dare blame yourself. None of this is your fault. Someone must have slipped something into my drink, but Topper found me in time and forced me to throw up. Rafe, I would never blame you. I know that you love me, and I love you. Don't worry, I never want to go anywhere without you again."

Rafe chuckled, feeling a bit more relieved. He placed a kiss on her forehead, then both her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. It was crazy, how his whole world fit perfectly in his arms. Sure, he had everything and lived in a mansion, but if you asked Rafe Cameron where home was to him, he'd answer with the same answer he'd given the last four years... his girlfriend. All the money, the power, everything that Rafe had, none of it meant anything, not if he didn't have her by his side. She was without a doubt, the calm to his storm, a true angel. She was his, and he would always protect her at all costs.

It goes without saying that as soon as Rafe found out who the guy was that tried to take advantage of his girlfriend, went 'missing' two weeks later. Nobody messes with his girl and gets away with it.

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #he's so fucking hot #that should be me #boyfriend material #protective boyfriend #obx #rafe x reader

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not-magdi · 2 months

Text

-first kiss / pablo gavi

Warnings: None / sorry for any mistakes I'm too lazy to proofread it currently

Words: 1.3k

Reading Time: 5min 20 sec

A/N

I've had this in my drafts fo sooo long now it's unbelievable. But I'm done now so yeyyy!! Hope you enjoy it

Love you guys, Magdi

To celebrate Barça's win and Pablo's reappearance at the stadium today, Pedri invited the whole team to a get-together at his house after the game. And like every time Pablo got invited somewhere, he asked you to come with him as his plus one.

You were always Pablo's plus one at any event, it didn't matter if it was a fancy gala or a simple team dinner, you were always by his side, and you never really gave it much thought.

"Y/N, hurry up!" Pablo screamed from downstairs. You had to drive to Pedri's house as Pablo still wasn't allowed to, which meant he had been waiting for the last 30 minutes for you to get ready.

"Jesus Christ! I'm comming, ok!" Adding the last bit of shimmer to your eyes, you make your way downstairs, completely missing the way Pablo's eyes nearly pop out as he sees you.

You see. Pablo has been trying to muster up the courage to ask you out for about a year now, but every time he comes close to telling you, he chickens out. Because the last thing he wants is for a lifelong friendship to end just because of an immature crush.

So, for the last year, all of your friends had to painfully watch how you two would pin after each other. Then, contrary to Pablo's belief, you weren't any better than him. The slight difference between you is that your crush has been going on since you were twelve.

You managed to hide your feelings pretty well, or so you thought. The truth was everybody knew you liked Pablo except himself. Which was pretty confusing for everybody as you were "Looking at him with heart eyes," in Aurora's words.

Anyways, back to now. After some slight arguing over what music you should play, you finally drove off. The car ride was silent, not an uncomfortable kind of silence, more a comforting kind. You were both recharging your social batteries again before meeting his teammates.

Something you and Pablo have in common is not being the most talkative on the planet, you two prefer to be affectionate rather than talk someone's ear off.

*Timeskip cause I'm lazyy*

After arriving, Fermín dragged Pablo away, wanting to talk about "football stuff". You didn't mind it, knowing Pablo missed his teammates terribly, so you let him be, getting yourself something to drink and sitting down next to Pedri, who greeted you with a big smile.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you! How are you doing?"

You fell into a relaxed conversation with Pedri about his season, how his brother is doing and many other things. You were finishing your fourth drink when Pedri bid his goodbye to find Ferran, you gave him a lazy smile and said bye.

You start to feel the alcohol in your system and decide to look for Pablo. You haven't seen him since you arrived, and that was 3 hours ago. With a slight sway in your walk, you make your way around the house, trying to find him.

You nearly gave up, wanting to call him instead, you saw him outside, sitting on a lounge chair with Fermín deep in conversation. Carefully opening the door, you step out, sneaking up behind Pablo to scare him.

"Hey guys!"

"Ahh ... Dios Y/N!"

Pablo nearly falls out of his seat, screaming like a little girl. Fermín still sits in his chair, holding one hand to his chest, looking at you with a shocked face. You, on the other hand, nearly fall over laughing, holding onto the wall beside you.

"Oh my god! Y-you guys should have seen your faces, hahah!"

Sitting up again, Pablo looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, grumbling something under his breath. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm friends with you."

Fermín starts to laugh when he sees your shocked expression. "Excuse me! I'm awesome!"

Pablo raises his eyebrows at you and says nothing, his expression already tells you enough.

You cuddle yourself next to Pablo on the lounge chair and throw your legs on Pablo's lap. Almost naturally, his hands find your legs and start to stroke them.

You two completely miss how Fermín watches the whole scene with a knowing smile, too engrossed in each other to notice anything.

------

It was currently half past twelve at night, and at some point, the topic of the conversation changed to first kisses.

You now know that Fermín had his first kiss under the bleachers of their old training grounds as children. You laughed at him for the next ten minutes, asking if it could be even more cliché.

"Okok, stop laughing. Was your first kiss any better?" You heard Fermín ask between your giggles.

"How should I now. I never had one." You just blurted out casually.

"What!!" Both men screamed in unison.

You were startled by their sudden exclamation nearly falling back with your chair.

"Dios mio, what's wrong with you two?!"

Fermín was the first one to find his voice again, "So you're telling me that you never kissed anybody in your entire life? Like ever?"

Taking a sip of your beer, you answer, "Jep, never."

Both men now look at you like they've seen a ghost, mouth hanging wide open, eyes staring into your soul.

"Guys it's no big deal really, calm down." You couldn't contain your laughter any longer as you kept looking into their faces, they looked absolutely ridiculous.

After a few minutes they calmed down again and the conversation flowed easily, well you and Fermín talked, Pablo kept quiet the whole time looking like he was lost in his own world.

-----

After some time, Fermín left, mumbling something about being way too cold. You didn't pay him much attention your focus shifted to Pablo a long time ago.

After Fermín left, there was silence between you and Pablo, not an uncomfortable one, more a comforting and calm one.

"Is it true that you've never been kissed?" Pablo breaks the silence.

"Yes, you idiot, why would I lie about something like this?" You laugh at his question.

"I don't know, the tequila scrambeled my brain."

Giggling, you throw your legs over his and make yourself more comfortable.

"You know, I've always imaged you would be my first kiss."

You were talking so quietly Pablo thought he heard you wrong, but he realised quickly what you said and looked at you with a gaze you couldn't read.

"Why did you never tell me?"

"Well, what did you want me to say? Hi Pablo, nobody ever kissed me. And I know we have known each other since we were 5 but would you want to? Yeah right."

"I would have ..."

Looking up from your lap, you see his brown teddy bear eyes looking at you.

"Wha-"

"I would have kissed you."

His tone and his expression told you he meant what he said. You didn't know if it was the alcohol or something else, but a wave of confidence hit you, which led you to ask him, "Would you also kiss me now?"

Pablo said nothing but started to lean in, grabbing your chin with his hand and making you look into his eyes.

"I would love to." He whispered before leaning in, softly connecting his lips with yours.

The feeling of Pablo's soft lips against yours was addicting. You never wanted it to stop, ever again.

Sadly, the lack of air in your lungs made you two pull away from each other, taking a deep breath while gazing into each other's eyes.

"And, was that ok for your first kiss?"

"Ok, it was magical!" You exclaimed, linking your hands behind his neck.

"That's good because I was not planning to stop at one kiss. Is that ok with you?"

A blush made its way onto your cheeks as you heard him say that, nodding you hide your burning cheeks in the crook of his neck.

"Yeah, I'd really like that."

"Good, then come here."

-------

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !!! ❤️

#pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #pablo gavi oneshot #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi #pablo gavi x y/n #gavi x you #fc barcelona #spain #barca

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jxmis · 1 year

Text

Second Choice

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're tired of always being the second choice... even in your own relationship you were the backup.

Warning(s): Angst with no happy ending

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Inspired by the Little Women scene of Laurie and Amy but with my own twist <3

(gif not mine! credit to the owner!)

You knew what everyone thought of you. Oh poor Y/N, always the second choice. Her being the second choice in her family, her brother always being the first and favorite. Always being the second best in her class in the Academy. And even her boyfriend’s second choice. How pathetic of you. You know that.

Of course, he’d rather be with the beautiful blue eyed dirty blonde haired woman. She’s not only beautiful, she’s smart, amazing at her job, a great friend, and everyone loves her. You on the other hand, you’re just… you. You will never compare to Jennifer Jareau.

It shocks you how Spencer Reid even noticed you at all. Sure, you work with him, but you never would’ve guessed that he'd ever want a romantic relationship with you. You’re not blind or naive, everyone practically knows how Reid is in-love with JJ. You witnessed it from the very beginning when JJ had joined the team as the media liaison. But they never really happened, to your surprise.

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to go on a date with Spencer. That one date turned into two… three and eventually, he had asked you to be his girlfriend. You thought that maybe… just maybe he could love you the way he loves JJ. That he’d look at you the way he looks at her. You thought that you could help him move on. However, that wasn’t the case.

It’s been almost a year since you two have been together. It never even feels like you really had all of him. That's because… you never did. Unlike JJ, who always had all of him, she has his full respect, trust, and most of all… love.

You can’t help but see looks of sympathy from others. Even they notice the way Spencer would sneak glances at JJ, how he looks at her, hugs her, how his smile would grow brighter and bigger because of her. You’re tired. Tired of competing for Spencer’s love. You should've known this was a battle you’d lose. Of course, you have no resentment towards JJ. She’s with Will, you know how much she loves her husband and Henry. You know her love for Spencer will always be platonic. The only one to blame is yourself. Though, you can’t help this burning anger towards Spencer. For- For leading you on, making you let him in when he couldn’t even do the same. Mainly, for making you fall for him.

You’re sick of being the second choice. Today will be the last day and you vow to yourself that you’ll never let anyone make you feel that way again. You deserve better. This ends today.

———

You had told Spencer earlier how you wanted to talk after this case. Well, the case was over, it was a tough case and as much as you’d like to be comforted by Spencer’s arms you know alcohol will be what will comfort you tonight instead. However, you all had landed almost 20 minutes ago and most are preparing to leave. Instead of Reid doing the same thing, he’s rather smiling and laughing with JJ.

“Spencer, let’s go,” you called out. To no one’s surprise, you were ignored. You see JJ motioning for Spencer to go but resulting in the opposite.

“Give me a sec! I’ll meet you at the car!” Spencer responds back. The urge you had to yell, but instead, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down. You put on a fake smile and indeed go down to the parking garages. Tears started to run down your face as you head to the car. Instead of waiting for Spencer, you drove off.

Right as you had arrived in your shared apartment with Spencer which was originally his until he had suggested you move in with him. You had honestly thought this act of his meant he’s finally moving on, but it was another misleading act of his.

You began to pack all your stuff as fast as you could wanting to leave this place as soon as possible. When you open the door to leave, you’re surprised to see the person about to knock.

“Derek? W- What are you doing here?” You ask very confuse.

He raises his eyebrows, “You goin somewhere?” You look down, your eyes becoming filled with tears dying to fall.

“You got a place to stay tonight?” Your head snaps at his question. Your mouth opens and closes but couldn’t get a word out. “C’mon, you can stay with me till you find a place.”

———

You and Morgan arrive at the BAU the next morning together. You both were bickering about the movie you two had watched last night. Watching a movie and drowning both yourselves with ice cream was a way Morgan hoped to make you feel better. It honestly did help along with him listening to you. There was not a single moment did you see or even feel judgment coming from him. He’s a great friend. You’ll miss him. No, you’re going to miss everyone.

Unfortunately, your bickering and thoughts were interrupted by the one person you wanted to avoid. “Y/N!” Spencer calls out as he speeds to you. “W- What happened last night?! You- you left me! A- And all your stuff… they’re gone!” Spencer’s reaction genuinely shocked you. It actually seems like he cares.

You snap out of it and scoff, “I’m surprised you even noticed.” You walk past him and head to your desk. Now, all eyes are on you both, but they don’t forget to eye Morgan. All he does is put both his hands up, not giving them anything.

“What’s going on with you, Y/N!” That was the tipping point for you. You turn to the brunette and drag him to Hotch’s office, closing the doors. You were so angry, you didn’t even think to close the blinds.

The rest of the team couldn’t help but watch you both obviously having an argument. They’ve never seen you so angry… so full of rage. They’d be lying if they didn’t think it was bound to happen at some point, they’re profilers for god sakes! JJ is standing there and can’t help but feel guilty as she watches the scene. Morgan sensing this, he puts his hand on her shoulder and whispers, “Don’t go blaming yourself now, JJ. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m tired, Spencer! I’m tired of us, I can’t do this anymore. We- we’re… We’re done.” Spencer stands there in shock whilst you head to the door so close to heading out.

