#and I’ll invest in a deal

[exopelagic]

WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME BURROWS END WASNT FREE

[jessiescock]

horrible disease (adhd) that requires me to put on some kind of background entertainment while i draw my stupid little drawings that i need to do for uni, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to find stuff that hits the perfect spot between not too boring so that i don’t zone out and break my concentration, but also not requiring too much focus so that i can put the majority of my brain power into drawing without losing track of my background entertainment. ifuh anyone has any recommendations please make them known to me please. like yewchube channels or potcasts

[fingertipsmp3]

My mama is never beating the “raised a quitter” allegations

[kethabali]

when you’re in a group of 3+ and 2 people decide it’s the perfect time to have a private conversation i fucking hate that shit it makes the third person feel so outcasted or no good reason save that shit for when you’re alone if it’s so fuckjng private

[yamujiburo]

Why I Love Hanamusa

I get this question very frequently but have never given a really in depth, definitive answer. All just kinda implied through my comics and spread out asks. So here's this I guess! Long post ahead:

First, as a Pokémon fan in her mid 20s, I love seeing a ship where the characters are both in their mid/late 20s. Already, they’re much more relatable to me and my current experiences. Most Pokémon ships are between preteens, which can be cute but ultimately don’t interest me as much as they used to when I was a kid myself. Not enough to get super invested in and draw a lot of fanart for anyways haha.

I’ll also start by saying that canon doesn’t always influence whether or not I’ll ship something. I’m much more drawn to potential. Could the characters work together? Do their personalities work together in a nice way? I feel like this so much of fanon is anyways. Especially with queer relationships because they’re rarely depicted in the first place. A lot of the context for these ships is usually up to the fans to piece together or make up in general. And that’s the fun part to me!

Jessie and Delia have only met in the anime a handful of times. Any interaction they’ve had has either been pleasant, or just a typical Team Rocket interaction, with Delia dismissing them/not seeing them as a threat. Already a great jumping off point for me since, truly, they don’t have any actual beef or true, ill feelings towards each other. It’s not TOO out of the realm of possibility for them to potentially fall for each other. “But Jessie chased Delia’s son around trying to steal his Pokémon!” That’s where that dismissive and aloof attitude that Delia has comes into play. I’ll go more into Delia’s whole deal a bit later but I do think this aspect of her personality is a large reason why this ship can work. It’s not that she doesn’t care that Jessie has a bad past, but she can tell that, on the inside, Jessie’s a good person. And, in a scenario where Jessie is trying to become a better person, is forgiving enough to give her a shot. I feel like this is such a solid foundation for a ship. A character who has done wrong but is trying to be better and another character who is willing to help them be better. A classic dynamic!

It’s not just one-sided though; where Jessie is the only one benefitting and learning from the relationship. I believe Delia could get a lot out of being with someone like Jessie. To understand why, I think it’s important to know these characters’ respective backstories.

Jessie is an orphan/foster child who grew up in poverty. Her mother Miyamoto (from The Birth of Mewtwo) was a Team Rocket operative herself, who went on a mission to find Mew. In order to do this, she had to leave Jessie when she was just a toddler. Unfortunately, Miyamoto went MIA on her mission leaving Jessie to more or less fend for herself. Jessie went through life with zero stability, evident by her MANY different careers and constant moving around. It’s implied in the show that she went from foster home to foster home, and later in life tried being an idol, weather girl, florist, wine connoisseur, actress, most notably a nurse and finally a Team Rocket field agent. And even while in Team Rocket, she, James and Meowth were always doing odd jobs to get by. We see that Jessie used to be a sweet kid, and even adult, but the world and her circumstances repeatedly did her dirty, leading her to become the character we know today. Hot tempered, mean, selfish, etc. But despite this, her soft side does still shine through for the people and Pokémon she cares about. She is incredibly loyal.

Delia, unbeknownst to a lot of fans, also had a rough past (see Pocket Monsters: The Animation). Like Jessie, she had a lot of dreams and aspirations like wanting to be a model and even a trainer. But when she was 10, her mother didn’t let her, telling her that she had to stay home and learn to run the family restaurant (she’s an only child). Delia’s father left her and her mother to be a trainer, and never returned. When she was 18, she married Ash’s father and became pregnant shortly after. But right after Ash was born, he also set off to be a Pokémon trainer. And soon after that, her mother passed away, leaving Delia with just the restaurant and baby Ash. This gives so much context to Delia’s attitude in the show. We see that Delia is pained whenever Ash leaves on a journey, but she never shows that pain to anyone. ESPECIALLY Ash. She’s very quick to shoo him off when he shows any sign of wanting to go on another journey and even when he returns home, she acts more excited to see Pikachu than him almost every time. Without all this backstory, it’s easy to just read this as a funny gag, BUT with context, I think it really shows how quickly Delia shuts down and detaches in order to not confront her own feelings. She’s afraid of losing people and getting hurt again.

All that said, I think Jessie and Delia provide each other with EXACTLY what the other needs. 

Aside from becoming rich and famous, Jessie’s biggest aspiration is to get married. In my opinion, this is more so an underlying want for love and stability. There is no one more stable in the show than Delia. Delia’s lived in Pallet her whole life, she’s worked at the same restaurant since she was young and she is always there when Ash comes back home. She has all the love, patience and stability Jessie needs and craves. While forgiving, Delia’s not stupid and can keep Jessie in check. Delia’s also just an angel, which I feel, would make Jessie want to be better. And on top of all this, on more of a surface level, Delia’s a chef and excellent cook. She shows love through cooking and Jessie, who grew up poor, regularly starving and eating snow, happily receives that love. Jessie’s able to live a happy and healthy life with someone like Delia.

Delia, as stated, is very stable. Likely pretty monotonous and solitary, especially living in such a small town like Pallet. This isn’t a bad thing but it’s a little sad when you consider that Delia also had dreams of traveling, being a model and a trainer. She had to give up so many dreams in order to fulfill her duties as a restaurant owner and mother. And even now, when Ash is off on his journey, she feels the need to always be home and be that stable pillar, leaving behind any ambitions she had, thinking it’s too late for her (she’s only 29 btw). But then along comes Jessie, dangerous, passionate, an absolute firecracker. Someone who’s whole life has been about chasing dreams and either, never giving up on them or finding a new dream to chase. Upon learning about Delia’s past aspirations, I could see Jessie pushing her towards them, letting her know that life’s too short and she has nothing to lose from trying. On top of this, Jessie’s also loyal. She, James and Meowth are depicted as doing anything for anyone who gives them food or shows them kindness. Delia does both so there’s no way Jessie would leave her. This fulfills an essential need for Delia, who is afraid of the people in her life leaving her.

There’s so much potential for mutual growth and learning between these two and I adore that. They compliment each other, they help each other and they bring out the best qualities in one another.

I’m not really sure how to end this and I could truly talk about them even more but I don’t want this to be tooooo long haha. OH I could end it with maybe the most funny aspect of this ship that I've brushed over and also what drew me to it in the first place. Jessie. As Ash’s stepmom. THE END.

[rafecameronssl4t]

The weight of expectations || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: I know you guys wanted more soft moments between Rafe and reader in this au so here you go!!!

Warnings: nothing!

Word count: 1,532

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The dimly lit office in the Cameron building had always carried an air of prestige, a reminder of the empire Ward Cameron had built with his own hands. But now, Rafe sat behind the polished mahogany desk, feeling the weight of that legacy pressing down on his shoulders.

His reflection in the window—sharp suit, tired eyes, jaw clenched—was one of a man constantly battling his own demons. Rafe’s phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. The meeting with Mr. Cartwright was scheduled for five minutes ago, but knowing Cartwright, he would make him wait a little longer just to make a point.

Rafe’s lip twitched in annoyance. This was supposed to be simple—sign the deal, deliver, and collect the reward. But like everything in his life lately, nothing was as easy as it seemed. As if on cue, the heavy doors creaked open, and Mr. Cartwright strode in, his presence filling the room with the unmistakable arrogance of someone who thought he could toy with the Camerons.

Rafe hated men like him. Cartwright was older, maybe late forties, with graying hair slicked back and a suit so tailored it made a statement by itself. Still, Cartwright had power, and Rafe knew they needed him for this deal. Rafe’s eyes narrowed, but he stood, gesturing to the chair across from him. “You’re late.”

Cartwright smirked, unbothered. “You’ve got nothing but time, Cameron.” Rafe resisted the urge to slam his fist on the table. The conversation turned cold quickly, escalating from subtle jabs to outright confrontation as Cartwright slammed his hand on the desk. “This wasn’t the outcome we agreed on, Cameron. I expected the deal to be completed two weeks ago.”

Rafe gritted his teeth, leaning back in his chair, trying to play it cool. Cartwright was testing him, seeing if Rafe would break under pressure. “Things take time, Cartwright. We’re working on it. You can’t expect a project this size to wrap up overnight.” But Cartwright wasn’t having it.

“I expected results, not excuses. I trusted your family’s name—your father’s name—when I signed on to this. Now, you’re telling me I just need to ‘wait’? My investors don’t have time for your delays.” Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “I think you forget I was my father’s protégé, and now I’m handling the business. You underestimate me.”

“I don’t care what your investors think. The timelines shifted, and there’s nothing anyone can do about that. We’ll deliver, but on our schedule, not yours.” Mr. Cartwright slams his hand down on the table, eyes narrowing. “Your schedule is putting my reputation on the line. I’m not some small-time client you can string along. My name holds weight, and if your company can’t keep up, I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker with irritation, but he maintains his composure, though his tone becomes icier. “You’re not going anywhere, and we both know that.” He leans forward, his stare sharp. “You’ve invested too much in this project to pull out now. So let’s stop pretending you have the upper hand here.”

Mr. Cartwright scoffs, clearly insulted. “Your father knew how to handle his business. You, on the other hand, seem more interested in playing house with your perfect little wife and children than focusing on the deals that matter.” The mention of you brought heat rising to Rafe’s face.

His jaw clenched as he fought to control his temper. The comment hit too close to home. Cartwright had no idea what his marriage was like, the public façade they upheld, the tangled mess of feelings that simmered beneath the surface. “Mention my wife again, and you’ll regret it,” Rafe spat, his voice low and dangerous.

Cartwright just smirked. “Touchy subject, huh? Maybe if you focused on the business instead of her, this deal wouldn’t be falling apart.” That did it. Rafe was out of his chair, leaning over the desk, his eyes flashing with barely controlled rage. “You don’t get to talk about her. You signed the contract. You’ll get what we promised, but on our terms.”

“If you’re too much of a coward to stick it out, then fine—walk away. But you’re not going to find anyone better than me in this industry, and you know it.” The room was tense, their stares locked in a silent battle of wills. Cartwright didn’t budge. Instead, he straightened his suit jacket, his mouth set in a hard line.

“I’ll give you one month, Cameron. If this doesn’t turn around by then, I’ll make sure everyone knows how your family is crumbling—starting with you. Rafe forced himself to relax, stepping back from the desk, his smirk returning, though there was no warmth behind it. “One month. You’ll get your results. But you don’t scare me, Cartwright. Cross me, and you’ll regret it.”

With one final glance, Cartwright turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving Rafe standing alone, the weight of the confrontation settling over him. He ran a hand through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

~

It was nearing 8 p.m. when Rafe pulled into the driveway, his mind still buzzing from the heated argument with Cartwright. He had no doubt he could deliver on the deal—he always found a way. But tonight, Cartwright’s words had gotten under his skin in a way that lingered, like a dull throb at the back of his mind.

The quiet of the house was almost unsettling as he stepped inside, the weight of the day’s events hanging heavily on his shoulders. Making his way upstairs, Rafe entered the bedroom, immediately spotting you on the bed, nursing Leo. Your eyes were closed, head leaned back against the headboard, one hand gently patting Leo’s back as he fed contentedly.

Rafe sighed, running a hand over his face, feeling the tension in his body slowly begin to ease. As complicated as things were between you, there was an undeniable comfort in your presence—an unspoken understanding that neither of you acknowledged but both felt. Rafe quietly crossed the room, his gaze softening as he approached.

Leo’s wide eyes met his, curious and bright. Rafe couldn’t help but smile, reaching out to gently stroke his son’s cheek. Leo’s tiny hand immediately grasped Rafe’s finger, holding on tight. A warmth spread through Rafe’s chest, and for a moment, the stress of the day melted away. His eyes shifted back to you.

Your breathing was calm, features relaxed in a way that made you look at peace, despite everything swirling around your lives. There was something soothing about the scene in front of him—something grounding. Leo’s eyes never left Rafe, watching his father with that same innocent curiosity. “Tough day?” Your voice, soft but alert, broke the silence.

