#Sunset Sound Recorders The Doors | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hier--soir · 8 months

Text

a lover's pinch | eight

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: the one where they get caught. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, domestic bliss, gratuitous descriptions of joel reading, joni mitchell, explicit unprotected piv sex, delayed gratification, dirty talk, finger sucking, biting, academic praise kink, cream pie, who's in the pic on joel's desk??, angst, confrontation, an orpheus and eurydice metaphor uh oh, those blue panties from 3 come back to haunt us. word count: 6.9k nice series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: i need someone to make me write [or not write] the way j miller phd does in this... also sorry and i hope you like it and sorry again follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part eight of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

Winter descends over Maine not with a bang, but with a whimper.

The days and weeks fold together in a blurring mess of sleep ins and papers and coffees, until suddenly a month has passed, and you hardly noticed it slipping through your fingers.

You spend less time at home, and more tucked on one side of Joel’s couch, your feet in his lap as he lounges down the other end. You dip pale toast in runny yolks at the table, listening to him on the phone to Sarah in the other room. Hear him say I’m good, baby girl… I’m really good when she asks how he is.

You ride shotgun in the truck between his place and the university, slipping out the passenger door a little early every time. Walk the final stretch lest someone notice his glasses, your hair through the windscreen.

On campus you watch him up there on his stage, a burn in your chest, and see how he seeks you out in the after. How he props you above him and returns your gaze finally. Curls his body around yours and repents for every time he had to look away.

It's warm and it’s kind and it’s trading books with scribbled notes in the margins.

It’s rain smacking against the windows as you read, his scruffy chin nesting in the slope where your neck meets your shoulder, two sets of eyes staring at the same words.

It’s nodding off in his bed where the sheets have started to smell like your perfume, eyelids heavy as you wait for him to get home. It’s wearing only his clothes and being woken up by his face between your thighs, pupils blown and lips slick.

It’s finding each other at the end of a long day and hearing him say, I thought about you all afternoon.

And this feeling of familiarity writhes between the slats of your ribs. A comfortable, quiet fondness that you see reflected in his eyes when he looks at you; that you hear when that tender mouth forms your name.

You gorge yourselves on it. Put lips to the crooks and thorns in each other’s bodies and suckle on that fondness, swallow, swallow, and watch the well never run dry.

The bleed is endless. Beneath the stain of time it floods and flurries, melting the two of you together until you start to feel certain it could never end.

Until, of course and at last, it does.

Sunday.

It’s late, you think. Somewhere in the mess where time blurs between sunset and midnight, Winter stealing hours that feel like minutes.

The curtains in his living room are drawn, low yellow light warming the room from a tall lamp in the corner. Blue spins in the on the record player, a gentle sway of sound that fills the room.

I like listening to Joni on Sundays, he’d confessed in the bathroom, bashful as he rubbed a towel over you, drying the wet ends of your hair and the slick skin of your shoulders.

He reads at the table now, strong chin cupped in his palm as his eyes flit across the pages of a textbook.

Something to do with conservation; a Minoan palace in Knossos, you think. He’d explained it earnestly, but his curls were soft and fluffy from the shower and his glasses were resting on the tip of his nose and so you’d found yourself zoning out, eyes going from round to heart shaped as you nodded along from the couch.

Every few minutes he grips his pen and jots down a note before glancing up to check on you. And whenever this happens you avert your eyes quickly, pretending to be enthralled by the half-finished essay on your screen. You have a feeling he catches you each time, because he keeps laughing softly, tutting under his breath as he goes back to reading, foot never stopping its tap-tap-tap in time with the music. The only time he gets up is to flip the record, and soon those little laughs and huffs start to mix with Joni’s bell-like voice, and the opening lyrics to California swell through the room as you type at a glacial pace.

She sings, I met a redneck on a Grecian isle, and you glance up again, eyes turning wide and doe-like when you find Joel already watching you. He gave me back my smile, Joni sings. But he kept my camera to sell.

“How’s the writing going?”

“Good.” Liar. “Great, even.” Bad liar.

Joel’s eyes narrow behind his glasses, lips twitching in a clear attempt to smother a laugh, but he just nods, looking back down at his book.

He’s wearing home clothes. That’s what he called them. Home clothes.

When he’d said it, still pulling them on, you’d wanted nothing more than to grip his hands and stop him in his tracks, but you’d sequestered yourself to the other side of the room instead, sorely committed to the study evening he’d suggested. But he’s in soft grey sweatpants and an even softer looking white t-shirt, and every time he sips his coffee he hums happily against the rim of his mug, and his bare foot goes tap-tap-tap and Joni sings Oh, will you take me as I am?, and—

“Come here.”

You blink. His eyebrows raise expectantly, lips split into a broad smile now.

“Unless you’d rather stay over there and keep starin’.”

You reach him as The Last Time I saw Richard, the final track on side two, begins to spin.

Joni sings, all romantics meet the same fate, and Joel’s knees fall apart, thighs splayed so handsomely across his chair, inviting you to take a seat. You ignore the woeful lyrics and focus instead on the knowing smirk on his face, taking a step forward, and another, until you’re stood between his open legs.

He doesn’t touch you. Just smiles, all saccharine and easy, leaning back in his chair.

“Much left to do?” He points at the laptop in your hands.

“Maybe another hundred words,” you grumble and put it down on the table. “Today, at least.”

Joel hums, eyes flicking down. His gaze skirts across the bare skin of your legs, the soft sleep shorts you’re wearing; ones he puts on you himself, and knows you don’t have anything beneath.

“Come here.” He pats his thigh; stops you with a soft tut when you try to straddle him. “Naw, baby, like this.”

Soft hands tilt your hips, turn you until your back is to his chest and he’s drawing you onto his lap.

“Oh.” You smile, leaning your head back onto his shoulder.

Nose turned into the side of his face, you brush a kiss to the edge of his jaw and sigh in relief as he wraps his arms around your middle and squeezes.

The space between his chest and the table is a little tight; small enough that if you were to lean forward a few inches your ribs would knock against the wood.

As if he’s thinking the same thing, Joel leans forward. Presses you against the table, one hand coming up to hold your face. His fingers are soft on your skin, offering small amounts of pressure as he grips your jaw and encourages you to look forward.

“Gonna tell me what’s on your mind?” he asks.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up a little, skin prickling at the shift in his tone. Still soft, still quiet, yet with something… demanding, shifting just below the surface.

“You,” you say, cringing at the way your voice takes on a higher quality all of a sudden. Steeling yourself, you add, “You’re distracting me.”

“Wasn’t doing anythin’,” he responds simply. “Just sittin’ over here, minding my business while you burn holes in my head.”

“You know what you’re doing.”

“I cooked dinner.” He squeezes you again. “Fed you. We showered, and now I’m readin’.”

“You were humming.”

Joel kisses the shell of your ear.

“And tapping.”

He flutters his fingers against your hip.

“S’that such a crime?” he murmurs.

“No, but…” You sigh when his tongue snakes out, tracing the soft curve of your earlobe. “But it…”

“But but but,” Joel mocks, and you can feel his sick smirk against your neck, teeth teasing along your carotid now. “But all you can think about is my cock, ain’t that right?”

Your stomach falls away. Everything firm inside you turns to goo as he laughs, knowing he’s right.

“So needy,” he taunts you, holding your hip tighter as his length begins to thicken against your ass. “Had all day to ask for it.”

You don’t respond, tongue tied and more uninterested in your essay than ever.

“Just lookin’ for a distraction now,” he teases lightly. “The more you put it off, the harder it’ll be to get it done, baby.”

“I know.”

“If you know.” He hooks a finger over the waistband of your shorts. “Then finish it.”

“S’not that simple,” you whine, rolling your hips over his lap. A sharp puff of air warms the back of your neck, so you do it again. His hand tightens around your jaw.

“Just a hundred words, right?” he coaxes gruffly. “Come on now, I’ll make it worth your while.”

You feel his thick cock beneath his sweats, stiff and pressing between the crease of your thighs, melting what’s left of your resolve. You want to grind down against it. To pull your soft sleep shorts to the side and let him sink inside with no more pretence. But you put your hands on the desk, eyes on the screen, and Joel slides his warm palms beneath the hem of your t-shirt. Floats them over the curve of your stomach, the soft flesh around your ribs, waking thousands of tiny hairs that cover your skin until his fingers meet your chest, and he cups your breasts.

You shiver, lids growing heavy as he squeezes and tickles at your skin. Your nipples harden to peaks against his rough palms, and he sighs at the feeling, face resting against the back of your neck as he plays.

“Fuck,” you sigh, voice a broken buzz in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. “I thought you wanted me to write.”

“I do,” Joel murmurs unconvincingly. “A hundred words, go on.”

Hands like lead on the table, it feels like an impossible task. Even more than it did ten minutes ago. You force yourself to lift your fingers to the keyboard, vision sharpening as you look for where you left off. You try to shut him out, try to ignore the way his tongue warms the skin on your neck, the way the hairs on his thighs tickle against yours, and begin to write.

But he doesn’t make it easy.

The second you finish the first sentence one of his hands drifts down your stomach to cup your pussy over your shorts. You flinch, heart galloping in your chest when he sighs in your ear.

“Joel,” you whimper, pleading already. “I can’t if you…”

“You can,” he soothes. The warmth of his palm is suffocating, so hot against where you’re already wet and wanting. Thick fingers press against the fabric, nudging it between your slick folds until it goes damp. “Just ignore me, baby.”

“Easier said than done,” you reply. You type five more words, chest rattling with heavy breaths as he paws at you, thumbing at your clit through your shorts.

His breath is hot and heavy against your neck and his soft curls tickle your skin as you try to focus.

“Ignore me,” he repeats, and you squeak as he tilts you forward. A rush of breath spills from your mouth, chest flush to the desk, ass suspended above his lap as he shifts behind you. And when he pulls you back down, you sigh pathetically over the fact that he’s pushed his sweats down.

The full weight of his length presses against you, nestled between the rounded flesh of your ass, and you manage to mumble his name.

“Just—” You’re panting now; considering begging. “—I can do this later. I will finish it later, I swear, just—”

Joel nudges your shorts to the side and presses a finger between your folds. A ragged gasp stutters out of you, finger jammed against the keyboard. A steady stream of kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk fills a line of the document as he smears your wetness up to your clit.

“Fuck,” you mumble, hips tilting forward, trying to chase the feeling.

“None of that,” he tuts quickly, other hand slipping down and pinching the skin at the inside of your thigh. You’ve only backspaced half of the k’s when he slips two fingers inside you. “Come on, now.”

Thirty words fly as he crooks his fingers inside you. Slow and gentle, thumb rubbing messy circles against your clit as he works you open.

“That’s it,” he coos, pressing a third finger inside. Your cunt sucks desperately at his fingers, the skin of your face warming as you catch a glimpse of your reflection on the laptop screen. Jaw hanging low, a silent prayer for relief written across the open slant of your mouth. “My smart girl. Knew they didn’t give you that degree for nothin’.”

You gasp and swat at his wrist, but a satisfied little smile cracks your face for a moment when he laughs. Only for it to fall seconds later when he lays a sharp bite to the back of your shoulder. You moan, voice cracking around his name, rutting desperately against his hand.

“You can do it,” he flatters you, sickly sweet and entirely convincing as he strokes at your insides. Curling and stretching until you’re turning to a wet trembling mess in his lap, wobbling through half-assed sentences that you aren’t sure even match up with your essay outline anymore.

“Good,” Joel murmurs. “That’s good.”

“Don’t look,” you slur out, heart pounding at the idea of him reading anything you’ve written in this state. “It’s f-for your class, you can’t look.”

“Not lookin’.” He noses at the back of your ear. Presses an open-mouthed kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Just lookin’ at you, m’always just lookin’ at you.”

“I’ll finish it.” You switch up your tactic now. Voice low and breathy, the back of your head resting heavy on his shoulder, eyes longing to close. “Tomorrow, I’ll write it—”

“Tomorrow?” His thumb drags harder on your clit.

“Yes,” you gasp, stomach tensing. You feel a bit floaty all of a sudden. Locked out of your own mind, all thoughts spilling from between your thighs as desire grips you, consumes you. “Please, just…”

“What, baby?” he prompts. “Say it.”

“Just let me sit on your cock,” you groan. “Please, I can’t think right now, I’ll finish it, I promise.”

“You fuckin’ promise—Christ,” he grumbles, fingers drifting from your tight clutch. “Just a little more, baby, for me.”

You don’t even really know how it happens after that. Ears roaring, skin tight, everything is a blur as you write and write and write and he presses his leaking tip between your folds works you down onto his length. Hands everywhere, so warm, so rough, holding your thighs, your waist, your breasts, your shorts to the side. Slower when your gasps spin higher, you think, always knowing when to ease up, when the burn gets too much too quick.

Joel grips your thighs, prying them apart until your calves are on the outside of his, and then he’s shifting his legs open wide, giving your own no choice but to follow. You feel the full weight of him in this position. The long, thick stretch of his cock inside you as your legs dangle listlessly over his lap, toes straining and failing to reach the floor. You can do nothing but rest heavily across his thighs, those hands still everywhere all at once, and whine pitifully as your walls spasm and clench around him, coil inside pulling tighter and tighter.

Vision waning, the text on your screen warbles as Joel slips the pad of his finger against your clit and begins to play with it. Soft little rubs that have you going tense and leaning forward on the table, braced on your elbows and grinding down into his lap, desperate for release, for movement, anything. It feels like your brain is splintering into a thousand tiny pieces inside your skull.

“You’re so wet,” Joel rasps, forehead heavy against your shoulder blade as he groans. “Pretty pussy’s drippin’ all over me, honey. You really need it that bad?”

You say something you think, mouth moving and eyes rolling as his hips shift up in a weak little thrust. Just one.

“Keep goin’.” He sounds pained, half-drunk as the words stumble out of him.

Your mind slips further from your grasp and you’re typing pure gibberish. Slurring messes of letters cloaked in perfect punctuation. Your fingers fly across the keys, painting commas and full stops and semi colons around complete and utter bullshit as your cunt flutters and your belly stirs.

