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netherfeildren · 1 year

Text

Greener Memories of Better Men

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Best Story of the Day! South Austin elementary school started a “Breakfast With Dads” program but many dads couldn’t make it and several students didn’t have father figures. The school posted fliers at the local YMCA’s for 50 volunteer fathers… 600 different people from all backgrounds showed up…

Joel Miller is one of them.

-OR-

Sarah’s gone and Joel wants to feel close to her again. He reconnects with someone he used to know along the way.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No outbreak; Grief; Child loss; Emotional hurt/comfort; Angst; Fluff and smut; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (f!receiving); Size Difference; Size kink; Dirty talk; Truck sex; Praise kink

A/N: This was planned for a long time, and then just happened all at once today without prior thought. Enjoy! :)

Word Count: 10.8K

Read on AO3

When she got very sick, towards the end, they used to listen to “The Weight” by The Band all the time. He’d sit at her bedside playing it for her over and over again, and he’d watch her breathe. For hours, he’d sit there and watch the rise and fall of her chest, the slow, weak thrum of her pulse in her neck beneath the wan and clammy skin, listen to the sound of her fight to continue existing. Sometimes, when she was a little more on this side of lucid, when she’d let him look at those gorgeous green eyes, she’d mouth the words at him through cracked, parched lips. Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed? The still beautiful sound of her laughter, not made any less lovely despite its weakness now, when she adapted the lyrics to suit herself, take a load off, daddy.

And sometimes, when she was keen on showing that superior and tremendous wit, that intelligent mind, the eye she had for seeing within and through him, she’d say that Fanny was the friend they’d always needed, but had never had. Like she knew, she knew there were times, only sometimes, where there was something missing, an imaginary figure that would have been nice or helpful, that was sometimes wished for. A mother, a wife, a partner, a friend, something they might have both needed or liked to have, perhaps, even especially, now, at the end.

It had been a slow crawl towards death, for a long time, and then, suddenly, a mad dash to the finish line she’d seemed desperate to win.

At times he’d been angry, angry and resentful and so fucking filled with a rage so deep it terrified him at the unfairness of it all. Sometimes there were parts of Joel that wished it was him lying in that bed, rotting away from the inside out by that invisible poison crawling through his little girls veins, but then the idea of Sarah being the one left behind, the one left alone, seemed an equally terrible fate, and he could not discern which was the worse of the two evils. And so he was left with nothing but this terrible impotence warring inside of him against his equally terrible anger.

If he could have carried the weight of her illness for her, he would have. If he could have bore the pain and suffering of it, he would have. He would have eaten his own heart, cut off his own limb, forsaken everything he’d ever known, to have taken her suffering from her. He’d told her they’d be brave together, that they’d get out of it together. Eventually though, that mad dash had ended, and after it was all done, she’d been the only one to be brave, and he’d been the only one to get out of it. If that’s what it could even be called. Sarah had died and Joel had been left with nothing more than whatever half life he pretended at now.

It’d been a year and a half since then, five hundred and sixty seven days since he’d put his only child in the ground. Days of living his life as if a thousand raging gladiators screamed and readied for battle in his mind while he lay limp and motionless in their midst. While he lay limp and motionless as the rest of the world went on around him. He failed all the time now, it seemed. Failed at being a father, a man, a brother, in his waking hours and in his dreams. And sometimes he wondered or worried at what she’d think of him now, if she saw what he’d let himself become. A limp and useless thing in the shadow of the memory of what he’d always been or wanted to be.

But he remembered love, he remembered loving her, and he thought that if he held onto that, perhaps, he could be something again. Certainly not himself, or who or what he’d been before, but he could find the wherewithal or the strength or the conviction to be something, surely, he could be something again. How could death have the ability to touch such perfection? He could not understand. So, if he could no longer be a father, Sarah's father, then he could find it in himself to at least be alive, couldn’t he? For her, at least, for that memory of loving her.