“That’s it? You’re just going to give up on us?” You couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from you.

“Give up on us? Are you serious right now, Spencer?” You turn facing the clueless brunette. “I had done nothing but hold on for dear life!”

“Well, you breaking up with me with no explanation really shows you holding on to us, huh?” At this point, you didn’t have it in you to yell and fight anymore. He wants a reason, you’ll give him one.

“I’ve always been the second choice in everything in my life. My family, past relationships, even the academy! You knew that… I told you.. Trusted you with that information. God, you even promised that you wouldn’t make me feel like that.” You sigh, “The problem is that you did, Spencer… you did.”

The tone of your voice… so broken… so fragile breaks Spencer’s heart. The door being open, the team could now hear the conversation and it kills them to see you in such a state. “Y/N…” but before Spencer could say anything, you raise your hand up not wanting him to interrupt.

“I will not be the person you settle for just because you cannot have her. I won’t. I won’t do it.” Tears now escape your eyes much to your dismay. You didn’t want Spencer or the others seeing you cry. You start to back away, “I won’t- not when I’ve spent my entire life loving you.” With that, you leave Hotch’s office, sadly, only to be met by looks of pity from the rest of the team.

You wipe your tears. You head to your desk grabbing your belongings and walk past all of them, not once daring to look them in the eye knowing what their facial reactions already look like. Even though you hear your name being called out by some of them, you continue your way not once ever looking back.

You thought you could stay at least the rest of the week to say your proper goodbyes to the team. You’ve been with most of them since the beginning. They were basically your family, it was only fair to have a proper farewell. But now, it’s too late for that, you can’t bring yourself to step foot in there anymore. Maybe someday, but for now, you’re okay with how things were left. You’re left with only sending them a letter as your goodbye. Your only hope is that they’d understand. You grabbed your stuff at Morgan’s and got everything in your car. You email Hotch your transfer request. You don’t know what’s next for you, but you couldn’t wait. This time, it’ll be different, it’ll be better.

#spencer reid #mathew gray gubler #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #derek morgan #jennifer jareau

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jessmaybank · 1 year

Text

My best friends brother series; Part 4 - Ex’s & O’s

Series masterlist

Outer banks masterlist

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x fem! Kook reader.

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: after making things right with Sarah, a ghost from your past comes back to haunt you.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, alcohol use, mentions of violence, SMUT, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink.

Authors note: for any Drew fans who haven’t seen hellraiser yet - do it. The gif explains it all, Thank me later.

A couple days had past since everything kicked off at Wards charity event, and you were a mess. Days seemed to be going slower, and you had nothing to occupy yourself except your depressing thoughts.

The day after the event, you woke up to a text from Rafe asking to see you, but you ignored him. The only Cameron you wanted to hear from right now was Sarah. You had been texting her like crazy, eager to make things right with your best friend.

Currently, you sat in your garden, making the most of the beaming summer heat that graced obx every year. You went to change the song on your playlist when you see a text from Sarah, asking you to come over to talk things out.

You want to jump for joy when you see her message, but you don’t. Instead, your insides twist at the thought of running into Rafe at the house.

You didn’t know what to think about the situation between you and him. You kept thinking about what he might of said if Sarah didn’t catch you both together. Part of you wanted nothing more than to hear him confess his feelings to you, if he even had any. But your naive nature was always what got you in these situations, and he had the biggest fuck-boy reputation out of anyone else in Kildare.

You text Sarah you’ll be there in 20, and head upstairs to get ready before driving to the Cameron house.

Your heart is beating out of your chest as you approach the front door, before giving it a half-hearted knock.

After about 30 seconds, the door swings open, and you turn your head in an apprehensive manner. But it’s not who you expected.

Nervousness flutters in your chest at the man who stands before you, but you don’t show it. Your features harden as you peer up at Rafe, your cold exterior giving nothing away.

Rafe’s eyes soften as he gazes down at you, licking his cherry red lips with anticipation. He has felt nothing but guilty for the past few days, which is an unfamiliar feeling for him. This isn’t the first time he has had a fling with one of Sarah’s friends, as the girl is very popular. But this is the first time he has felt bad about it.

Your emotionless features cause his heart to beat faster, and he almost didn’t want to speak.

“Hey-“

“I’m here for Sarah. Is she in?” You say bluntly.

Your not sure why you said that, you knew she was here. But you could never think straight around Rafe.

You observe the way that hurt washes over his face as you finish your sentence, his eyes finding solace in staring at his feet. You’ve never seen him so doleful, and a twang of guilt rushed through you.

“Yeah, upstairs” he says, moving to the side to let you through the door.

His familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood engulfs you as your walk past him, and it takes everything in you not to look into his eyes. You couldn’t even trust yourself to do that, scared you’ll fall straight into his trap again. You couldn’t let that happen.

You ignore your urges and walk up the stairs to Sarah’s room, before knocking on the door and entering when you hear her say “come in”.

“Hey” you say, fidgeting with your fingers before joining her sitting on her bed.

“Hey” she says, pursing her lips together. After about 10 seconds of silence, you decide to speak.

“Sarah I’m so sorry for everything. I should of told you about Rafe, but to be honest there’s not really much to tell. We slept together, once. And after…well he treated me like he treats every other girl in Kildare. And that’s why we were arguing at your dads party”

Sarah doesn’t respond, the cogs in her mind turning as she takes in the information she’s just been told.

“It was a mistake, and I regret it. I’m sorry for being an idiot-“

“Oh my god, relax, please. You look like your about to have an aneurysm” she says, a small smile creeping up on her face.

“I think I might be” you chuckle. And just like that, the nerves in you subsided as you giggled with your best friend.

“Look, what you did was shitty…and the thought of you with my brother is just gross” she starts, cringing as she finishes her sentence.

“But I’m sorry I got so mad. You can do what you want, just be careful okay?” She says, a sincere look spread across her sun kissed features.

“I will, I love you” you say, a cheesy grin on your face.

“I love you too. And I’m going to kill Rafe for thinking he can treat you like that”

Sarah notices the tinge of pain in your expression at the mention of how Rafe treated you, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she pulls you in for a hug, and you hug her back immediately.

A few hours later, you and Sarah get invited round to the chateau for a couple drinks with John B and JJ, and you all end up at some kook party. Thankfully, it seemed Sarah didn’t mention your shared escapade with her brother to your other friends. You knew how the pogues felt about Rafe, and you knew they wouldn’t be happy.

Seeing as John B and Sarah were in their own little bubble whenever they were together, you spent most of your time tonight drinking with JJ. You two had been close for a while now, and you both had your best friends to thank for it.

“Oh my god. Jake’s here” you say, eyes widening as you grab JJ’s arm to get his attention.

Jake, your recent ex of one year, walked through the door and past the couch that you and JJ are sat on, with a girl clung onto his arm. You recognised the girl as she was the one he cheated on you with. The room was packed, so he didn’t notice you, which you were thankful for.

Looking at him now and seeing him for who he is, you couldn’t believe you wasted a year of your life with him. You internally cringed at the thought.

“Want me to rough him up?” He says, a playful look on his face as his eyes wander to your ex. Although it sounded like he was only joking, you knew he would do it for you if you asked. JJ has always been loyal to the people he loves.

“It’s a tempting proposal Maybank, but no. He’s not even worth the calories you would burn by punching him, trust me” you say, earning a small chuckle from the blonde beside you.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I know Jake never deserved you from the start. But…you don’t seem as upset as I thought you would given that your going through a break up”

You had no idea how to respond to JJ’s statement. Although you were pretty drunk, you were not about to tell him the truth, which was that Rafe had already replaced the void that Jake left, wether you would like to admit it or not.

“I don’t know… I guess I always knew he wasn’t right for me. And when I found out he cheated, I suppose I actually felt a bit relieved. I had an excuse not to be with him anymore” you say, a sincere look in your eyes as you fidget with your fingers.

JJ nods his head in understanding, bringing his beer bottle up to his lips and taking a swig of the cheap beverage.

“I need to pee. I’ll be back” you say, finishing your drink before standing up from the couch, not bothering to wait to hear a response from JJ.

After you use the bathroom upstairs, you walk back down the staircase. You take advantage of your high position on the stairs and notice that JJ is no longer sitting on the couch. You set off to go find him, but once you reach the bottom of the stairs you come to a halt.

Jake stands before you, his brown eyes studying your features before trailing his eyes up and down your body, a smug smirk on his face. Your stomach churned with disgust as you look up at the boy who you once thought you loved. You noticed his new girlfriend was no where to be seen.

“Get out of my way” you say, trying to push past him.

“Woah woah woah, your not ganna say hi to your boyfriend?” He tuts, grabbing your arm so you couldn’t move, and snaking his other arm around your waist. You were extremely uncomfortable at this point. His grip was tight, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t a little scared.

“Ex. Ex boyfriend. Now let go of me Jake” you say, a pleading look in your eyes as your urge him to leave you alone.

You struggle in his grip before finally being able to break free, and you try to create as much space in between you both as possible by stepping backwards. Being in the drunk state you were in, you forget there were stairs behind you, and you tripped.

You expected to fall onto the bottom of the staircase, but you never did. Instead, you felt a pair of muscular arms wrap around you, lifting you back up so you were steady.

“Rafe” you breathe out, mouth agape as you peer up at him. You hated how happy you felt to see him.

He doesn’t respond as he turns his attention to Jake, retracting his arms from your waist and stepping in front of you to stand chest to chest with your ex.

“Have we got a problem?” Rafe says, sending him a hard glare. If looks could kill, Jake would definitely be dead.

Jake scoffs. “What? No I-“

“See I think we do. She told you to leave her alone. If you don’t want to get the shit beaten out of you, I suggest you listen to her. Understand?” He says sternly, his low tone sending shivers down your spine. You could imagine how intimidated Jake felt.

Your ex nods his head reluctantly, his jaw clenched as he begins to walk off, but Rafe grabs his shoulder.

“You do so much as touch her again, and I will kill you with my bare hands” he says lowly, his features hardened to show he means every word. And he did.

Jake shrugs off Rafe’s arm, giving him no response as he walks into the crowds of people. You prayed that was the last time you would interact with him tonight.

Rafe turns his body to face you, your eyes immediately looking up at him through your eyelashes. His ocean blue orbs cast a spell on you as you stood before him, and you couldn’t help the smile that creeped up on your glossy lips.

“What?” He questions, his face softening as he turns all his attention to you. He was so happy to see you smile.

“Now I see where you get your reputation from” you say, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“It’s not my fault, that guy has an extremely punch-able face”

You let out a little chuckle as a response. Truth be told, watching Rafe defend you so dominantly turned you on, a lot. The familiar ache between your thighs was present, and you pressed your legs together for some friction.

You were wearing a skirt, so Rafe noticed this, his mouth agape as he trailed his eyes down your body, watching the way your legs shut and you squirmed ever so slightly. This time, you enjoyed being watched.

The small action sent his thoughts into a frenzy, and when your eyes met with his again, you noticed the way his eyes had darkened.

“Plus…knowing that he’s touched you the way I’ve touched you…” he starts, stepping towards you and tangling his hand in your hair. He observed the way you drew in a sharp breath.

“It makes me want to put a bullet in his brain” he says quietly, so no one else can hear. If your insides weren’t burning before, they definitely were now.

“It does?” You question, biting your lip with anticipation.

He nods his head in response.

“He never touched me like you do, Rafe” you say seductively, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“No?” He says, the smallest of smirks playing on his red lips as he brings his finger to your chin, forcing you to lock gazes with him. You felt like you were melting under his touch.

“The things you do to me. The way you touch me. The way you make me feel. I’ve never experienced it before” you say, your vulnerability on display as you pour your heart out to your best friends brother.

“Yeah?” He says, using his hand that was entangled in your hair to massage your scalp, making you relax under his touch.

“Yeah”

“The more you speak, the harder it is for me to control myself around you” he says.

“Wanna go upstairs?” You say innocently, but the look on your face was anything but innocent.

It didn’t take long for Rafe to nod his head as he begins guiding you upstairs, taking your small hand and intertwining it with his own.

When you were halfway up the stairs, you turned your head to scan the perimeter. You saw JJ on the couch, talking to a girl, and you were glad he was distracted. You couldn’t see Sarah or John B, so they must of been outside still.

Rafe leads you into an empty bedroom, shutting the door behind both of you. Immediately, he grabs the back of your thighs, giving them a light squeeze before lifting you up and wrapping your legs around him.

He leads you to the bed, before throwing you on it, and he doesn’t miss the way your breasts bounce as you hit the mattress.