His finger glides and his cock pulses and your vision darkens and you come. Shoulders hunched, table digging into your forearms, you fold forward and cry out as an agonisingly brief orgasm rips through you.

It’s over before it’s even begun, but Joel groans and offers a shallow thrust, your cry turning to a gasp as he grips your thigh for dear life.

“Oh good girl,” he murmurs, fingers slowing against your nerves, not wanting to overwhelm. “Fuckin’ squeezing me so tight, baby.”

“Joel.” There are tears in your eyes now. Liquid frustration that pools against your waterline and threatens to spill when he still doesn’t fuck you how you need him to.

“How much left?” he asks roughly, rocking his hips against yours in a steady pace now. Gentle, rolling movements that snag on the heels of your orgasm and hold it close.

“Huh?”

“How many words?”

“I don’t…” Your eyelids flutter. “I don’t know.”

“Shit, sweetheart,” he laughs a little then, rueful but not unkind. “That’s gonna be hell to edit.”

With a furious groan you slam the laptop closed, the sharp smack of metal on metal filling your ears as he grips your hips and really starts to fuck you.

It’s not fast though, not rough. Just deep, lingering strokes that grind against the end of you and nudge you stumbling toward the edge. He pinches your clit between the tips of his middle and ring fingers, rubbing slow drags up and down against the hood like that. Moaning and sweating, you slip your hand over his. Press lower and let your fingers glide around his girth, thick and vascular between your thighs, hot skin wetter every time he pulls out of you.

“Feel that?” Joel pants, teeth nipping at the top of your spine. “You’re creamin’ for me, baby. Fuck, I—I need to taste it.”

“Shit—oh god.”

He grips your wrist and drags it up, chin harsh against your shoulder as he sucks your fingers into his mouth.

The groan he lets out is filthy as his hot tongue snakes out to lick the webbing between your fingers, and you tip your head to watch his eyes roll back. His thighs tremble beneath you, but you can’t be sure it’s not just the vibrations of your own body tricking you.

But no, it’s him. His hips stutter against yours, deep plunges stilting into shallow movements, and he stalls deep inside your cunt for a second on the end of every thrust, as if his brain is short-circuiting.

You hook your fingers in his mouth, the tips digging into the gums behind his teeth, and tug him back to reality. He nips at your fingers and moans, hand falling heavy between your thighs again. And he doesn’t stop now; keeps pushing and pinching and fucking and grinding until your pussy is pulling tight and slick around his length and your fingers are fanned loose and shaky across his face, and you can hardly breathe except to say Joel or please or oh my god.

“Can feel it,” he grunts breathlessly, skin smacking against yours in a sharp staccato beat. “Deep breath, baby, c’mon, let me have it.”

“Your teeth,” you gasp feverishly. “Bite me again.”

“Fuck,” he snarls and then he’s grating the hard line of his incisors along your shoulder.

The sweet pinch of his canines digging into your back sets your cunt aflutter around him, mouth hung open in silent ecstasy as he fucks you full of his seed and you suck it in deep, tight with longing, still panting and high when it begins to drip from where you’re connected, spooling around his cock and smearing between your thighs and his.

His chest heaves against your back. Chest hair damp wet sweat, dripping through your thin shirt until it can’t decide whether to cling to his skin or yours. There’s an ache at the base of your spine, maybe a muscle pulled, and his thumb presses into the flesh there as if he can sense it.

Sounds come back slowly. Joni’s finished and the needle tracks around the runout groove on the record, a little crackle flaring every few seconds where the two channels join. Joel’s breathing too, rough against your shoulder, harmonising with the wet sound of his lips peeling from your skin.

You tilt your head to the side.

Wild eyed, cunt-struck, Joel knocks his nose against yours. Groans low when you flick your tongue out to graze across his bottom lip. He’s bitten it rough and ragged and red, and you want to soothe the sting. His glasses are on top of his head, smudged lenses tucked amidst wild fluffy curls.

You try to kiss him, hard and wet, but he stops you with a hand to your jaw. Cradles your face and strokes your cheekbone and wipes the spittle from your lips before kissing you lightly. Chaste and gentle, like the two of you are ten and have never kissed anyone before, have never been brave enough to use your tongues.

That invisible bleed in your chest drips heavier. You picture a thick spurt of red against your chest cavity as he kisses the corners of your mouth, the tip of your nose, your eyelids.

“You good?” he asks quietly.

You nod, smiling when his lips catch and drag across your skin with the movement of your head.

A moment passes like this. Searching kisses dotted over your smiling face. The swell of your cheeks, the ends of your eyebrows.

“Sometimes I feel like you aren’t real,” Joel confesses. A bare bones whisper that tickles the skin between your eyebrows, where his lips rest now. “Like you might just melt away if I don’t hold on tight enough. Disappear if I look away too long, and I’ll be stuck tryna convince myself that you were ever really here.”

Twisted up in his arms, you can feel the way his heart batters against his chest, thrashing through to vibrate against your back. He might as well be plucking the admission straight from your own mouth.

“I’m real,” you murmur against his neck. “I’m here, it’s real.”

“Me too,” he says. Something wet tickles your skin, but it’s gone in a second. Rubbed over by his thumb, soothed with another kiss.

I love you, you think, but when you speak it comes out as, “No melting.”

Joel laughs softly. Kisses you again. “No melting.”

Thursday.

“It was too much.”

“It was fine.”

“I said the word grateful three times.”

“Four, actually.” You chew the inside of your cheek and shrug apologetically. “I counted.”

“Jesus,” Joel sighs, reaching up to a drag a hand over his face.

He’s pulled his desk chair all the way across the office. Tie loosened and top buttons undone, he slumps in it a little. His thick knees almost brush against yours where you sit in his armchair.

“Hey, I liked it,” you smile, bumping his knee. “It was nice - shows you care.”

“Well, you ain’t all that hard to please,” Joel smarts, lip quirking up into a sly grin.

Mouth open in a scoff, you feign offence, dragging your laptop from your satchel and making a show of ignoring him.

“How the mighty fall,” he continues, sighing dramatically and tilting his head over the back of the chair. The light coming in through the window hits his face just right, and the grey hairs in his curls shine. “Grateful to have been your professor… asshole.”

“Don’t be precious,” you laugh softly. “You’re just embarrassed because you said you were going to miss us.”

“That was a lie,” Joel tuts, brushing you off with a hand in the air, biting back that grin. “I ain’t gon’ miss any of you assholes. And when those final papers come in—” He taps a finger against the top of your laptop “—I’ll be sayin’ my prayers that any of you can string a worthwhile sentence together.”

“If you’re lucky,” you drawl, batting his hand away. “You’ll teach some of us again next year. And when that semester finishes, you’ll say all of that shit again, because you’re a sap, Joel Miller.”

Joel stares at you for a moment, face softening, and then clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Smart ass.”

“And you love it,” you quip easily, only balking a moment later when the word hangs awkwardly in the air. Hands pausing on your keyboard, you glance up, neck hot, only to find Joel watching you still. Face suspended in a small smile; eyes light as he nods.

“I do,” he says after a moment. “But you’re on thin ice, wise guy.”

He plucks a book from his desk and spreads it open on his lap, either not noticing or simply not caring as you watch on, slack jawed. I do.

After a moment, Joel taps his foot against yours again. “Write.”

So, sucking in a breath, you do. Time passes and rain starts to drizzle against the window as you write, and Joel reads. Having forgotten to put a record on like normal, he hums lightly under his breath; some tune you can’t place but still nod along to. Every few minutes he turns his page, and the sound sends a shiver down your spine.

You hate the way he holds books. Hate the way he cradles the spines, thumb hooked around the footnotes to hold his page. Hate the way his fingers trace the stanzas as he reads, tender and patient, and always afraid to miss something. Hate most the way the tendons on the backs of his hands flex when he turns the page. How the veins around them go fat and blue the longer he does this, as if all the blood in his body is sprinting towards the words. It’s a dangerous sort of eroticism, watching him read. You hate how much you love it.

In need of reprieve, you focus on your own hands. Crack tired knuckles and stretch out cramps and aches, taking a moment to peer over at his desk. The picture frame you’d once been so curious about is propped on the edge of it once again.

You can see Joel behind the glass panel, sporting a shit-eating grin with Sarah, clad in a graduation gown, tucked proudly against his chest. Taken the day she finished high school, you know now. And you’d never noticed it that first time, months ago, but Ellie’s face rests in the corner of the picture. Pink tongue stuck out and eyes pinched shut; she’d snuck her head into the frame at the last second apparently.

You gaze fondly at it, and feel that familiar warmth in your chest over the fact that he’s put it back out. No more hiding.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Joel glances over his shoulder, and then smiles.

“It’s a good photo,” you say. “You look so happy there.”

“I was. It’s one of my favourites,” he nods, adjusting his glasses on his nose. He seems to consider you for a moment, eyes flicking around your face, fingers fidgeting with the corner of his page. “Hey, I uh… Sarah actually called yesterday.”

He pauses. Takes an unusually deep breath and folds the book shut.

“Okay.” You blink, confused. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah.” He nods quickly. “Yeah, yeah, she was uh, she was askin’ about the holidays, and if—”

The office door creaks open, and Joel’s mouth seals shut as Rachel walks hastily inside, rushed words filling the small room.

“Joel, sorry, I need to grab—oh.”

There’s an odd pause after the words catch in her throat. A moment of uncomfortable stillness as the three of you inhale all at once, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

You and Joel aren’t touching, but your knees rest close, one of his feet in the space between yours on the carpet. Laptop propped on your knees, your final essay still lays open with a stream of edits pasted through the margins, cursor blinking at the end of the word nostos.

Joel, tie undone and sleeves rolled up, looks painfully casual in your presence.

“Sorry.” Rachel blinks, hovering awkwardly as the door clicks shut behind her. “I didn’t realise you had a… a meeting today?” The end of her sentence flares up, as if she’s confused, phrasing it like a dubious little question.

You offer a smile in her direction and hope it comes across as relaxed, a little encroaching even; as if you are the one who has interrupted; the one who should not be here.

“It’s fine,” Joel supplies easily, straightening in his chair to give her his full attention. His face gives nothing away. Stoic and calm, the way you’d imagine him to be if you weren’t here at all. “Everything alright?”

“Yes,” she says, frowning like she’s affronted by the question. Looks between the two of you again, listless fingers curling at her sides. “Just came to get that Livy copy back

You look back at your screen and will yourself to type something. To appear casual, studious, as if your heart isn’t lodged in the base of your throat.

“Sure,” he nods, gesturing vaguely toward his desk. “It’s in one of the drawers on the left.”

Rachel nods, walking over to the desk, and as her back turns you spare a glance at Joel. Find him already looking at you, eyebrows pulled down a little. Pink lips mouth It’s fine, married with a soft nod of his head, and for the second time in seconds you attempt a smile.

There’s the sound of wood sliding against wood, and then a soft, tired kind of silence. The lack of sound seems to swell, the air in the room thinning, your eyes focusing on Joel’s fingers on the armrest of his chair, tap tap tap, Rachel’s unruly curls somewhere past that, her face downturned, looking at something. Wary breaths held in unison, synced heart beats racing. It’s fine, it’s fine, no melting.

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Your head snaps up. Joel turns in his chair and begins to ask what’s wrong, but all that ends up coming from him is a sort of choked noise, rough around the edges, and breathless in the middle. Chest on fire, you let yourself look past him to where she stands.

Her gaze is hard as she stares Joel down from across the room. A slip of blue; soft material visible between her fingers, held up for a stunned chorus to see.

Your hearing deafens a little as you look on, motionless, a vague memory of birthday boy and got your cute little panties all soaked thinkin’ ‘bout my cock? playing in your mind. Of a damp patch on his shirt as he tucked blue into his desk drawer.

Joel says Rachel’s name, you think. Can see the way his jaw moves, the way her dark eyes sharpen, flitting back and forth between the two of you. And then, like a volcanic eruption or the swell beneath a wave, realisation crests the hill and It’s fine cracks and crumbles and turns to dust in your grasp. You don’t know what she knows, or how she knows, you just know that she does.

“You… what is this?” Rachel’s face shifts into something uncomfortable. A warped, grotesque shot at a smile. But as her lips curl upward, eyebrows down, it’s nothing but a contorted mess that blurs endlessly between confusion, surprise, and then horror. “This… her? She’s the reason you—”

“Rachel.” Joel’s entire body is wound tight. You can see the edge of his jaw from where you sit; the way his shoulders pull back, tight he watches her.

Your body seems to hold itself together for a moment. Breath caught on an inhale, lungs expanded, eyes frozen on the hard line of his nose, the arm of his glasses—places you feel safe to hover. But then she speaks again, and everything lurches back into focus. Like a needle scratching on a record, or tires squealing as a car pulls to an abrupt stop at a red—the words make you cringe, chest deflating and face crumpling.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” she’s saying, and her voice raises, louder to match the disbelief in her tone. “You… she’s a fucking student.”

When the fear hits it doesn’t come slowly. It strikes hard and solid; an icy sheet of dread that sucks at your fingers and numbs your extremities. Cool and abrupt, it sinks to your bones and promises that you’ll never again feel anything but this. It laughs in the face of your warm kind month, pressing its chilled ice picks to the back of your eyes until they burn.

Her words hang heavy in the air, thick weights that press down on three sets of shoulders, and you have never wanted anything the way you want to see Joel’s face right now. To look at him and believe that this isn’t as bad as you know it to be. See that mouth tell you it’s fine and remember how it tastes.

Instead, a fear-stricken Orpheus, you will yourself not to look at him. Despite that longing, the way your arms beg to stretch out, to hold and be held, you do not look. No, you don’t think you could suffer the double death of both knowing this is happening and seeing him know it too.

In his place, you let your eyes turn to Rachel, and find that she already stares at you, small mouth cracked ajar in incredulity.

Mind whirring, racing, stumbling; fumbling to pin back together the pieces of who you once were in her eyes and who you are now. This woman you admire so, whose career path you’ve dreamt of, whose wit and quirk has propelled you, invigorated you.