He sees the flier at the YMCA one evening, after he’s finished his workout. For months he’d gone from work to bed and bed to work. Gotten soft and lazy and horrible, half dead, but he’d had a dream a few weeks ago, a memory of them at Lady Bird Lake when they’d go and feed the ducks. She’d wanted to burst into the water after them, catch one for herself. Skinny little arms and legs flailing as he caught her around the waist, stopping her from rushing in after the poor things as they paddled madly away from the lovely little terror that she was. The thing he was now was not the man, the father, he had been before, not even a fraction. And he’d felt disgusted and ashamed and frightened with himself at the thought of her ever seeing the creature he’d become. He’d gone for a jog that evening after work. As exhausted and beaten down from the day as he’d been, he’d tied on his sneakers and forced his body to move. It had felt terrible and cathartic and he’d thrown up in his front yard afterwards, pathetic, heaving sobs wracking his body as he emptied the contents of his stomach in the overgrown grass and tears dripped down the tip of his nose, right there for the whole world to witness. But he’d gone out again the next day and the next and the next, and then he’d gone and gotten a membership for the Y, paid the thirty dollars and promised himself he’d make it there a few days every week. Pushed himself week after week to exhaustion and tears, even, sometimes. Wilting into bed at the end of the day like a felled weed, but he couldn’t stop.

Don’t stop to think, don’t interrupt the scream.

So he tried to not think, and he tried to keep going.

They used to walk down there all the time before, to the Y, Joel, Sarah and Tommy. She loved to swim, and the three of them would jump in the pool together and play for hours every summer. They were good memories he knew he needed to keep fresh in his mind, like a muscle that needed to be exercised constantly. He couldn’t, didn’t want to lose them.

The flier called for volunteers to show up for an event at Sarah’s old elementary school, “Breakfast with Dads” requesting fathers who could show up for those children who didn’t have a father figure in their lives. He’d stood still as a statue, reading the poster over and over again for almost ten minutes there, in the middle of the bustle of the busy gym around him. He could still remember the last time he’d picked her up at school with perfect clarity, the way she’d looked, curls bobbing around her, green eyes shining, shooting out the double doors towards him. She’d always been good in school, smart and lovely and friendly. He’d had to make the difficult decision to pull her out almost a year before she’d died, when she’d started getting too weak from the treatments to continue going in person. He’d not been back to the place since. Didn’t know if he was capable of walking through those halls she used to walk through, where she’d been happy, had friends, been a kid.

He thinks about it for days afterwards, afraid and unsure and awkward with himself. Worried the children will be able to smell the deceit on him, the fact that he isn’t really a father anymore, lying on the soft purple rug of her perfectly preserved bedroom. A mausoleum to her memory that he meticulously cleans every Sunday to maintain exactly as she left it, staring up at the stick-on stars of the ceiling. He thinks that perhaps it would be good for him, that perhaps he would like the chance to feel like a father again, to remember what it is to have some spunky little kid talk at him for hours on end the way Sarah used to. And if nothing else, he thinks that there might be some child out there without the commodity of a father, the way he is without the blessing of his daughter, who would appreciate the fact that he’d shown up. Perhaps, he can make some kid not feel as alone as he always feels now.

The morning of the breakfast dawns bright and warm, but with the faint scent of impending rain in the ether. She’d died on the same kind of sunny, tremulous day, and Joel’s hands shake as he walks up the steps of the elementary school. Flashes of the memory of her running out of these same double doors, skipping down the steps, curls flopping and gap toothed smile more luminous and sillier than any sight he’d ever beheld before. His heart beats like a hummingbird in his chest, hands clammy and shaking and ridiculous. He cries all the time now, at any and everything and it embarrasses him but is also so strangely freeing. He’d watched that ridiculous, but not really, movie Uptown Girls last night and had wept like a child at the end of it, all throughout it if he’s being honest. Huge mistake for the night before he was supposed to show face bright and early and have some kid inspecting him. Tommy’d shown up this morning with coffee and burritos and told him his face looked swollen, fucking asshole, and he’s once again ridiculous and embarrassed and awkward and shaking with nerves as he takes a few deep, calming breaths, before stepping into the Sarah’s old cafeteria.

The large room is loud and chaotic, the bright sound of children’s voices and laughter and commotion, and people, there are a lot of fucking people. Two different lines of men, traversing the entire wide room, starting at a long table on one end and snaking through the lunch tables. It seems he wasn’t the only one who’d seen the posters, who had felt the need to come here today. He’s inspecting the lines, deciding which one seems to be moving faster when he hears his name, soft and breathy and incredulous, voice like a fucking angel: “Joel?”