In seconds, he’s on top of you, and his lips decide to claim yours. His tongue roams around your mouth as you melt under his touch, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, occasionally pulling at his dirty blonde locks. He groans into your mouth at the sensation, and you swear that every time you kiss Rafe, it feels like the very first time.

Rafe pulls away, bringing his mouth down to your neck, nipping and biting at your skin before peppering kisses all the way down your body, and you whimper under his touch. When he gets to your waist, he starts to pull your skirt down, pulling it off your legs and discarding it somewhere in the room.

“Look at you, sweet thing” he says, admiring how good you look beneath him. His praise only made the ache in your pussy grow even more, and you were beginning to grow desperate.

As if he could read your mind, he hooks his fingers under your lace thong and drags the thin material down your legs.

He wastes no time in kneeling down and spreading your legs, hooking his arms under your thighs to pull your dripping heat closer to his cherry red lips. You let out a heavenly moan as he licks a stripe up your wet folds.

“Mm, you taste sweet too” he murmurs, before latching his tongue onto your clit.

You didn’t respond as you were too caught up in the pleasure he was making you feel, and you meant what you said to him before. No one could ever make you tremble beneath them like Rafe Cameron could. That was just a fact.

Once again, your hands found solace in his hair, and you tried your best to stifle your moans by biting your lip, aware of the fact there were a lot of people downstairs. But when he inserted two fingers into you, you couldn’t contain the pornographic moans which left your lips.

“Shit, Rafe” you say, your eyes fluttering shut as you lose control over your body.

Rafe removes his tongue from your clit, and moved his body upwards so your face to face, his fingers still pumping into you.

“Look at me” he says, and you do just that, as obedient as ever.

“Your mine, and I’m yours. I want you to say it” He says, his lips brushing over yours as he speaks. His fingers were pounding into your pussy at a relentless pace, and it took everything in you to respond.

“Im yours, and you are mine”

____________________________________________

Tags: @rootbeerfaygo @loverofdrewstarkey @joselyn001 @Kikiboo69 @loving-and-dreaming @everythingmarveltopgun @abbybarnesstuff @Lail1010 @honeybubblepopp @drewsandsebastianswife @Baby19sthings

(Some of the tags aren’t working, I’m sorry idk why this is it just says blog not found)

Guys, thank you so much for the love you have shown with series, this is probably the last part as I don’t wanna make it boring by dragging it out.

#obx #outer banks #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe angst #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe x female!mc

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darlingshane · 6 months

Text

Salt of the Earth ~ Part 1

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Implied/referenced drug addiction, Alcohol mention, Divorce, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy. Undisclosed age gap (in my mind Michael is late 30s and OC is late 20s, but it's really up to your interpretation).

Word Count: 6.8k // 4 chapters // AO3 link.

A/N: This is set in the year of the Fishes episode on season 2. It starts in summer and slowly builds up to that Christmas.

— This was an anon request that I got a few months ago, I hope you're still around. I tried to fit all the ideas you sent as best I could. There's a bit of info dump on the first chapter, but I hope it isn't too off-putting.

Chapter 1: Best thing since sliced bread

Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes elongate into long hours on slow days like this at The Beef. Especially in summer when the air conditioner stops working for the second time in the middle of August. Any living soul that crosses that door must have a dying wish or be the devil themselves to adventure themselves to what has become Michael's personal hell.

It's been a testing year, and there's so much he can do to fix this place right now. While he waits for Fak to come check the damn AC unit, Michael tends the front while Ebra takes his lunch break.

Turning the paper's pages on the counter, he comes across an article about the extensive fires eating different parts of the country. A wretched thought crosses his mind as he reads – maybe it'd be better to burn this place to the ground and start over. He entertains the idea for a second until the door swings open, inviting more heat into the boiling pot.

He lifts his eyes from the words to find a familiar face approaching the counter. It's not Fak, but a much better vision of someone he used to know.

“Mayhem Maya.”

“Magic Mikey.”

That former thought of burning down this place disappears somewhere in the midst of that beautiful aura that saunters with her big brown eyes, long raven hair, nervous smile, and firm steps.

“It's been a while, Maybird.” Almost ten years since she set foot in this establishment. “What brings you to this hole in the wall?”

“Came to collect that meatball sub you promised at uncle Teddy's funeral, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

Ever since she moved to a different state, he only had seen her a handful of times when she came back for the holidays. Last time he saw her was at the beginning of spring, when her uncle, Ted Silva, passed away.

“I also had an interview at the new vet clinic on the next block.” She places her cross-body bag on an empty stool while she perches her ass on the one next to it.

“How's that going? Did you get tired of California already?”

“No, I love California. But I needed a change of scenery. It's been rough after… you know…” the divorce. She wasn't married for long, but she still can't bring herself to say the word.

“I’ve heard some of it.” He’s pretty much aware of how everything went down. Well, he’s got grapevine’s juicy version of the story, but he never heard her side directly.

Though Michael and Maya know each other as if they were related, they were never close confidants. She always thought he was the coolest guy in Chicago. And he always thought fondly of her, given their families association, and Maya’s close friendship with his brother.

Michael places an order for her sandwich and grabs a soda for her, while she explains she has two more job interviews later.

“Does your mother know you're back?” He folds the paper and props his elbows on the counter.

“She probably does.”

“Still not talking, huh?”

“It's not my fault she made me the black sheep of the family. She’s like vitriol on steroids.”

“Yeah? What happened at the wake? You left before I could say goodbye.”

Michael recalls the tension at the funeral, particularly at the wake when Angela Silva grabbed Maya by the elbow and took her youngest daughter outside the house as if she was still a child that needed to be scolded.

“Nothing. I barely said a word that day. Guess everything I do feels like a personal attack to her. I can admit that I'm not perfect, and that sometimes I've acted up just to get a reaction out of her, but that day she just went off again…” She pauses without finishing that thought to take a refreshing sip of her coke. “And that wasn't nearly as bad as the day I told her I was getting…”

“Divorced? Why can't you say the word? It's not Voldemort.”

“What the hell do you know about Voldemort?”

“How do I… Who took you and Carmy to buy those damn books? Have you forgotten?” Maya shakes her head. “You even tried many times invoking his name, so I was haunted by eaters or something like that. You two were real potterheads.”

“And you were just a pothead,” she laughs, stirring the ice cubes in her drink with a straw. “I totally blocked that out. We were just a couple of nerds.”

“I’d say!”

“Meatball sub!” Richie calls from the pass-through window and takes a second look when catching Maya in the joint. “Maya Papaya?!”

“Please, don’t call me that.” She scoffs while Richie promptly abandons the kitchen and goes around the counter to give her a welcoming hug.

“Did you know she was coming?” He asks Michael, as he props his ass on the bar.

“Had no idea. She just showed up.”

“Did you tell her about Carmy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s in Copenhagen.”

“Oh, I knew about that.”

“You two talk often?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Barely more likely. They don't even text anymore. She's tried but there's been nothing but crickets at his end for months.

While Richie grills her about Carmy and what she’s been up to, Michael can’t help but look around the shop to notice, from every corner and wall, memories bouncing all at once in his direction. It takes him back in time to those days when she and Carmy were as thick as thieves.

Their shared history goes back to that same street their families have lived on for over thirty years… It’s still clear in his mind, like it was yesterday, when he was forced to babysit them when they wanted to go to the movies or trick-or-treating or the bookstore. That was a little annoying back then, now he fondly remembers all those times in summer, when they’d go to the convenience store to get ice pops on their bikes. Then they’d ride back and sit in the middle of the swanky rug in their living room and watch TV for hours. More than once they were yelled at by Mama Berzatto when she would come home to find melted colorful stains in the fabric. She would lose her shit. Carmy was used to it. Maya wasn’t, but the girl never flinched once cause Donna and her own mother were cut from the same unstable piece of cloth.

Maya and Carmy were really close up until they went separate ways for college. Their bond was something to admire. They had something so special that inevitably, Carmy fell in love with her. She was his best friend and confident. They kept each other's secrets, and Carmy thought she'd feel the same in return. It wasn't a crazy notion. They spent so much time together, everyone thought it'd lead to something more, but that never happened.

Mikey and Richie used to tease the youngest cub relentlessly. They tried multiple times to encourage him to ask her out, but he never found the guts to do it. Especially if it could potentially end their friendship. Carmy didn't want to lose that. Though he never confessed his feelings, Maya always knew. Even in her teens, call it a woman’s intuition, part of her already knew. Maya wished she'd felt the same toward him, but the heart wants what it wants, and she couldn't change that.

What was really fucked up was that she had the most ridiculous crush on the older Berzatto when she was a teen. While she knew he'd never look at her as anything other than Carmy's annoying little friend, that didn't stop her from daydreaming about it for years. It was a secret that no one ever knew and that was placed in a drawer at the back of her mind after she left Chicago.

After graduating, Maya and Carmy stayed in touch for a long time, until their calls and texts became less frequent. They followed different dreams that required a lot of attention and sadly their friendship got hurt in the process.

While she attended Vet School on the west coast, he became a chef on the east.

Maya thrived at school and work. She really went out on her own, and became the woman she always wanted to be. Unsheltered, confident, outspoken. She outgrew her shell and opened herself to new experiences and people. She loved it all. It wasn’t smooth sailing, but for the most part she was pretty happy with her choices.

And now she's back in Chicago, set on a new path and awaiting to see where it takes her.

She’s living in a house in Oak Park with her dog, Coco; Richie fishes out of her. Apparently, she got some money from uncle Teddy, and she’s invested it in a home for her and her beloved staffy.

“Does Carmy know you’re here?” Richie circles back.

“No, I haven't talked to him in months.”

“Why? Did you two have a fall-out or something?”

“There's no why. We're just busy.”

“Mike, help me out here. Weren’t these two fools supposed to get married?”

“Yeah, everyone thought you'd ended up together.”

“Man, I don't know what to tell you, we just didn't,” her head sinks between her shoulders.

“Just get over yourself and hit him up. The kid has been hung up on you since forever. It looks like things didn’t go so well with your marriage and all. You should take that as a sign, you’d never find anyone better than Carmy. The boy could really use some excitement in his life. And so could you.”

“C’mon, leave her alone. Go back to work, Cousin.”

Michael throws her a lifeline, noticing how miserable she looks every time Richie opens his unfiltered mouth.

“He’s not wrong, you know? You and Carmy… it looked like you two had something special.” Michael offers once Richie is back in the kitchen.

“It’s called friendship. You should look it up.” She points out.

“I have Richie.”

“Exactly. You have Richie. Why don't you two marry the other and leave me alone? If you think about it, you were as close to Richie as I was with Carmy. Even more. Should everyone assume you are in love with him? Cause that's what you're implying.”

“Touché. I'll drop it.”

“Look, as hard as it is to believe, there was nothing else between us. I was aware he felt something for me, but I didn’t feel the same.”

“You should give him a chance sometime. He might surprise you.”

It’s not the first time these two have been trying to play matchmaker between Maya and Carmy, and it’s bizarre to see they still do at any given opportunity.

“Okay, if I give Carmy a chance, you have to give Richie a chance. Those are the rules, Berzatto.”

“Oh, I've tried. He's not into me,” he remarks, amused, and leans closer to confess something in a lower voice. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Uh, sure.”

“He and Tiffany are having a baby. He just told me a few days ago.”

“What? You let him reproduce? I'll pray for Tiff.”

Chapter 2: Cool as a cucumber

Everything falls slowly into place as Maya settles back in Chicago. She secures the job at the clinic near The Beef, which is a huge relief after her rushed decision of moving back to her hometown without securing a job first. It was part of the plan all along to practice what she loves but never thought this would be the year. As much as she loved California, once her divorce was finalized she felt like something was trapping her there. And the money she got from her uncle gave her some leeway to improvise, get away from all that, and start over.

Maya is spending her morning going through the stack of unpacked boxes, finding a good place for everything, making it feel more homey. It's not a big house, but spacious enough for the two of them. The big selling point was the backyard for Coco to zoom around and cool down in her wading pool, which she loves. It didn't take long for the five-year-old pup to get used to her new neighborhood. They've even made a couple of friends at the park nearby.

A moment before the doorbell rings, Coco whines from her spot by the window, where she often sits to watch passers in the street.

“Who is it?” Maya playfully asks her dog as she makes her way to the front door.

Through the peephole, she sees Michael's profile as he inspects the porch.

“Hi,” her eyes widen as she opens the door. “Didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, I would've called, but I didn't get your number the other day.” But he got her address from Richie's intense questioning when she visited the shop.

“I knocked on two different houses until I got the right one,” he explains as Coco curiously circles around his feet, sniffing his pants, hitting his crotch with her nose in the process.