It’s agonising to watch—the way her face morphs into something so unfamiliar as she looks at you now. An expression that once held only admiration, kindness, marred here by an inexplicable sense of pity. Not hate, or contempt, which perhaps would be easier to handle. Easier than the way those dark orbs go round and solemn with worry as they fall upon your anguished frame. It’s a slap in the face; camaraderie washed down the drain like the dregs of a long overdue bath, as she grips your soiled underwear in her fist.

Joel says her name, you’ve lost count of how many times he’s said it now, and she spurns his attempt at placation like a snake. Fast and deadly, venom dribbling from her tongue.

“Someone else?” she says, and her voice is like never before. Mirthless and cold, fury laced through every word. With a sharp jerk of her elbow, she tosses the underwear across the room. They land against Joel’s chest, caught silently in his fist. “You’re fucking sick.”

“This isn’t what you think it is—” Joel starts, and you think you hear his voice shake.

“It isn’t?” She laughs cruelly at that. “You haven’t been sleeping with one of our students?”

The cursor blinks on your screen. Nostos, nostos, nostos, nostos.

“Listen, can we talk about this somewhere else?” he asks. “Not like this, I—”

“Oh, is this not a convenient time for you?” she scowls. “Jesus Christ.”

The urge to speak bubbles in your chest. You don’t even know what you’re going to say until the words are spilling from your lips, disjointed and warbled, a voice that doesn’t even sound like your own.

“I pursued him,” you say.

You can feel them looking at you. Can hear the way you must sound to her, like some kid and not a woman who’s almost thirty years old and just as much to blame. But you can’t stop it.

“We’re both adults. He never made me do anything I didn’t—”

Joel says your name sharply. His fist, in the periphery of your downturned gaze, grips your balled up underwear so tight that the blue is entirely invisible within the thick masts of his fingers.

You suck in a breath, and it feels like the last bit of air in the room disappears into your lungs, so you hold it there. Keep it safe inside and figure that if all three of you were to suffocate then at least the truth, and all the foul consequences that come with it, would die here with you.

“Can you give us a minute?”

Silence falls in the lull after those words, and it takes a moment for you to look up, finally. To realise that the double death wasn’t in looking at Joel, but in understanding that he’d spoken these words to you, not her.

Eyes locked with his, you feel the fear move to your side. Hang low until it ebbs and flows in the space beneath your ribs—a sharp ache with no end in sight. He looks tired; resigned. Mouth thin and downturned, cheeks splashed with red.

You think you must say something. Some fumbling, awkward acknowledgement, because Rachel is giving you that look again and you can’t bear it. Can’t stand those eyes, that misplaced pity.

You collect your things, hands numb as you pile them into your bag and head for the door, skin prickling in defence against the silence that follows your movements.

Outside his office, alone in the long corridor, you know you should go. Should follow the wall down the stairs, out to your car, and not look back. Can you give us a minute? But that sharp ache leaves you cowering against the wall, limbs heavy, ear to his door.

“Rach,” Joel says softly, and it’s so familiar that your stomach rolls, lids fluttering closed. “It isn’t what you think, just let me explain, alright? We met before the term began; before she was my student. Before.”

“And then?”

“What?”

“I said, and then?” Rachel’s voice is steely. “You met her before and, what, you saw her in class and decided it was fine to let it continue? You—”

“Everything was consensual. You know me, I would never—”

“It’s not as simple as that, and you know it. Did you not think about what would happen if you were found out? Her credibility will be destroyed, Joel.”

“I know—”

“I mean for fucksake, her first major presentation was given at a conference where you were the keynote speaker. How do you think this will look?”

“Fuck, I know. Can you keep your voice down, please.”

There’s a brief silence. You hear shuffling, feet against carpet, and a dull spike of fear flares in the back of your mind. The idea of getting caught a second time, eavesdropping from outside the door. Against better judgement, you don’t move, and Rachel speaks again.

“You’re wrong,” she says. “I don’t know you. I… you aren’t the man I thought you were.”

You don’t hear Joel’s response over the drumming in your ears. Hot blood thrashes and roars inside your body, veins pounding with terror. Hands shake damp and weary at your sides, thinking hard, hard, grasping for solution, for the chance to say I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, this is my fault.

But he must have said something because then you hear it. A low fragment of a human voice, words spoken clear as day. They slice through your ears and have you peeling away from the door, swallowed by a white-hot longing to disappear as you stumble down the hall, the stairs, until you’re sucking in cold air on the pavement outside.

It’s raining hard now. Thin spray that comes at you sideways, lashing at your face and blinding you. You curl your back to the downpour and search thoughtlessly for your car, hands outstretched, those words of hers ricocheting off the inside of your skull.

When you find it, you press your key into the door and slump inside, and you still can’t avoid it. She might as well be standing right by the door, peering in at you. Shock in the jut of her brow, disappointment in the slant of her mouth as she whispers those words over and over through the crack in your window.

"I don’t care if you love her, Joel. I have to report you.”

refs:

joni mitchell's 1971 Blue album. [life changer]

the hollow men by t. s. elliot [fat juicy banger of a poem]

orpheus and eurydice from metamorphoses by ovid, tr. by a. d. melville

thank you for reading x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

1K notes · View notes

cher-rei · 3 months

Note

Heyy,

Could u write a Jamal Musiala x reader fic

Where they are both on vacation and just go swimming on the beach but she doesn’t like swimming because she fears deep water,so he helps her

and he propose her later ,at dinner

I know it’s kinda kitschy

xoxo

bottled up– jamal musiala [ J.M ]

I will always love you [godsped– frank ocean]

pairing: jamal musiala x fem!reader

summary: a much needed trip to the maldives ends in a wave of emotions and unforgettable memories.

genre(s): fluff and a whole lot of emotions, suggestive content but it's chill

[wc: 2.3k] masterlist

notes: screaming. crying. throwing up. me when????

your jaw dropped at the breathtaking sight of the resort in front of you. jamal had surprised you with a trip to the maldives, saying that it had been so long since you too have been alone together without any interruptions.

and you were so glad that the thought dawned on him because the way that the sun soaked island looked from your hotel room was gorgeous. the azure waters, flourishing greenery, and the vibrant hibiscus flowers set a perfect backdrop for your much needed holiday.

jamal had been looking forward to this trip for weeks, eager to spend quality time with you without any pressure. he shut the door to your suite behind him, a smile on his lips as you gawked at the view from the window.

"this view is making me emotional," you joked and took a few pictures of the sunset scenery.

jamal hugged you from behind, letting his chin rest on top of your head to admire the view and appreciate the feeling of you safe in his arms. "yeah?" he laughed at your eager nod in response to his answer and gently peppered the crook of your neck with kisses.

you felt the featherlight touch of his lips start to roam, causing you to giggle. you shivered at his touch, absentmindedly tilting your head to give him more access. this probably wasn't the best thing to do at a moment like this, especially when you still had unpacking to do.

jamal's kisses grew more insistent, his hands roaming over your body and you turned around to face him, needing more. your lips met instinctively, your fingers tangled in his hair which caused him to let out a satisfied moan.

taking this as a sign, he took a few steps back that had the two of you stumbling back toward the bed, your laughter mingling with the sound of the crashing waves outside. the energy between the two of you was playful, nothing short of a giggling mess. but you loved it.

"I know I said that I was tired when we landed." his kisses moved from your lips to your jaw, down your neck, and across your collarbone. "but I think I'll be good for another hour."

disregarding your laughing state, he gently pushed you back onto the mattress, the playful twinkle in his eyes never leaving as he looked down at your smiling figure.

you covered your face with your hands in attempt to hide the blush forming on your cheeks. "an hour?" the shock in your voice made him smirk, and he pulled your hands from your face.

"baby, if you want two then I'll be more than happy to--"

"--jamal!"

the following morning, you woke up feeling more relaxed than ever. the atmosphere was enough to lull you to sleep for at least a week, but there was still much exploring to do.

jamal made sure to have you up and ready for breakfast in record time so you could be out for some sightseeing. his excitement for this trip was jarring and it warmed your heart knowing that he finally got a chance to rest after the season he's had back home.

it was filled with ups and downs and you recalled the evenings where he would come home from practice and lay himself down on your chest. no words were exchanged in moments like those, instead you'd gently trial your hand on his back.

in minutes you'd have him fast asleep with his head resting in the crook of your neck, his light snores of exhaustion tugging at your heart as a reminder of how hard he worked. all this at the ripe age of 21, so you knew that your role wasn't just to be his girlfriend, it was to be his support and home.

which was what you were doing now in your hotel room after taking a tour of the resort and eating lunch. jamal's grip tightened on your waist as he cuddled further into your side, basking in your warmth.

"I'd kill to have vacations where we could just lay like this," he muttered through a smile, a warmth spreading through his chest at the low hum vibrating from your chest. and he was just about to fall back to sleep when a wave of realisation washed over him.

he lifted his head to look down at you, flashing his trademark smile. "are you ready to hit the beach?"

you smiled back at him, though with a hint of apprehension. "sure, but you know how I feel about the ocean right?"

the ocean, or rather the depth of it was one of your greatest fears. you were one to appreciate the way it looked, and the beauty of the waves crashing and how it looked on the horizon but when it came to swimming in it, your chest tightened.

jamal understood this better than anyone and ruffled your hair teasingly. "don't worry, I'll be holding your hand the entire time. and we'll just dip our toes in, okay?"

screw jamal and his power over you, because not even 10 minutes later, you were on your way with a bag full of snacks, sunscreen, and a ridiculously sized inflatable flamingo that he insisted on bringing. when you arrived, the beach was everything you'd hoped for— clear waters, soft sand, and surprisingly empty.

your boyfriend wasted no time and set your things beside your lounge chairs, making sure that you were comfortable. before he got too excited you wave him over and took out the sunscreen.

"j, take your shirt off. you can't get it wet," you said and applied some sunscreen to your arms and legs. you were wearing a cute cream linen two-piece— shorts and a button-up shirt with your swimsuit underneath,

janal sat on the lounge chair with you standing between his legs, with a pout on his lips, clearly not wanting to put the sunscreen on. "you just wanted a reason to touch me, I know how you think."

you rolled your eyes as you smoothed the sunscreen onto his shoulders, just the sight of his toned upper body had your heart pounding but you couldn't give in.

he must've been tipped off by your lack of reply though and took it as an invitation to tease you further. there was silence as you applied the last of your sunscreen but your breath hitched at the feeling of jamal fidgeting with the hem of your shorts.

not having any of, you gently slapped his hand away. "we're done here, thanks."

to your surprise, he gladly took his leave and made sure to drag the flamingo to the water. after 10 minutes of relaxation and peaceful sunbathing, he called out to you, saying that it was time to get in.

you happily declined however, and said that your presence and the fact that you took of your shirt and shorts was enough as is. there was no need for you to get in the water instead, you stood on the water's edge and watched as he played around.

"but the flamingo is lonely without you," he whined with a pout, bringing the flamingo floaty closer.

you shook your head and kicked the water beneath your feet, which sent an unwanted chill up your spine. "no thanks. I'm fine over here."

jamal was a baby at times like this, where he would whine and beg because no matter what, he knew that you'd give in eventually. he came up to stand a few steps in front of you, the floaty still at his side.

"come on baby." he extended his hand out for you to grab. "for the flamingo?"

what was up with him and this famn flamingo?

with a deep sigh, and a roll of your eyes, you relented, watching as his eyes lit up. "fine, but if I drown, it's on you."

"deal," he said and took your hand in his, slowly taking a few steps further into the water. "I'll even throw in a free cpr lesson."

a scoff left your lips and the two of you continued to wade into the water which was now resting just above your knees. the comforting grip of jamal's hand on yours made the situation ten times better and you found yourself enjoying the feeling of the water on your skin.

"see. this isn't so bad," he said and lightly splashed you with some water and you splashed him back.

it took a bit but you were more or less fully covered by the water that was now resting at your chest. you floated around on the flamingo calmly while jamal stayed at your side in the water. it was more relaxing than you thought it would be, and you quite enjoyed the feeling.

as the afternoon went on, the two of you enjoyed the water, had fun with the flamingo and took a bunch of pictures with it, and laughed until your sides hurt. by the time the sun began to set, you were both comfortably bobbing in the water, watching the sky turn into a masterpiece of warm hues.

a few days later, you and jamal found yourselves back at the beach, this time with a picnic basket and a sense of excitement. the flamingo floaty was noticeably absent, but there was a twinkle in jamal's eyes that you couldn't quite place.

after a lazy afternoon of sunbathing and snaking, jamal suggested that you should take a walk along the shore. you were a but suspicious at first since it was starting to get late, but agreed seeing as that you wanted to spend more time with your boyfriend in this setting.

as you strolled, hand in hand, jamal kept glancing around, seemingly searching for something. you took notice of this and couldn't help but wonder. "jamal what are you looking for?" you lightly nudged his arm and he turned to look down at you with his lips pursed.

"I have a feeling that the flamingo is following us," he deadpanned, causing you to laugh. his blank expression didn't last long though, and his focus was fully on how beautiful you looked.

the way that the setting sun reflected your complexion was awing and he couldn't help but stare, his heart pounding in his chest. you were breathtaking and it took jamal a while to realise that you were talking to him.

you waved a hand in front of his face. "hello? are you okay?"

he cleared his throat and smiled. "yeah, you're distracting me that's all."

a scoff of disbelief fell from your lips at his comment but you continued to face forward, your interlocked hands swinging at your sides. the stroll continued for a bit but finally he gasped and directed your attention to something.

"it's looks like there's something in it." you squinted, spotting the bottle bobbing in the gentle waves.

jamal who couldn't contain his curiosity ran to the waters edge and picked up the bottle, inspecting it before attempting to remove the cork. he was struggling by the looks of it, and waved you over to help him.

you rolled your eyes but joined in, both of you tugging at the bottle until jamal finally popped it open, almost falling over in the process. he laughed sheepishly as he handed it over to you with a sigh.