He turns and there you are. “Joel Miller?” You almost stumble towards him, hand almost outstretched, eyes almost swimming. The last time he’d seen you was the last time he’d picked Sarah up here, and there’d been real tears in your eyes that time as you got to your knees, and his daughter buried her face in your neck, your soft hair, as she cried and told you how much she’d miss you, how much she didn’t want to go. You’d been her last teacher before she’d had to leave school – she’d never gotten to finish the year with you, and it had been a painful and difficult parting for the both of you. One he’d not appreciated fully in the moment, but now, looking at your shocked face, like you’ve seen a ghost, the memory rears its head in his mind, the sound of your voice trying to soothe her, trying to remain strong, stifle the sound of your own tears. You’d gone to the hospital once, near the end, the nurses had told him, in the quick hour he allotted himself to go home and shower every day, to say goodbye to her. Had sat at her bedside and laughed with her, brought her a card and a bright bouquet of yellow daisies in a pretty, blown glass vase from her entire class. It had been near the end of the school year, what would have been the end of Sarah’s second grade year, and he’d been glad, after the nurse had gushed about the pretty young woman who’d come in, made Sarah laugh and smile, perked her up for even a few brief moments, he’d been so fucking glad he’d missed you. He hoped he’d never have to see you again, could avoid the memory of his daughter in your care, the way the two of you looked at each other, like you shared a secret, a friendship, a connection, that of pupil and teacher, but also just two girls, something special and sacred. He envied it and resented it and was glad he’d missed you and grateful he’d not had to see you, but he was also grateful for the fact of you, that you’d been able to give her something she’d needed and he could not provide.

He whispers your name, and you finally reach him, hand fully outstretched now, not an almost anything anymore, and your small, delicate fingers grasp at his thick forearm. The soft touch burns.

He places his big hand over yours, completely engulfing you, and when he whispers your name back he feels a tremble in your limb. “Joel, I’m so glad to see you,” said with so much sincerity he feels the backs of his eyes pinch. He did not think the hardest part of this day would be seeing you again, a person who’d known and cared for his daughter so deeply.

“I– I’m glad to be here,” he chokes, coughs, tries to take a steadying breath. “I saw the posters– just thought… I just thought it’d be nice for me to come around.”

“Yes,” you squeeze his arm gently, “Yes, of course. Welcome, please, I’m really so glad to see you here. There are so many great kids here today–” you cut yourself off, and your face does a funny sort of uncertain thing, you shake your head, try and give him a small smile. A deep breath, and then: “There are so many kids here that need someone. It’s a real good thing you came.”

“Yeah, well… I just wanted to– to feel– to remember–” he shakes his head too, unable to continue, but he sees that you understand. You slide that small hand into his, wrapping around two of his thick fingers and pull him around and further into the room. Nodding your head and smiling back at him like you’ve got the best sort of secret you’re about to let him in on. “Of course. Come on, I’ll show you to your seat. I know just the person for you.”

“Joel, this is my niece–”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” All the sass in the world and a scarred eyebrow to boot.

“Ellie,” you say nice and slow, voice soothing as if trying to calm a wild banshee on the verge of revolt, it makes him smile a small smile, “We’re gonna be nice. You promised this morning.”

“Ugh, fine,” she drops her head back on her neck, and he can see the whites of her eyes flash as she rolls them as far back as they can surely go. “Stick me with the dinosaur, what do I care?” Christ, he mutters under his breath, trying to hide his scoff of a laugh with a rough cough. He turns his head to rub his chin against the hill of his shoulder, running a hand over his whiskered face.

“Ellie– Mom said you can’t go to the sleepover tonight if you aren’t nice. Right?” You try and reason with her.

“Fine. Whatever – nice.” And she flashes a big old, saccharine grin, wagging her eyebrows at you.

“Okay,” you turn back to him, bringing your hands together in a soft clap beneath your chin and giving him a small and painfully sweet little smile – worried and probably a little afraid for him. He shakes his head, “It’s alright, we’ll be okay,” he says low, distracted by the sight of your small hands, fine and delicate looking, and the dainty gold necklace that sits at the hollow of your throat, a little golden pendant of your initial.

You nod your head slowly, turn back to give the kid, Ellie, one more stern look, and then turn to walk away, leaving him to face her alone, and no, he most definitely does not glance at your ass as you walk away from him.

He turns back to look at the kid, and she rolls her eyes again, turning back to flip open the book she’s got infront of her on the lunch table, a one Will Livingston’s No Pun Intended: Volume Too.