“No, Coco. Sit. How many times have we talked about no nut-tapping?” Maya glances at her with amusement as the dog sits on her haunches.

“It’s fine,” he snorts. “All dogs do that.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But she’s not any other dog. I thought I had taught her better. So what brings you here?”

“This.” He offers the paper bag hanging in his hand. “It's just a little house-warming gift.”

“You didn't have to.” As she takes the bag from his hand she ushers him inside before closing the door.

“It's nothing, really.”

He glances around as Maya takes out the box from the bag.

“Wow, a set of knives? That's not nothing.”

“Everyone needs one good set of knives. But you can exchange them for something else if you want.”

“No. I like these. But I gotta warn you that I'm not much of a cook, and I'll probably use the same one for everything.”

“That's fine I can show you sometime though. Is she friendly? ” He points at the dog that keeps staring at him. “Can I pet her?”

“Yeah, she loves everyone. Go ahead.”

Michael cautiously pets the brown coat of her head as her floppy ears lower at the passing of his hand.

“Never pictured you with a pit bull.”

“Me neither. I always thought I'd be a cat lady. But I met her at this adoption drive when she was one, and she stole my heart.”

“I can see why.” Michael crouches down, and pets Coco with both hands. “She's really sweet.”

He lets her lick his chin a couple of times before standing back on his feet. Then they go on a tour around the house.

“It's still a work in progress. I'm thinking of painting a few walls, but we like it so far.”

“Yeah, it has good bones.”

“So you don't have to work today?” Asks Maya.

“No, we've had some trouble with the gas line, and we've been shut down for a couple of days.”

“That sucks. Now where am I going to get my sandwiches and coffee on my way to work?”

“Heard Starbucks is pretty good.”

“Shut up. Don't even joke about that.” She playfully shoves his shoulder as they go back to the living room.

“Are you doing something later?”

She shakes her head. “Why?”

“I don't know, thought you were having a comeback party or something.”

“I don't really have any friends here. And I don't feel like inviting my family yet. As you can see, I still have a lot to unpack.”

“Physically or mentally speaking?”

“Both,” she scoffs.

“Let's do something then? Just you and me. We could grab some pizza, or go out for a drink for old times’ sake?”

“Old times’ sake?” It's amusing, surprising and confusing his sudden interest in her. Maybe he can see how pathetic she thinks she is, and he's taking pity on her. Although, that was never Michael style.

“Yeah, c'mon, Mayhem. You look like you could use some fun.” He picks up a book that's sitting on top from the box opened by the couch that's titled — Dating Again with Courage and Confidence: The Five-Step Plan to Revitalize Your Love Life after Heartbreak, Breakup, or Divorce. “And maybe a rebound or something. You don't need a fucking help book. You only need me to show where to get the best guys, or girls. Whatever you're into.”

“Give me that. I don't need a rebound, a help book, or you for all matter finding me a date.”

“No? Then why do you have that?”

“My friend Paige thought I should give it a try.”

“Maybe she was onto something there.”

“I'm perfectly fine. Just want to finish organizing everything, focus on work and this handful I have right here.” Her hand gestures at Coco. “What are you so interested in my love life anyway? First you try to play matchmaker with Carmy, and now you want me to do what, exactly? Hook up with the first guy I see?”

“No, I'm just asking you to go out and have some fun. I know Carmy was the only friend you had here. And if I was in your shoes, I'd feel pretty lonely.”

“I'm not lonely, Michael. Do I miss my friends in Sacramento? Sure,” she admits. “But I don't wanna force anything. I'm just taking it slow. When the time comes I'll jump right in but for now, this is all I need. Really. Stop pitying me.”

“I'm not pitying you, sweetheart.”

“No? Then what is it? Where is this coming from?”

“I don't know… I've always thought you were the salt of the earth. And though we never really hung out together, I thought you could use… But I can see now that you're different, and that you know what you need right now, so I'll just shut up and back off. Let you do your thing.”

“Thank you. I do know what I'm doing, by the way. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. But I appreciate you coming here anyway.”

“Yeah, of course. And I can help you unpack if you need.”

“Hm, if you don't have anything better to do, be my guest. We could grab a pizza later, if the offer still stands. Or just order some food.”

“Sure.”

Michael helps Maya unpack all the boxes and put everything in place in half the time it'd have taken her alone. They order some food for lunch and spend half the day talking and laughing until late in the afternoon when they decide to go out for some drinks to keep the good vibes going.

At the end of the night, she offers to drive Michael back to his apartment as a thank you for inviting her.

“Did you have fun?” Michael asks from the passenger seat as she pulls up in front of his building.

“Yeah, I did. I'm glad I changed my mind.”

“Me too. I didn't know you were this fun. You're nothing like I remember.”

“Yeah, I was kind of weird growing up. You guys probably thought there was something wrong with me. ”

“Nah, don't be so hard on yourself. We were all weird in our own way.”

“Uh-uh. No Michael Berzatto. You were the coolest guy back in the day, and you still are.”

“I don’t know about that,” he scoffs. “For the record… I never thought there was anything wrong with you.”

“You were probably the only one… Anyway, thank you for today. I know I said I didn't need this, but I guess I did.”

“You're welcome, Maybird. I'm glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Thanks for bringing me home,” he softly squeezes her arm before reaching for the handle to open the door.

“No problem.”

“You know you can call me if you ever miss your friends, y’know?” he throws casually.

“I uh…sure. I will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoes back as he pulls the handle and the door opens.

“Have a good night, Michael,” she says as he gets one foot on the pavement.

“You, too, sweetheart.”

He closes the door and vaguely waves as she sets the car in motion and watches her drive away.

Chapter 3: Don't cry over spilled milk

In the few weeks he's been spending time with Maya, Michael has found himself enjoying her company more than he'd like to admit. Being with her grounds him. She makes him forget for a little while all that's wrong in his life. She's like a beacon in that immerse darkness that his sorry existence has become. Despite having her own set of problems, he's watched her rise above all that with poise. He wonders what it's her secret to her steadfast determination, even when her own family has disavowed her.

After closing shop, he dives into his stash to tame that brewing headache before driving to Oak Park to pay her a visit. She told him earlier via text that she was at Home Depot buying some paint to update the color of her bedroom and asked him to come over to hang out after work.

For some reason, he couldn't say no. Not even the storm in his head is strong enough to deny her request. He has a pull on him, tugging him hard like a dog tied to a leash in her hand, he can’t help but follow her lead.

When he arrives at her house, she's halfway done. Two of the walls shine bright new in a lavender tone as she starts working on the next one.

After having beer and playing a tug of war game with his new friend, Coco, Michael offers his help to finish painting the walls. He uses a brush to paint the corners, while she gracefully uses a roller like a pro with her denim overalls over a tank top, and her raven hair pulled up in a ponytail sprinkled with lavender paint beads. When she lifts one of her arms, he catches a glimpse of a tattoo on the side of her rib cage, leveled to the roundness of her chest that looks like the outline of a dog paw.

“What are you looking at?” She asks after catching him staring.

“You have paint on your chin.”

“Oh.” She wipes it with the back of her hand, but she just spreads the stain along her jaw. “I made it worse, didn't I?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs it off and continues with the task ahead until the whole wall is covered.

“Is everything okay, Bear?” Maya puts down the paint roller. “You're quieter than usual.”

“Yeah, everything's alright.” It sounds so honest, he almost believes it. “It's just been a long day.”

“I'm sorry that I put you to work.”

“Don't be. This is relaxing.”

“Yeah?” She takes a step back and surveys how much brighter her bedroom looks already after covering most of the former downcast grey. “Is the color right? Do you think it's too girlish?”

Giving the room a once over he says, “it's a good shade. I dig it. It doesn't matter what I think or if it's too girlish, as long as you like it. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She dips the roller on the tray to cover another section of the wall.

“You never told me what happened at the funeral with your mom,” Michael leans on the stepladder, taking a short break.

“Do you really wanna know?” She glances over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Everyone does. I’ve heard some crazy stories about it. Thought I should get it straight from the source.”

“I never pegged you for a gossip girl.”

“I’m not. I’m just making conversation.”

She mockingly narrows her eyes, drawing a lopsided smirk, “liar.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. But yeah, can’t help being a little curious about it.”

“I don’t mind telling you, but it won’t be as entertaining as those crazy stories people have made up.”

“I’m not here for entertainment. I just wanna hear your side of the story, Maybird.”

Maya lets out a heavy sigh and while keeping her focus on the wall she shares with him what really happened. She’s right to say that is not the best story she’s ever told, though when it comes to her mother, all her stories tend to have a surreal element even she can’t fathom sometimes.

That day at the funeral, she was taken outside during the wake by Angela Silva to get scolded about her imminent divorce. It wasn’t finalized by then, and her mom invoked one last Hail Mary to convince her to stay with her husband, who was also currently dating someone else. It was a messy situation that Maya couldn't wait to get out of, and the fact that her mother never offered an ounce of support wasn’t surprising, but still devastating. Somehow, Angela found that the reason for her separation from her husband was that Maya didn’t want to have kids, and that really vexed Angela. All she wanted for her three kids was to follow the same traditional path Angela was forced into, no matter how miserable she was. Her two older sisters followed her mother’s narrowed traditional values. But Maya, ever-the-nonconformist, swore she would never follow anyone’s drum beat but her own. Her husband thought she’d change her mind eventually. He was wrong. She knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which led her here, to this moment.

“Is your mom ever happy?” Michael has always wondered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happy, except when she’s drunk. That’s why she has to make everyone else miserable.”

“Yeah, but she’s always had a fixation on making you miserable.”

“Like I said, every family needs a black sheep, and I’m it.”

“Is that why you became a vet?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So, it's true, you don’t wanna have kids? I’m not judging. I’m just curious.”

“I honestly don't know. I just knew that when he told me he wanted to have a baby right away, it didn’t feel right. I said that maybe in six or seven years I’d be okay with it. Told him I wanted to travel and just be us for a while, and he said that was too long to wait. I don’t know… he stopped talking to me, and it was clear that he wasn’t changing his mind, and I wasn’t changing my mind, so. At some point I got tired of trying… He got a girlfriend as soon as I filed for divorce and I got a text from Paige the other day that said he got her already pregnant, like… that was never me. I guess it served me right… I married him on a whim, an impulse without really talking about what we wanted…”

“Hey, don’t feel sorry for yourself. You dodged a bullet there.”

“You really think that?.”

“Yeah, I do. You stood up for yourself and knew when to step back when it didn’t feel right. Not everyone has the balls to do that. Think how miserable you’d be by now if you had tried to please him or your mom. You seem happy now. That's what matters.” He means that with all his heart, and wishes he had the same drive to follow those same steps. As much as he loved the restaurant, he chose to run it to please people within his family. And that love turned into a nightmare he couldn't escape.

“You know… I liked you better when you were quiet,” she quips.

Michael huffs a soft laugh, picking up his brush to resume painting.

When the room is finished, she plugs a couple of fans and closes the door to keep Coco away.

Maya washes her hands and face in the bathroom sink. When she comes out, she catches the motion of Michael's arm as he shoves what looks like a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water from one of her glasses.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's just a headache,” looking down, he runs a palm over his short growing beard.

“Is it the fumes?”

“No, I had it before coming here.”

“Michael,” she sighs softly at his name. “You should've told me. I wouldn't have let you help if I knew.”

“Would you stop that? I wanted to help.”

“Okay, c'mere. Let's sit down.”

“No, I think I should get going.”

“Nonsense. I'm not going to let you drive until you feel better.”

He yields with a long exhale, and follows Maya into the living room, where her bed is settled askew in the middle of the space.

She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and waits for him to sit next to her.

“Give me your hand,” she shows her palm up, as his eyes narrow. “C'mon, don't be a baby, give me your hand, Berzatto.”

“When did you become so bossy?” He slowly lifts his hand and as he lays it on top of her palm, his fingers tremble upon contact with her skin. Maya then uses her opposite hand to clip the webbing between his thumb and pointer fingers with her own and begins massaging that spot.

“My friend Sierra is really into acupressure. She says this is a pressure point that helps with headaches.” She explains while slowly increasing the force. “Does it hurt?”

“Not one bit. Is that like acupuncture?” His voice comes as a whisper as he focuses on her diligent fingers.

“Kinda. I think. I’m not really sure.”

“You don't have to fix me, you know?”

“I'm not trying to fix you, Bear. I just wanna make you feel better.”

“Admit it. You just love a good wounded animal.”

She smiles softly, placing his hand down on his knee and picking up the other. “Does it feel any different?”