Rafe’s gaze snapped up, meeting your half-lidded eyes as you watched him, though you hadn’t moved. He straightened, clearing his throat as he walked to the dresser, his back turned to you. “Just another asshole trying to tell me how to run my business,” he muttered, slipping off his watch and setting it down with more force than necessary.

“Cartwright’s testing me,” Rafe continued, running a hand through his hair before heading turned back around, leaning against the dresser. “Thinks I’m not my father.” Your gaze softened as you watched him. “You’re not your father, Rafe. And that’s not a bad thing.”

His blue eyes searched yours, trying to figure out if you truly meant it. There was a sincerity there, a quiet support that he wasn’t used to. It disarmed him for a moment, making him pause as he watched you with a curiosity that mirrored his son’s. The way you moved so naturally—so gracefully—as you gently lifted Leo and placed him in his bassinet beside the bed was a sight he found himself quietly admiring.

A soft sigh left your lips as you tucked him in, smoothing the blankets before slipping back beneath the sheets. You glanced up at him, still leaning against the dresser, lost in thought. “Are you going to get ready for bed?” you asked, your voice soft but carrying that calm tone you always seemed to have when it came to him.

There was no pressure, just a simple question, but it tugged at something deeper within Rafe. He cleared his throat, standing up a little straighter. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he muttered, his voice low as he turned back to the dresser, his fingers absently fiddling with the cufflinks on his shirt.

But he didn’t move right away. Instead, he stood there for a moment longer, watching you settle into the bed, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around him like a comfort he hadn’t realised he needed. Despite the chaos that always seemed to swirl around them—around him—there was a strange sense of peace in this room, in this space they shared.

Even if it wasn’t always easy, even if things between them were complicated, there was something grounding in the quiet moments like these. And as much as Rafe hated to admit it, those moments were starting to mean more to him than he had ever expected.

[colourstreakgryffin]

I had a silly idea, what about an Cheshire Cat!reader x Alastor? (Feel free not to do this dearie ( ·∀·) )

Haha. OMFG. A Cheshire Cat would really match with Alastor well! So, thank you, Lady Beelzebub! I’ll try this out!

Alastor- A Little Game

Vaggie has been so frustrated. Charlie has been trying to ease the crew. Husk is on the verge of murdering somebody. Niffty is annoyed that her cleaning equipment is gone. Angel is quite amused by what’s going on and Alastor is very invested in the cause

Lately, the Hazbin Hotel has been dealing with a suddenly appearing invisible menace causing pranks after pranks nonstop; locking or trapping up doors, stealing items and storing them high up, whispering out in the halls at night

Alastor didn’t suspect he’d ever run into the culprit of all this trouble but he has. After Charlie had been giving Vaggie a calmdown pep talk, the Princess politely asked Alastor to check around the hallways for any more prank remnants, the Overlord did so, just to see what he may find… and he made a incredible discovery

A floating cat-like sinner with magenta and pink colouring, most importantly, a big Cheshire wide grin. A rival of Alastor’s own smile and with almost half a body, as if cut in half

The sinner was in the midst of setting up a trap consisting a big silver bucket full of thick blood over the top of Alastor’s own hotel room door, but they’ve been caught in the act

And Alastor doesn’t plan on dealing out punishment… he’s too amused

“Ah… you must be the little troublesome beast causing so much disrupt in this Hotel?” Alastor asks almost immediately with literally no malice towards what’s been going on, his transatlantic accent smooth and almost making his voice sound more friendly and warm than he actually is as this cat sinner… or otherwise, you

Just giggles under your breath and disappears into thin air properly with the wide grin floating in the air for a few seconds almost magically before dissipating with you

“And if I have?” Your voice rings out after a few more seconds of silence, disembodied, invisible. You can’t be tracked with eyes but Alastor’s powerful magic can pinpoint where you are by detecting your own demonic magic, sharply looking over his shoulder to be greeted with your floating head

Just your head… no body, it’s like before when it was half of your torso. Now, it’s just your head. Your magic is a lot like the storybook fairytale character, Cheshire Cat

But that’s because you’re the most Cheshire Cat person anybody will ever met. Alastor couldn’t help but be so amused by you; you’re skilled, you’re snarky, you know what you’re doing and you’re resourceful, good at planning

Able to have avoided being caught by everybody in the Hotel for months now and you’re lucky enough to have been caught by the one member who enjoyed the chaos and madness the pranks caused

“I believe you must avoid the others if so” Alastor proclaims, almost mysterious and still silky in that radio-laced but classy and dapper tone as you tilt your head confused. For the first time, you’ve been snapped out of your mischievous chaotic demeanour

You suspected him to bark, to growl, to be annoyed so him not is so odd to you but quickly brushing it off, you manifest your whole body into frame. Cute fluffy striped cat-like ears flicking and long fluffy cat-like tail curling around, almost like a coil spring

You couldn’t really understand this Overlord, something you don’t like. You’d prefer people to be confused by you, by your style of insanity and madness, by your enjoyment of causing so much disorder and high-tension emotions

You were about to speak, basically floating over his shoulder before Alastor beats you to the punch. You can’t tell if you’ll like him or despise him with the way he speaks, almost condescending

“If you’re going to make my project topsy-turvy, I suggest do a better prank”

[localvigilante]

Knights and Princesses (Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader)

One of the younger students at the school asks you and some other X-men to play a game of pretend. And a certain blue elf takes it as a chance to be a charming little dork. (shameless Kurt x Reader fluff w Scott and an unnamed x-baby making an appearance)

A.N. So, this was actually written many, many years ago on an old blog of mine but I've been wanting to write some Kurt stuff again, so I decided to dust it off, revise it, and post it here. Hope you enjoy!

The reader is called "princess" and is described as wearing a dress, but no other descriptors are present.

Kids were something else, you muse as you smooth out the creases in your elaborate outfit, particularly the children at Xavier’s school. You liked kids but one little tot had taken a great liking to you, she was about six and was always roping you into playing pretend with her. You didn’t mind, after all, who could say no to an excuse to act like a kid again? And if these little games between your harrowing missions made you and the girl smile, who were you to say no?

But, as you stand at the top of the main staircase, dressed in a pink, lacy princess dress, you wonder if you had to invest in proper costumes for the sessions of make-believe.

The dress was too small for you, the skirt not even going to your knees, and you had to leave the back unzipped just to fit in it; but it made the little one happy to see you oblige her wanting to play “Knights and Princesses” by playing the latter. You had naturally wanted to be the knight with her, but that role had been given to none other than…

“Oh Princess of Xavier castle, we are here to rescue you!” called a dramatic and accented voice from the bottom of the stairs. You watched as Kurt and the little one leaped from the shadows, both donning knightly costumes and plastic swords.

That was your cue, you step out and place your hand on the banister at the top of the grand staircase. “Oh my brave knights!” you cried in a wavering, simpering tone. Hey, if you were stuck as the princess, might as well have some fun, right? “Please, you must run and save yourselves!”

“Knight’s never run!” the girl shouted with pride, puffing out her chest.

“What she said!” Kurt confirmed.

“But, my heroes, you don’t understand! There’s a fearsome dragon- and he’ll surely destroy both of you!” You paused, but nothing happened. “I said.” you repeated, far more sharp this time, “He’s sure. To destroy. Both of you!”

“Rawer.” came a flat voice from the other side of the stairs.

Scott came out into the open, dressed in a cardboard and crayon-colored attempt at a dragon’s costume you and the mini knight had made to fit him. He had wanted to be a knight too, but folded like a cheap suit the moment the girl gave him the Big Sad Eyes and asked him to be their dragon.

Surprisingly, despite his flat tone, he wasn't doing too bad.

"Who dares enter my castle!" he said, ending with a much better roar than his first.

The little girl yelled dramatically “The Knights of the X Table, that's who! Now get back, you nasty beast! You won’t terrorize the princess any longer!”

" 'Nasty'? Well, that's a little uncalled f- AH!" Scott's mumbling was cut off as the tiny knight charged, swinging her sword wildly.

“Sir Kurt, you get the princess to safety, I’ll deal with the creature!” She called back as Scott the dragon let out another yell and ran for the next room.

Kurt looked up at you with a wink, “My pleasure!” and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

He reappeared next to you, that wicked grin displayed brilliantly on his face. His tail gripped the back of your dress and pulled, effectively causing you to spin into his arms. You couldn’t help the heat rising in your cheeks as his face neared yours.

“Are you ready, meine Prinzessin?” he asked in a low, almost intimate tone. But before you had time to reply with anything but flustered mumbles, he pointed his sword at the sky and yelled “Fear not, your Highness, for I shall throw you to safety!”

That got your attention “Wait ‘throw’!?”

Before you could free yourself of the elf, he lifted you into his arms and the gesture would have been romantic, if he had not immediately tossed you over the banister.

You only had time to scream something along the lines of ‘I’ll run you through with that plastic sword, Wagner’ before you were engulfed in black and purple smoke. Next thing you knew, Kurt was crouching on the ground floor holding you closely…and barely concealing his teasing chuckles!

“Come now, Liebling, did you really think I would let you get hurt?” He asked, obviously still amused at how shocked your face was.

“You could have warned me,” you crossed your arms, but even you knew all he had to do was smile to be forgiven.

“Ah, but where would be the fun in that?”

You rolled your eyes, but then the voice of Kurt’s fellow knight in cardboard armor came from the other room. “Sir Kurt, have you gotten the princess yet!?”

“Oh, my dear knight, thank you for freeing me from that awful tower!” you cried, falling back into character easily and making sure the little one heard you.

“Of course, my fair damsel,” Kurt replied in that theatrical voice, but then “anything for you,” he added in that same low tone he used before. “You know, usually the prince gets a kiss in reward when saving a damsel in distress.”

“Is that so?” You ran your hands up his chest and leaned in so your lips were just a breath apart. “Well, my prince…” you swore you heard him draw in a breath and hold it, anticipation simmering- right before you snatched the plastic sword from his hand and jumped to your feet. “You'll have to get your kiss after we defeat the dragon!”

The look on his face was priceless as you winked at him and turned towards the next room. You brandished the sword proudly and charged towards the mini knight and Scott the dragon, yelling like a Shakespearian actor about how the beast’s days were numbered.

You didn’t see the look of complete adoration etched on Kurt’s face as he watched you, tail swaying dreamily behind him. After allowing himself a smitten sigh, he stood straight and pulled a second plastic sword from his belt.

"Wait for me!"

...

Comments and Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part four

firefighter!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni

warnings: joel miller au, reader's family members finally get names in this, a whole lotta tooth-rotting fluff, sexual innuendos, sexual tension, your (fictional) brothers are a pain in the ass, reader has a nickname given by the brothers, smut (unprotected piv, f!oral receiving, fingering, body praise, quick handjob), no use of y/n.

word count: 9.2k (i'm so sorry)

a/n: sorry it took forever. life has been so hectic after graduating. thank you for sticking around <3

synopsis: you and joel take a road trip to san antonio for your sister’s wedding, and with feelings at an all-time high, you find it nearly impossible to resist each other.

“So what time are you and Joel leaving tomorrow?” Your sister asks on the other end of the line. 

Tomorrow was the rehearsal dinner for her wedding, and you had to drive out to San Antonio. Joel promised you countless times that he was more than happy to accompany you to the wedding, even though you warned him countless times about your family. 

“Probably around ten. He’s spending the night tonight so we can just get ready and leave in the morning.” You’re folding the last of your clothes to pack, phone tucked between your shoulder and ear as you mentally double check that you have everything you need in your suitcase. 

“Okay, good. Mom’s kind of upset that she hasn’t met this ‘mystery man’ as she calls it. She’s been dying to know all the details.” 

You roll your eyes and sigh, already knowing this weekend was going to be absolutely exhausting dealing with everyone. 

“She’ll literally meet him tomorrow. I kept our relationship at bay because of how she gets. Not to mention Andrew and Cole, and god knows what they’ll say to Joel tomorrow.” 

Your sister laughs, “That’s true. Can’t imagine they won’t harass him about treating you right. I’ll make sure to keep them in check.” 

“Em, you know they will. They hovered when Christian and I broke up.” 

“I know. But Joel’s a good man. The whole family will love him.” 

“I really hope you’re right.” 

“Always am. Call it big sister’s intuition.” 

“Funny.” You scoff with a smile, closing your suitcase. 

“I know. Hey, Josh and I have to talk to the wedding planner about a few last minute details. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” She says. 

“See you tomorrow, Em. Love you.” 

“Love you too!” 

The line goes dead and you sigh, tossing your phone onto your bed. You were trying to mentally prepare yourself for the hellfire you were going to receive after keeping Joel a secret for awhile. You looked at your bedside table and the alarm clock on top of it, red numbers blinking at you to remind you you still had a few more hours until Joel would be coming over. 