He snorts a little, sighs and settles into the cramped bench made for a child, thick thighs barely squeezing into the space between the table’s edge and the seat, knees bumping the underside. “Well aren’t you a pleasant one.”

“Yeah, a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. What’s your problem?”

“Jesus, kid. How old are you?”

“Thirteen. How old are you?”

“Forty eight.”

“Old.”

“Yeah.”

“So, why'd you get stuck with the leftovers? Where's your kid?”

He clears his throat, “Uh well, she– she’s not here anymore. Or I mean– she doesn’t go to school here anymore. She died. A while ago.”

“Oh, shit.” She’s quiet for a beat, looking down at the open page of the book, It doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope. It’ll still be stationary. “That sucks, man. I'm sorry.”

He supposes the correct response is: “Thank you,” he nods his head awkwardly, still unaccustomed to going through the motions of having to tell people and accept condolences. He doesn’t think it’ll ever be something he gets used to.

“I think…” she tilts her head side to side, letting the thought slide between her ears, flips to the next page, I walked into my sister’s room and tripped on a bra. It was a booby trap. “That my dad is dead, or at least a dead beat or something,” she snickers. “Don’t know. My mom never talks about him.”

Dead or a dead beat, he mutters, shaking his head, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s hard– being a parent, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah… hardest thing in the world–”

“Is it like – like weird… to not be one anymore?”

He feels his stomach drop out from under him, coughs roughly, “Dunno… I guess– I guess in ways I still feel like a parent. Think I’ll always feel like that. But in other ways, yes, it’s… weird.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense. You don’t forget how stuff feels, right?”

“Yeah, you don’t forget how stuff feels.”

“Do you like space?” she asks suddenly, very seriously, knocking her head to the side, looking up at him with big, baleful, hazel eyes. His heart twists in his chest.

“Sure, yeah. Space is alright.”

And then another seeming one eighty: “If you could do anything you wanted, where would you go? What would you do?”

“Don’t know, never really thought about it. Maybe… an old farmhouse, some land, a ranch.”

“Cool. What kind?”

He shakes his head, Jesus, I don’t know… “Sheep. I would raise sheep.” She nods, doubtful, unimpressed look on her face, and he frowns at the look, “They’re quiet, do what they’re told.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. So, just you and a bunch of sheep. Romantic,” she says sarcastically.

“What about you? What would you do?”

She points a single finger up towards the ceiling, ah, space… “Probably because I’ve always been here, never left Austin, single mom and all, ya know– I’ve read everything I could in the school library… Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Jim Lovell. But you know who my favorite is?”

He could understand her on this. He felt, too often, like he was still right where she’d left him. “Sally Ride,” he says, of course.

“Sally fuckin’ Ride!” She slaps her hands down on the table, “Best astronaut name ever,” Shakes her head, whistling through her teeth appreciatively.

He nods his head, yeah, figures. “So, your aunt…” and he feels a hot flush spread over the tops of his cheekbones, real smooth, Joel. At least he’d waited this long.

“She’s my mom’s sister. She’s great. The three of us live together – kind of like my second mom, I guess. Or like they take turns being mom and dad. We’ve always been together.”

“That’s great, kid. She’s great. She– she was my daughter’s teacher, I’ve known her for a while now.”

“Yeah, she really is. I punched this girl last year,” she says way too excitedly, “Bethany,” rolls her eyes, “For being a huge dick, man, like seriously, she was. And she got me out of it. Backed me up with the principal, Mr. Kwong. No one else would’ve stuck up for me that way.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Seems like her style–”

“Protective,” she snickers.

“Yeah–”

“And good. Her and my mom, they’re a unit, the three of us. Don’t know, I’ve never seen anyone take care of each other the way they do. Sometimes…” she looks away a little shyly, “I misbehave,” she says slowly, “Like the fighting. For no reason, I guess. And I know it worries them. But I’m trying to be better, not fight as much. My friend Riley, she’s a good influence. She stops me when I get too riled up.”

“I reckon it’s a lot easier said than done, but the fact that you’re trying to be good is what counts, is what I’d say. I’m sure being thirteen is difficult,” he says a little sarcastically, but giving her the approximation of a small, warm smile.