"open it, I'm too tired I need to catch my breath," he said dramatically and took a few steps to dramatically fan himself off. you watched your boyfriend with a disapproving look as he walked off but gave in.

you uncorked the bottle and pulled out a piece of paper, laughing at how this was probably something like a few kids did a while ago. nonetheless, you unrolled it was a smile until your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

the paper read, "will you marry me?" but what confused you was that it was obviously in jamal's handwriting. "j, wha--" your sentence abruptly came to a halt when you turned around to look at your boyfriend who was dropped to one knee, holding up the most gorgeous ring you've ever seen.

a knot of emotions formed in your stomach and you were honestly about to throw up. words were lodged in your throat, your gaze softening as you looked at jamal who was nervously smiling. "I love you. I am, who I am because of you— you are every season, every hope and every dream I've ever had, and no matter what happens in the future, everyday that we're together is the greatest day of my life."

the tears were falling down your cheeks in record time, but you tried to wipe them back as jamal carried on speaking and all you could think of in that moment was how much you loved and appreciated every single thing about him.

a small chuckle left his lips as he watched you blink away your tears. "I have so many things to say right now but you're making me nervous-- seriously you look so gorgeous right now." the trail off was unintentional and after a beat of listening to you laugh, his heart swelled.

"just like the grains of sand that make up this beach, you make up every part of me. so before I start crying— will you marry me?"

your heart raced, a of laughter filling the air as you didn't waste a second to nod your head with an excited "yes, of course I'll marry you!"

jamal slipped the ring on your finger, picking you up and spinning you around as you both laughed. he set you down and kissed you deeply, the waves lapping at your feet as you sunk into the sand and the feeling of utter bliss.

it was when you pulled away that you heard a few more familiar screams echo through the air causing you to look behind you. at a nearby rock, sophia, aaliyah, kai and florian appeared. they were carrying— of course— the flamingo floaty, now decorated with flowers and a banner that read, "she said yes!"

you burst out laughing and looked at jamal who pulled you closer to his chest, kissing the top of your head. "I told you the flamingo was following us."

#cherrei writes #jamal musiala x reader #jamal musiala #jamal musiala fanfic #germany nt #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #euro 2024 #football imagine #bayern munich #musiala x reader

219 notes · View notes

aphrogeneias · 8 months

Text

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x manager's daughter!reader

summary: eddie has hit rock bottom. it's been a long time coming. there's only one person who can help him, but he hasn't thought of her in a long time.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: mentions of drinking and drugs (licit and illicit), and issues with the excess of both. brief mention of a small injury.

series masterlist / taglist is open!

The first thing Eddie ever noticed about you was your laugh. It was your most striking feature.

It commanded a room. It said everything there was to say about you. Loud, unabashed, not scared to call attention. The kind of laughter that makes you throw your head back, the kind that makes everything funnier. Impossible to miss.

He heard it, clear as a bell, across the hall from your father’s office, the first time he walked through the halls of that office building, shoulder to shoulder with his friends and bandmates, ready to sign Corroded Coffin’s first ever major deal.

A lot of firsts in one day. Too many life changing circumstances. The first fallen domino in a long, crumbling chain.

He can still see it all. The outdated, 1970s wallpaper and carpet, creams and oranges and swirls. The tour posters and platinum records littering the walls. The smell of cigarettes and hardwood floor wax coming from his future manager’s office as they went in. Into the lion’s den, wide eyed boys with hands that trembled too much for a confident handshake.

The girl sitting on top of the big office table, laughing at her father’s jokes. He couldn't hear what he told you just before they came in, but it seemed like an intimate moment. Father and daughter, their own world.

That laughter, though. It caught him by surprise. It shook the entire room. She barely spared them a glance as they were ushered in, and climbed down with a kind of feline grace. Her hair bounced behind her as she walked away, hurriedly blowing a kiss back at the man behind the desk.

Expensive perfume, the glint of golden jewelry on her skin, the sway of her hips just before the door closed behind her. His eyes struggled with tearing themselves off the door that hid her from him.

The first time he saw you. You, you, you.

Eddie Munson had never met anyone like you. He wasn't sure he ever would — and he was right, after all.

CHATEAU MARMONT HOTEL, LOS ANGELES, 1990

The sound of the telephone wakes him up.

He doesn’t know when he’s gone to bed, has no memory of it, but he can feel the toll last night took on his body. His tired body drags itself across the mattress, and the first thing Eddie notices is that he’s naked. The second is that the phone is still ringing.

Reaching out, his face hits the pillow once more, smushing his cheek against it as he grabs the receiver and pulls it to his ear. “Munson residence. Edwin speaking.”

“Where the fuck were you, man?”

The voice on the other side of the line sounds like Jeff, but Eddie’s never heard him quite like this. On the verge of tears, but maybe his still drunk brain is playing tricks on him. He doesn’t need to look around to know that the room is a mess. There’s a sheet on the floor, and a bottle of booze on his field of vision, and another at the side table next to the phone. Both empty.

He’s just glad he didn’t wake up to someone next to him in bed.

“What do you mean, where were you? At the hotel, I think. You were here too.”

“Last night, Eddie. We waited for you. Where were you? We thought you were dead.”

Last night. He didn’t remember last night. A rooftop, a pool, a sunset. Too many bottles, too many pills. A girl putting something on his tongue while she sat on his lap, and shutting his jaw closed with a delicate hand. Tripping on lounge chairs, falling on the pool. Blood on his knees. Someone dragging him up and into the elevator.

“What day is it?” He mumbles.

A record label party in their honor, to follow the success of their fourth album. Followed by a… concert.

A concert.

All that comes from the other side of the line is a drawn out sigh. “They’re sending someone to go get you. I hope you get your shit together until then.”

Then, it goes silent.

The concert.

Stumbling on himself, Eddie tries to stand up, and falls. The memory of his skinned knees comes as quickly as the pain does, and he notices they’re bare, still bleeding a little. He finds his underwear on the floor, next to the rest of his clothes, and slips them on as he moves towards the door, propping himself up on the wall.

He yanks the door open, and sprints through the hall as best as he can, catching the attention of one of the maids, who he promptly stops in front of, suddenly much too aware of his own nakedness. She freezes, trying to keep her eyes on his face.

“What day is it?”

A lump grows on his throat. His own voice sounds foreign, like it’s coming from someplace else.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“What day is it? Today, what’s the date?”

“It’s the 17th. August 17.”

All he can do is nod, and make his back to his room as if the world hadn’t just fallen from his feet.

A day too late.

THE RAINBOW BAR & GRILL, SUNSET BOULEVARD, LOS ANGELES, SUMMER 1987

“Pinch me.”

There had been plenty of “pinch me” moments in those last few weeks. Eddie wasn't sure what Gareth meant, though, as he sat straighter against the cushion of their booth.

It was dark inside, and every surface gleamed red. From the cherry red booths to the bottles on the bar shelves, the dark wood on the walls, the chandeliers. He couldn't tell most people's faces, and they'd probably wanted it that way.

The line to get inside was turning the corner, the people there having a party within themselves, under the lights of Sunset Boulevard. It was loud, and bright, everywhere they went. Eddie thrived around it all.

He'd never felt more alive in his twenty-one years than in the months he had spent here.

The younger boy scooted closer to him, a glass of something colorful in hand. Courtesy of one of the girls whose booth he'd been sitting on until now, surely. Not he'd blame him, he'd lost count of the glasses he had himself, feeling light in his seat.

“Fucking”, the drummer hit him in the arm, pupils taking over the blue in his eyes, “pinch me, man!”

“What the fuck for?” He laughed at his friend’s tone.

“Do you see that?”

Gareth pointed forward to a booth a couple of tables from them. It was full, with mostly women, their teased up hair and flashy clothes demanding all the attention. As his friend pointed out, some of them looked over to them, waving with delicate fingers. Eddie waved back, throwing in a wink for good measure.

He'd easily feel intimidated with those eyes on him, but the alcohol in his body threw those inhibitions away.

“Those girls,” Gareth continued, “those beautiful girls, invited us to a private party at their apartment.”

Eddie nodded along while Gareth emphasized the words private and apartment. As if their intentions weren't obvious from the beginning of the night. He could see Grant on his seat, soaking up the attention from a blonde girl with her hand on his shoulder, and Jeff standing to the side, deep in conversation with a guy in a similar black leather jacket.

From afar, none of it looked real.

If he was being honest, he never thought he'd be living his father’s life this soon — or ever. Eddie wondered about it all the time. What was Al Munson doing when his mother was reading him to sleep back in Nashville, or later, when his uncle was working the late night shift to get both of them by.

The fame, the contacts, the booze, the money. The women. The more he learned, the less he knew.

All Eddie knew was that he promised himself he'd never turn out like his old man, a promise he'd made himself a long time ago, long before he landed in the City of Angels, but seeing what he'd seen in the small amount of time he'd spent there, he wondered if that was really possible.

Corruption seemed tempting, inevitable even, amongst the red and maroons of The Rainbow. Demons, sirens, and the small town boys drawn to them. Hell itself, in disguise.

“And,” Gareth continued, putting his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, grinning at him, “they asked me to call you over.”

Just as he thought. Tempting. Matching his friend’s grin, Eddie reached over to his arm and pinched it, hard. Gareth’s subsequent yelp was dulled by the loud music and chatting, and Eddie only grinned harder when the boy went for him.

They wrestled for a bit until the drummer pulled him from his seat and up, teasing him, “C’mon, man. You need to get laid”.

“You need to get laid! You're the one who's been begging for that secretary’s number. What’s her name again? J-”

He stopped on his tracks, pulling Gareth with him by his t-shirt.

While he was talking and his eyes were running across the bar, unable to pay attention to just one thing at once, he saw a familiar sitting in a booth at the other side of the room. A girl near his age, a familiar face.

She was sitting facing his way, beside a guy who had his arm around her shoulder. He looked slightly out of place in his neat black sweater and Ray-Ban glasses pushing his hair back. They looked expensive, the pair of them. Untouchable, in their own bubble.

They were talking to a girl who had her back to him, all Eddie could see was the back of her head, a blonde bob shaking as she gestured with her hands, wrapped in white lace gloves and gleaming silver rings.

The girl laughed, throwing her head back and into her friend’s — boyfriend’s? — shoulder and, in that moment, he knew exactly who she was.

Eddie’s vision tunneled, and he could hear Gareth beside him, whining for him to hurry up. He pushed his friend away, making a sign for him to go on without him.

Gareth rolled his eyes, mumbling something he did not understand — he might have told him he'd come later, but Eddie was too busy with his eyes on your table to decipher what came out of his own mouth.

As he approached with unsure steps, the sudden confidence that overtook him only lasting half of the way, until he saw your male friend — he wasn't about to think of him as your boyfriend, not yet, he needed to have some hope — and the girl stand.

He watched as the guy dragged his hand from your shoulder, to your elbow, and finally held your hand in his, leaving a kiss there before accompanying his other friend to the bar. Something burned and wilted inside of him, an ugly feeling he couldn't quite place.

That's my moment, Eddie thought, as he did before every single impulsive decision he ever took — and there wasn't a shortage of them.

His worn down boots, which in hindsight might once have been Wayne’s, carried him to your table. Your borderline bored stare made you even prettier from up close, as he tried to open his mouth and figure out what to say.

Instead, he could just watch as you drowned back the rest of your drink, and reached into your purse to light a cigarette. “What are you looking at?”, you asked, without looking at him yet.

His mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water, before gathering himself. “You're Ace’s daughter, aren't you? I saw you at his office.”

“Yes, and you're one of the label’s new hires who's still at that phase they're not ashamed to kiss ass.”

Finally, you turned, blowing the smoke in his direction. He barely felt it, really, because he was more focused on your smile, and the way your glossy lips stretched, and your nose scrunched.

Normally, he would have been pissed. But, with that face, you must have been used to stepping on people's toes and not getting heat because of it. He'd let you blow smoke directly on his face if it meant you'd keep looking at him.

You gestured vaguely to the seat in front of you, and he took the message. “Maybe. Am I kissing the right ass?” He grinned as he sat down.

No ring on your finger, he noticed, and maybe it was a good sign. He could be unbothered too. With the right amount of madness and a little Munson Magic, he could leave here with your number.

“I dunno.” You shrugged, but grinned back. “I'll have you know my ass is very demanding.”

“Noted.” He feigned seriousness. “I’m Eddie.”

“Munson, I know.”

Surprised, his eyebrows rose to his forehead. “How do you know?”

A chill ran down his spine at the mention of his last name. The curse he carried. Of course you'd know, your dad would know, even though he's never talked about it. Everyone knew.

“Dad isn't the only one in charge of business. At least not all of it.” You played with the piece of lime on your glass, and ran your finger through the rim, catching a bit of the salt there, licking it off your finger. “I know a thing or two.”

Right. All business, but no family.

You couldn't have been doing it on purpose. Eddie didn't think he was worth it, but the strain on his jeans said otherwise. He felt tense for more reasons than one.

“And you're not gonna tell me your name?”

“Thought you already know. Boy like you looks like he would do his homework.”

“Oh, no. A boy like me failed high school more times than I'd be comfortable sharing.”

He chuckled, and there it was again. Your laugh, freeing itself against the walls of the bar and bounced on him like a spell. “I like you, Eddie Munson.”

“Thought your ass was very demanding.” He quoted you, grinning from ear to ear, and tilting his head. “Was my kissing good enough?”

You put out your cigarette on the table and dropped the butt on your empty glass before looking straight into his eyes. Then, you got distracted by something happening behind him. He felt it too, and turned around to look.

The guy, your boyfriend-not-boyfriend, approached with no drinks in hand, despite coming from the direction of the bar, and no blonde friend in sight. He doesn’t acknowledge Eddie, keeping his eyes on you the whole time. “Who’s this?”

When Eddie turned back to you, you were already standing too. “New meat. Doesn’t know he’s swimming with sharks yet.”

You were talking like he wasn’t not there.

Inside, he deflates. He knew your type, your definitely-boyfriend’s type. The type who looked down on him, who thought little of his ambition. Eddie thought he could approach you, even though you were every bit as unapproachable as you looked. Things had changed for him, but that wouldn’t change regardless of where he stood. He was still at the bottom of the food chain, and you, taunting him at the very top.

It wasn’t like either of you were aware of it, but it had been nice to pretend for what little he could.

Didn’t change the fact that he still wanted you to look at him — and you did, for one last time that night, as the other guy laced his fingers with yours, and pulled you away, telling you something about an after party.