Nerves settled in about him meeting your family, but nobody could resist Joel and his Southern charm. You couldn’t help but fantasize that your whole family loved him, welcoming him in with open arms. God, you hope that was the case. 

-

You killed time by cooking some dinner and watching some more of The Bachelor, feeding into the drama of the show. You were so invested that you almost didn’t hear the knock on your door. 

The feeling of giddiness took over your body as you opened the door, revealing your boyfriend. He had a small smile on his face, but his eyes were tired. 

“Hey baby,” You say, stepping to the side for him, “C’mon in. I made us some dinner. Figured you could eat after your shift.” 

Joel groans in appreciation. “Thank you darlin’.” He sets his bag down and closes your door, locking it before wrapping his arms around you. He buried his face into your neck, breathing in your scent for a minute. 

You could sense something was wrong, but you didn’t want to push him about it. Maybe a little shove wouldn’t hurt, though.

You run your fingers through his soft curls before turning your head to the side to kiss his neck, separating yourself from him for a brief moment. 

“You okay?” Worry was evident in your voice, and he couldn’t help but melt at the concern written all over your face as you took his in between your hands. 

He nodded, but you weren’t convinced. You could see it in his eyes, sensing that he was holding something back. 

“You can talk to me, you know. If you’d like. I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready, though.” You take his hand and lead him to the couch, coaxing him to sit down. You climbed behind him, sitting down to slot your thighs on either side of his. 

You start to rub his back, slowly putting pressure on any knots that you’d found. You kiss him between his shoulder blades, silence consuming the both of you for a good few minutes before you hear his faint whisper. 

“Rough shift. Had a call that didn’t go so well. Kinda shook up the whole firehouse.” 

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.” You wrap your arms around his torso, resting your cheek on his back. His hands cover yours and swipe his thumbs over you. 

You hear him sniffle and your head shoots up, attempting to turn his head toward you. He resists at first, but eventually melts into your soft touch and turns his face toward yours as you slightly lean over his broad frame. 

“It’s okay, Joel. You never have to hide how you’re feeling from me. If you need to cry about it, that’s fine. I’ll never think you’re less of a man for showing your emotions.” 

He offers you a small smile before leaning in to kiss your forehead, softly knocking his against yours as he sighs. 

“I’ve been so used to suppressin’ rough calls for years. Nobody to turn to except my coworkers n’ Tommy, and even then it’s not somethin’ we all collectively talk about. My ex,” He huffs an angry laugh at the mention of her, “Sarah’s mom. She– she always told me that cryin’ about how tough my job can be sometimes isn’t somethin’ a real man does. No man should cry over a job. So I just pretended. I pretended that the job didn’t affect me anymore, that I was fine every time I came home. I pretended to be okay when in reality I jus’ wanted to fuckin’ scream and cry.” He turns his head to the side again as more tears silently cascade down his beautiful face. 

“Hey, look at me,” Your voice is soft, as if you’re trying not to scare an already frightened animal. “I can promise you that you never have to pretend with me.” You wipe his tears with your thumb, kissing his cheek softly as you continue to gently rub his back. 

“Y’don’t know how much that means to me, darlin’. It’s not easy carryin’ the weight of this job on my shoulders alone. I don’t want to burden you with any of it–”

“Hey, none of that alright? You’re not burdening me. I can’t even imagine the terrible things you’ve seen and endured while on the job. I swear to you that I’m here to listen. Or just be a shoulder to lay on. We don’t even need to talk if you don’t want to, but just know that option is always there.” 

He turns his head to kiss your temple, squeezing his eyes shut before leaning his head back onto your shoulder. 

The “L” word rolled around in your mind for a split second. A month and a half ago, it would’ve scared you. But now, being here with Joel, it just seemed so normal and comfortable. He may have felt the same too, you think. Maybe it was too early to tell. 

-

You wish it was a morning where you and Joel could laze around and relax. Waking up beside him gave you a sense of comfort you hadn’t experienced in so long. You secretly study his face as he sleeps: tan skin glowing from the morning sunlight, eyelashes fanned over his cheeks, messy curls resting haphazardly over his forehead, and plump lips parted as he emits soft snores. 

He’s so handsome. 

You couldn’t help but bring your hand out to trace his face with your fingertips, leaning forward to gently kiss his cheek. 

His eyebrows scrunch together as he slowly begins to wake from his slumber, hands shooting up to rub over his face. His eyes find yours when he drops his hands from his face, a grin curling onto his lips. 

“Mornin’ baby.” His voice was deep and raspy, still full of sleep. It made something stir deep down inside of you. 

“Morning, handsome.” You kiss the tip of his nose before sitting up to get out of bed, but Joel pulls you back by your wrist and maneuvers you so you’re laying on top of him. 

You laugh as he wraps his arms around you securely, making sure you can’t move an inch or wiggle away. 

“We gotta get up and get going, Joel.” 

He groans loudly, the sound vibrating his whole body and yours. “Five more minutes.” His muffled voice says from underneath you. 

“Uh uh, cowboy. C’mon, I’ll make you a thermos of coffee.” You tap his stomach twice before he releases you to stand on your feet. You make your way into the kitchen, fighting the urge to look back at Joel, because you knew you’d give him more than five minutes if you did. 

You start up the coffee pot and lean against the counter, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Joel emerges in the kitchen shortly after, leaning against the wall as he admires you in your sleepy state. 

“What?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow up at him. 

“Nothin’ baby.” He smiles before coming into the kitchen, lifting you up on the counter and slotting himself between your legs. 

“Mmmhm.” You say, putting your hands on his warm chest. You feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips and notice it’s slightly elevated, which you can’t help but smile at. 

Joel leans in to you and kisses your neck, and you can’t help but loll your head to the side to give him better access. His lips graze over your pulse point and you instinctively grip onto his biceps, trying your hardest to suppress a moan. 

“Joel—” 

“Hm? What is it, pretty girl?” 

“If you keep doing that, we’re never—fuck— never gonna leave in time.” He pokes his tongue out and drags it down your jugular, kissing the base of your neck before lightly nibbling on your soft flesh. 

“Doin’ what, baby?” He teases, smirking against you. 

“You know what, cowboy,” And before he could retort, the coffee maker beeps to indicate Joel’s coffee was done. “Saved by the bell.” You mumble, gently separating yourself from Joel. His honey brown gaze bores into yours as he chuckles at your flustered state before sliding his phone out of his pocket. 

He types in the address to the hotel the wedding party was staying at. Joel meticulously calculates the stops you may need to make along the way before looking at you again. 

 “Should take us about an hour and a half to get there. Two hours if there’s heavy traffic.” 

“It’s not too late to back out, you know.” 

“‘N why would I do that, darlin’?” 

“To save yourself from the chaos that the weekend will bring. I can tell my family you had to work instead. Nobody can get mad at a firefighter for working.” 

Joel tosses his head back as he gutturally laughs, shoulders shaking. The whole thing was a little ridiculous, but you know how your family is, and you were ultimately just looking out for him. 

His gaze meets yours, a glint of adoration in his eyes as he leans forward. You can’t help the stupid grin that curls onto your lips as he gently nudges your body closer to his, finally slotting his lips with yours. 

You’ll never get tired of those butterflies that rumble rambunctiously in your tummy every time you kiss him. 

He leans back a little, and with his irresistible charm, winks at you before he huffs another small laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.” 

You hop off the counter and pat his abdomen adoringly before flashing him a grin. “Well then, cowboy, let's get to it.”

-

The drive wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be, pulling up to the hotel around one in the afternoon. Joel unloads your luggage from the bed of his truck and you wrap your arm around his bicep, walking toward the lobby after he locks up. It was a fancy hotel located right next to the Riverwalk with a huge ballroom for the reception. You had to hand it to your sister and Josh; this place was absolutely beautiful. 

You walked up to the reception desk with Joel in tow, and the spunky brunette smiled as you approached her. 

“Hi, we’re here for the Martinez wedding.” 

“First name?” The receptionist asks, typing something into her computer. You give her your first name and she pulls two keys out of a cardholder, handing it over to you. 

“Ah, sister of the bride! How exciting. You two will be on the seventh floor, third room on the right after you get out of the elevator. Enjoy your stay.” 

“Thank you so much.” You say, taking the card keys from her before you step away from the desk. You and Joel were heading towards the elevator when you heard a familiar voice call your name, and you turned around to see your brothers. 

Panic overtook your body for a few seconds, glancing at Joel who gave you a small smile. How was he always so calm? 

“Thought you could sneak past us without saying hi?” Cole says with a shit-eating grin, eyeing Joel as he comes up to you to give you a hug. 

“You ain’t slick, Shadow.” Andrew says, hugging you after Cole. 

“God, Andy, seriously? That nickname?”

”What, you afraid we’re gonna embarrass you in front of your boyfriend that you’ve been hiding from us?” Cole jerks his head toward Joel, who shifts on his weight as he lets go of his suitcase. 

“Shut up, Cole,” You roll your eyes, huffing a laugh. “Joel, these are my idiot brothers Andrew and Cole. Andy, Cole, this is my boyfriend Joel.” You introduce them, and Joel puts on his best smile before extending his hand. 

“Nice to meet you both.” He says, and it’s comical how both of your brothers try to come off as intimidating toward Joel. Joel keeps a calm demeanor anyhow; his steady, charming smile never wavering. 

“Uh huh. Nice to meet you too. Hey, let us buy you a drink, yeah?” Andrew says, jerking his head toward the bar located at the far end of the lobby. Joel glances at you as you give him a tight-lipped smile, wrapping your hand around his bicep once more. You turn back to your brothers before sighing. 

“Let us put our bags up in our room first before I let you harass him. Jesus.” You half-joke, and Cole claps Joel on the shoulder. 

“What makes you think we’re gonna harass him, Shadow? We’re just looking out for ya.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Now please let go of his shoulder.” You roll your eyes and tug on Joel’s arm gently, coaxing him to follow you to the elevators. 

“Fine. See you down here in a few.” 

You wave your brothers off before getting into the elevator, hitting the seventh floor button. 

“Jesus, Joel, I’m so sorry. Thought we’d get a chance to fucking breathe before my brothers started literally harassing you.” 

He laughs and shakes his head, giving your temple a kiss. “Ain’t nothin’ to worry about, baby. They’re just bein’ protective. I get it.” 

“Just… take anything they might say with a grain of salt.” 

He chuckles and nods as the elevator dings and the door opens to the seventh floor. You stop in front of your room and open the door, gasping at how beautiful it is. The king bed in the middle looks absolutely heavenly, and your mind can’t help the  image flashing in your mind of you and Joel getting tangled in those very sheets. Heat rushes to your face at the thought, and you walk over to the window to distract yourself. The gleaming summer sun reflects on the calm waters below at the Riverwalk, giving it a mesmerizing gleam. 

Joel wraps his arms around your waist from behind and kisses your shoulder. “Beautiful,” He murmurs, but unbeknownst to you, he wasn’t talking about the water below. 

“We should go back down so my brothers don’t give you more shit than you’re probably going to get.” You grimace at the thought of what they’re going to say to him. 

Joel chuckles and playfully shakes you before loosening his grasp on your midsection. 

“Just promise me you won’t run for the hills if they get to be too much. I’ll put them in their place.” You offer, and Joel kisses your forehead. 

“I’d only run if you were right by my side, baby.” 

-

Joel didn’t know what to expect from your brothers. He could feel the nerves buzzing off of you as you both made your way back to the elevator to go down to the lobby again, and he wanted nothing more than to ease your erratic nerves. 

He knew from the very beginning that he’d be in the long haul of things with you, so he knew facing your family at some point was going to happen. Absolutely nothing your brothers say or do will make him ‘run for the hills’, as you’d put it. 

Joel thought the look you tossed his way when the elevator doors opened to the lobby was adorable. He could tell that you wanted this to go well, and who was he to let you down? 

Joel gave your hand a squeeze as you both made your way up to your brothers again. 

“Joel, how ‘bout that drink.” Andrew says, head jerking toward the bar on the opposite end of the lobby. 

“Sure.” He says, trying to keep his cool. He wondered briefly if this was the slight fear you might’ve felt when you met Sarah. 

“I’m gonna go find mom and Em.” You say, giving Joel a kiss on the cheek. He watches you walk out before your brothers tug him along to the bar area, ordering a round of Lone Star. 

“So I’m a real cut-to-the-chase type guy,” Andrew starts, settling into the barstool next to Joel. Joel nods and sits up straight before taking a swig of his beer to ease his nerves. “I’m sure you’re aware of our sister’s past relationship. Who’s to say you won’t hurt her like that asshole did?” 