“Fuck you, man,” she laughs, “It’s difficult as shit.” It hits him then, suddenly, that the kid just needs someone to talk to, someone other than perhaps her mother or her aunt who she knows love and worry for her so much. A third, impartial party. Joel had come here today and been able to be that for her, and as inconsequential as it may seem, after all he’s lived through, it’s everything to him.

The teachers and school administrators begin the process of handing out the breakfast: pancakes and bacon and sausage and fruit, and Ellie tells him about her book, full of terrible puns he pretends to frown at but also can’t really help but laugh at with her, and about a comic she loves Savage Starlight. Endure and survive, she tells him, is the motto, and he can’t help but think the idea is far reaching and significant in its truth. They sit and talk and laugh together, and it’s easy, this surly kid who pretends at being angry, hiding her charm with a potty mouth and a scowl, but who’s really nothing but sweet. It makes his chest ache and his throat go tight. So much so, that after a while he needs to excuse himself. He tells her he’s going to the restroom and runs off like a coward, the devil and his memories on his heels to take a few deep breaths, a moment alone to collect himself.

He rushes out of the cafeteria, bursting through the double doors and out into the hallway, scurrying to find a lone corner to hide himself and his shame and grief away in. He makes it to a shadowed alcove at the mouth of an empty hallway of classrooms and presses his hands to the concrete blocks of the wall, painted a soft blue color. He stares at the pockets in the aggregate and tries to take deep breaths, feels the air pass through his lungs, inflate his belly, and then back out, transformed into the world as something else. Sometimes he wishes he had the ability to transform his grief into something else – a non-memory, perhaps. Sometimes he wishes he could forget the whole thing, a terrible, selfish, disgusting thought. But pain makes terrible creatures out of us sometimes, and Joel has existed in a pool of such pain these past five hundred and sixty seven days that sometimes it’s difficult to recognize himself anymore, his desires, his goals, if he even has those anymore. Like he’d said to the kid, it’s a lot easier said than done, but the fact that you’re trying to be good is what counts, and he was trying so very hard to be good, better.

“Joel?” That soft voice again, a shiver claws its way down his spine, and he shakes his head at the wall, letting his hot, pinched eyes fall closed.

He coughs, trying to clear his throat, “M’fine. Just needed a second–” Coughs again. And then he feels that small hand from before, at the small of his back. You rest there, gifting him that brief, comforting touch, and he reaches behind himself to clasp you around the wrist, keep you there with him, silent for a moment while he tries and fails to collect himself. His fingers wrap entirely around your wrist and something different and hot and alive flutters deep in his belly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I can’t talk about it. I’m just– It’s overwhelming being here. I’m sorry. I’m okay,” he rambles.

“It’s okay, Joel. Just take your time.” Your voice is too soft and gentle for a hard and broken thing like him.

“She’s a good kid,” he tries and fails to keep his voice steady, comes out all hiccupped and cracked instead, and he feels you step closer, not touching him anywhere else, but he can feel the heat of you against his back.

“She is,” you whisper.

“S’got a fuckin’ mouth on her.”

“Yeah…” You try and laugh, fail.

He cracks and splinters: “I didn’t think it would be like this coming back here… seeing you,” voice breaking, “She was sick for so long, and I knew she didn’t want to leave me. I knew she was so fucking tired, but she kept holding on just for me. And I told her it was okay, I told her to go and that I’d find her again one day, and now I don't know who I am or what I’ve become, and all I can think about every single day is that if she saw me now I worry she wouldn't recognize me anymore.”

“You’re trying, Joel. That's all that matters. I know you are. I can see it now even just here today, you being here–”

“I wish I could see her smile again, just once–” he cuts you off, not really listening. His ears filled with static noise, chest heaving. Your other hand comes to his flank, and it’s too much: this place, your touch, the kid, all of it, all of his memories and all of his grief, and he shouldn’t have come here today. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, and for a second, right before he pushes you away, he squeezes your wrist tightly, as tight as he can without really hurting you, lets the heat of your skin burn him, and then lets go of you, harshly shaking you off.

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have come here today, I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”

“Joel–”

“Tell Ellie I’m sorry, but I have to go.” And like a fucking coward, like a man his daughter’d be ashamed of, he leaves, runs away from you and the memory of her and another child who needs something he is not equipped to give.

He listens to the sound of your voice calling after him, and he is nothing but sorry and nothing but too much of a man he wishes he’d never been made into.