“Better work on that kissing, Eddie Munson.”

ALBATROSS RECORDS HQ, SAN FRANCISCO, 1990

Eddie has a lot to think of while he waits.

It seems like some kind of punishment, one parents would dish out on their small kids. Sit on that corner, face the wall, think of what you did. Think of what you did. It was easier to think of what he hasn’t done.

Missing an important concert because he was shitfaced and blacked out was the last drop, but that glass has been full for some time now.

Out of control, it's what he's been hearing. He'd seen his own face on MTV not too long ago, late at night on a grainy television, baring his tongue back at himself. He gives himself the devil horns like a crown, a silver cross hanging from his neck and sticking to his bare chest, as he addresses the camera from the stage before diving in the crowd. Out of control, they said.

He'd barely remembered that, or that the concert was being filmed. Figures.

Though, he had to agree someone in control wouldn't end up with as many bills for destroyed tour buses and hotel rooms in his name as he did. Someone in control wouldn't have been arrested for drug possession more than once, or have almost drowned in a hotel pool across the world. Or have lost the trust and admiration of his closest friends, and the contact with the only family he has.

His head aches. Eddie lifts his fingers to massage his temples, and sighs. It's August in California, and he's cold sweating in his seat, under his t-shirt. The chill gets worse when he hears the office’s door open behind him.

He doesn't turn around, doesn't move. The man approaches the table — his table — and loosens the collar of his dress shirt before sitting down, undoing his cufflinks and folding his sleeves up.

Ace Adler is a man of few words. He never talks much, but when he does, he makes sure one will listen. Eddie doesn't know much about him outside of talking business, other than Ace Adler was definitely not his real name, but he knew to take him seriously.

It felt like being in a room with his father, but at least his old man knew how to work a room before striking.

“I'm not going to tell you about the harm that you've done, but I'm sure your bandmates had the time to inform you.” Ace started, staring him down. “I won't tell you about the money we lost, and the contracts we had to humiliate ourselves to not lose, or what my business partners told me when they got the news. You must have a feeling it wasn't pretty.”

“I can…” Eddie started, and all he received was a raised hand in response.

“You'll talk when I'm done, son.”

A pause, much too long. Eddie nods, and keeps his eyes forward. It'll be worse if he doesn't meet his manager’s cold stare. His stomach drops.

“I won't tell you about any of it because that won't change a thing. All I'll tell you is that you got lucky, because I was supposed to fire you today, but someone changed my mind.”

“Fire me? Fire me from my own band?”

Ace doesn't answer his outburst. Instead, he slips a note from across the table in his general direction. It's a piece of ripped pink paper.

Tentatively, he opens it. There's all but a name and a phone number. Your name, and your phone number. You're using your real last name, he supposes, but that's undoubtedly you. Was that your handwriting too?

“Give her a call.” Ace says as he stands again, already on his way out. “Maybe she can help you out, because I won’t.”

As he hears your father close the door behind him once more, he thinks of all the last few times he saw you. The disdain in your eyes, the harsh words he uttered. Animosity from both sides, born from years of resentment.

He goes back to that first conversation. “Better work on that kissing, Eddie Munson.”

Never had he thought it would come that day.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic

313 notes · View notes

blackdollette · 5 months

Note

Hiii! I love your page first of all and second I was thinking about like Spencer Reid x reader to lana del Rey song lust for life, like maybe the song is playing in the background as reader is getting ready for a get together and he feels so overwhelmed with love? Idk I just love lust for life and Spencer Reid

AHH THIS IS MY FAVOURITE REQUEST EVER!! ( p.s. you didn't ask for any smut so I didn't include anything too raunchy. thank you! )

"nobody here, just us together." | spencer reid

lust for life. - lana del rey

fill out the taglist form! : @thirtyratsinasuit @auggiethecreator @oliviah-25 @sleepysongbirdsings @pleasantwitchgarden @emma-e-a

female!reader x spencer

word count: 701

contents: a little fluffy, making out, sexual implications

your translucent red record spun in the corner of the bedroom, the 70s-inspired tune leaking through the closed bathroom door as you stood in front of the mirror.

you ran your hands down your deep-red silky nightgown, taking in the soft but thin texture of the fabric. you had your hair done up all nicely, applying a light blush to your cheeks for a rosy touch. you could feel spencer’s burning presence through the door, making your nerves buzz with excitement. this was going to be your first night with him. nobody else around, just you and him together.

your little “dates” with him had been going in all the right directions, months of shy flirting and risky innuendos making your certain of his suspected attraction toward you. and now, you’d finally gathered the courage to invite him over for the night.

you took a deep breath, opening the door and displaying yourself to him. you watched a smile pull at his lips as a pink tint stained his cheeks. “there she is…” he said, the words breathy and under his breath. with a few feet of distance separating you two, your eyes travelled along each other’s bodies, the room’s temperature seeming to be growing warm. you had gotten all dolled up, but somehow the simple sight of him in his suit and tie made your knees weaker than anything.

a moment of silence enrobed you two before he stood up slowly, stepping into the dim streaks of amber and golden sunshine that poured from the windows as he approached you. he got closer and closer until two inches of space stood between you two. you tilted your head upward to meet his infatuated gaze, his arm slowly snaking around your waist as he pressed you into the wall behind you.

“words cannot explain how beautiful you are, my dear.” and he was right. the shards of sunset that seeped into the room gave you a gentle glow, making you more luminous than even the brightest star. his breath was heavy as his thumbs massaged slow circles onto your waist, pulling your body into his to fill in the gaps that parted you from him.

your gaze locked with his and a shock sizzled down his core. he wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up with minimal effort. you wrapped your legs around his waist as he rested his chin in the space between your breasts, your hearts rapidly beating in unison. a lust-filled flicker of his gaze gave you the green light, and you connected your lips in a sloppy kiss.

he groaned deeply, feeding his sounds of arousal into your mouth as his hands moved up to grip your ass. he drank you in with no intention of ever letting you go, your touch seeming like the only thing keeping him alive at this moment. he had been wanting this so badly for the longest time, longing to feel your soft lips against his own in a concealed environment.

he pulled his lips away from yours, holding you even tighter as he began to trail deep kisses down your neck. heavy breaths spilled from your lips as your hands each took in a generous handful of his hair, his golden-brown locks feeling like silk in your grasp.

he had taken control with no doubt or hesitation in his movements. his hands knew the right places to go, his tongue drew the perfect patterns on your soft skin, it was almost too much.

you connected your lips to his forehead as he planted kisses all over your collarbone, pausing to look up at you with hazy eyes. his eyes appeared to have a layer of shine on them, like he was on the brink of tears. his body trembled as he held you and his words were laced together with only an ounce of intelligence. “i-i… i love you. so, so much…”

you could tell he was mere seconds away from losing it, but so were you. you and him were alone, free to decide where to take the night. your fate was in your hands, so you bit the bullet and began to take off his clothes…

author's note: stream the lfl album.

257 notes · View notes

formulaforza · 1 year

Note

hbd my lil' lemonade connoisseur!

I'm saying blurb for Charles; him coming to surprise you at University or something?

—the nearness of you

summ. title from this. i'm only twenty-two days late on this req. that's got to be a new record for me. 800+ words.

It was like any other day as of late. Full of brutal seven-am alarms and even more brutal eight o’clock classes across campus. Half a dozen assignments due before the end of the week, a baker’s dozen by the following.

Campus was surprisingly dead and the weather was wonderfully crisp and you had no idea the turn your evening was about to take when you’d decided to take a walk at sunset, to clear your mind with the cool autumn air.

It greets you with a shudder and the sound of browned leaves crunching under your feet. It was like a scene from a movie—something utterly fall-ish and romantic. When Harry met Sally, maybe. All cable knit sweaters and falling leaves and careful scenery.

Unbeknownst to you, he—Charles, your Charles—is walking around the same campus, enjoying his walk a hell of a lot less than you are. He doesn’t notice the smell of burnt orange or the falling leaves on the green grass. He’s too occupied trying to find his way to your friend’s hall—to your friend’s dorm—to you. His mind is full of mumbled directions and the pursed lips they leave. Of how perfect yours are, of how badly he wants to kiss them.

He’d been planning the surprise for weeks. For months, almost, since before you’d even left home for the year. He’s prouder of his ability to keep it secret from you than he is of his directional skills. Carefully, he’d coordinated the whole thing with your friends to ensure the perfect surprise, and it was finally here. It was finally here, as long as he could find his fucking way around.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket, a text from your best friend. She was asking you to swing by her dorm ASAP, swore she had a shirt of yours that you could swear you’d folded and put away two nights earlier. You complied, though, and gave her your ETA before making a U-Turn on the path you were walking down.

When you finally make it there, you’re surprised to find her always-open door is shut. You’re even more surprised when you move to turn the door handle only to find it locked. You look around the hall like a trick is being played on you because her door is always open. Always. And you don’t think she even knew there was a lock.

You knock, thrice, and call her name on the other side of the door, reminding her that this isn’t as funny as she surely thinks it is. Nothing, however, could prepare you for who answered your knock.

Charles. Charles with a bouquet of flowers. Charles with a bouquet of flowers and a big goofy smile on his face. Your stomach drops three separate times in a single second—from annoyed your friend isn’t answering, to horrified by someone else answering her door, to recognizing that it’s him. That he’s in front of you.

You squish the flowers horribly, completely disregard their presence in your joy of slamming yourself into him with the force of every hour apart. “Putain, c'est quoi!” What the fuck! you say, and your voice comes out far more cracked than you’d intended on it being.

With Charles, you’ve found that you don’t realize just how much you miss him until you’re with him again, ambushed by the reality of it all, of everything that is to love about him. There’s so much, so much more than you realize each and every time you’re apart. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but you’re always fond of him. The fondest.

The evening unfolds into a flurry of laughter and stories and love. So much love. It’s like his presence had cast a spell over campus, made it all magical and energized like it was your first time there. The buildings fall into the background, nothing more than the scenic backdrop for your love story, for your catching up and calming down.

Your dorm becomes a cozy haven for endless conversation. Spontaneous chest games and first-hand accounts of last week’s race keep you smiling, and his never ending genuine interest in your life here makes you fall head over heels over and over again, every word that leaves his mouth making you feel particularly cherished, like the luckiest person around.

Dusk turns to dark and the two of you sit together at the dorm window, watching the same stars you’re always looking at. The same moon that serves as a reminder the world is never too big, the distance is never too much. It doesn’t matter where the two of you are, it’s always the same moon and stars in the sky. It’s a silent kind of love, careful like an early morning, beloved like a matching cup of coffee.

It’s a short visit. Too short, always too short, but it ends with promises of more, of this weekend and that.

You should be sad when he leaves, maybe, but you aren’t. You aren’t. You’re just full of love, and so, so happy to spend even a few hours with him.

431 notes · View notes

fakescenariosbeforesleepblog · 7 months

Text

You're my emergency contact.

König x reader.

Everything started with a simple favor and it all ended with your emergency contact accidentally attending your call.

(Give a ♥️ if you enjoyed it)

Warning: perhaps it is a very long and not good story, mentions of violence, as always grammatical and spelling errors.

📢 Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

You're König's neighbor, he's rarely at home so he asked you to keep an eye on his apartment, he gave you his number, just in case something happened.

- Danke, I Know I'm asking too much but I will give you my number, just... In case something happens, ja?

Your smile when he gives you his number In a piece of paper, he will never recover from that moment.

- For sure, it's not a problem, and thank you König I hope there's no need to use it for an emergency, I would prefer to use it in other circumstances.

-Ja, totally agree, well I have to go, thank you so much Schatz.

- Okay, have a nice trip König, see you!.

As soon as he left and you closed the door you started to jump with excitement, you finally had his number, you tried so hard for the last months to start a friendship with him and this is a big step for you.

But... What's next? You thought. After a few days you got an idea, you sent him a message.

«Hi König, I'm your neighbor, I forgot to give you my number, so here it is.»

An hour passed, two hours, four... Maybe it was a bad idea, then.

«Danke :D»

That's all? Well, at least he texted you back. You decided to not insist, maybe he was busy, another week passed, you really want to text him, why? Why do you want to be around him?

«captain's log: König's house is still safe, a package arrived at your door. :)»

You sent a selfie out of his door. A Risky move, you were getting nervous when you saw «seen» under the message.

«Hallo Schatz, danke for the notice, can you save the package at your house?, I'll pick it up when I arrive» «P.S. you look very pretty today ;)»

That was the beginning, for months you started to text each other. You send a lot of pictures about anything while he rarely sends you something, usually sunsets or just the sky. When he's at home you invite him to eat at your house or to drink a beer, you don't know yet but for König this is more than he expected, you and him are good together, jokes, loud laughs and a good conversation are always present when you're together, he's happy, he feels better with you, he feels affection for you.

- Well, this week I won't be at home for a few days, I hope you don't mind.

- What? Nein! Don't worry, I won't be at home either, I have some work, just a few days.

- ahh well maybe we will arrive home at the same time!

- ja! It would be a coincidence, a good one. Where will you go?

- Oh, my Mom's house, I'll visit her for a few days, my flight is this Wednesday, and I'll be back on Monday.

- Ah that's really nice, I hope you have a nice moment with her.

(...)

You're ready to take your flight, you were just waiting, when a group of armed men appeared.

- okay everybody, lay on the floor! We will not harm you if you obey!

Some people started to run, others screamed, the sound of shotguns...

The same man was shooting, while the rest of his companions were capturing people, you were on the floor, you took your phone and pressed the quick "emergency button" an old app your mother made you download just in case you needed, you knew it was useless because you and your mother lived far from each other, but after König gave you his number you added him on the emergency contacts list.

König was on his way to a mission when he Received a text. Your app sent a message with your location, an audio and a short video of what the camera phone could record, in those 15 seconds a man was yelling at you and others.

He opened it and saw that your location was the same as where he was going, he froze when he saw you were a hostage, the biggest fear, rage and desire to protect you grew inside him.

He and his team arrived, but they couldn't access the place easily, every door had a bomb, they didn't know if those were real or false but they couldn't take the risk, they started to plan and work.