Joel was taken aback at Andrew’s bluntness, but his expression never wavered or gave anything away. “I know what it’s like to be hurt in a way that ya can’t ever forget about. The mother of my child left when my baby girl was only a year old. Said she couldn’t handle bein’ a parent n’ left me to fend for myself. Bein’ hurt like that,” Joel shakes his head and looks down, “It ain’t right. I would never want anyone to feel the way I felt when she walked out the door. I know your sister’s situation is a bit different, but my feelings toward it are all the same. I like your sister a whole lot n’ the last thing on God’s green Earth I’d ever wanna do is hurt ‘er.” 

Andrew nods, weighing Joel’s answer in his head. Joel was telling the truth. He’d never want to hurt you. You deserve to be happy, and he knows you can do that completely on your own, but he loves to be the reason behind it. He loves seeing you smile knowing he’s the reason it’s there in the first place. 

“What do you do for work?” Cole changed the subject, and Joel shifts his gaze to the younger brother. 

“I’m a firefighter for the city of Austin.” 

“I’ll be damned. Shadow always said she loved a man in uniform,” Cole teased, and the three men chuckled in unison. 

“How come y’all call her Shadow? She’s never told me anythin’ about that story.” Joel says, and the brothers can’t help but smile at the opportunity to tease their little sister.

“She was afraid of her shadow when she was younger, maybe around like two or three years old. We’d always tease her about it and the nickname just stuck.” 

“‘S actually really funny.” Joel said, thinking about how he’d be able to tease you later on with the newfound information. 

“So how did you meet our sister? She hasn’t told us a damn thing about you.” Cole grimaces, taking a sip of his beer. 

“I met her at a local coffee shop near her apartment. She actually made the first move,” Joel recalls, and he can’t help but smile at the memory. “She paid for my coffee.” 

“That’s pretty out of character for her. She’s usually pretty shy.” Andrew said. 

“Believe me, I was surprised. She was so sweet… after I caught her checkin’ me out. I was in uniform.” Joel laughs, and the brothers join in with him. 

“Told ya she loves a man in uniform.” Cole nudges Joel. 

“You said you’re a firefighter,” Andrew repeats aloud, wheels turning in his head. “Shit, the accident,” He says, looking at Joel. Joel nods, not quite sure where he was going with this. 

“Wasn’t pretty. Got the call and I saw her car—”

“Wait, so you were on the scene? You’re telling me you’re the one who got our sister out of her car?” Andrew was bewildered, blinking rapidly in complete disbelief. 

Joel furrowed his brows and looked down at his knotted hands, reliving that moment in his head. 

“Yeah. I’d only known her for hours at that point, but all I knew was that I needed to get her out of there. Scared the hell outta me.” 

“Unbelievable. Can’t believe she left out that huge detail,” Cole chuckles and shakes his head, but looks up at Joel in all seriousness. “Thank you for saving her.” 

Joel gives them both a soft smile. “I’d save her all over again in a heartbeat.” 

“You’re a damn hero, man. To our sister and to Austin.” 

Joel never knew how to accept compliments that well, let alone the hero compliments. He just saw it as doing his job and getting to help those in need. 

“Well, cheers to you. We can both tell you’re an honest man and anyone who’s willing to literally—and figuratively, I guess—save our sister is a man who has our utmost respect.” Andrew says, holding his beer bottle up in the air. 

Cole raised his bottle and Joel followed suit, an echo of ‘cheers’ being thrown around. Joel’s nerves dissolved like cotton candy in water, relief flooding through his bones that your brothers approved of him. He knew meeting your dad was going to be an even bigger deal, so he was holding onto hope that it would go just as well. 

-

“So when am I meeting this Joel of yours?” Your mom says, perching her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she took a sip of her margarita. You found her and Emily poolside as they sipped their drinks while talking about last minute wedding details. 

“He’s at the bar in the lobby getting harassed by Andy and Cole.” You roll your eyes, and Emily laughs. 

“He’s a good man. I’m sure they’re all buddy-buddy now. Men are simple when it comes to meeting new people.” Emily waves her hand dismissively, easing your nerves a little. 

“Where’s dad?” You ask, looking between Emily and your mom. 

Your mom scoffs, “He’s upstairs taking a nap. Told him he wouldn’t be tired tonight but he seemed to think otherwise.” 

“He’s probably overwhelmed with all the wedding stuff.” You offer with a shrug, and your mom huffs. 

“He isn’t the one planning the damn thing.” 

“There you guys are!” Cole calls out to you three, Andrew and Joel in tow. Your eyes lock on Joel’s gaze and you’re relieved to see he made it out of the interrogation unscathed. 

He makes his way over to you, leaning down to give you a chaste kiss. 

“So you must be Joel.” Your mom says, eyes alight at the exchange you and Joel had. 

“I am. It’s so great to meet you, Mrs.—”

Your mom waves her hand to dismiss his formalities. “Oh, none of that. Just call me Alexandria. It’s nice to finally meet the man who’s been making my youngest daughter so happy.” She grins up at him, and it was easy to clock the blush that spreads over his tan cheeks. 

“I can argue that she makes me the happiest I’ve ever been.” He looks down at you and shoots you a wink, and you can’t help but roll your eyes playfully. 

“Touché, Miller.” You say, warmth filling your body as he wraps his arm around your waist. 

Everyone got into chatting about the rehearsal dinner and the bar of choice afterwards, scampering off to their respective rooms. 

It only took a couple of hours for everyone to get ready and head down to the lobby, being shuffled into the courtyard by hotel staff. Sage green and cream decorations adorned the spacious place with rows of chairs neatly lined up for the big day tomorrow. The gazebo at the end of the walkway was strewn with fairy lights that gave a soft glow that added to to romantic ambience. 

For a split second, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what your future wedding would look like… with Joel. You may have been presumptuous in thinking such a thing, but you truly felt deep down that this was the man you were meant to marry. 

The wedding coordinator lined all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen up, and you took your respectable place next to Karina who was your sister’s best friend and maid of honor. 

After two full run-throughs of the ceremony and placement adjustments, the wedding coordinator took everyone to the ballroom where the reception was being held.

It wasn’t long before everyone finished their dinners, polite conversation being held as the night went on. 

“So you’re the Joel everyone’s been buzzing about.” Your dad says, and you give him a stern look to say go easy on him. Not that Joel couldn’t handle himself, but because your dad could get a little out of hand at times. 

“Yes sir, that’s me.” He says, grabbing your hand underneath the table to give it a squeeze. 

“I hear you’re a firefighter. Good man.” Your dad nods in approval, and proceeds to ask Joel about some calls he’s gotten in the past. Everyone at the table was listening intently to him, curious as to what life as a firefighter is really like. 

Your gaze roams to your mom, who’s already looking between you and Joel with a sparkle in her eye you’d never seen before. She gives you a wink and sips her wine, turning her attention back to Joel. 

It seems his Southern charm and calm demeanor had won every single one of your family members over, and relief floods through your body at that. That’s all you wanted, and you couldn’t have been happier to see it become a reality. 

-

After dinner, Josh and Emily told everyone that they weren’t having a ‘traditional’ bachelor and bachelorette party. Instead, they wanted to go to a bar together and have a few drinks with everyone as one last celebration before they both say I do. 

It wasn’t surprising to you. Your sister had always been the homebody type and Josh was right there with her. You thought it was romantic in a sense, knowing that they really didn’t need anything big or to spend time apart before their big day. 

The bar was a few buildings down from the hotel, with a huge dance floor in the middle and patrons singing along to the mix of music that was playing as they drank. 

Your dad ordered a round of shots for everybody, making a toast to Josh and Emily. 

“To the bride and groom to be.” Your dad says, and everyone clinks their glasses together before throwing back their liquor. 

You shudder at the taste, setting the cup down onto the sticky bartop. 

“May I have this dance?” Joel asks you, holding his hand out for you to take. You grin and grab his hand, grip steady as he leads you out to the dance floor. 

You steadily sway to the song as you lean your head on Joel’s shoulder, letting him guide you to the beat. You glance up to see your family members have joined you both on the dance floor, and you smile in content as you squeeze Joel’s hand. He kisses your head before separating you, spinning you around so your back is against his front. 

He rocks you slowly, resting his chin on your shoulder before kissing your cheek. 

“‘M real happy you let me tag along this weekend, sweetheart.” Joel says, and you turn your head toward him and quirk an eyebrow. 

“Yeah? And why’s that?” 

“‘S nice to get out of Austin every once in a while. Your family is real invitin’, too.” 

“Before or after they interrogated you?” You ask with a smirk, and he laughs before spinning you again so you’re face-to-face. 

“Mostly after.” He confesses with a softness to his voice. You study his features unashamedly, the soft smile he has on his lips making your heart skip a beat as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. 

There’s a certainty behind them that you can’t exactly pinpoint, but it made your whole body feel warm and fuzzy inside and you honest to god never wanted to forget the feeling. Joel is the only man who’s made you feel things you’ve never felt. He’s the only man who’s ever kept you on your toes yet has this overwhelming sense of comfort to him that just makes you want to give it all to him. 

And by the way he was looking back at you, you’d bet his thoughts are similar to yours. 

“You two are so in love it makes me sick.” Andrew sidles up beside you, nudging you in your ribs. 

Your eyes go wide and you look at your brother in panic, pleading him to shut the fuck up before you kill him with your bare hands. 

“Fuck off, Andy.” You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. You didn’t deny the painfully obvious fact, though. You didn’t want to deny it. 

Was it fast? Yes. But you couldn’t help how you felt. You were tired of running from something that was great for you. You were tired of running from solidity and peace and patience and love, all of which Joel gave you without having to say a single word. 

And then you realized—Joel never denied it either. He didn’t deny it when your brother’s loud mouth said that sacred word. He didn’t deny it when you looked at him again, that familiar look in his eyes returning as he just smiled at you, seemingly content in every possible way. 

Before you could say anything, Cole comes up to you while waving a crisp twenty dollar bill in your face. 

“Betcha one Jackson that you can’t ride that bull over there and stay on for more than a minute.” He’s got a mischievous glint in his eyes, and you’d take any opportunity to prove your brother wrong. 

“Oh, I will. After this song though,” You grin at Joel as Boot Scootin’ Boogie plays over the speakers. “C’mon cowboy, I wanna show off my new moves.” 

Joel easily obliges as he takes you deeper onto the dance floor. You’re slotted in a mix of a sweaty and drunken crowd, too far gone to care if they’re too off-beat or embarrassing themselves. 

You follow Joel’s lead and you two easily end up in sync with one another, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Somewhere between the spin in the chorus and the two-step move he’d taught you, you catch your family members staring at the two of you. Your mom whispers something to your sister, and you hope to god she didn’t change her opinion of him or something after seeing you two dancing like this. 

Emily knows you better than the back of her fucking hand, though, and she instantly reassures you with a smile and thumbs up before panic settles into your bones. 

Although it seems everyone in your immediate family approves of Joel, it would devastate you if they changed their minds about him for whatever reason. He wasn’t your ex. They at least knew that much. As much as you loved them, they were overbearing sometimes when it came to protecting you after what’d happened with Christian. You didn’t need that to drive a wedge between you and Joel, no matter how much of a forewarning you give him. 

The song ends and reality trickles back around you, as Joel spins you into him, giving you a chaste kiss. Your eyes flutter open after you pull away in the slightest, and there it is — that look — unwavering, and clear as day in his eyes. 

“Go show ‘em how you ride it.” He remarks, shooting you a wink. Your face heats at his obvious innuendo, and he can’t help the sly smirk that grows on his lips. 

Without another word, he releases you from his grasp and urges you toward your brother, still waving the twenty in his hand around like a flag. 

You roll your eyes at him and climb up onto the mechanical bull, the DJ timing you into when the machine will start to move. 

It was slow at first, and you easily found a rhythm to keep steady on its back. It started to jerk around and spin faster, and your thighs burned as you clenched onto the sides for dear life. You wanted to give a little show though, so you placed your hands behind your back and looked up at your brother with a wicked grin. 

His face deflated as he knew he’d been beaten. Your eyes flicker to Joel and you want to laugh at his expression—it seemed to be a cross between lust, admiration and astonishment. 

Oh, cowboy. You have no idea what you’re in for. 

The DJ announces your victory and the patrons of the bar cheer you on as you hop off of the bull. You walk up to Cole and snatch the twenty bucks from his hand before leaning into Joel, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Wanna go back to the hotel room? I’m beat.” You ask Joel, and he nods. You say goodnight to your family and other members of the wedding party before you both head back in a comfortable silence. 

Exhaustion settles in your bones as you fall into step side-by-side, and Joel pulls you into him as you walk into the lobby of the hotel. You make your way onto the elevators and Joel presses the button of your floor, looking at you with a softness in his eyes as he settles his hand on your shoulder. 

“Thank you again for doing this whole wedding fiasco with me.” You say, voice full of exhaustion. He shoots you a soft smile and pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you securely. You mirror his actions as you look at him, an adoring gaze sparkling in his eyes. He leans in and kisses your forehead, giving your body a small squeeze. 