He’s not really sure, it wasn’t truly a headache that led them to take that pill but the annoying rambling of his thoughts. She shouldn’t have seen that. And he shouldn’t have lied. But having her hands on his like this is straight up lovely. Inside of him, it truly feels like something is broken, wounded, and missing, and this is giving him a sliver of relief as he waits for the pill to kick in. If he was a better man, he’d tell her the truth. But he’s too far gone for saving. All he can do is keep that facade up.

“Does it?” She insists after not getting an answer.

“A little.”

“Do you wanna lay down?”

Swallowing, he responds with a nod, and they both lean back on the mattress at the same time. Looking at the ceiling, she keeps kneading that pressure point, unsure if she’s even doing it right.

They stay in comfortable silence for a good five minutes and when she finally places his hand down, Maya glances to the side and sees that his eyes have closed, and his chest gently rising and falling. She calls his name softly, but she can see that behind the sharp edges of his face and the ever-growing shade of his beard, he’s truly exhausted, so she doesn’t insist. She extends her hand to turn off the lamp, and curls on the other side of the bed without disturbing his sleep.

“Good night,” she says softly and closes her eyes.

From a dusty corner of her mind comes crawling that little forgotten part that used to harbor a lot of feelings for Michael. Though a few weeks ago he seemed practically the same Michael she knew, over the past month she’s keenly noticed little changes here and there. His eyes sometimes cast a dark shade tainted in nothing but sadness, it’s barely noticeable for other people. It comes and goes, but it tells her he’s not truly as happy as he pretends to be.

Michael wakes up disoriented at the crack of dawn.

It takes him a few seconds to remember he’s still in Mayas’ bed in the middle of her living room and that the weight that has his arm pinned is her body pressed against his. She’s warmly snuggled on his side, with her arms tucked between his chest and hers, and a peaceful expression on her beautiful face. She’s so awfully close, he can smell the scent of her hair, and feel the heat of her breath every time she exhales.

It's such an odd moment for him to have her that close. He's unsure of whether it would be better to slip out of bed unnoticed before she wakes up, or just stay there and watch her sleep for a bit longer. Either option would make him look like a creep, he thinks. So he opts to gently wake her up. His free hand reaches to his forehead to move a stand of hair away. Her brow scrunches as his light-feather touch grazes her skin. His lips curve up as he traces the shell of her ear to see her stir awake. She blinks slowly a couple of times until her focus shifts onto him.

“Hey, Maybird.”

“Hey.” Her lips move, it's barely audible.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” His fingers absentmindedly massage her earlobe.

She's so stunned by waking up to that level of intimacy, she simply nods, as her mouth softly draws a smile.

“It's fine. Does your head feel better?”

“Much better. That pressure thing really worked.”

“I'm glad.”

“Listen, I gotta go open. Maybe we could do something later?”

“Okay,” she swallows nervously, hoping that waking up with him like this isn't just a dream. “Can you do me a favor first?”

“Sure.”

“Can you stay five more minutes?”

“I uh… I think I can,” against his better judgment, he decides he can stay for a few minutes more holding her.

The way her lips pull up timidly at the corners, revealing the dimples framing her mouth, completely disarms him. He’s always felt a certain affinity towards her, but being this close to her awakes a longing within that feels dangerous. He can’t bring someone new into his life. Not while everything around him is falling apart. It’s already hard enough having to pretend around other people.

He couldn’t do that to her. He won’t.

Michael will have to fight harder because when her arm tucks around his waist he can’t help but press his lips against her forehead.

Chapter 4: Hard nut to crack

Four months later…

After that initial moment of weakness when he fell asleep on her bed, he fought hard to elude that odd longing that has only grown into a big mass of love toward Maya. To anyone else in the world, a feeling as big as that would be a blessing, especially when it's reciprocated. To Michael, it's a weakness he can't afford right now.

Spending all that time with Maya has been like discovering a whole new planet Michael never thought existed. She's all vast, uncharted territory that fazes him more than it should. Despite his best efforts, he’s fallen into her alluring orbit and can’t find the way out into his own universe.

Far gone is that moody teenager that would mumble a few words here and there. And now there's this tragically stunning woman that looks you directly in the eye, says anything that crosses her mind, and laughs without a care in the world.

Though falling in love with her wouldn’t be completely wrong, it's not quite right either. It fills him with guilt to think about her in that manner. Moreover, it feels like a betrayal to Carmy, who’s far away in a different continent, prospering in his craft.

Michael tries to fool himself into believing that this is just temporary infatuation. He’s even attempted several times to convince her to get in touch with Carmy but hasn’t succeeded. It’d be easier for him if she were to put her focus on someone else instead of him. He has nothing to offer to her and has deemed himself unworthy of her, or anyone for that matter. If she only knew what’s really going on with him, she wouldn’t want Michael nearly as she believes she does.

Layer by layer, she’s tearing all his walls and defenses down. And after all the back and forth, he's absolutely sure she wants more than he can offer her. She’s been giving him the right signals. She doesn't shy away from it. Maya is direct and impulsive, and everything about her is fascinating and intimidating.

It’s time to either cut her loose, or accept that he’s madly in love with her and do something about it.

Amidst coming to terms with a final decision, he's lured into a surprise party she's organized for his birthday.

Michael is left speechless by her determination. And a little annoyed too for reasons he can't explain. To be honest, he’s never been a fan of surprise parties, but the main problem is that this would make things much harder for him to let her down easily. She’s carved herself into his life and the longer he drags this out, the worse this is going to hurt.

He’s aware that it’s selfish and obtuse of him for being that ungrateful that someone who cares that profoundly about him, that they would go all out to prove that. He feels like an asshole, but the train has already left the station.

Using the same tiring self-defense mechanism, he draws his best smile and brings out the Michael everyone seems to love. Not without help. There's always that crutch tucked in his wallet in the form of a pill. Being high numbs him enough to deal with the situation.

The cherry on top comes at the end of the night, when he walks her up to her car and asks if he's had a good time. He lies through his teeth and for the first time, he can tell Maya is not buying it. Perhaps she never did, but he's well-versed on her tells by now, and he can clearly see she's fed up with all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth.

“Look, it's not that I didn't like the party. It's just that I hate surprises, and I was exhausted today. But it was a nice thought, sweetheart. I just… I wasn't in the right mood.” It's seemingly convincing the second time around, but her face shows nothing but regret. “I love the jacket you bought me, though.”

Michael has never been interested in fashion, but he's always loved vintage jackets, and the one she picked it's a perfect addition to his collection. It's a bomber jacket, aviator style, in brown leather with a couple of patches and fur collar.

As they reach Maya's car, they come to a stop. She turns to him, “I know I can be a little too much sometimes. But I promise no more surprises from now on.”

“You and I both know, you won’t be able to keep that promise even if your life depended on it. That's part of what makes you– you, sweetheart. Don’t let my bad mood ruin that.”

“I’ll try.”

After a beat, without hesitation she leans in to leave a goodnight kiss on his bearded cheek and on a whim, she decides to press a second one on his lips.

It takes him completely aback. He wants to dive so badly into her mouth, but he freezes on the spot. And when Maya attempts to deepen the kiss, he finally reacts by placing a placating hand on her shoulder as he pulls his head back.

“I'm… I'm sorry we can't do this, Maya.”

“Wait, I thought… Did I misread something?”

“No, you didn’t misread anything. I just can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“I can't.”

“You can't or don’t want to?”

“Guess I don’t want to.”

“Can you at least tell me why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” He wants to spill out the old – it's not you, it's me – excuse, but he refrains. Every thought and action go against every good instinct he's ever had. He hates himself for making her feel insecure. And yet, he can't backtrack now.

“Stop calling me sweetheart. You see how misleading that is?”

“Sorry. I think I gave you the wrong impression.”

Her eyes narrow, and he can see the gears turning for a long moment before opening her mouth.

“I don't think you gave me the wrong impression, Michael. I think you're too chickenshit to admit that there's something between us and, for whatever reason, you're just taking the coward's way out. You've been weird the whole night, especially with me. I just threw a party just for you, the least you can do is tell me why.”

“I didn't ask you to do that. And I don't owe telling you shit! I was trying to let you go easy, but nothing is ever easy with you. So I'll just say it. This, you and me, is never going to happen.”

It sounds ridiculous as it comes out of his mouth, but he stands firm on that statement as her heart breaks in front of him.

In the end, it'd be better for her, he believes.

#michael berzatto x ofc #michael berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal #original character #michael berzatto x reader #angst #fluff #darlingwrites #sorry i used the reader tag #it's the only way to get my fic seen #salt of the earth

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thewritingofspencerrose · 7 months

Text

Little Lady Masterlist

Maggie's Trevor

age twenty

"Hello? Is this the right Trevor? Maggie's Trevor?"

"Uh, yeah?" Is Trevor's unsure response, hearing the voice of a woman that is very much not his best friend.

"My names Emma, I'm a friend of Mags, we're nursing students together," The girl explains, "We're at this TKE party right now and she's drunk off her ass. I asked who I should call and she said you were the man," She continues to explain, the music loud in the background, making it hard for her to be heard. "So... can you come get her?"

Oh. This girl doesn't know he lives on the West Coast.

"Uh, I live in California actually," Trevor explains, uncomfortable in that fact that he can't get to Maggie.

"Oh shit, I knew her boyfriend lived far away, but I thought like, an hour," Is the girls response, flustering the boy on the other end.

"Oh, I'm not her boyfriend, we've just been friends for years," He corrects, knowing there's fresh color on his cheeks, even in the dark of his room.

"Ha, just friends my ass Trevor," Is the girl's bold response, Maggie's voice floating into the background. "You must not know how she talks about you," Emma continues.

"Oh?"

"Is that Trevy?!" Maggie can be heard screaming on the other side, drunker than he's ever heard her.

"Mags? Is that you sweetheart?" Trev asks, her giggling in response.

"Trevy, come give me a hug!"

"Mags I'm in Cali-"

"No no, come give me a hug, I miss you," The brunette mumbles, choking up.

Waving at Jamie across from him for his phone, Trevor types in Jack's number, letting it ring.

"I miss you too Mags, but you know I'm in Anaheim."

"Trev? What the hell man do you know what time it is over here?" Jack's exhausted voice grumbles through the phone that's up to his other ear.

Muting his own while Maggie is distracted, mumbling things to the friend who called, Trevor turns his attention to the other twin.

"Dude, Mags friend called me to pick her up and clearly I can't do that. You need to get your ass up and go pick up your sister."

You could hear Jack wake up just by the sound of his voice. "Do you know where she is?"

"Maggie, where are you again? Do you know the name of the bar?" Trevor switches over, Jamie trying not to laugh at the back and forth.

"TKE! My friend's brother is a brother!" She exclaims, Trevor relaying that info to her twin, said boy hanging up with a quick "I'm on my way" and leaving Trevor to distract Maggie.

"That sounds fun, how're you feeling?"

"Like I miss you," Is Mag's response once more, the alcohol taking away any filter the already openly flirtatious girl might have had. "You being in Anaheim sucks. You should move in with Jack and I."

"Baby, I play for the Anaheim Ducks, you know I can't do that from Jersey."

"Trev! We're 20 years old! How dare you settle down, and with someone other than me, no less," The girl nearly cries, leaving the loud environment she was once in in favor of quiet. "

"Maggie baby, what are you talking about? I live with Jamie?" It's moments like these he wishes they were dating, that he had gotten up the courage already to ask her out. Maybe this past summer at the lake house, maybe a few years ago when the boys gave him permission.

"Yeah, Jamie boy is taking my man!" She protests, the words echoing through the speaker function that Trevor had just activated, making the Canadian laugh.

"Your man?" Trev can't help but ask, a smirk on his face at the expression.

"You'd be my man if you'd ask me out already, I know you have my brother's permission," The girl admits, Trevor's face dropping at the admission.

"You- you what?"

"Oh! Trevor you won't believe it! Jacky is here! Jacky, say hi to Trev!" A near squeal unfurls, Jack's voice being the next thing a still confused Trevor hears.

"Z, hey, I'm going to get her home, she'll be feeling this tomorrow."

And at first he nods, realizing a moment later what he had done and responding, saying a quick goodbye just as Jack had done earlier.

When he looks up, Jamie is there, laptop turned in Trevor's direction and brows through the roof. "So, this is the first flight to Newark for tomorrow."

"What?"

"Dude," Jamie can't help the judgement in his voice. "Grow a pair and go get the girl."