You and the other hostages were on the floor, the group of men were kicking, yelling and hitting you, one of them was enjoying hurting you, taller than you and corpulent, you couldn't do much to protect yourself, he made you stand up pulling you by the hair, you yelped and asked him to stop.

- Sit this one in that chair, we're going to start the show.

You were sitting, you looked like a scared puppy, why you? What will they do to you? Why are they doing all this? What they want?. One of the men started to record everything, while another was talking and showing a photograph of a criminal.

- (...) Yeah, so we have hostages here, innocent people who are in serious danger, if you don't let this man free, we will start to torture and kill everybody in this place, we have bombs everywhere, don't be stupid and don't try to send cops or any kind of shitty government deal maker, those are our conditions.

Both men walked to you, while the guy who initially selected you to be tortured was ready to play his twisted game, he made you stand up from that chair.

- This pretty one is the first, we need an answer in 15 min or this one will be dead soon. Let's start...

You looked at all of them, scared, begging them to not do it, a knife cutting deep your thighs, a punch on your eye, your nose and mouth were bleeding, your ribs broken, you were crying, yelling because of the pain, one of them was ready to stab you when a big man dressed in black shoot at him, a clean headshot, you fell on the floor while all the men started to run, shoot and fight, you saw more people in black joining to the fight, you can't focus your view, you can't see clearly, you're fainting, you saw this big guy approaching, you can't see his face, he's wearing a black mask or something, he's talking to you but you can't hear him well.

- Schatz! Look at me, stay with us! Do you hear me?

Schatz? You remember that word, but... Where? Who? You're exhausted, your body aches, you're probably hallucinating.

«Hey! Prepare an ambulance!» you hear him yell at someone else then he carried you in his arms, this strange blurry guy in black saved you, you rested your head in his chest, you're feeling sleepy.

- Schatz, Mein Liebling, stay awake, I'm taking you to the ambulance, you will be fine, ja?

You didn't listen to him anymore, you closed your eyes, you just had flashbacks of the trip In the ambulance but that was all.

After two days you finally opened your eyes. There's a white lamp in the ceiling, the smell of medicine and sickness, a hospital? Were you alive?

You tried to sit but the pain in your ribs prevented you and a familiar voice filled the silence of the room.

- Hey, easy Schatz, you're fine, you're in the hospital.

There he was, König was in a chair close to you, he looked tired, and... Was he wearing black? What's going on?

- König? What... What's going on? What happened? Why are you here, what happened with your job?

He just let a small laugh out and handed you a glass of water.

- too many questions, drink some water first please, ja? You are in the hospital because you were hurt after the airport attack, I'm here because apparently I'm one of your emergency contacts... Schatz, Do you remember what happened in the airport?

You looked at him carefully, his voice, his clothes, and that word, «Schatz». Was he the one who saved you?

- I remember I was waiting to board the plane when those men appeared, then I... Well... You're my emergency contact, so I sent the emergency text, I remember those men hitting and hurting me and I remember the man who saved me, you probably will think I'm crazy but... That man looked pretty much like you... But he was covering his face with a mask or something.

He smiled nervously at you and hid his face with his hands.

- Was it you könig?

He looked at you once again and nodded in silence, the surprise in your face made him more nervous, he never told you about his job but you weren't expecting to find it out in this way.

- You never told me about your job...

You were playing with your hands and the glass, he was looking at his shoes, talking almost in a whisper.

- I can't talk about it... For your protection... And because it's better if you don't know how and who I am at work.

You don't want to make him feel as if you were angry or uncomfortable with it, you're just surprised, he looks too shy and kind to work in something like that.

- I understand... And I know it was really a coincidence and that you were just doing your job but... thanks for saving me.

He doesn't respond, he's still looking at his shoes. As if he was a little boy in trouble.

- König?

- Hmm?

- I won't ask you about your job, If you can't tell me about it, I'm fine with it... look at me Kö.

He finally looked at you, he looked sad or ashamed but you smiled at him and took his big hand on yours.

- Thank you for saving me. You're a good emergency contact.

You blinked your good eye at him, He smiled at you and kissed your hand.

- Just call and I'll be there Schatz.

287 notes · View notes

ginnysgraffiti · 2 months

Text

reader as kathy from the bikeriders, very very random.

DANNY x yn.

"no danny, i told you already, benny isn't my boyfriend. and cut this part in your interview or he'll shoot me." you complained, handing him a cup of iced americano you had just prepared on your kitchen counter. danny was on the other side, smiling as he was holding the microphone towards you to get a better sound of your voice.

"ok, ok, promised. what about johnny? do you know something about his wife?"

you took a sip of your black coffee, savouring the sour taste down your throat before answering.

you had known danny for a month now.

you met him at a self-service laundrette in your small village, while you were doing the laundry with your friends. the washing machines were cream-colored, and the clothes smelled like clean sheets after just the first wash.

danny always walked around with his microphone or camera, a small radio attached to his leather belt and his canvas bag where he kept packs of cigarettes or notepads. at first, he had another shoulder bag, but that one bore the emblem of the prestigious college he went to, and he knew the vandals wouldn't like it.

since the beginning of the interview, danny used the guise of a normal confidential interview about johnny and his biker club, even if your daily-laundrette-friends stubbornly argued about the fact that he was just doing it on purpose to flirt with you. he would do a little interview almost every day, otherwise he would take photos of you and the members of johnny's club.

he said it was for a book he intended to write, where he would write down everything he had collected from numerous interviews and decorate it with pictures as well.

as months passed, you got happily used to the clanking sound of what must be a spoon heard in the background of the recording anytime you prepared him coffee, or the soft smile that would play on his lips whenever you made jokes during the interview, or how he would remove his leather jacket to place it on your living room chair and let his biceps be in wonderful display.

you couldn't deny it anyway, you were physically attracted to danny. shamefully attracted.

he was like fresh air to you. he was kind, gentleman, always well dressed and cleaned. he smelled like post-shaving and cologne, nothing to do with the alcohol and cigarette odor that motorcyclists emanatedfrom sunrise to sunset.

even your laundry girls insisted on you declaring your feelings for him, but you kept thinking he had better things to do and you were just someone destined to stay in his future book pages as the girl best friend of johnny's club's members.

"i thought you had interviewed me enough." you told him one day as he entered your house, carefully leaving his boots near the door rug.

"and so i thought." he said, strangely serious and absolutely not caring about the fact that you were only wearing your underwear and a pajama oversized t-shirt.

your pulse quickened dizzily when you noticed he wasn't carrying any microphone or camera with him, but definitely not because he wouldn't have been able to picture you half-naked and make you look bad.

"so...why are you here?" you asked, your voice suddenly little and cracking.

danny reached you with long strides, crossing the room with ease.

"danny- what are you-?!"

he bent down slightly to grab you so as to pick you up, placing you with the usual delicacy on the kitchen counter where you used to serve him coffees.

"i've been wanting this since the first day." his husky groaned and he removed his leather jacket with a smooth singular gesture, leaving him with his black tanktop you always found yourself staring at.

"danny..."

he couldn't listen to you, because he immediately settled himself between your legs, spreading them and hiding his face under your big t-shirts.

his hands did the same and they immediately found your bra, untying it to permit his wet and hot tongue to drown your nipples.

"mmmh-" a guttural moan escaped your mouth involuntarily as you threw your head back. your muscles tensed at the same time and your jelly legs squished his waist.

"i always thought you preferred benny or other members...i wanted to make a move so bad." he whispered, reaching your lips and kissing you softly.

you cupped his face and pulled him off a little bit just to have a better look at his face.

"you're crazy, you know that, right?"

a low chuckle left his mouth, and his throat throbbed a bit.

"how could i even think of choosing them over you!?"

danny smiled softly, and before you could notice, he had already taken off your bra and t-shirt.

#mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #mike faist x yn #the bikeriders #danny the bikeriders #danny x reader #danny x you #danny x yn #&. DANNY #&. DANNY x yn #&. DANNY x reader

91 notes · View notes

therealcocoshady · 2 months

Text

Recovery - Chapter 44

Synopsis : Em and reader talk about the possibility of him retiring.

Author’s Note : hi guys 🌟. It’s been a while since I last updated Recovery. Here is a new chapter. I hope you guys like it ❤️.

You looked at Marshall, completely flabbergasted. You expected him to tell you it was a joke, that he wasn’t seriously thinking about retirement, but he looked awfully serious.

- You… you want to retire ?! You asked carefully.

- I’m thinking about it, he said. Look, babe… I’ve achieved everything I wanted when I first started. I gained respect. I worked with the people I admire most. I put out great music, I’ve toured the world, I’ve won awards… I made a fuck ton of money, that my grandchildren and even their children will benefit from. And let’s be honest : I’m fifty-two. It’s not stupid to think about retirement.

You looked at him intently, taking in everything he said. Sure, it made sense, on some level. But it also felt wrong. And weird. The man you met and fell in love with put music first and foremost, was a workaholic and would never have thought of retirement as an option. He had often joked about it, sure, especially in moments of frustration, but never in earnest. You sighed and held his hand.

- I know it makes sense, you said softly. But I know music is everything to you. And I know that you’re in a shitty situation right now, but maybe there are changes you could make ? Adjustments ?

- Sounds like something Paul would say, he chuckled. I don’t know. I’m just considering it. I often toy with the idea of disappearing from the public. Wouldn’t it be great if everyone forgot about me ? Like, not my music, but just me ? I’d be able to go places, enjoy life.

- I’m sure we can still do that, you said.

- You know, if I retired, it could benefit you as well, he pointed out. I’d have more time. Maybe be less of a grumpy asshole.

- I can’t imagine you not making music, you said.

- I’ll always have ideas, he said. It’s in my DNA at this point. But I don’t know… maybe be more of a producer ? Again, I’m just thinking, here.

- Whatever you decide, I’ll support you, you said. I love you no matter what. I just want you to be happy.

- As long as I have you, I’ll be happy, he assured you.

He pulled you to him and kissed you lovingly. You enjoyed the sunset for a minute and drove back to the house. You were about to watch a movie when you heard a knock on the door. It was Paul.

- What are you doing here ? Marshall greeted him curtly.

- Checking in on you, the manager said. You’re not answering anyone’s calls. How are you doing ?

- You know how I’m doing, he replied dryly.

- Still mad at me ? Paul asked.

- Yeah. Let me in so we can talk ?

Marshall let him in silently and sat on the couch and Paul greeted you. You were not too sure why Marshall was mad at him, though. As far as you knew, the manager hadn’t done anything wrong. You weren’t his biggest fan but you secretly hoped he would talk some sense into your boyfriend. You meant every word when you said you would be there for him no matter what, but you couldn’t imagine him retiring. Not when it came from a place of frustration and disappointment. Had he told you his inspiration had run dry, things would have been different, but this wasn’t the case and you knew it.

- I know what Tracy did is hard to swallow, Paul said tentatively.

- It’s not about Tracy, Marshall said. I mean, it is. But a full severance package… Really ?! She fucked me over, Paul. Not only me but Y/N, too. And you as well.

- You might want to let me explain, the manager said calmly.

- Yeah, your boyfriend scoffed. I’d love to know why you let her leave Shady Records with a fuckton of money and benefits for a whole year.

- She threatened to sue, his friend said.

- Sue who ? Marshall said heatedly. Us ? She’s the one who leaked the track ! She’s the one who put my career and my relationship in jeopardy ! Why the fuck would she sue us ?!?!

- Not us, Paul hummed. Y/N.

- Me ?! You asked in shock.

You were taken aback. First of all, Marshall hadn’t mentioned Paul affording Tracy tons of benefits when letting her go. Though, now that you thought about it, it further explained his bad mood. And second of all… threatening to sue you ?! That woman had some nerve. Yes, you had « broken her nose » (as far as you thought, it was just a punch) but suing… really ?

- That’s ridiculous, you scoffed.

- Is it ? Paul hummed. You did assault her !

- Don’t talk to her like that, Marshall said defensively as he protectively wrapped an arm around you.

- Merely stating facts, Paul shrugged. I understand the anger, Y/N. As I understand yours, Marshall. But the thing is, Tracy threatened to sue and I had to make the best decision. For the business and for you personally. Both of you. It’s better to lose a couple of hundred of thousands of dollars than to have to deal with unwanted media attention.

- Thank you, Paul, you said with genuine gratefulness.

- Thanks, man, Marshall said more calmly.

- I’m as pissed as you are, Paul said. But now we have to move forward. We’ll find a replacement eventually. It will probably take two people, but we’ll make it work.

- Did she do that much ? You asked.

- She did, Marshall said. Both as my assistant and Paul’s right hand.

- I have already contacted a head-hunter, we will soon have profiles to review, the manager said. In the meantime, I’m handling things.

- You can hire someone to assist you, but I’m not getting a personal assistant, Marshall declared.

The way he said it definitely seemed solemn and definitive. His manager looked at him calmly, much like a parent looks at a stubborn child.

- You don’t exactly have a choice, Paul tried to reason. You need someone to help you. I can’t do it all.

- I don’t care, Marshall groaned. You really think I’m going to let someone in again ? Have them around my house ? My kids ? Y/N ?! No way, bro. I’d rather manage my schedule myself. If there’s one to manage, that is.

You expected the manager to have some sort of big reaction but he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t even seemed phased by the possibility that Marshall considered retirement as a serious option after all the events that had unfolded.

- It’s only been a week, Paul finally said after a few seconds of silence.

- I know, Marshall replied. But after what happened… maybe it’s a sign. You know as much as i do that we need people we can trust.

- And you know as much as I do that you can’t decide to stop everything right now, the manager replied. Look… if you need to take a step back, that’s fine. But we still have obligations. Both towards artists you’re collaborating with, as well as promoting the album. The music video shoot at the bare minimum.

- Right, Marshall said. When is that again ?

- Late January, Paul said. Look… here’s what we’re going to do : you’re going to take some rest, enjoy the holidays. I’m cancelling your scheduled studio sessions until January. And I’m not adding anything to your schedule either. But we have to proceed with what’s been planned already.

- I guess, Marshall replied gloomily. Thanks, man.