“Of course, darlin’.” 

You went to bed that night with Joel’s arm wrapped around you and a mind of racing thoughts, all consumed by that feeling again—the terrifying, wonderful feeling that kept playing in your mind as if it was the most obvious conclusion you’ve ever come to. 

-

The next morning was a blur. You got up early, trying not to disturb Joel because he looked so peaceful in his sleep. It was chaos amongst the bridal party with everyone getting ready and your sister revealing her final look to the girls. Tears sprang in your eyes as you saw her with the biggest smile on her face, unwavering as she twirled around in her dress that fit like a glove. 

“Emi, you look so beautiful. Josh is going to lose it when he sees you.” You say, sniffling as she gives you a tight hug. 

“I love you sis. Thank you for being a part of my big day.” She says, rubbing your back before pulling apart from you. You grin at her and blow her a kiss, turning when you feel your mom slightly nudge you. 

“Speaking of losing it, Joel’s gonna be head over heels seeing you in this dress,” Your mom says, “Wonder what he’ll be like when it’s your guys’ wedding and he sees you in a bridal gown.”

“Mom,” You stop her, but you can’t help the way your heart stutters at the thought of marriage with him. “Please don’t.”

Way too fucking soon. Right?

Your mom throws her hands up in defense, giving you a knowing look. 

“That man is in love with you, baby. He looks at you like you’re the sun, moon and stars.” 

That feeling tugged at you once again. You began to internally panic, but luckily the bridal party got called to an area in the hotel to take pictures. You needed a distraction, because knowing you and your mind, you’d unintentionally start self-sabotaging your relationship with Joel. 

Fuck, your ex really did a number on you. 

The day seemed to run by in a blur. Watching your sister say ‘I do’ to the love of her life made you glance over at Joel in the crowd, and to your surprise, his focus was already on you. 

There was this undeniably soft look in his eyes that said a million words without him having to utter a single one. He winks at you with a small smile and you mirror his grin, heading back down the aisle after Emily and Josh made their way down. 

A few hours later it was well into the reception, and Joel offered you his hand so you could slow dance with each other. 

“You know this thing drives me crazy, right?” You say, tapping the brim of his Stetson. He looked at you with a smirk, raising his eyebrows. 

“Really? Couldn’t tell.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice and you rolled your eyes as you huffed a laugh. He was wearing an emerald green button down with black slacks and black shoes, and his black cowboy hat tied the whole look together. He’d been getting stares all night by various family members and friends from both sides of the parties. 

You thought jealousy would’ve brewed its way into you, sinking her claws into your flesh—but it was the complete opposite. Pride blooms in your chest as you slow dance with this handsome man—your handsome man. 

“You look absolutely breathtakin’ tonight though, baby.” Joel whispers in your ear as you lean your head on his shoulder, taking in his addicting scent. 

You smile against him and bring your arm up over his other shoulder, gently wrapping your fingers around the base of his neck. Your index finger twirls the curls peeking out of the bottom of his hat absentmindedly, swaying with him with total ease. 

“I can say the same for you.” You murmur, and he squeezes your waist softly. 

“Yeah?” 

You lift your head off of his shoulder to meet his gaze, light and playful. A glint of mischief flashes in his eyes and you bite your lip in anticipation, the bubbling arousal having never left you since the previous night. 

You nod, hesitating for a second to find the right words. You knew you wanted to take the next step with him and finally go all the way without being interrupted. That is, if he’d have you. 

“I’d love to show you.” You whisper as the song ends. An upbeat tune plays immediately after, everyone crowding on the dance floor. It was the perfect time to make an escape. 

He links his fingers with yours, leaning forward to kiss you. You can’t help but smile as his lips press to yours, and you can’t help yourself—you take the hat off of his head mid-kiss, plopping it onto yours. He separates himself from you with a soft smile and a daring glint in his gaze. 

He tsked at you teasingly, adjusting the hat to sit straight onto your head. 

“What was that about the ‘Cowboy Hat Rule’ again?” You feign innocence, and he can’t help but laugh at your antics, ultimately deciding to play along. 

“How ‘bout I show you rather than tell you?” He says, and that’s all you need to gently tug him away from the crowd and toward the lobby. You make your way to the elevators, nerves buzzing through your veins at the prospect of what’s to happen. 

After what feels like forever, the elevator doors finally open and you both step inside. The doors close after Joel hits the seventh floor button, and the tension radiating off of both of you in such a confined space was nearly unbearable. 

Joel takes his hat off of your head and gently pushes you against the elevator wall, crowding you with his broad body. Your heart is beating a million miles a minute as you stare at him, gaze never wavering. 

You open your mouth to say something, but Joel crashes his lips to yours in fervor. You moan into the kiss as you tangle your hands through his curls, tugging on the base of them. 

His free hand finds your hip and squeezes, rutting his hips into yours. You can feel his bulge through his slacks, and you can’t help but whimper into the intense kiss as one hand travels down his back. 

Before you can touch him any further, the elevator dings and he separates from you, locking eyes with an elderly couple. 

The woman has a knowing smile on her face and sighs, “Oh, to be young and in love.” Joel takes your hand and leads you out of the elevator and to your shared room, fumbling with the key. It almost calms you in a way to know you aren’t the only one filled with nerves, anxious about finally being able to have this time to yourselves. 

Joel tossed the keycard onto the side table when he finally got it open, putting his hand on your lower back to guide you into the room. The soft glow of the lamp illuminates his handsome features as he stares at you admirably, tossing his Stetson onto a chair next to the bed without looking. 

Joel steps closer to you, grabbing your hips gently before leaving a trail of kisses from your forehead, nose, cheek, and finally, your lips. The kiss was softer this time—full of emotion, saying a thousand words with one simple gesture. 

His hands skate up your back and to the zipper of your dress, parting his lips from yours as he looks into your eyes. 

“Can I?” His voice is soft but hopeful, and you instantly nod. He drags the zipper down your back with ease, slowly removing the straps from your shoulders. The dress pools to your feet below you, and you’re left in a lacy nude and black bra with black panties. Joel’s eyes rake over your body hungrily, hands twitching at his sides. 

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” 

You can’t help but feel shy for a second, but Joel wasn’t having any of that. He grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissing your lips a few times before he nods his head to the bed. 

“On the bed, baby. Spread your legs for me.” His deep, commanding tone sent a shiver down your spine. You didn’t know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t this. 

You do as you’re told, settling your head onto the plush pillows as you let your legs fall open. Joel moves to untuck his green shirt. He unbuttons the shirt slowly, never breaking eye contact with you. You bite your lip teasingly as you watch him undress, and his thick, tan torso comes into sight. 

“Fuck, you’re so sexy, you know that?” You say, but it nearly sounds like a whine. Joel flashes you a smirk before climbing onto the bed, slotting himself between your legs. Your arms grip his shoulders before grabbing the green material, sliding it off of his arms completely before tossing it onto the floor for him. You kiss his shoulder and neck, hands moving up to tangle themselves in his curls once again. 

He ruts his hips into you, and the pressure of his bulge catches perfectly onto your aching clit. You moan his name softly, moving one hand down to gently palm him through his slacks.  

“Can’t believe we finally get to do this without any interruptions.” Joel chuckles, moving down to kiss your neck. 

“Let’s not hold our breaths.” You say teasingly, fingers moving to unbutton and unzip his slacks. He allows it, not stopping you from eagerly undressing the rest of him. 

He separates himself from you, sliding the slacks down his legs before moving down the bed, kissing your body as he goes. His tongue traces lines down your thighs, dangerously close to your aching core, before he kisses your skin. He continues the assault of kisses until his mouth is hovering over the only thing that separates your most intimate part from him and his line of sight. He kisses the lace fabric once, then pokes his tongue out to drag the strong muscle from your entrance to your clit. 

You can’t hold back your moans anymore. You need him so bad. 

Your body was nearly shaking from the buzz of anticipation coursing through your veins, aching to have his hands and mouth all over you. 

He finally hooks his fingers into the side of your panties, tapping your hips twice to silently instruct you to lift them. You comply once more, and Joel drags the lace material down your legs. 

He comes back up to you, kissing your lips once before settling his face between your legs again. 

You feel so exposed and almost embarrassed, but the carnal need for this man outweighs the shyness a thousand times over. 

“So perfect, baby. So goddamn perfect. ‘N all mine.” He says, looking up at you before separating your glistening folds with his middle and forefinger. You gasp and whine his name as he just stares at you, mesmerized by the way you squirm under his touch. 

You try to beg and plead him to do anything, but the words won’t come out. 

He seems to have decided he’s teased you enough, because the next thing you know, his tongue licks a long stripe up from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit. Your moans only spur him on as he solely focuses on you, eating your pussy like a starved man. 

Nobody has ever turned you on the way Joel Miller has, and you cannot for the life of you believe this man is yours. He’s yours, and he’s here, very present and very meticulous when it comes to pleasing you with that beautiful mouth of his. 

Joel moves his tongue down and prods into your entrance, fucking you with the muscle. Your back arches off of the mattress and he has to use both of his hands to hold your hips down, locking his fingers down into your flesh. 

“Fuck, Joel—” You squeak out as his tongue moves up to your clit, circling it a few times before sucking it into his mouth gently. The pressure is just right, and your brain is getting fuzzy—you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. 

Joel takes one of his hands away from your stomach before separating his mouth from you, coating his digits in your slick. He sends a wicked smirk your way before going down again, and this time, his middle and ring finger enter you. 

It stings so good, mainly because you haven’t had this in a long time. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at an expert pace, curling them up to hit that sweet spongy spot. 

You immediately crumble. Your hips are writhing wildly beneath his half-soaked face as you cry out his name over and over again. You’re gushing all over his fingers, desperately gripping onto the soft comforter beneath you as you ride out your intense orgasm. 

“Atta girl,” Joel breathes, mesmerized by the way you clench around nothing after he removes his fingers from you. “Taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’.” 

He moves up to kiss you, and you can immediately taste your slick arousal on his lips and tongue. You hum into the kiss as you palm him through his boxers, tugging on the band as you separate from him. He knocks his forehead against yours gently before sliding the material down his legs, now completely bare for you. 

His hand moves to the clasp of your bra and unhooks it easily, breasts spilling out as he tosses the material on the floor with the rest of the clothes. 

He looks down at you with a soft smile, and you can’t help but mirror his actions. It’s pure bliss and you selfishly never want this to end. His hand travels down your body and in between your legs, swirling the tip of his middle finger through your arousal. You gasp at the featherlight touch, clenching around nothing as he never breaks eye contact with you. 

You decide to return the favor, licking your hand before skimming your fingers over his torso before looking down to see them slide through the dark hairs that appear below his navel. You take in the sight of his cock; it’s girthy and the perfect length. You just know it’ll feel divine. You thumb the pre-come leaking from his tip, popping your finger into your mouth. 

You moan at the slightly salty taste, moving your hand back down to finally grip him with care. He feels heavy in your palm, warm and pulsating and fucking desperate for you to start rythmically moving your hand. You twist your wrist and start to pump him, and a guttural groan rumbles from the confines of his chest. 

“Fuck, baby—yeah, just like that. So good.” He groans softly, brows furrowing as he leans down to kiss you. 

And you spend the next few minutes like that—making out with Joel while he teases your swollen clit, fingers briefly delving into your entrance before moving back out, and your hand slowly twisting up and down his silky flesh. 

Something about this was so sweet to you, albeit the act being promiscuous. You were taking your time with each other, savoring every moment you have now. God knows when you’ll be able to do this in peace again once you get back to Austin. 

Joel’s body tenses for a second before he pushes your hand away, chuckling in defeat. 

“Don’t wanna come yet, sweetheart.”

You nod in understanding and he slips his fingers away from your dripping heat, bringing them up to your mouth. You eagerly suck on his fingers, staring up at him in a way to say I want you. I’m ready to have you—if you’ll have me. 

Joel climbs on top of you once more, kissing your forehead. He nudges his nose against yours before looking at you again. 

“Wait, I didn’t bring any protection.” His shoulders deflate at the realization, and you can’t help but softly laugh. 

“I have an IUD, Joel. Only if you’re comfortable with going through with this, I’m right there with you.” You reassure him. 

He looks concerned for a second, hesitating as if his mind is running a million miles a minute. 

“You sure about this, baby?” He asks, cupping your cheek in his hand before kissing your nose. You nod with no hesitation. 

“Absolutely sure, Joel. I’m yours.” You whisper, and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face before he leans down to kiss you. He swipes the head of his cock through your folds, stopping at your entrance. 

He separates his lips from yours once more, “Tell me to stop if it’s too much, okay?” He says, and you nod. He hums in content, pushing himself into you slowly. 