You’re on your second margarita when he walks in. Trailing his brother, serious, sullen look on his handsome face. When you’d seen him this morning, after all that time, after the last time which had been so painful and so sad and so full of regret for the circumstance of it, you’d felt like your heart was about to burst through your chest. You thought about him so often, about her, more often, probably, than was warranted or healthy, but the experience of having a child such as that in your care, such a special little person, and having to witness the extinguishing of such a bright flame… Well, calling it a tragedy was entirely inadequate in the face of all it truly was.

Anna was kind of dating the bartender that worked here, and with Ellie away at a slumber party tonight, the two of you’d decided to have a girl’s night out that you were almost certain was going to turn into a slumber party for Anna with her bartender, Ben, as well.

You eye the two brothers as they find their spot at the far end of the bar, watch as Tommy, you remember she used to talk about him all the time, flags down Ben to order them two beers, appreciating the way Joel pulls on the glass bottle with that soft, frowning mouth of his.

He’s so sad. There’s no other word for it. Sad and hurt and made into a sort of tragedy of a man that you wish desperately, and even though it’s not your place, that you could do something to help. The sound of him choking back tears this morning, the sight of him laughing with Ellie, she’d warmed to him immediately which was a miracle all on its own, and he is, you think, a man with so much tenderness to give that has nowhere to go now. And it is nothing but the gravest and saddest sort of tragedy.

“Hi, Joel.” Eventually, you muster up enough courage, after one more margarita, to approach him. You think that, perhaps, he’ll be annoyed to see you again, another reminder of his past and the difficulty of the morning, but you need to just talk to him one more time. To thank him again for being so brave, to reassure him that he’d done good. Tommy’d abandoned him to brave the waters of the bar a while ago, and he turns in his stool at the sound of your voice to peer over his shoulder. You love his beard, thick and lush and so soft looking, his thick, dark curls, slightly threaded with silver at the temples, and his ridiculously broad back. He’s wearing a dark green button down that brings out the colors in his eyes, tight around the swell of his thick biceps. He’s gorgeous and so fucking hot, and he makes you feel silly with nerves and fizzy bubbles deep in your belly.

“Hey–” he clears his throat, says your name softly, with a hint of apology. “Hey.”

“I saw you come in earlier, and I– I just wanted to come over and say hi and thank you again for this morning. It was a real nice thing of you to come today.” You try and swallow the shyness and nerves in your voice, but you’re pretty sure you fail spectacularly, can just picture Anna’s mocking giggles as she watches you twist your fingers and fidget in front of the man.

“You already thanked me,” he says gruffly, “And besides there’s nothing really to thank me for.”

“I know, but again, or anyways,” you stutter, “And there is.” There’s absolutely no reason for these nerves, you know this man, have known him for years, “It was a good thing of you to do. Ellie really liked you–”

“You gave her my apologies, right?” He cuts you off, a thing akin to desperation and worry coloring his tone.

“I did, don’t worry. She understood.” He looks like he wants to ask what excuse you gave her but forces himself into silence, looking down at his hands in his lap sullenly. “I don’t know… I just wanted to say thank you again.”

“Alright. And I’m sorry too, about earlier – after. I was an ass.”

“You weren’t. I shouldn’t have gone after you, should’ve given you your privacy. I’m sorry. I was nosey.”

He shakes his head, looks up at you with those hazel eyes, “No, I wanted you to come after me.” His voice is rough, like it costs him something to admit this truth to you, “Thank you.”

You have to look away, glancing back at Anna who gives you a wide, cheesy grin and a thumbs up, followed by a much more inappropriate hand gesture. You roll your eyes at her, a hot flush burning your cheeks. “That’s your brother, right? Tommy?” You turn back to him.

“Yeah, it is… You wanna sit?” He gestures to Tommy’s empty stool.

“She used to talk about him all the time.” You take the offered seat, nervous for a second that he’ll resent you bringing her up, react badly, but he gives a soft laugh, looking after his brother. “Yeah…” he says slowly, “They were real close.”

“That’s really nice,” you say sincerely. You catch Ben’s eye, and he nods his head at you, turning to get the two of you another round. “You two having a boys night out?”