They spent a couple of minutes talking about the aforementioned music video. You hadn’t heard about the plans to film one previously but, apparently, Track 12 - the song Marshall had written for you - having turned into a fan favorite quickly after the album release, his team had suggested making a music video. The whole plan had been made since before his tour, with a script already being finalized, casting being done and everything. In truth, the whole thing made you uneasy. People might not connect the dots and associate that song to you but the most recent events made you a bit nervous. You loved the track, it was beautiful. But you also knew that him making a music video would give the song and his personal life that much more attention.

- Are you ok ? Marshall asked as he grabbed your hand. You look like you zoned out for a minute.

- I’m thinking, that’s all, you hummed.

- About what ? Marshall asked.

- Obviously, it’s not my place to tell you what to do, but… do you really want to do this ? You shyly asked. I know people love this song. God knows I love it too but… it’s personal business.

- I know, he said softly. But I’m proud of this track. I think it’s one of the best I’ve ever made. So… if I have to make one last music video, it might as well be this one. Plus, we’ve had the script for ages. I can swear it is tasteful and it’s going to be great.

- Not to mention that we’ve already spent a lot of money on making this happen, Paul hummed.

- Yeah, that too, Marshall shrugged.

- Right, you said flatly.

- I’ll show you the script, your boyfriend offered. And since it might be my last-

- Nothing’s set in stone yet, the manager recalled. You take a break and we’ll see then.

- Whatever, Marshall said. All I’m saying is… I’ll make sure it’s perfect. You can even come on set with me.

- We’ll see, you said nervously.

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your temple before going back to his conversation with Paul. They discussed some plans that had been made for the beginning of the upcoming year, some work trips, collaborations. And even though the manager understood Marshall’s wish of possibly taking a step back, he was adamant that they hire an assistant.

- We won’t need one if it’s for six months, Marshall hummed.

- I don’t think you realize everything that needs to be done, Paul groaned. I won’t have the time to assist you in everything. And last time I checked, you needed a lot of help in managing your schedule. I’m your manager and business partner, I don’t have time to be your mother, Marshall.

- Don’t treat me like a kid, man.

- Then don’t act like a bratty one, Paul said. You need someone to help you and you know it.

- No I don’t !

- The arrangements for your upcoming trips to NYC and Hawaii didn’t plan themselves, the manager argued. Neither did your medical appointments in the last twenty years. Or any of your work meetings. And don’t get me started in everything that needs to be done when you’re on a set.

- Whatever, Marshall groaned. The only people I would trust besides my immediate family are in this room : me, you, and Y/N. I’m not hiring a fucking stranger.

- For all I care, you could hire Y/N, Paul snapped. My point is : we have work to do, and I’m not letting Tracy’s departure ruin it. Neither should you.

Marshall groaned and mumbled something. His stance was defensive and he clearly didn’t want to be having this conversation. Months ago, you wouldn’t have expected to see eye to eye with Paul on anything, but there you were. Until Paul brought your name in the conversation, that is.

- Maybe you could step up to the plate, Y/N, Paul said.

- I don’t know how to say this but… no, you said. Don’t get me wrong, I want you guys to succeed. But find someone else.

- Look, it’s not a very hard job-, Paul started.

- With all due respect, Paul, I’m a scholar, you said. I’ve worked hard for my degree and, though I understand you mean well, the perspective of making coffee and appointments for Marshall is below me.

- Fine, Paul sighed. I’ll send you some profile of possible candidates, Marshall. And if you don’t choose someone by early January, I will.

- Great, Marshall said.

- Until then, I have handled your travel arrangements for next week and Christmas, he added. You’re welcome.

- Thanks man, your boyfriend said. I appreciate it.

Paul got up and grabbed his jacket, preparing to leave. Before crossing the threshold, he turned to you.

- Take care of him, will you ?

- I will, you said with a smile. Thanks, Paul.

- Good luck with him, he added with a chuckle.

As he left, you felt Marshall’s arms wrap around you and he buried his face in your neck.

- He’s annoying, he said.

- So are you, you hummed.

- Really ? He asked.

- You’re stubborn.

- It’s my life, I can do whatev-

- He cares about you, you said.

- Since when do you defend Paul ? He asked with a groan.

- Since I agree with him, you said as you ran your fingers through his hair. You shouldn’t let Tracy ruin things for you. Besides, I’m grateful he avoided a lawsuit.

- She wouldn’t have, Marshall shrugged. Simply wanted more money, I guess.

- Anyway… you didn’t tell me you planned on traveling, you hummed as you changed the subject.

- Because baldy ruined the surprise, Marshall said. I made plans for us to spend a couple of days in New York next week. To do some Christmas shopping. And after Christmas, we’re flying to Hawaii. Spending New Year’s Eve just the two of us.

- Really ?! You asked. Oh my God, you’re the best !

You turned and engulfed him in a hug. He gave you a smile and kissed you lovingly.

- I figured you’d enjoy it, he said with a grin.

- Christmas shopping in New York ! You shrieked. Do you do this every year ?

- Absolutely not, he chuckled. But you’re always watching these corny movies, so I thought you’d enjoy it. Plus, seeing as my kids think I’m a monster… I should probably suck up to them with presents.

- They don’t think you’re a monster, you argued. They love you.

- You should have seen the intervention when that track leaked, he sighed. I know they love me but I can tell they’re disappointed. I really want to make it up to them for the holidays.

You nodded and kissed him, promising that your first Christmas together with his family would be great. You wanted nothing more than for him to have a good time and, hopefully, he would go back to work in a few weeks feeling more like himself and energized.

A FEW DAYS LATER - MARSHALL’S POV

They had spend the next days planning their first holidays together. Christmas was approaching and they wanted to make it count. Marshall could tell Y/N wanted to cheer him up and, as for him, he could feel that not being on talking terms with her Dad was getting to her. Whether it was with his family or just the two of them, he wanted to make sure she would have the perfect Christmas she deserved. And if it meant putting up with his girl humming All I Want For Christmas and watching countless crappy movies, so be it. Same for decorating the house. He was usually a bit grumpy around the holidays, what with his childhood and everything. If it weren’t for his loved ones, he probably wouldn’t make a fuss about it but as long as they were happy, he didn’t mind putting up with the whole folklore. And the perspective of seeing his girl all giddy and excited when she’d admire the Christmas lights in NYC was pretty nice. He was packing his bag for the next day when he received a call from Kim, who asked if she could swing by his place to talk. He thought she wanted to coordinate with him for their daughters’ presents, but she specified that they needed to be alone. It was a little suspicious but he told her to come by anyway, since Y/N was spending the day with Talia and Jamal.

- What’s up, Kim? He asked as she entered the house. Everything alright ?

- All good, she said with a smile. I came to give you your Christmas present.

- You haven’t given me a present in fifteen years, he stated matter-of-factly. Also… it’s not Christmas yet.

- I couldn’t give it to you with other people around.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate. She just smiled and handed him an envelope.

- What’s this ? He asked.

- You’ve looked out for me since we were fifteen, she said. This is me looking out for you.

He frowned, not exactly seeing what she was getting at. He opened the envelope and, much to his surprise, he found divorce papers.

- What’s that ? He asked.

- Your passport to freedom, she said with a smile. I saw how happy you are with Y/N, at Thanksgiving. She’s good for you. You even told me she’s the love of your life.

- She is, he nodded. She really is. I don’t know how she does it, but she manages to put up with my shit. And she makes me happy.

- So we agree that it doesn’t make sense to stay married to me, she simply stated. I knew you’d never ask me for a divorce, so I’m doing it. I don’t want you to have regrets.

- I’ll never regret marrying you a third time, he hummed. I did what I had to do for you and the kids. You needed me.

- And now you need to think about yourself, she said with a smile. And we both know you can’t be fully happy with her if you’re still secretly married to me.

- I guess you’re right, he agreed. Are you sure, though ?

- I’m good, she assured him. I’m not going to lie, it’s weird. But I’m sober. I’m healthy. I don’t need your help anymore. And as soon as you sign these papers, you’re free. I mean, there’s still a procedure but… it’s our third divorce, so you know how it works.

He chuckled and nodded before looking at the divorce papers again. He was touched by Kim’s kindness. She really was looking out for him. Still, it was bittersweet. Keeping this secret from everyone in his life had been tough but, on some level, it was hard to let go. She seemed to pick up on it right away.

- You know you’ll still have to put up with me, right, old man ? She joked.

- Yeah, I know, he said with a smile. It’s weird, that’s all.

- I was a lousy wife anyway, she chuckled. You won’t miss it.

- And I was a bad husband, he continued.

- Not the third time around, she remarked. This marriage has been pretty peaceful.

- For you, yeah, he grinned. I still put you through rehab and lost sleep over you for a while.

- Shut up, she giggled as she rolled her eyes. I’m trying to be a good wife, here.

- You are, he said emotionally as he brought her into a hug. It’s the nicest thing you’ve done for me.

They hugged each other tightly. It was clearly emotional for the both of them. She was right : he never would have asked for a divorce, but he was grateful that she did. He kissed her cheek and went to put the papers in his office.

- I’ll get you a good divorce settlement, he said. It’s the least I can do.

- You’ve done enough, she said. But thanks.

- Promise me you’ll take care ?

- Promise, she said with a smile. Promise me you won’t fuck it up ?

- Promise, he said. Enough fuck ups. I really though I’d lost her when that track leaked, you know ?

- I bet, she said. But I was happy for you when Hailie told me she came back and forgave you.

- Yeah. We’re working through it but we’re good. She deserves an award for supporting me and putting up with everything I’ve done, Marshall said.

- I think there’s one, she chuckled. It’s called an engagement ring.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #recovery fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

65 notes · View notes

hidefdoritos · 10 months

Text

GUYS GUESS WHAT

I took my friend (who doesn't get out much and needs to have a quiet retreat space) to the library today.

I FORGOT HOW RAD THE LIBRARY IS.

-My library has private rooms with locking doors that you check out with your library card and then have keycard access to.

-These rooms are made of plexiglass for Obvious Reasons, but still. Rooms.

-I checked out a Lounge space and, guys, it's a balcony.

-It's over the main entrance to the library so you can see everyone coming in and out. The door locks so it's private, but it's also open air to the tall ceilings and has SO MUCH natural light.

-literally so much natural light the one exterior wall is floor-to-ceiling windows with a view over a fountain and a courtyard and the local shopping district. the sunset was rad.

-My laptop connected directly to the WiFi.

-There were so many people there! There are chairs spread throughout and a bunch of computers and people just chilled and hung out!

-My friend was thrilled to be able to navigate a quiet space with strangers who didn't speak to her, and then to have a retreat space.

-My library also has a Makerspace (!!!) and a Cricut machine (!!!) and I can email someone and get trained in how to use it!

-Someone was in the recording booth and I couldn't tell what she was reading but it sounded cool.

-There's a whole room along the side of the upstairs that's just for teens. Like literally just. The sign says that if you're not a teenager you should see the staff for other rooms. There wasn't anyone there when I stuck my head in but there's a giant whiteboard and orb-style chairs and

-sorry I forgot to mention that my balcony has not only a couch but also several big comfy chairs (like, I can sit on my chair and put my feet on it too and balance my book on my knees and it's STILL not too small of a chair) and a couple coffee tables and a corner where the sunlight isn't direct y'all it's so nice

-I'm so glad my tax dollars went to this, guys. We're stuck on campus for Thanksgiving break and we desperately needed to go somewhere that didn't cost money.

-for as much as I get on about the necessity of Third Spaces, you think I'd remember this.

-I also found out my friend likes Agatha Christie novels. She read me a section while I washed dishes tonight, and I think I'm gonna like them too.

#moss's musings #library #public library #go to the library #third space #solarpunk #kinda literally lol the amount of Vitamin D I got almost made up for the fact that it was dark at 5 pm #also they have a Craft and Chat on Monday nights and I've never been sadder to work on Monday nights.#the connections I could make!

312 notes · View notes

likeasettingsun · 4 months

Text

"It is six, seven o’clock of an early spring evening, and I am sitting on the cold vinyl-tile floor of a sound studio on Sunset Boulevard, watching a rock group called The Doors record a rhythm track. On the whole my attention is less than entirely engaged by the preoccupations of rock groups (I have already heard about acid as a transitional stage and also about the Maharishi and even about universal love, and after a while it all sounds like marmalade skies to me), but The Doors are different. The Doors interest me. They have nothing in common with the gentle Beatles. They lack the contemporary conviction that love is brotherhood and the Kama Sutra. Their music insists that love is sex and sex is death and therein lies salvation. The Doors are the Norman Mailers of the Top 40, missionaries of apocalyptic sex."

joan didion, 1968

#the doors #joan didion #jim morrison

79 notes · View notes

autumnsunshine10 · 2 months

Text

Sand castles and sunshine

Seashells on pristine shores

Palms and willows and pines

Stained glass on opening doors

So many marvels in this wide world!

There are so many ways to appreciate beauty. Be curious.

Explore more.

Sunsets are recordable, so grab a camera and go.

The world is a giant place, and all of it is home.

Study the stars, even if you rent a telescope.

Find hope. Hold on to the end of the rope.

Or let go, and know that the person you are growing into will catch you to even every score.

Stay open to the wonders around

Keep an eye on the sky above

Sights and sounds good vibes abound

Joy and delight, peace and love

To tickle the senses and serenely astound

Rock hound. If your eyes aren't on the sky, they should be on the ground.

The world is interesting when we look around.

Shouts of joy come from "look what I found!"

We can get our fill of beauty and grace

Knowledge meant to set us all free

It's an infectious laugh, a warm caring face

In the very essence of you, in me

It's time to wake up and feel the rush. Unshackled and unchained to achieve our dreams.

To realize that it is beautiful and important to have self belief.