You gasp at the stinging feeling, fingertips digging into the back of his shoulders. 

“There you go baby, that's it. Doin’ so well, pretty girl.” He praises, kissing your lips repeatedly as he reaches the hilt. 

The feeling is cosmic. The stretch is absolutely delicious. You whisper his name to him, threading your fingers through his hair once more in desperation as your meek voice finally found its way aloud. 

“Move, Joel. Please.” 

And he does. He starts off slow, rocking his hips into yours. The slide of his velvety length in and out of you is otherworldly. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he held onto the back of your neck, picking up his pace. He leans down to capture one of your breasts in his mouth, swirling his tongue expertly around your pert nipple as he continues rocking his hips into yours. 

Your moans are increasingly louder, not exactly giving a fuck who can hear you anymore. Your mind was solely consumed about the man ravishing your body in such a way that had you seeing stars. 

The weight of his body on yours, his soft groans, the heavy feeling of his cock, his scent, his curls—everything about him was all-consuming, and you loved it. 

“So pretty, baby. Feel so fuckin’ good. All mine.” Joel babbles, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder. You try to grind your hips in sync with his expert thrusts, creating an almost unbearably pleasurable friction. 

Your hands fly to his back and you scratch down his skin, head flying back onto the pillows as you arch your back into him. 

“Joel, fuck, I’m so close.” You cry, eyes squeezing shut as the familiar flame burns bright within your core. 

“Me too, baby, fuck—where–where do you want me?” He asks, chest heaving as his thrusts become impossibly faster. 

“In me, Joel. Please.” Your plea is breathy and desperate, and you feel yourself teetering over the edge, devastating euphoria ripping through your body as your cunt convulses around his cock. 

You bury your face into his shoulder, crying out his name. 

“Fuck, sweet girl, I—” 

His spend is warm as he comes, buried in you as he groans your name breathlessly. He slumps down onto you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he rolls over on his side, taking you with him. He slips out of you slowly and you both groan at the loss of contact. 

You nuzzle into him as he kisses your forehead repeatedly, running his hand up and down your spine as you both come down from the high. 

“Fuck, that was—” You pause, and Joel chuckles. 

“Yeah, it really was.” He agrees, tipping your jaw up so he can kiss you chastely. 

Your eyes were heavy now, tracing his hairline down to his jaw and to his lips. He kisses your fingers as exhaustion consumes you both. He throws the comforter over your bodies and he gives you one last kiss. 

“Goodnight, sweet girl,” And if you weren’t in such a comatose-like state, you would’ve heard him softly whisper the words “I love you.” 

And if you would’ve heard those words, you would’ve said them right back. It might’ve scared the hell out of you, but you could no longer deny the fact—

You were, in fact, in love with Joel Miller, too. 

taglist: @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @clawdee ; @pascalpvnk ; @bensonispunk ; @merz-8 ; @darkblue-tennesseee ; @typewriter83 ; @lizzie-cakes ; @sawymredfox ; @keylimebeag ; @nandan11 ; @pedropascalsbbg ; @pimosworld ; @yxtkiwiyxt ; @anoverwhelmingdin ; @kikaaauu ; @buckyispunk ; @untamedheart81 ; @picketniffler ; @fluffygoffpanda ; @paleidiot ; @survivingandenduring ; @party-hearses

divider by @saradika-graphics

[loveinhawkins]

There’s a table in the school library that’s nestled in the corner, right by a radiator; Steve has claimed it ever since his double block of ‘private study periods’ began.

Not that he’s planning on doing any studying: it’s the last day of school before the winter break, and while his face has healed up from the whole Billy Hargrove Incident, he still finds himself feeling wiped at random—like his body’s having a delayed adrenaline crash ever since he pulled Dustin out of that freaky vine-infested tunnel.

So really, this spot should be ideal for a couple hours of not having to think.

And it would be perfect, if his eyes weren’t instinctively drawn to movement at the front desk.

Because for the past god-knows-how-long, Eddie Munson has been in a back-and-forth with the librarian.

It had started when he ambled up to the desk with a healthy pile of books in his hands, placed them down neatly, all ready to be stamped. Flashed a charming smile.

Steve was too far away to hear the words, but he got the gist that whatever the librarian had said amounted to no, absolutely not, because Eddie scooped the books back up, dumped them on a table a little distance away from Steve’s, then hemmed and hawed before returning to the desk with a more modest pile than before.

He was sent away again with presumably the same refusal, and so the pattern repeated until this very minute: he’s returning with just one book in his hands, his smile less charming now, more desperate.

But… no luck.

Eddie slouches back to the table in defeat. Just stands there, staring down at the books.

And goddamn it, Steve thinks, now he’s invested.

“Hey. Munson,” he says in an undertone. “What’s up?”

He doesn’t miss the weird kind of double take Eddie gives him, but at least Steve knows it’s not because of his face being a mess this time—seriously, drawing looks from students when all he wanted was to get in line for crappy cafeteria pizza had not been fun.

“Nothing,” Eddie says with a shrug, and he flashes another wide smile that makes Steve think bullshit. “Apparently I racked up a mountain of late fees. Who knew?” He sighs, glancing at his wristwatch. “Guess I’ve got enough time to just read the—oh. Um. Hey?”

“These books?” Steve confirms, having already stood up to look at them.

Eddie blinks a few times. “Yeah, these—uh, Harrington, what the fuck do you think you’re—?”

Steve heads over to the front desk with the books. It’s not all that difficult of a decision to make; he remembers Tommy H had his own library late fees in freshman year, but got nothing more than a simpering, “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, sweetie,” just because his mom knew someone on the school board.

“For checking out, please,” Steve says, not bothering with a smile as he hands over his library card.

The only resistance he gets is a raised eyebrow from the librarian before all the books are stamped.

“What the fuck,” Eddie says, voice flat; he doesn’t take the books when Steve tries to give them to him, so Steve just shrugs and goes back to his seat, sets the books pointedly on the edge of the table.

“Look, man, it’s up to you, but I’m not gonna take them. They’ll just be sitting here.”

Eddie huffs. He goes over to the books, his hand twitching towards them before drawing back, like he’s at war with himself.

“You—you didn’t have to do that,” he gets out as if it physically pains him to do so.

Prickly, Steve thinks.

“It’s no big deal,” he says. “My account’s gathering dust, so someone might as well get the good of it.”

At hearing that, Eddie looks a little less defensive. He chews on his lips for a few seconds, then says, his tone serious, “Harrington, I’ll—I’ll forget. Like, with the holidays… like, I guarantee you, even if I write a million fucking reminders, I’m gonna take these books and forget to bring ‘em back for months.”

“Oh, no,” Steve says dryly, “lemme go alert the press, I just heard a blatant confession to a crime. Dude, just take them, what do I care if your homework takes you months to—”

“It’s not even for school,” Eddie interrupts through gritted teeth, “it’s dumb, it’s just—”

“Jesus Christ. Lemme call the press again, sounds like you’re reading a book for fun.”

Eddie stares at him. Steve raises an eyebrow in challenge—he could do this all day; just the other week, he’d beaten Mike in a brutal staring contest that felt like it went on for hours.

Eddie breaks first. “Fine,” he says with another huff, but he’s less agitated when handling the books—lingers thoughtfully on their titles, puts a couple in his backpack. The rest he opens at seemingly random parts, but it looks like he knows what he’s searching for.

And then it seems as if he’s just going to pick up the remaining books and walk away—Steve expects him to, honestly—but he ends up staying where he is, gives Steve a look of consideration, almost like he’s a book worth reading, too.

“You stole my table, you know?” Eddie says.

“Uh, no,” Steve says automatically, then adds with more confidence, “I was definitely here first.”

Eddie snorts. “Nope. My senior year, uh,” he shrugs self-deprecatingly, “the first time around. That was my spot. Was pretty possessive over it too, think I signed the table, like, underneath.”

Steve’s eyebrows rise in interest; he runs a finger along the underside of the table and soon feels it: an E.M scratched into the wood.

“Huh,” he says. “Guess you’re right.”

A pause.

And then Steve surprises himself.

“There’s, um, room here, if you want? I’m not gonna use the whole table.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. There’s a long enough silence in which Steve considers just telling him to forget about it, but then—

Eddie sits down opposite him.

It’s not as awkward as Steve was expecting: Eddie seems focused enough on his books, on bringing out a battered looking journal with sheets of paper that look like they’re hanging on by a thread. He roots around his backpack some more, retrieves a ballpoint pen with a quiet, triumphant, “Aha!”

He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve isn’t even making an attempt to look busy; his own side of the table is bare.

“Didn’t know you were left-handed,” Steve says after a moment.

Eddie looks up from his note-taking. He smirks, waggles his eyebrows briefly. “Fitting, huh? Spooky.”

“Oh, I’m terrified.”

And Eddie actually laughs—hushed, but it still counts as one.

He soon returns to being absorbed in whatever it is he’s writing, which means Steve has less of a distraction when the familiar wave of tiredness washes over him.

He tries to sit up as well as he can, conscious of the fact that he’s not alone, but the radiator is the perfect temperature, and the steady scratch of Eddie’s pen has a soporific effect. He’s distantly aware of the fact that his head is nodding down with dwindling energy to try and stop it—hears Eddie’s voice, as if from very far away, rising in question.

Steve sniffs sharply, jerks his head back up and blinks hard. “What?”

“Oh, sorry,” Eddie says quickly, and he sounds genuine. “Didn’t know you were sleeping.”

“I wasn’t,” Steve says.

“Uh, okay,” Eddie says. His lips twitch. “That was an awfully long blink then, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve retorts mildly. He stretches slightly, hides a yawn behind his hand. “Did you actually want something or—”

“Nah, wasn’t important.”

Steve frowns, unconvinced. The side of Eddie’s left hand is covered in ink, and Steve can see where his pen has started to die on him as his writing gets more faded across the page.

Steve puts a hand in his pocket, brings out another ballpoint and throws it at Eddie.

The pen bounces along the table, and Eddie manages to catch it one-handed.

“Good catch,” Steve says.

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He sounds almost uncertain.

Silence falls. It only takes another minute or two of hearing Eddie writing away for Steve’s determination to stay awake to waver again. He slumps forward with a mumbled, “M’just gonna…” and lays his head down.

Eddie stops writing.

“Hey, man, are you… okay? Like, if you feel… if you wanna go home I could take you to the nurse? Or—”

“I’m fine,” Steve says into his folded arms. “S’just… the aftermath of… stuff. No big deal.”

“Oh?” Eddie says tentatively.

Steve lifts his head up a bit, squints dubiously. “C’mon, Munson. You must’ve heard the rumour mill.”

Billy Hargrove had spread it all over the school, how he had ‘taught King Steve a lesson.’ In all honesty, Steve hadn’t cared all that much about how he himself came across in whatever story Billy created, was just relieved that at least Max and Lucas’s names had been kept out of it.

“I don’t put much stock in rumours,” Eddie says carefully. “Folks can say… all kindsa things.”

Steve nods faintly. Fair point.

“Okay, but you can take a little bit of stock in this one. Like, a smidge.”

Steve demonstrates with his thumb and forefinger.

It’s only when Eddie doesn’t smile in response that Steve realises he’d been hoping to make him laugh again. Maybe.

“Huh. Well. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Steve says tiredly.

“Harrington. I’m not stupid, y’know? That was more than a… a stupid fight after school or something. Like, I can remember what your face looked like.”

“Gee, thanks.” Steve sets his head back down, closing his eyes.

“I didn’t—I just meant whatever it was, it… it went too far. Way too fucking far.”

Steve yawns again, doesn’t bother hiding it. “Yeah. Something like that.”

He’s resigning himself to the thought of waking up with a stiff neck before Eddie sighs and says, “If you’re gonna sleep, Harrington, don’t be an amateur about it.”

Steve looks up in time to see Eddie reaching underneath the table with one leg, hooking his ankle round the empty chair next to Steve and shoving it closer to him.

“Three or four’s probably the best amount for stretching out on,” Eddie says. “Uh, speaking from experience.”

Steve smiles. “Noted.”

He manoeuvres himself until he’s lying much more comfortably across the seats, using his backpack and coat as a pillow.

Frustratingly but predictably, despite his fatigue, sleep doesn’t come easily, so Steve looks underneath the table and asks, “What’re you writing about, Munson?”

He can see Eddie’s boots, how one foot is tapping away, as if in time to a song no-one else can hear.

“Um, I was just… getting inspiration for… it’s kinda like. Like a story, but—”

“Don’t hurt yourself, dude,” Steve says, “I know what a campaign is.”

The foot tapping stops.

“Aren’t you just full of surprises?” Eddie says.

He sounds a bit far away again, though Steve knows that’s just in his head; he can feel his eyelids drooping.