#original character #the writing of spencer rose #nhl fanfiction #best friends to lovers trope #trevor zegras x hughes sister #hughes sister #maggie hughes story #trevor zegras x oc

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snikt111 · 15 days

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hi hi hi hi I found out about Hal Jordan TODAY and am going so autistic over him it’s insane can you please give me a rundown on what his deal is I think you’re the Tumblr Green Lantern guy

omg hi, insane compliment btw, tysm! i'm glad to give you a rundown!! also definitely check out @katmaatui for more hal info, red is SUPER knowledgable abt him. @rillette, @catboyollie, @halcarols, @starsapphire and @yellowcorps (along with so many others that i cant think to tag off the top of my head) have some great hal takes too! (edited the post just to tag more ppl)

apologies if this is a bit rushed/messy, i'm doing this while i smelt stone in minecraft LMAO

that being said... i think this will be a long one, so more below the cut :3

(cw for light mentions of pedophilia, abuse, canon typical violence)

okay, so hal jordan is the first human green lantern of the GREEN LANTERN CORPS. it's important to note that there was technically a human green lantern before him (alan scott, originally from earth two/the justice society, but integrated into main DC canon after crisis), but his power comes from a different source- which is a whole different ballpark that would take ages to explain, lol, so i'll move on from that.

hal was originally introduced in a showcase issue in 1959, but ended up getting a solo run in the mid 60s because of his showcase issues doing well. he's been a test pilot, middle brother, compassionate, rule follower (although being surprisingly liberal for the time) with an interesting relationship with star sapphire carol ferris since those first appearances. for the first 20 odd years of his appearances we had no information on his parents, but we got a lot from other family members, such as uncle titus, cousin hal jr (aka airwave), younger brother jim jordan and older brother jack jordan. through the 60s and 70s those members of his family were developed along with him; with the audience learning that jim's wife sue thought jim was green lantern, rather than hal, and hal himself training his cousin, hal jr.

the most known version of how hal got the ring in the first place is probably based off of geoff john's rewrite in the mid 00s, reiterating the original story of abin sur crashing onto earth and dying, leaving hal with his ring to be trained by sinestro and the rest of the glc, while also changing miniscule details that had been developed in emerald dawn 1 & 2 (which was released in the 90s, more on that later). the main premise of abin sur's crash has stayed the same, but the story around hal's current life, job, family and stability keep changing. for instance, the original comic with abin sur in showcase only showed hal getting the ring, the guardians choosing him. the first rewrite i can think of was emerald dawn volume 1, published in 1989 and continued in emerald dawn v2 (1991). here we get the classic hal watches his father die in a plane crash with carol ferris beside him as a pre adolescent, and some of the biggest implications of the mistreatment from his father. we also get introduced to hal, despite his stick to the rules, straight edge attitude, making some serious mistakes and putting people in danger and even death- with the implication of alcohol abuse. the audience HAS known hal used to be in the air force since sometime in the late 60s or early 70s (sorry, i don't remember the exact issue!), but emerald dawn shows us that hal's moved on from the air force and into test piloting, and that his mother keeps having to bail him out for making mistakes. emerald dawn vol 1 shows the abin sur moment, followed by fights that cost hal's friends life, and is followed up by sinestro training hal in emerald dawn vol 2, where we get to see the iconic scenes of hal finding out about sinestro and his... dictatorship.

along with that; how the guardians and rings are treated and hal and the glc's perception of them is vastly changed over time. in the early days of gl in the 60s, the guardians were really never to be seen. hal was repeatedly summoned to them and then had his memory almost fully wiped- only leaving a vague notion of his orders. the guardian's called hal to them at seemingly the worst times, ending up with him almost getting injured, getting in trouble at work, and even ending up jobless and homeless. the chaos of being a green lantern has been around the WHOLE time, but originally, the green lanterns didnt really... fight it. the guardian's were their masters (and even father figures, to hal) and not to be questioned. the rings in the 60s were also much more powerful, despite the yellow weakness (the yellow weakness is the notion that from about the 60s to the mid 90s the green lantern rings were completely unable to be used against anything yellow). time travel, phasing, teleporting, etc were all very viable and common things- as well as forceful shapeshifting, invisibility, mind control, mind reading, etc etc. these days, writers have dampened these powers down to mostly shooting light and constructs.

okay, it's parallax time. the emerald twilight arc from the mid 90s wasn't an arc that was as thoroughly planned out over a long period of time as it probably should have been. a lot of fans at the time (and even now) hated what happened there, and claimed it ruined hal's character entirely. i can understand why! but, at it's core, the parallax arc is a story about a broken man pushed to the limit, fully grieving his home and family (originally, he lost his brother jim in the destruction of coast city, along with a lot of other family members) and being goddamn fed up with how his "masters" treated him and the rest of the corps. the so called "perfect lantern" (no, he wasn't that much of a rebel, despite what johns wants you to think) snapped and essentially tried to gain as much power as he could to bring back coast city. when the guardians stripped him of his powers so he couldn't, hal became enraged and took down every lantern in his path, just to get to the guardians and that power. long story short, he kills the guardians and absorbs all the energy from the central power battery on oa, becoming parallax- essentially a god. this marks the start of zero hour, an event made by dc to restructure and reset; giving the comics a new generation of heroes. hal destroys the world and remakes it, but is ultimately taken down by kyle rayner, the new green lantern, with the help of the jla, jsa and associates. there are a few more run ins with parallax after this, before kyle convinces parallax/hal that he can make up for all of this by reigniting the sun after it went out- aka killing himself. hal does it, is stuck in limbo for awhile and then becomes the spectre to continue to make up for the horrible things he did as parallax. the spectre is the spirit of god's wrath and vengeance, a weapon used to drag sinners to their very own, self made hells, and scare the shit out of people. the spectre, from it's very first appearance, is a ghost like spirit that takes on a host, and is primarily described using christian terms and is used in a very... christian ideology. HOWEVER, the spectre 2001 confirms that hal is jewish (jewish mom, catholic dad) and that belief system, plus his personality as a whole, literally makes him change the spirit of vengeance into the spirit of redemption, for at least as long as they are bonded. the whole parallax to spectre arc is about grief, pain, cycles of abuse and terror, redemption and guilt. it is NOT about a fear bug that possess hal. (im so serious though, the spectre 2001 is one of the best comics ive ever read. amazing. changed my world view) but... geoff johns changed all of it, decanonized the spectre, and ruined the legacy of parallax and hal's growth as a person by releasing green lantern: rebirth in 2004/2005. this retcons hal's breakdown and journey through grief into him BEING POSSESSED BY AN ENTITY CONTROLLED BY SINESTRO THAT FULLY CHANGES PREVIOUS GREEN LANTERN CANON AND IMPLICATIONS. also, fucks up the importance of kyle becoming ion, but whatever. geoff johns writes hal (and even more so, carol) so very wrong, and change their stories so vastly in ways that go against the stories very meanings.

SIGH.

now... time to get started on some rougher stuff. hal jordan misconceptions. i'm saving that arc for last.

- hal jordan wasn't much of a rule breaker or rebel until the 70s/80s, where he BEGAN (very slowly, mind you) to be radicalized by oliver queen during denny o'neil's green lantern/green arrow. hal was painted as more of a conservative during this period (which, admittedly, kind of goes against previous canon... he's always been relatively central to liberal, not to any extremes like ollie though, lol) but gets more and more understanding of how power structures work and how lower classes are mistreated during this time- which ends up opening his eyes a bit to how shitty the guardians are. (this is helped by the guardians literally just. leaving. the green lanterns and kind of disbanding them so they can go fuck the zamarons, lmao). geoff johns tried to change this narrative into making hal a very... maverick-from-top-gun type of character, who punched his way out of the military (when, in reality, the original story during emerald knights in the late 90s was that hal had been framed for stealing a jet and was dishonorably discharged, which he took the punishment for because he knew someone had to) and hits on women constantly and gets ladies and allat (which, funnily enough hal was awful at getting carol to like him for a long time, since carol fell for green lantern rather than hal. not to mention the awkwardness of carol's proposals or hal's many, many failed relationships). hal has always been insecure and lowkey boyfailure, he is NOT a top gun maverick tom cruise sorta guy! fuck you jeremy adams!

- hes not that much of an idiot asshole. hal can be a real dick, he's had that going for him since the beginning, but he isn't what you read in batfam fics. he's not stupid and shouldn't be the laughingstock of the justice league. i assume this idea started from the obsession with batfam and the fact that the jla has quite the history of ignoring hal and his issues (as well as. all of their issues. theyre not so great at work life balance), but it's gone too far. hal isn't making fun of the robins and pissing bruce off bc of that. hal isnt fooling around on the job 24/7 (he takes being a gl and pilot VERY seriously, although he does enjoy some danger and high stakes) or slacking off to get girls. again. not top gun maverick.

- hal has not been a creep since the beginnings. hal was not weird with carol in the 60s. things were weird between them, yeah, but that's based off circumstance and the craziness of star sapphire and green lantern. he was NOT being horribly sleazy! i hate that i even need to say this, but i see this take too much not to

- going off of what was said above, lets discuss the arisia arc. if you want to be a real hal fan, this is unfortunately something you need to know about. in action comics, after crisis and the guardians left to go fuck the zamarons, most of the green lanterns fell apart and seperated. a small group went to earth- led by hal and consisting of hal, john stewart, katma tui, kilowog, salaakk, ch'p and arisia rrab. (also sometimes guy gardner, but that's complicated) previously to this arc, hal treated 14 year old arisia like a beloved little sister, welcoming her and leading her into the corps just like everyone else. things started to change once the timeline gets closer and closer to crisis, where arisia starts showing that she has a crush on hal (who is roughly 30s at this point). any advances made by arisia are shut down by hal at the beginning, because she's a child. now, it's unfortunately a common thing to just call hal a "pedophile" because of what happens in this arc- but it really isn't that simple. still weird and icky, but definitely not to the degree of which some fans like to act like it is- esp to attack hal fans for, which is... an odd choice regarding how many fucked up things every character (esp male characters) did back in the day. arisia ends up using her power ring to artifically age herself up, making her body AND MIND into that of a young adult (the comic makes this very clear). once this happens... hal stops rejecting her. they get together, they kiss. the only person in the group of green latnerns who actually has an issue with it is john (salaakk is meh about it, but he just doesn't like human-esque romance no matter what), and katma even directly encourages their relationship. kilowog ends up crushing on arisia as well, and guy gardner hits on her repeatedly throughout the whole period. eventually, hal and arisia break up, but this legacy (thank so much englehart, for wrtiting this. /sarc) is a big controversy among the comics crowd. "is hal jordan a predator?" personally, and i know a lot of friends/mutuals/other gl fans choose to erase the arisia arc entirely (versus how canon ended up retconning it to be 14 earth years is equal to that of an adult and she didn't really get super ages up, or whatever) and go with the familial relationship between hal and her. that's my preferred version! i know red (@katmaatui) has explored that version as well as an alternate version where the arisia arc did happen, and how it affects arisia in particular, which is really depressing but super interesting. anyway, it's complicated and weird and nuanced, but that whole occurence doesn't mean hal's a bad character or person (cause yk. retcons) and it's certainly not bad to like his character. (definitely ignore any guy gardner fans who try to bitch about this arc. cough cough. guy was ALSO into her and hit on her repeatedly. smfh) most people who bring this up to demonize fans didn't even read the arc, and don't know the nuance or the other weird shit that happens in it. (hal is not a horse, sigh)

OVERALL NOTES!

hal jordan is a super complicated character with an extensive history spanning from the 60s to his worse written appearances in modern age. it's okay to like any version of the character, but it is important to note the changes that have been made, the storylines butchered and lost, and more. he has quite the legacy, and he's particularly interesting as from a moral standpoint. hal's a real sweetie though, when it gets down to it! he's neurodivergent coded (imo at least.. his dad very much gets onto him for being disrtracted, hes kinda shit at social interaction (and then amazing at it the other half of the time) etc etc. "spacecase") and his dad is an abusive asshole, who he desperately doesnt want to be like but thinks he NEEDS to be like!

#i really dont know how to fit this last stuff in so its going in the tags #hal has quite the homoerotic tension relationship with his nemesis (but also close friend) sinestro #they repeatedly come back to each other and long to be alongside eachother #despite all the shit they hate about one another and their respective organizations #check out more of red's stuff for sinhal for sure lmao #for other hal relationships...#hal has a complicated relationship with his brothers and mother (at least when they were all alive)#hes very close friends with oliver queen (and dinah lance by proxy) and quite a lot of fans (me included) think theres some tension there.#homos!#he has a niece (helen jordan!) who is featured in the spectre and who he loves very much #hal and john are proclaimed best friends and care deeply for each other #hal and guy fight a lot but theyre in a similar boat #kyle looks up to hal quite a lot and hal is.... complicated about kylre #a lot of people ship hal and barry and i get why. its cute #not my fav though i think its overdone #hal jordan and carol ferris are so fucking important to eachother its SO important.#they need eachother in a wya thats confusing and sometimes toxic #idk what else to say feel free to ask more questions #sorry for the rant #and sorry that i mostly focused on 60s to early ish 00s thats my expertise #mordie answers #mordie speaks #hal jordan #green lantern #ch: who has time for heavenly things #uhhh #hal explanation #ok bye #hal jordan analysis #gl

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

WIBTA if I exposed my dad's secret to his bandmates? HUGE TW for real life incest, alcoholism and (not related to the previous topics) emotional and physical abuse, to a partner and to a child. I will be as brief and non-descriptive as possible, as these are heavy topics.