The heart of everything, the seed

All we truly ever need

Collaboration between @autumnsunshine10 and @classystudentclown

#smittenbypoetry #twcpoetry #collaboration #writing collab #poetry #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #poets on tumblr #writerscommunity #poetsandwriters #wnq writers #rhyme #beauty #wonders #self belief #self love #classystudentclown #autumnsunshine10

60 notes · View notes

thatsdemko · 2 years

Text

it’s sir to you - l.hamilton

parings: lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + mentions of oral + pet names

a/n: had this in my drafts for awhile thought I’d share! slightly inspired by his surname but also by niall horan making zayn call him sir niall after having met the queen. this is also a “short” blurb hence the no gif and other things I normally provide.

the following content is not intended for minors.

the beautiful sunset is being replaced by stars and the moon, the day was finally winding down and night life was beginning to flourish.

you watch from your balcony, the night owls flood the streets of Monaco dressed in their finest while you tend to the glass of wine in your hand awaiting the company of a special someone.

it’s been three months of this. him sneaking in the back of the apartment so he doesn’t caught by the crowds, the doorman chatting his ear up about the results of his previous race, and then finally getting to you. he waits weeks— sometimes months for moments like these.

you hear the faint sound of your apartment door open and close quietly behind him. he notices the lights from the balcony, the bottle of red wine and a glass saved for him. he takes the bottle and empty glass along with him to accompany you.

his lips collide with the skin on your temple watching him fill you almost empty glass with more wine, “record time.” you raise your hand for him to stop pouring and he does, beginning to pour his own glass now.

“different doorman.” he mumbles taking the seat beside you, his hand gravitating towards your inner thigh. he squeezes the skin feeling your hand rest above his.

“missed you.” you whisper, eyes focused on the night life in front of you, you watched girls stumble in their heels and men hollering after one another, you can’t believe at one point you were like them. it’s how this whole thing started in the first place.

“you could always join me, paddock life suits you.” he whispers, face moving towards the exposed skin on your neck, you allow him to nibble and press wet kisses where he pleases.

“I can’t stand rich folks, lew.” you chuckle sipping the wine from your glass feeling him pull away. his hand still glued to your thigh as his thumb begins to rub circles, moving upward.

he just chuckles shaking his head. your work consisted of being nice to ‘well off’ people and Lewis was one of those people you were programmed to hate. someone who has it all and acts as if superior to the rest of the world, but lewis was quite opposite of that. when he walked into your work that evening, he was kind to you and other employees, it was refreshing.

“let me spoil you, love.” his words gentle, hands cup your cheek as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. he can taste the red wine remnants against your lips, as he begins to pull you closer to him.

“you already spoil me so much, lew.” you whisper against his lips trying to close the gap between you two, but the chairs are in the way. getting up now, he follows you into your apartment and straight to the bedroom. talk about record time, that was the shortest small talk the two of you had in a long time.

“I know that, so spoil me for once.” he undoes the belt of his pants, the jeans falling to the floor and he kicks them aside. he’s standing there t-shirt and underwear now, you move closer pulling the hem of the shirt over his head leaving him just in his boxers.

“of course.” you carefully fall to your knees, finger tips pulling on the material of his boxers all the way down to the floor, he kicks them to the side and your faced with nothing but his huge cock in front of you.

you relax your jaw beginning to take his tip in your mouth, his hands immediately fly to your head,his finger tips are forceful against your skull as your tongue swirls and glides around his tip.

“so good to me, always.” his words are incoherent sentences, but you’re able make out the praises and encouragements he’s giving you.

he’s practically shaking while you continue, every spot that’s been touched already gets a new feeling of your tongue against it, it’s not much longer until your mouth is met with earthy but sweet cum.

“come.” he pulls you up from the floor, body colliding with the sheets and mattress of your bed. it’s a shame it was perfectly made because you knew by the end of this you’d be tangled in them.

his hands are forceful once more, pushing your inner thighs apart taking the time to undress you, “Lewis, please.” you beg, his ears perk up to the name, he picks his head up from your wet panties, eyebrow raised, “it’s sir to you.”

his stare is burning thru your soul as you just nod having forgotten the nicknames you only shared in the bedroom. he loved how you teased him with the name ‘sir’, it always floored him.

he’s back to where you want him, hands pulling the wet material aside, his body grinding on top of yours as you feel him open your entrance. your legs shake around his torso, it’s been so long since you felt this good, he’s taking his time and it’s pissing you off. you’re used to his fast pace rough play, it’s painful how slow he’s going.

“just like your car, slow.” you grit between your teeth feeling his hand smack your ass, it’s painful causing your nails to rake up his back in return of punishment.

“don’t talk to me like that.” he hissed entering further feeling your body twitch beneath him, gasps of air escaping your mouth.

“yes sir.” is all you can muster out, trying to find a rhythm in your breathing pattern. he’s finally got your clit, moans and fidgeting begun below him his grip on your body tightens.

it’s a record long time before you finally come, legs shaking, his body pulls away and you allow yours to relax against the sheets that your hands had been clenching onto.

“this is why I need you around the paddock more, someone to call me sir in my bed.”

“I’ll think about it.”

570 notes · View notes

noisyquokka · 1 year

Text

Lifetimes Before

PAIRING - Chan x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - Sometimes all your soul needs is a quiet night with your Lover, something that always feels familiar to you that you can't quite put a finger on.

WORDCOUNT - 2k

WARNINGS - Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, dancing with this man under the stars? sign me up!!

A/N - I've had this idea stuck in my head for a while now, so I thought I'd finally get it out. Giggled, kicked my feet, twirled my hair whilst writing this and now I wish I could dance with my girlfriend... Anyway Happy Chan day, everybody!!🥰🎉

The wood creaks beneath your weight as you descend the staircase, halting at the second-last step and leaning over the railing. You scan the open space in search of your Lover, ears perking at the melody floating about the first floor. Something far older than the two of you, with elements of blues, swing, big band. A man with the vocals of silk and lace, a warm embrace. Nat King Cole. It's a record you're familiar with, one you can imagine your grandparents listening to in their late 20s. It's something that fits a quiet Sunday evening, the spices from a homecooked meal wafting through the house as the family sits down to eat. Something that fits this quiet Sunday evening.

The chosen vinyl spins on the turntable, soundwaves moving you like nothing else can. You skip down the last few steps, turning towards the back patio with a furrowed brow. There's a faint glow shining through the door's glass, fighting its way through the sheer curtains hanging from them; a pathetic excuse for privacy. But you find the golden glow of a sunset too good to pass up most days, the rays bleeding through the hallway, running up the walls like untamed flames in a campfire.

Ah, that glow… one of crackling wood and all-encompassing heat.

A smile pulls at the corners of your lips, your slippers padding across the runner in the hall as you pull the door open. Chan's back is to you, tending to the fire in the freestanding pit. Daylight is fading, the tree tops along your property rimmed in the amber glow of late Summer. The northern breeze assaults the fabric on your person, greeting the bare skin beneath with a sweet kiss of chills. You step out anyway, patio bricks smooth underfoot, and clear your throat. The man's shoulders tense only for a moment, straightening up as he turns to you. That familiar look of affection adorns his face.

"So what's this, then?" You gesture to the fire, the buzzing stereo inside. It's romantic beyond measure, and even as you know the events that are about to unfold, you play coy. "You call me down here for what, exactly?"

"Leave the door open," He says, waving you over with a wag of his fingers. You oblige, unable to hold back your smile as you close in on the sight before you. The mess of curls atop his head move with him, his focus on nothing else but you as you cross the space from the entrance to the patio. The closer you get, the wider Chan's smile gets until you're greeted by those dimples, the fire light washing over the elusive divots as he turns back to the horizon awash in a blaze of vibrant hues. Orange, violet, yellowish-pink.

You stop behind him, feeling the warmth of the fire spill over the broadness of his shoulders. He chuckles when your arms slink around his waist, tightening as you rest your cheek at the space between his shoulder blades. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. The patio door sways open further with the breeze, the sound of the stereo mingling with the crackles and pops of dry wood. It's almost like the sands in the hourglass stop out here, every single time. If only…

Chan's fingers slip under one of your hands, linking your fingers together to pull you around to his side. The song that's playing ends, and you recognize the next instantly. Those fingers squeeze around yours in a nonverbal question, and Chan follows up with a verbal one.

"May I?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"I'm just being a gentleman." He insists, pulling you closer with a gentle hand. His other hand settles at your waist, taking the lead in this three-step on this chilly evening. And you follow with no complaints, bringing your opposite hand up to rest on his shoulder. Nat King Cole begins his silken performance from inside.

Three little words,

Oh what I'd give for that wonderful phrase,

To hear those three little words,

That's all I'd live for the rest of my days,

His grip on you is firm but comfortable, there to keep you close even as he knows you're not going anywhere. The two of you ease into that familiar swing and sway, so used to being soul partners in this backyard oasis where the only wandering eyes are the wildlife that slinks through the shadows and the stars that have yet to make their appearance tonight. Moving together as one, sharing the same space as Chan pulls you in so your back is to his chest.

And what I feel in my heart,

They tell sincerely,

No other words can tell it half so clearly,

His voice rumbles in his chest, swaying you back and forth as he softly serenades you in his arms. You're smiling, lashes fluttering at such a serene and calming voice, the lyrics carrying you on wings of sound as you step in time with the music. And oh, does that voice hold nothing but the strongest affection for the one he's singing to. It erupts butterflies within your chest.

Chan unfurls you from his embrace, your fingers interlocking again as you step backward, shifting your weight to your left foot and coming back to center. It's hard not to smile, something so natural to the both of you - a waltz between two Lovers in firelight as your bodies flow like a river - when you've been here a number of times. The instrumentals fill the air between you both, floating out of the warmly lit home and into the night.

Three little words,

Eight little letters,

Which simply mean I love you.

Chan's voice fills your ears again as he spins you around the patio, the chill creeping under your shirt. Even so, you feel nothing but warmth radiating from the man that's swinging you around like this is the most fun he's had in all his lifetimes. He pushes you away, shifting his left foot back before strong arms are pulling you back into him. Your laughter echoes through the trees, and you let your head fall back in bliss. You bite your lip as he presses a kiss to your chin.

"Am I doin' this right?" His breath is soft on your neck, arms slipping to the small of your back while yours find their resting place at his shoulders. You're much too close to properly dance, so Chan guides you into a slow and simple sway, shifting your weight from your left foot to your right.

"You're the dancer, Christopher," You reply, tilting your head to lock eyes with the man, "shouldn't you know?" A soft smile takes over your lips as you let your eyes linger on his in the warmth of the fire.

"I was referring to my execution," He gestures to the romantic setting he'd created with a smirk. "but from the look on your face, I'm guessing I've done alright."

You chuckle, blinking as your fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck. Your gaze flits around the backyard, seemingly judging the choices he'd made. The wind kicks up now, rustling the changing leaves that sway along their branches with you two below. The flames crackle with the intrusive whispers of air, embers glowing as they travel on the wind's current like fireflies. Your focus come back to those warm amber eyes, licking your lips.

"I'd say so." You murmur, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Chan grins at that, lifting you with ease and twirling you around, the two of you moving in a smooth circle. You squeal at his movements, eyes wide for the slightest second as the pads of your fingers dig into his shoulders. But then you hear him giggle and you're being brought back down just enough that his lips can find yours. You hum contentedly into the kiss, lashes fluttering against your ever heating cheeks.

And what I feel in my heart,

They tell sincerely,

No other words can tell it half so clearly,

He sets you back to your feet and without missing a beat, you're back in step with little effort. Your body moves in time with Chan's and his with yours, each step blending into the next. The intuitive tells and the way you understand each other's bodies is an artform, with a level of cohesion that defies all logic. Like two halves of a whole, your souls intertwined in a way that's otherworldly. Attuned to the natural rhythm of one another, every step, every touch. It's something learned over lifetimes. It's an enchanting feeling; an experience you could live in for eternity if only you get to experience it with his soul in every single life beyond this one.

Three little words,

Eight little letters,

Which simply mean I love you,

He spins you away again, lyrics dancing on the tip of his tongue. The man's voice is like a soft, melodic lullaby, it's smooth and soothing tones washing over you. The breeze and the fire craft a tranquil and romantic atmosphere as you sway your hips with the music. The flames cast a glow across Chan's face, dancing over bare skin as he draws you back into him, foreheads bumping softly. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing fervently at the warm skin. Time moves slowly in this moment, lasting an eternity as you breathe each other in. You could've sworn this song is only about two minutes long.

"Simply mean I love you."

He sings the last line softly, a wide grin taking over his face. You mirror that grin, unable to hold back as your heart beats heavy in your chest. Two pairs of eyes stare for a long moment, taking in every feature, every imperfection, everything. Nothing but a heart palpitating love in those gazes, melting into one another. There's love.

"I love you."

It's said at the same time, soft chuckles vibrating through warm chests. His breath lightly fans over your cheeks, the hand at your back coming to rest at your hip. He tilts your head up just enough, the softness of his lips meeting yours in another gentle kiss. You're still slightly swaying as the next song plays in the background, your senses tuned into him as you feel the chill on your skin, the scent of burning wood, the taste of Chan's lips on yours.

You dance until the fire begins to die, your bodies intertwined and foreheads resting against each other. Until the vinyl is finished playing, giving way to the chorus of night insects that still sing this close to the start of Autumn. The embers burn away, cooling into white ash as starlight takes over, the moon's soft luminescence illuminating the two of you. And even after all is quiet, you stay in Chan's arms, the warmth of his skin and his voice a gentle comfort.

You know you have work in the morning, but enveloped in your Lover's arms, you don't see yourself finding the willpower to rush back inside to go to bed. Not when everything feels as it should. Heartbeats in sync, two souls sharing such a profound connection that poets of old could only weave into the fabric of humanity's web with their weathered scribes.

You see their gazes now, in the twinkling of the stars above, beautiful and serene. A creation all their own. The scene brings a smile to their shimmering faces, that you know every inch of the man beside you. Every inch of his body, every movement, every sound. There is nothing that Chan does that you don't already know. Your love runs deeper than flesh and bone, deeper than the vastness of galaxies. It's a love that runs to the very essence of your two souls. A love that has lasted lifetimes before this one and will last for lifetimes after.

The hours pass, but you don't rush back inside to sleep. There is no hurry, no need.

You are where you're supposed to be, in the arms of the man you love.

Psst!! If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

#stray kids #bang chan #stray kids x reader #skz x you #bang chan x reader #skz #bang chan fluff #chan x reader #skz soft hours #skz chan #bang chan imagines #stray kids fluff #gn!reader #x gender neutral reader #quokkawritings🌻

144 notes · View notes