“You’ve got…” He sighs, voice trailing off as he finishes, “No idea…”

Eddie launches into a speech; Steve can follow it well enough for a little while, Eddie rambling about the kind of decisions he thinks his players will make in the game, but eventually the words become a blur, and he drifts off just like that, into an unexpectedly peaceful sleep.

He wakes with the lightest of touches to his shoulder, a soft, “Steve?” that nevertheless makes him jolt to full alertness in a blink, reaching for a bat he doesn’t currently have.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, almost falling back against the table. “What the hell kinda military training d’you have, Harrington?”

“Just have good reflexes,” Steve says, hopes it sounds casual enough as he breathes through his suddenly racing heart.

“Yeah, that’s one way to fucking put it. Anyway, uh. Sorry, didn’t mean to, like, startle you, but you slept right through the bell, man.”

Steve sits up; the library is empty apart from them, the librarian shooting them a not so subtle glare. And he realises that while everyone else was rushing out of school, eager for the holidays to start, Eddie must’ve stayed. Waited for him.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, quickly puts on his coat.

“God, sorry, you didn’t have to—if I’ve made you late, I’m—”

“Nah, don’t sweat it.” Eddie puts his backpack strap across one shoulder. “I wasn’t in a hurry. Um, are you… like, good to drive? I can give you a ride, if—”

“I’m okay,” Steve says, struck by the consideration behind the offer. He means what he says though; he feels pleasantly refreshed. He smiles self-effacingly. “Think I need one class where I can just sleep, and then I’ll get through the day.”

Eddie gives a playful scoff. “That’s already a thing, Harrington, it’s called first period.”

They walk out of the library together, and Steve finds that it’s kind of… nice, honestly. He keeps waiting for some awkwardness to creep in again, but it never does.

“Big holiday plans?” Eddie asks, smalltalk that should be stilted, but it just sounds like he’s sincerely interested in the answer.

Steve shrugs. “Not really. Oh, I’ve got—you know the Snow Ball thing tomorrow, at the middle school? There’s this kid I know, I’m gonna give him a ride there, but—”

Steve breaks off with a fond shake of the head, knowing that there’s this kid I know doesn’t really give it justice, doesn’t say the full truth: that Dustin Henderson has somehow wormed his way into Steve’s goddamn heart forever.

“His mom’s invited me over for dinner tonight,” he continues. “Think he wants, like, a dress-rehearsal of his outfit or something, which is probably the closest he’ll ever come to admitting he’s nervous. I kinda feel for him, honestly. God, do you remember being thirteen? Everything seemed to matter so much, and most of it was just… stupid shit.”

They’ve reached the parking lot, and Eddie gives Steve a sideways look with a bemused smile.

“Woah, Harrington, we’re still in school, remember? Don’t think we’re meant to sound so world-weary yet.”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah.” He gestures at Eddie’s get-up. “Bet you’ve never once cared about the stupid shit, though.”

What people think.

Eddie’s smile turns more knowing. “Shockingly, Harrington,” he says, “I didn’t come out the womb like this.”

They both hesitate; they’re at Steve’s car now, Eddie’s van parked in a space that’s further away. There’s no reason, really, for the conversation to continue any longer.

But Eddie still lingers.

“Uh, enjoy your dinner, I guess. If the… dress-rehearsal goes shit, just tell the kid it’s good luck for the real night.”

Steve laughs. “He’s in the Drama Club, so that might work, actually. Thanks, Munson.” He opens the car door as Eddie nods, starts to head off to his van. Seized by a sudden impulse, Steve calls, “Happy holidays!”

“Yeah, you too.” Eddie turns, tapping at his temple exaggeratedly. “Won’t forget about the books, I promise.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You better not,” he says, tongue-in-cheek.

He starts the car and heads for Dustin’s house, honks the horn when he drives past Eddie’s van, catches Eddie waving.

Steve thinks he quite likes the idea (regardless of whether it’ll put his library account in jeopardy), of the books finding a permanent home at Eddie’s place. Briefly imagines Eddie writing with an ink-stained hand, curled up safely in a world of his own—where the only monsters are the ones that live in between the pages.

[fakeoutbf]

.

[hazbn-oneshots]

Bathtime Headcanons

Just a few headcanons for sharing a bubble bath with the main characters. Enjoy!

Charlie:

oddly enough Charlie doesn’t partake in full baths as much as she favors showers.

She’s busy dealing with the hotel and along with ruling as the Princess of Hell so she much prefers a quick warm spray.

On the occasion, however, she finds herself tired enough that you might just be able to convince her to indulge with you. 

You make a point of dredging up any kind of bubble bath, bath bomb, lotion, anything you can find to ensure that you can provide the best bubble bath possible.

Music plays softly over a small speaker, but it’s drowned out the hushed whispers of words of love as you meticulously wash and condition her hair.

Conditioning is your favorite step. Charlie didn’t need it often as her hair somehow stayed so silky, so every now and then when you got to run a soft brush through her hair, twisting it gently to pin atop her head.

She tries to wash you in return but you always push her hand away, insisting on pampering her after a hard day.

Usually ends with you drying her off and carrying her to bed when she inevitably passes out.

Vaggie:

Vaggie loves baths but she’s hard pressed to admit it. Nothing feels better on sore muscles than a nice soak, ideally with lavender. She loves lavender.

The two of you had been dating for about 6 months before she even entertained the idea of going to you with such a request. 

She was too embarrassed to ask.

-in the end, how she broaches the subject is by surprising you one night when you return home. A few candles lined the edge of the bathtub that was filled nearly to the brim with bubbles.

”I just thought it would be nice, you’ve been gone all day” And you know better to react calmly should you risk spooking the flustered angel with the scarlet red face.

She’s the one that drags it out in the end. She’d wrap her arms just a little tighter around your waist and mutter about how the water would stay warm for just a little longer.

Vaggie gives sweet towel hugs.

Alastor:

Listen, Alastor takes pride in his hygiene. He takes the utmost care to keep himself and his dress in immaculate condition. 

He’ll invest in facial creams, hair creams, body creams, oils, lotions, you name it and he’s used it. 

But baths? No. Absolutely not.

You’ve only attempted to convince Alastor to take a bath with you and neither occasion ended particularly well. The radio demon wouldn’t speak to you for a week after the first failed attempt and had all but removed himself from your life with the second so you couldn’t say you were in any hurry for a third.

However, the two of you have come to a happy compromise. Whenever you found yourself in the mood to draw a bath you would sometimes find Alastor pulling a chair up next to the tub with a book tucked under his arm. So would begin a lovely tradition between the both of you.

More than once you’ve found yourself dozing to the soft static of the Alastor’s voice, and in response the demon would lightly tap his cane against the edge of the tub to rouse you.

Don’t fall asleep though, three strikes and he’ll leave you in the tub. No he doesn’t.

Husk:

Not. A. Fan. Considering his entire being consists of fur and feathers, Husk can and will do everything within his power to avoid bathing if he can. Look, it’s just not his idea of a fun night to sit down with a hairdryer and attempt to wring himself out as best he can.

Inevitably he’d miss a spot and end up with stale wet cat smell and no one likes that, especially not our resident grump.

He won’t make a fuss if you want to bathe with him though. What he will do is laugh while patting your shoulder. “I’ll wait for ya in the room”

The more comfortable he gets, however, you’ll start to see that eventually Husk begins to find reasons just to ‘wander’ into the bathroom with you. He misses you, you know it, but it’s still sweet to see him making the excuse of looking for his lucky pair of boxers.

”The water’s always warm darlin”

You better get the blow dryer ready, the only way you can convince him is if you’ll deal with it. You don’t mind though, the purrs are worth it

Angel Dust:

You and Angel take turns picking which bath bombs and bubble baths that you’ll throw into whichever potion you’ll be brewing up tonight.

Bathtime with Angel was always a favorite for you, you couldn’t think of anything better than getting to curl up with your cuddle bug in your arms. Although things never really stay that way for long.

It’s hard not to tease while washing each other. A slip of the hand here, just a little rough touch of loofah there, just a sweet little taste of what could be but the restraint comes easy in the relaxed atmosphere. Just in times like these Angel will be patient enough to wait until you can actually make it to the bed. 

Angel won’t let you wash his hair. You don’t know why he’s so particular about it but if you interrupt his routine of products then his entire night is ruined so you choose the peaceful route and leave the man be. That doesn’t mean he won’t wash your hair for you if you ask though, those four hands of his do wonders at massaging the scalp.

Angel will 10/10 let you towel dry him every single time and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t use it as an opportunity to make a show at bending this way and that, making sure to get every inch of him.

He looks like a fluffy mess afterwards but hey, he’s your fluffy mess.

Requests open!!

[zeppelinlvr]

Kiss Your Eyes Again

Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: you and Sam head home from the bar before dean, the two of you get ready for bed but you find yourself wishing you had gotten a room for just the two of you.

Notes: Like half of this got deleted and I had to rewrite it and I almost cried. Also, the fic literally has nothing to do with the song Anything by Adrianne Lenker I was just listening to the Songs album while writing this. I want to thank all of you for the continuous support, I appreciate it so much. Also feel free to send in requests because I'm running out of ideas 💔

Warnings: Cursing, this gets frisky but there's no actual smut, making out, fluff.

w.c 1.4k

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You placed two beers for Dean and Sam down and a seltzer for yourself, on the small table at the bar. Sam, Dean and you were in the middle of a case, Dean and Sam had done interviews with victims and visited the morgue while you looked at autopsy reports, symbols they had found, and the contents of the hex bags they had discovered. You knew the three of you were dealing with a powerful witch as the spells you found being used were from around the 15th century.

“This witch is hardcore, her end goal looks like she wants to be possessed by or summon a demon, we need to get to her before she can even attempt to do that” You told the two as you sat down.

“Why the hell would someone want to be possessed by a demon?” Dean asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“No clue” you shrugged “Some witches have sex with demons too, they use it as a way to seal the pact they made with the demon”

Dean scrunched his face “I’m glad you're smart but you don't have to share everything you know”

Sam was watching you with interest in what you were saying “so we’re not just dealing with some everyday pagan?”

“Nope, this bitch is crazy” you told him with a giggle.

Sam gave you a soft smile, the two of you had been dating for a while but he always looked at you like it was the first time he’s seeing you, his eyes wide, taking in how beautiful you are.

The conversation carried on, the two boys sharing about the people they had met and how a few seemed off their rocker.

You finished your drink then said to the two “I’m tired, I’m gonna head back” You gave Sam a look, wanting him to join you, not only because you didn't want to walk in the dark but you missed the two of you being alone together and you were hoping to get some time with just him.

“I’ll go back with you, I’m tired too” Sam responded.

“Don't be gettin’ your freak on you two, I’m not gonna be out all night, I’ll have a couple more and head back” Dean told both of you, a smile on his face at your reaction of embarrassment.

“He’ll be done before you even finish your next drink” you joked, earning a laugh from Dean and Sam quick to defend himself with statements about how it wasn't true.

You and Sam headed out of the bar, the motel was only about a 5-minute walk away. You gave a dramatic shiver in hopes to get his jacket.

“Sammy, I’m so cold” you giggled and rubbed your arms dramatically

“You don't deserve my jacket after that comment” he replied, rolling his eyes as he shrugged his jacket off and placed it over your shoulders.

“We both know it isn't true and that's all that matters” you told him, putting your arms through the sleeves and cuddling into it, his smell engulfing you.

Sam laughed and brought his arm around your shoulder, his larger frame completely overshadowing you. You brought your arm around his waist and began to gently scratch his back. He placed a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

“I’m not really tired, I just wanted some alone time with you” you admitted “I love Dean but I want to be alone with you sometimes”

“I know baby” he told you “how about we get ready for bed then we can cuddle and watch some desperate housewives”

You smiled at the mention of the cheesy show the two of you had gotten invested in, it started off as a background show that you’d turn on when you waited for the boys to come back to the motel, or when you and Sam were trying to fall asleep, but you quickly became invested and so did Sam.

“That sounds perfect” you told him

The two of you had returned to the motel, Sam unlocked the door and you made your way over to your duffle bag, changing into your pajamas, Sam did the same. You made your way to the bathroom Sam close behind, you brushed your teeth at the same time as him, unable to hold back your giggles at the toothpaste that dripped down his chin and how aggressively he brushed his teeth.

You washed your face and he watched you closely, eyeing the products you put on your face.

“Why do you have so many potions for your face?” he asked, a small smile on his face.

“Sam, its three things, and it's so my face doesn't break out and get greasy” You explained

He was nothing short of intrigued by your explanation “But why is your face wash called la roach pussy?” he asked, reading the bottle

“Its probably french or something” you shrugged “I don't know how to actually say the name”

When both of you were ready for bed, you turned on the current episode of desperate housewives that you were on.