I (early 20s, M) have an extremely difficult relationship with my dad (late 40s, M). The last time we spoke was on my 18th birthday and it ended in a discussion due to some genuinely stupid shit he was doing behind my back and thought I didn't knew. He's very abusive, I won't specify what but I'm dealing with PTSD, alongside other diagnostics, due to everything he did to me while I was a child and even a teenager. He also abused my mom the years they were married. While we cut contact years ago, he still needs to pay child (?) support, until I'm 25 due to me being disabled. He doesn't pays it willingly, btw, his own workplace withdrawals that money from him and deposits it in my mom's account.

My dad is in a band, and I know because he told me when he joined (we still talked on that time) and I sometimes check his band's Facebook page to see what they're up to. I also still have his bandmates' personal profiles added on there, even when I don't really use it anymore. The band is not really that well known, but they did recorded and sold some discs (one in which my dad wrote a dedicatory to me 😬) + participated in various events.

The thing is that, my dad also severely struggled with alcoholism during his teenage years (drinking age here is 18, but afaik he started earlier) and up until the first years he had me. And he also grew up in a really dysfunctional family (no one is free from being a piece of shit there). Here goes the thing, he confessed to my mom he had a few inappropriate encounters with his younger sister while he was drunk (before dating my mom), and my mom told it to me one day. They were both consenting (according to him) when it happened, but. Well. For the record, his sister absolutely despises my mother and I, and made it obvious when I still visited that side of the family. She gets awfully jealous over him, and hates that I'm his son (although being trans, she thinks I'm his daughter, which makes her jealously even weirder to think about). I'm unaware whether his brother, other two sisters, and mother know this, his father is dead.

Here's where I could probably be TA: As soon as he isn't forced by law to financially support me (which I know he will try to do it the very moment I turn 25), I have been considering using a burner account to just tell this family secret to his bandmates. Just drop it, and see what happens. I have mixed feelings over him, but I pretty much want him to suffer, and possibly destroying his dream of having a band sounds pleasing. However, I realize this shit is heavy, and even with how I will forever be scarred by his abuse, maybe this is going too far. So, WIBTA?

TL;DR: My dad is in a band, he was abusive to me for years. He has a big secret, which is the fact he had consensual but inappropriate contact with his younger sister a few times while drunk. I still depend on him economically, but as soon as I don't, dropping this to his bandmates could be a revenge. However, this could be going too far even with how shitty he is. WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #incest cw

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gnpwdrnwhiskey · 4 months

Text

something in the orange - one

a Dieter Bravo x ofc!Ava in another life au

pairing - Dieter & Ava, my disaster babies

word count - 1050-ish

warnings - brief mentions of drugs, tobacco and alcohol. brief mention of overdose as a hypothetical not an occurrence in the story. Dieter is his own warning.

authors note - look, I know I should be working on Conversations, I just don't want to right now. but I missed these two so I stuck them in a different situation. an au of my au if you will lol! Big thanks as always to @wildemaven for dealing with me and my weird ass brain 😆

Ava watches the party bus pull in and the driver maneuver to a pump and start the process of fueling up before she turns her attention to the parade of partiers beginning to tromp through the store.

They're all loud and colorful, the beautiful people, up close and personal. None of them seem aware of the fact that the New Year has already come and gone hours ago. Fifteen years and another life ago, she was one of them. Happily sailing through life high out of her mind, every day another party.

It's a solid 20 minutes or so of noise - the women's heels clicking on the dingy tile floor, the men's loud echoing laughter and all their mindless chatter. Ringing up snacks, beer, wine, cigarettes, energy drinks, and condoms before they all stagger back to the bus and it pulls out of the parking lot and turns towards the highway, presumably headed back to Miami where she imagines the party will continue until the blow runs out. Or someone overdoses and the cops show up. Whichever comes first.

And then blessed silence, just her and the buzz of the fluorescent lighting, the piped-in pop station her boss prefers and the flipping of the pages of her ratty Dean Koontz paperback.

Until a door slams and he stumbles out from the back of the store where the restrooms are - hair disheveled, sheer white dress shirt half unbuttoned and half untucked, bow tie hanging untied around his neck, a pair of black tuxedo pants and sparkly silver Crocs.

He looks out at the empty parking lot and runs his hands through his hair, pulling at the ends before looking over at her, bloodshot brown eyes peering over a pair of Ray Bans.

And then he grins and she can see traces of the boy she's known since she was 10 years old.

“Hey, babycakes.”

Ava sighs and closes her book. He always did know how to make an entrance.

“Hey, movie star. Looks like you missed your bus.”

“Yeah, about that,” he laughs, patting his pockets repeatedly. “Can I borrow your phone?”

“There's a pay phone out front,” she says, popping the register and fishing out a couple dollars in quarters.

“Why can't I just use your phone?” He asks after patting his pockets again in what she assumes is a fruitless search for his wallet this time.

“You've already lost yours, why would I give you mine?”

“Okay, valid but can't you just like put it on speaker and dial a number for me?”

“Just take the quarters and go make your call. You can pay me back one day, I'm sure you're good for it.”

“How do you know that? You may never see this money again,” he says as he accepts the coins from her outstretched hand.

“I'll add it to everything else you owe me.”

“Ava…."

“Nope. Just go,” she waves him off with a flip of her hand. “Outside. Make your calls.”

“Okay, okay. One favor though? Can you write down Drew's number for me?”

He shuffles back inside the store thirty minutes later and leans against the counter looking at her with big puppy dog eyes.

She wants to ignore him. She really, really does and she would if she could but never once in all the years she's known him has she been able to wait him out. When he wants something his attention span is much longer than people generally give him credit for. And apparently what he wants now is to fuck up her peaceful day.

“No luck?”

“Kinda. They’re sending a car for me. The production company. From Miami. But in the meantime, I'm stuck here,” he pouts. “Your brother says hi.”

“So?” Ava asks, ignoring the bit about Drew. “That's only a few hours, go grab some lunch, walk around the island a bit.”

“They're sending it tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Goddamnit, there goes her next 24 hours. “Well, I still don't really see the problem here. How much of the island did you really see from the bus? Go explore.”

“By myself?”

“I know it's a foreign concept for you, but you are actually a grown up, you can do things by yourself. And I even have some good news. I found your wallet. Don't worry, I've already taken what you owe me for the phone call.”

“That is excellent news,” he says as he accepts his wallet and looks through it, noticing all his cash is gone. “Two dollars plus interest, I see.”

“Of course. Knew you were good for it,” Ava shrugs. “Also, I found your phone.”

“Also excellent,” he smiles.

“In the urinal.” She says holding it out to him in a ziplock bag.

“That is not so excellent.”

“Do I even want to know what you were doing in the bathroom?”

“Umm, probably not?”

“Didn't think so.”

“So this is what you're doing now? Working in a convenience store? I know you don't need the money.”

“It's not about the money and we're not doing this. You have your wallet now, how about I call you an Uber and you can go to the airport and I can go back to my regularly scheduled life. Boom, both of our problems are solved.”

“No, no. I think you were right earlier. I should stick around. Explore. Like you said. And you can play tour guide,” he grins.

“You couldn't have come here like a normal human being and just said ‘hey, bestie, can we hang out for the day?’”

“Where would the fun be in that?” He asks and has the nerve to genuinely look confused and she can't help but laugh at him.

“Okay. Tell me why I should? One honest reason, Dee, none of your BS.”

“You're my best friend, Ava. And despite, ya know, everything, I miss you. Don't you ever miss me?”

Ava wants to beat her head on the counter. He's got her there and he knows it. She does miss him- the real him, the brilliant man behind the Hollywood facade. She's just not sure that man actually exists anymore.

“Fine,” she sighs. “On one condition.”

“Name it, anything.”

“You have to behave for the next two hours until my replacement shows up. Do you think you can handle that?”

#dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x ofc!Ava #dieter & ava au #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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solcorvidae · 6 months

Text

Modern Witcher AU: My Headcanons: (part 3 of ?)

Geralt smells of coffee, caramelized sugar, kerosine, and mineral oil. The sugary scent is from his favourite fragrance (Vanilla Woods—The 7 Virtues) and it mingles well with his natural body chemistry and environmental scents. It’s very subtle but distinct and it works shockingly well for him.

Jaskier is determined to figure out what fragrance Geralt wears but is looking in all the wrong places. He assumes some of the “masculine” notes from the environment that linger on his skin and clothes are a part of the perfume. It takes Geralt explicitly telling Jaskier to look in the feminine and/or the unisex sections (of fragrantica) for him to actually do so and finally get put on the right track.

Jaskier smells of lavender and chamomile. His hair also retains the smell of his shampoo exceedingly well so he always smells clean. He uses solid fragrance that’s reminiscent of “Chamomile and Lavender Milk Tea” by The Dua Brand. It has notes of honey and raw almond milk that gives it a good balancing effect and works well with his body chemistry.

Jaskiers extended family organizes regular family reunions at grossly lavish locations at least once a year. Most of his family besides his parents and a few cousins don’t know about his cross-country road trip… or Geralt. When Jaskier brings Geralt along one year to a reunion at a rented out ski chalet he wants to make sure Geralt makes a good impression. Little did he know, most of his family would adore him and think he is such a doll. Geralt had no less than two people at any given time chatting with him for the vast majority of the weekend. As an introvert, he was exhausted by the end of each day. Jaskier is secretly convinced his family loves Geralt more than him after just a few days; however, Jaskier is more than happy to show him off so it never really bothers him much.

Geralt has a stiff gait. It stems from extremely tense muscles in his hips and lower back as a result of so many hours on the road and not enough proper stretching. Jaskier makes it his personal goal to get Geralt into physiotherapy and at the very least, flexible enough to touch his toes comfortably again.

Geralt’s nausea inducing alcohol of choice is tequila. Eskel’s is flavoured vodka. Lambert loves to get a reaction out of them over it.

Geralt can't have tequila (especially margaritas) anymore because of the near-two day hangover he had after drinking with his brothers on New Years Eve one year. Not even the night he came of age could compare to the sheer amount he knocked back that night.

Eskel's grievance against (lemonade) vodka started after a night out at the bar in his early 20's. He doesn't remember how many times he threw up that night (and he doesn't really want to either).

Lambert can hold his alcohol well but gets hangovers extremely easy, unlike Geralt and Eskel who rarely get more than a headache that's readily manageable with a single ibuprofen capsule. Lambert started keeping a bucket under his bed for this exact reason. He doesn't have a gag-inducing alcohol because if he did, all options would be exhausted with the amount of times he has been ill after a night out.

Geralt’s personal vehicle is a baby blue rust bucket of a pickup truck. It’s a sturdy but rough looking 1990 Ford Ranger.

Eskel drives a grey 2013 VW Jetta that was not taken care of too well by it’s previous owner. It’s a secondhand shitbox but it’s his secondhand shitbox.

Lambert refuses to buy his own car and when he’s not working, he makes Vesemir or his brothers drive him places when he can’t/doesn’t want to catch the bus.

Eskel gets extremely bad caffeine withdrawal symptoms since he has a much lower tolerance and rate of consumption than Geralt, who has a worrying dependency. Geralt says he's fine, but his blood pressure says otherwise.

[Modern AU Headcanon Masterpost]

#hypothermic ao3 #the witcher modern au #the witcher headcanon #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier #eskel #lambert #geralt #eskel witcher #lambert witcher #kaer morons #sol scribbles

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heehappi · 5 months

Text

My Heart Beats For U

❯ Pairings: Heeseung x fem! reader

❯ Tags: angst with happy ending

❯ Character: Reader who has a strong attachment to Ethan, Ethan who was Heeseung’s twins, and Heeseung who desperately in love with his brother’s girlfriend.

❯ A/N: Heeseung is NOT a third wheel, Ethan is mentioned but not much, reader has mild mental health issue.

❯ The number of chapters: 3

❯ Synopsis:

You and your boyfriend's brother are eventually together. You like to unbutton his shirt at midnight and kiss the 20 cm long scar on his chest.

Because his heart belongs to your boyfriend.