You snuggled into Sam, he wrapped his arms around your waist, and you leaned into his shoulder. Both of you attempting to cuddle while still being able to see the show.

Sam placed a kiss on the top of your head “I’m sorry we don't get a lot of alone time, I wish I could give you a white picket fence life, but I think we both know that's out of the question by now”

“Sammy don't apologize, and I’m okay with not having a Stepford Wives style of living” you paused “It’s more interesting to research monsters and see you come back sweaty and covered in dirt, its hot” you giggled and poked his chest, he shook his head in response, but a small laugh escaped.

“Sam, I really do love you and I wouldn't trade the life we have for anything, I like knowing we helped people at the end of the day” you added earnestly.

A smile played on his face as he brought you in for a kiss. It was slow and loving, he brought a hand to hold the back of your head, gently toying with your hair. You scratched and rubbed his shoulder, your other hand on his neck playing with the tufts of hair.

The kiss became heated when Sam picked you up and set you on his lap, doing it with such ease it felt as if you weighed nothing. He worked kisses along your collarbone, a soft moan escaping your lips at the sensation. He placed a few kisses on your shoulder before pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of your bare chest, running his hands along your sides a few times, tracing your figure, before grabbing one of your breasts with his large hands, he began to gently toy with your nipple. Your incoherent encouragement and praises followed, you were unable to speak properly, it had been a while since you had been able to be so intimate with Sam.

“I know baby, it's okay” he said in response to your babbling.

You ground down onto his lap, earning a groan from him, you had your hand around the back of his neck tugging on his hair more desperately now, your other hand holding on to his large arm. You felt his growing erection against your core, your arousal pooling at the overwhelming sensations you were experiencing.

Sam brought his lips to yours again, his chest heaving as he harshly breathed while kissing you. His hand on the back of your head pushed you into him, holding you close. You continued to grind down onto his lap, Sam swallowing your soft moans and letting out groans and soft whines of pleasure.

As Sam was beginning to pull off your pants you heard a knock at the door. You sighed, not wanting this moment to be cut short. You threw your shirt on quickly and climbed out of Sam’s lap, giving him a sweet kiss.

“Are you two decent” Dean yelled through the door

Sam was uncomfortably shifting around, pulling the blanket over his lap.

“Yep, just watching tv” You yelled back

You heard the door unlock and Dean entered the room, laughing at Sam’s messy hair and your disheveled shirt, he chose to keep his comments to himself and made his way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

Sam pulled you into him, his chest flush against your back, he wrapped his arms around you, and you snuggled into him. You could tell he was still aroused, his erection poking you. You giggled at his issue, and he sighed but also laughed.

“We’ll get our own room next time” he told you and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

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[buckysdollbarnes]

you are in love series - part one

one look, dark room

PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader

Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.

warnings: mild language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.

a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3

Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.

Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.

I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.

Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.

Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.

“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”

Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.

Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.

“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.

“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”

You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.

He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.

“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”

Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.

“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.

“Well, I’m already here so.”

You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.

“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.

He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.

“James.”

“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”

“Won’t happen, doll.”

“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”

“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”

He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.

He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.

“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?

You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.

He strolls further into the room.

“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”

Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.

“It’s no problem.”

His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.

James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.

“I have to go.”

Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”

You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.

“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”

He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.”

As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.

Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.

“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.

“People are practically giving this stuff away.”

Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.

Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.

You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.

Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.

Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.

You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.

Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?

“Independent woman, my ass.”

With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.

Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.

“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”

After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.

“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”

“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”

The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.

As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.

After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.

You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.

“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”

As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?

Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”

James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.

He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.

“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.

Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.

“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”

James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.

Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.

Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.

The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.

As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”

You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.

Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.

After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.

“You like records?”

Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.

“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”

Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.

“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”

“So which one are you?” he asks.

You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.

“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”

James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.

“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”

Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.

“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.

He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”

That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.

He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.

He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.

“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.

All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.

Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.

“You can do anything on here, Buck!”

Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.

“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“Sam, hi.”

“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”

“Is it about wizards?”

“What?”

“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”

“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”

“Was it a girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”

“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”

“I’m not getting the problem.”

“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”

“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”

“Not feeling it.”

“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”

“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”

“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”

Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.

“They have that?”

“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”

“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.

Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.

Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.

You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.

You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.

Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.

“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.

Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.

“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”

Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.

Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.

“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”

His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.

“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”

You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”

Bucky stumbles over his words.

“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”

“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”

“What are those?”

You pause, confused.

“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”

“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.

“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.

As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.

Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.

He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.

You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.

You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.

“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.

Hesitating, he shakes his head.

“What do you usually go by then?”

Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.

“Bucky.”

You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.

“So… metal hand…”

Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”

“You’re that Bucky.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, you start again.

“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”

Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”

“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.

Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.

“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”

You’re interrupted by his response.

“Are you not scared?”

“Of course not.”

Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”

“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice  carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.

“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”

You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”

Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.

He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.

Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.

You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.

“I’m Bucky.”

You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”

He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”

a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.

[selencgraphy]

— 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐓

PAIRING: jake seresin x f!reader

PROMPT: prompt list used

33. “you are such a nerd”

TAGS: FLUFF, established relationship, self-indulgent fic tbh

A/N: omg i wrote this sooo long long ago because i just needed a little comfort blurb and was fixated on both top gun and obi-wan at the same time so i combined the two. it’s pretty short, but i hope you like it <3

masterlist

Have you ever been afraid of the dark? How does it feel when you turn on the light?

I feel safe.

Yes, it feels like that.

Out of everyone who was in The Hard Deck, you were the only person who was fixated entirely on their phone. You sat in the corner with both headphones in your ears near the pool tables as Jake and the rest of the pilots drank, talked, and played pool. You hadn’t intended to accompany your boyfriend out, but he insisted you come along. Something about loving your presence even if you were busy doing your cute nerdy shit, which made you laugh.

It was nearing the end of the episode when Bradley sat next to you and looked over at the screen of your phone. Being so invested in what you had been watching, you didn’t even notice he had sat down. “Whatcha watching,” he asked.

Startled by his sudden presence next to you, you flinched and quickly paused the show. “Jesus Christ, Roost. When did you get here?” He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m watching the new episode of Obi-Wan Kenobi,” you answered.

“Obi-Wan… Like Star Wars?”

“Yes, like Star Wars.”

“God, you are such a nerd,” he remarked as he bumped his shoulder into yours.

From across the pool table, Jake called out. “Babe! Come here really quick!” Walking up to your boyfriend, you quickly pocketed your phone and headphones. As soon as you were in arm's reach, he pulled you into his arms and swayed as gave you a kiss to the top of your head.

“How’s the game with Javy going?”

When he replied, you could feel the smile that grew on his face. “Kicking his ass, as usual. How’s your show?”

“Good. It was really good. I’m surprised you didn’t catch me crying for a couple minutes. You know someday I’m gonna make you watch every Star Wars movie and show. Then before you know it, you’re just like me!”

Suddenly, Phoenix yelled out. “I’ll be waiting to see the day where our beloved Hangman turns into a Star Wars nerd as big as his girl!”

Jake groaned and sarcastically complained, “Do I have to see all of them?”

“It is a requirement if we are to continue dating, Lieutenant,” you said with a cheeky grin on your face.

“You got yourself a deal, darlin’,” he returned, his eyes filled with so much love. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” you whisper back, blood rushing through your face at his gaze. Tonight’s outing may have been out of your comfort zone, but with Jake by your side, you didn’t have to worry about a thing. He loved you, nerd and all.

[cherryobx]

Beach day

a/n: went to the beach today so this is inspired by that

pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

summary: at the beach you like to read and tan, JJ likes to swim and get sand everywhere

wc: 1.1k

warnings: language

“Come swimming with me.” JJ kneels next to you on the hot sand, his fingers drawing patterns onto your shoulder blade as you lay on your stomach a beach blanket, a book open in your hands.

“Go without me. I wanna read right now.” You brush him off, too invested in your book to have the desire to do anything else but read at the moment. The plot is just getting good.

“But I wanna go with you,” he pleads.

“I’ll come later.” You turn the page.

He continues pestering you. “When’s later?”

“When I’m done with this chapter.” 

“When are you done with this chapter?”

You sigh. “I don’t know, JJ. Soon.” But that answer doesn’t satisfy him in the slightest. He plops down on the blanket next to you, all of the sand on him getting all over you and the blanket. 

“JJ!” you exclaim, turning the book in your hands upside down and shaking it to get the sand out from between the pages. Then, sitting it down, you sit up and brush the sand off of you before trying to get as much sand off of the blanket as possible too.

“What?” he asks all innocently. He lies on his back and blocks the sun shining in his eyes with his hand.

“The sand. It’s fucking everywhere.”

“We’re at the beach, babe.”

“Doesn’t mean it has to be all over me. I just put sunscreen on, it’s sticking to me. I can’t get it off!” you groan, frustrated because you feel sand on your skin and it’s just uncomfortable.

“You know what would help?”

You already know the answer and roll your eyes as you say ‘swimming’ with him at the same time.

“Please, just come into the water with me. I swear it’s really nice.” He props his body up on the side using his forearm. You take a look at his puppy-dog eyes and sweet smile and find yourself unable to say ‘no’.

“Fine.”

As soon as the word leaves your mouth he’s up and running toward the water. “Hurry up!” he shouts over his shoulder when he sees you’re walking rather than keeping up with him.

He impatiently waits for you at the edge of the water. 

“It looks cold.” The wind seems to be from the shore so you know the water cannot be as ‘nice’ as he claimed.

“It’s fine. Come on.” He extends his hands towards you and you take it, stepping into the water after him.

“Holy fucking shit!” You almost jump at the cold temperature of the water. You feel like your toes are going to fall off from being in the cool water.

JJ’s hold on your hand tightens as he fears you’re going to reconsider going swimming with him now that you’ve felt how cold the water actually is. “It’s not that bad.”

“You’re a liar, JJ.” You give him a pointed look but he just smiles widely over his shoulder at that and keeps dragging you deeper into the ocean.

“I didn’t lie.”

“You said the water’s nice.”

“It is!”

You shake your head at that. 

You’re waist-deep now and have to take short breaths to deal with the biting cold of the water. For some reason it’s always hardest to acclimate your body above the waist. Maybe it’s just more sensitive, you guess.

“You just have to quickly dip in and be done with it.” JJ has let go of your hand and is a few paces ahead of you, happily swimming around.

You scoff. “Easy for you to say.”

You take slow steps and JJ begins to grow impatient. He swims toward you and you see the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“No,” you warn him, “don’t you fucking dare.” But it’s too late. He splashes the ice-cold water at you, making you shriek loudly.

“JJ!”

He’s in a fit of laughter, finding all of this amusing. “You should’ve seen your face!”

“You’re such an asshole.” You walk past him, deeper into the water. Even though his tactics are questionable, you’re now acclimatised to the chilly ocean.

He snakes one hand around your waist and the other around your shoulders from behind you, making you slow to a stop. “I was just messing around.”

He holds you against his body and presses light kisses on your cheek and the side of your face, tugging at your heartstrings in the action. It makes you smile and you turn your head to the side to meet his lips and kiss him. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“That I am,” he says proudly, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Can we go back now?” 

“Already?”

Goosebumps litter your skin. “I’m freezing, JJ.” 

He holds you tighter at that, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’ll keep you warm.”

You laugh. “You’re not doing a very good job at that currently. My ass is literally gonna fall off.”

He gasps playfully. “We can’t let that happen now, can we?” And in a bat of an eye he has you hoisted over his shoulder as he carries you out of the water.

Your initial reaction is to protest and beg him to put you down but on a second thought, this is way better. You’re mostly out of the water and you don’t have to walk. This is an absolute win.

Even when you reach the shore, he doesn’t put you down and insists on carrying you to the blanket. “So you don’t get sandy,” he says.

He gently sets you down on the blanket and as soon as you open your mouth to thank him for the sweet gesture of getting you there sand-free, he steps on the clean blanket, his feet caked with wet sand. 

“Are you kidding me?”

“Oops.” He smiles apologetically.

“You’re impossible.” You shake your head and force him to get off the blanket so you can clean it again. “Go dig a hole or something.”

“Oh hell yeah that is a great idea!” He presses a kiss to your cheek in haste and hurries off to dig a hole somewhere with his bare hands.

You roll your eyes but find his enthusiasm over something so simple adorable. You get most of the sand off the blanket and lie on your stomach facing him so you have a clear view of him digging away at the sand. You open your book again and continue reading again.

“I reached the water!” he yells 10 minutes later.

“That’s great, babe!” You give him a thumbs up without looking up from your book.

JJ’s like a kid at the beach but you actually love that about him. You love how he lets his inner child out around you, feeling comfortable enough to do so. He’s just a guy after all.