Ethan, who died in a traffic accident, was your boyfriend. After that accident, his heart was transplanted into the body of his twin brother, Heeseung. So you seduced Heeseung, gathered all your thoughts to find ways to crawl into his bed. You don’t want and don’t allow that heart to love someone else other than you. It must belong to you…

…for good.

Chapter 1 - 2695 words

Heeseung and you have lived under the same roof for a year. One night, you suddenly wake up because of a loud peal of thunder. You look out the window, the lightning flashes and it starts raining heavily outside. You go to the kitchen to have some water. It’s a habit of you to glance at the wall clock in the kitchen.

It’s already half past eleven. And Heeseung hasn’t come back home yet. After the company was listed on the stock market, he had so many social events. He comes home later and later, sometimes he stays at the company overnight.

“Ding-dong”

When you’re just about to go back to your room, the doorbell rings. You walk towards the door and open it. Drunken Heeseung is standing there with a sexy woman, his arm draped around her shoulders, his body sticking to her. She wears a short, tight, black dress that hugs her perfect body perfectly. The woman hugs Heeseung tightly and pretends to be smiling towards you, her eyes filled with provocation.

“There was a party tonight. We had some little fun games. Mr.Lee might have drunk too much and insisted that I would take him home."

This is the fifth time this month that Heeseung was taken home with different girls. I wrap my arm around his waist, pull him out of her embrace, not forgetting to thank the woman.

“Thank you for helping him. I’ll take care of him now.”

She is displeased, wants to say something but you shut the door just in time. You hate the repulsive perfume on her.

You assist Heeseung in getting back into your bedroom, help him lie on the bed, and take off his shoes. You nervously lean your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat through his shirt before exhaling a sigh of relief.

Thankfully, his heart rate remained normal.

Heeseung has ignored the doctor’s repeated warnings that excessive drinking wasn’t recommended for his health, especially after that heart surgery.

Just as you are about to stand up, Heeseung suddenly grabs your arm, flips you over, and traps you beneath him. He squeezes your wrist. There was no sign of inebriation when his dark eyes looked at you with obvious discomfort.

“Why don't you pretend to be drunk anymore?”. You smile.

Heeseung has been used to this type of party over the years. He has mastered controlling his alcohol intake, so there is no way that he gets drunk to the point of passing out. Your wrists are squeezed more tightly so that your eyes become red from pain. A tinge of sadness flickers in his eyes, his eyebrows frowning.

"Aren't you the least bit jealous? Aren't you very concerned about this heart? Aren't you afraid I'll have a change of heart that I will no longer love you?"

Heeseung said, grabbing your left hand and pressing it firmly on his chest.

“Then you will?" You ask.

Pain and sadness welled up in his eyes.

"Y/N, is your heart made of stone?"

Then, he slams the door and leaves the house. He doesn’t return for the rest of the night. He no longer gently coaxes you like before. He even goes on a business trip without informing you.

That’s when you know this time he is really mad at you.

____________________

Ethan, Heeseung and you are college classmates. Ethan is a cheerful and cheery person, wherever he is, there will be laughter. However, his brother, Heeseung, is always cold and nonchalant. You and Ethan dated for 3 months until his final year, Ethan died due to a car accident. Meanwhile, Heeseung had a serious heart disease since birth. So basically, thanks to that accident, thanks to that heart transplant after it, he has lived like a normal person.

Truth be told, you knew that Heeseung liked you a long time ago. When you were a freshman, you accidentally read his diary.

Your name is written all over it.

Therefore, Heeseung - who always seems calm and indifferent - didn’t resist your seduction on the night he recovered from his illness. Even though he knew that you were acting drunk, he still let you sleep with him that night.

You wanted to make Heeseung love you because he has your boyfriend’s heart.

_____________________

On your birthday, you go to the training room to practice with your ensemble as usual.

“Did you argue with Heeseung?". Sunoo, your dance partner, asks you.

You don't have many friends, Sunoo is one of your few buddies.

You said perfunctorily. "No."

Sunoo shakes his head. "I don't believe it! It's been a long time since Heeseung came to the dance troupe. Before, regardless of how busy he was, he would always make time to see you rehearse. Every time he came, he brought a lot of food in case you were hungry. I can tell Heeseung loves you so much, Y/N.”

He pouted. "Moreover, today is your birthday! And Heeseung didn't come? This is too unusual!"

Sunoo still wants to chat more but the dance teacher calls him away.

You have never cared about Heeseung's kindness towards you.

Your phone suddenly vibrates in your pocket. It is a message from Heeseung's assistant.

“Mrs. Lee, I’ve made an appointment with the doctor for you at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Please remember to come on time."

You pick up the phone and text back. "Okay, thank you."

You have stomach problems.

When Ethan passed away, you couldn't face reality so you didn't eat for many days.

Afterward, you ate too much, leading to gastritis. After Heeseung knew that, he found the best doctor in the country to treat you. He even changed himself from someone who didn't know how to cook to a nutritionist, always cooking various dishes and coaxing you to eat.

Now that you think back, it seems Heeseung has always treated you well.

When you had a stomach ache in the middle of the night, sweating profusely, he held you in his arms and rushed to the emergency room. When you had a fever, he stayed by your bedside to take care of you all day and night. When you went on business trips, no matter how late you came home, Heeseung was always waiting at the airport gate to pick you up.

Last year, on your birthday, he even flew back from abroad overnight to see your live performance. In front of thousands of spectators, he walked onto the stage, holding a bouquet of carnations. When he stood in front of you, all the lights suddenly turned off.

Then there was a "pop" sound. A bright beam of light from above clearly illuminated you and him. The corners of his eyes lifted into a smile. He gave you that bouquet of pale red carnations with both hands. "Y/N, happy birthday."

Heeseung’s romance is not much. But it's all for you.

You scroll down the message, then click on the chat box with Heeseung. It has been a month since the last message was received. Heeseung texted that he had something to do and wouldn't go home. You scroll up the chat box and re-read all the messages. Heeseung used to call you love, but then gradually changed to Y/N/L, both your first and last name. When did his attitude towards you change?

Maybe it was that time, Heeseung caught you video chatting with your best friend. You said you only saw him as a substitute lover, you never truly loved him, you just wanted to have his heart. After that day, Heeseung stopped smiling at you. After that day, he is often picked up by different girls when he is drunk.

You recall that one night, he kissed you like crazy, his eyes turned red, full of sadness mixed with angriness.

"I have the same face as Ethan, now I even share the same heart with him, why can't you love me?"

That's right, Heeseung is so kind and gentle, why don't you love him?

_____________________

You finish the rehearsals in the evening. As soon as you walk out of the dance troupe, you run across Peter, the butler of the Lee family. He says that Heeseung's mother has something important to inform you and asks you to come with him to their house.

Constructed midway up the mountain, their house is an old villa from the 1970s, nostalgic but no less unique. It's getting dark now, and the villa's glass windows let in a dazzling display of lights. This is the second time you’ve come here.

The first time was with Ethan. You still remember, when Ethan introduced you to his parents that you were his girlfriend, his father's face darkened, accompanied by his mother's disgusted eyes.

They didn’t want their son to marry below his station.

After getting out of the car, Peter takes you inside the house. Before entering the house, you took a deep breath, always feeling bored. After going through the hallway and into the living room, you finally see Heeseung after a month. He wears a neat suit and sits solemnly on the sofa. There is a girl about eighteen years old sitting next to him. The girl has long hair, wears a white dress, and smiles confidently.

When Heeseung’s mother notices you, she changes her attitude and walks over to hold your hand.

"You finally came."

She even pulls you to sit next to her, letting Heeseung and that girl sit across from you. Heeseung gives you a straight glance, with a surprised look as if he doesn't expect that you will come here.

Grasping your hands, Heeseung’s mother grins and says.

"Y/N, I called you here today because I have happy news to share with you."

Happy news?

You suspiciously look straight at Heeseung.

You haven’t processed what is going on until the female sitting next to Heeseung puts her arm around his and looks at him with her eyes full of love.

Heeseung's mother says.

"Let me introduce to you. This girl here is Hailey, she is Heeseung's fiancée. She returned from Australia to marry him."

The girl named Hailey also grins at you.

Heeseung's mother squeezes your hand, smiling sarcastically. "After all, Heeseung is still young and can't resist the temptation of true love. Today I called you here hoping that you would not bother Heeseung anymore."

You glanced at her. Her smirk made you hate her. You pull your hand out of hers, turn to look at Heeseung.

"Are you going to break up with me?"

Heeseung sits there quietly, lowering his eyes. A bright light shined down from above, making his eyes look deeper.

He ignores you.

With a sigh of relief, Heeseung’s mom requests. "Peter, let the guests out please."

The corner of Hailey’s eyes twitched slightly. She smiled and looked at you complacently.

"Miss Y/N, this way please."

You reluctantly glanced at Heeseung, his expression was still as cold as before. You suddenly felt uncomfortable in your heart.

Heeseung, do you really love me?

Peter keeps urging you to leave. You feel like you are tied with a rock under my feet, you are frozen, staring at Heeseung in confusion, emotions welling up.

Seeing you not moving, Peter reaches out and pulls you. As soon as his hand touches your arm, you finally lose control and scream at him.

"Don't touch me!"

Everyone is flabbergasted by how loud the scream is.

Things go quiet all of a sudden. They stare at you in shock, as if you are some kind of monster. The only one who seems calm is Heeseung, he looks at you sadly.

That's when you realize you were losing your grip.

You couldn't control your anxiety.

You don’t even dare to look at each person, just quickly murmur hastily "Sorry" before turning around and running out in panic. But after just a few steps, your wrist was gripped by someone. You feel like your heart stops beating for a second when your entire body is yanked backward. With both hands, Heeseung holds your face and kisses you desperately.

A film of agony appears in his eye, you can tell that he is on the verge of tears. He bites your lower lip rudely making you wince in pain. Then, with an inexplicable expression in his eyes, he slowly let you go. You taste the blood on your lip, smelling like rust. Your blood also lingers on his thin lip, bright red.

Hailey angrily stomps her feet and gets off the sofa.

"Heeseung, what are you doing!"

She sobs and hurries to Heeseung’s mom. "Auntie, look at them, do they have any shame?"

While comforting Hailey, Heeseung’s mother angrily scolded him. "Heeseung, are you crazy? Hailey is your fiancée."

With one hand, Heeseung loosens his tie and with the other, he pulls you closer to hug you tightly. His eyes instantly turn cold.

"You are the one who chose Hailey as the fiancée you, not me. You all have already seen how I feel about this fucking marriage. From now on, don't you dare to bother Y/N anymore.”

Then, Heeseung takes hold of your hand firmly and drags you away, utterly ignoring the screams behind him.

____________________

The car runs smoothly on the road. Heeseung and you sit next to each other in the rear row. He seems to be purposefully avoiding you as his entire gaze is fixed out the car window.

Your head is lowered, your hands hang limply on your knees, you fiddle with your fingers. Sometimes, you look out the car window, the yellow street lights illuminate the road, the trees speed by on each side of the road.

The car slowly stops when the red light ahead is on.

Heeseung suddenly raises his voice after a month of cold war with you. "So… I don't contact you, then you won’t take the initiative to talk to me?"

You turn to look at him. A dim light shines in, lighting his sharp eyebrows and the gloom in his eyes. He doesn't look at you, he just looks forward at the road.

"I...". You want to say that was not true.

In fact, in the afternoon, you picked up your phone and kept opening his message box, wanting to ask if he was coming home tonight.

But after entering the text multiple times, it was finally deleted.

"Actually, this afternoon I..."

"That doesn't matter anymore.". Heeseung interrupts you.

The car passes through the intersection when the light turns green.

Heeseung tells the driver: "Pull over."

He turns his head away, fixes his eyes outside the window, and coldly orders. "Get out of the car."

You glance out the window, it is still very far from home.

Just as Heeseung is about to say something, he closes his eyes, his face filled with impatience. Turns out he's still angry with you.

____________________

You stand on the side of the road, watching his car drive off.

This is the first time he left you like this.

It’s 9 pm. You feel even more alone as you stroll aimlessly down the busy street, seeing busy people around and their happy grins. Then a couple catches your eyes. Each of them holds an ice cream in their hands, stands under the neon lights, and takes selfies with a grin on their lips.

You couldn't help but remember that summer evening of your last year of college, when Ethan and you stood under the street lights, both holding cups of milk tea and taking selfies, you and him also laughed like this.

You still clearly remember, at that time you unintentionally turned your head and vaguely caught a glimpse of Heeseung’s figure.

He stood there, alone.

His lonely figure was gradually swallowed by the darkness of the night.

-> chapter 2

#heeseung scenarios #heeseung fanfic #heeseung imagines #heeseung #heeseung x reader #lee heesung x reader #heeseung enhypen #heeseung soft hours

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