He gives a short laugh, bringing his beer to his mouth again, pressing the lip of the bottle to his smile, “Guess he was just trying to do the same thing you are right now, distract me, make sure I’m alright or somethin’,” a quick shake of his head, and then takes another drag, and you watch the thick muscles of his neck work as he swallows. You have to look away from the sight, cross your knees together tightly, pulling down the hem of your wrap dress to keep it from riding too high.

Ben comes around at that moment to place two shots in front of the two of you. “Here you go, baby girl,” a wink and that smarmy little smirk that makes Anna lose her head, for some inexplicable reason, “Tequila for you and your friend here.”

“Baby girl?” Joel eyes you, as you push the shot towards him.

You roll your eyes, “Ignore him.” He takes the shot from you, fingers brushing yours briefly and you swear you feel a slight jerk move through him. You want him to want you so badly, you think suddenly.

“Shall we?” you wiggle your eyebrows at him, and he gives you a soft laugh.

“Seems I don’t got much of a choice,” before clinking his glass against yours, touching the base of it to the bar’s surface, and then shooting it back, not even an insinuation of a grimace as he swallows the strong alcohol, while your face puckers ridiculously.

Gross. You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut and sucking on the lime Ben had left also. “He sweet on you or somethin’?”

“No, not at all.”

“Huh, not so sure about that,” he eyes your sister’s boytoy almost sourly, and you get brave or reckless or something, all of a sudden, when you press right up to his ear, your breasts against his arm, emboldened by the liquor or the soft hazel of his eys, or the breadth of his shoulders when you whisper right into the peach fuzz covered shell of his ear, “He’s fucking my sister. Not me.”

He freezes, a soft, masculine sound rumbling deep in his chest before he clears his throat. He sets the glass down, and then slowly turns to face you, gripping your knee briefly as he spins on the barstool to bring your legs between the space of his spread thighs. He’s so thick everywhere.

“Is that so?” The place on your legs where he’d gripped you burns and throbs and the other, softer place between your thighs drips and aches. You nod your head at him, temple resting in your palm propped on the edge of the bar. Ben walks by again, snagging your attention from Joel’s molten gaze, “Gimme permission to come over tonight?” he says as he passes.

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh after him, and you swear you feel the whisper of Joel’s touch on the curve of your bare knee again. When you turn to look back at him he’s staring down at you, a flush sitting high on his cheekbones.

There’s something slightly bold or desperate or sad stirring inside of you, and you need to hear the sound of his voice. You wish you could make things better for him. You wish that perpetual look of grief didn’t sit so deeply embedded in his gaze all the time now.

“You know that feeling of knowing someone, but not knowing them?” He asks you suddenly. “You and I, we’ve known each other for years. You were Sarah’s teacher, and she talked about you all the time – her last teacher – and I felt like I knew you, even though I didn’t really, not in a way that mattered, not in the way I would have liked, if I’m bein’ honest, but we knew each other peripherally. And I wanted you, all that time ago,” he laughs a boyishly shy little huff of laughter interrupting the rush of his confessed words, the crests of his cheeks flushing bright, “In that way you want someone you don't know but see all the time and want to know better. And now, it’s like… like we’re meeting again for the first time, but in a different way, in a way we’ve never met before, and yet you know so much about me already. You knew my daughter, spent time with her, you cared about her – it’s… I don’t really know what it is I’m trying to say, to be honest. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, another unsurely shy laugh, and you reach out to set your hand softly on his knee, rubbing the thick, muscular ball of it. It’s okay, you nod and shake your head at him at the same time. Confused also, with what you’re trying to convey, but knowing you want him to continue anyway. “You knew me before in a different way, and I’m not that man anymore. And I don’t know who I am now, or I’m beginning to relearn, but I’m not there just yet,” He trails off, and then softly: “Have you ever not known yourself?”

You tilt your chin slowly, watching the slow rove of the leftover tequila in the glass as you roll the base of it along the grain of the bar. “I’m… I’m not sure. Would it be very naive or arrogant or shallow to say, no? That I’ve always known myself, that even when I was lost or afraid, I was still certain of who I was, or at the very least, who I wanted to be? Like… like sometimes when you’re uncertain of the next step, or– or of what it is that you want to do next, but you still know the direction, maybe? Or what ending you’d like?” You give a brief huff of laughter, not really meaning to laugh, but expelling the air anyway, glancing down at where you’re still gripping his knee. He lays his own large paw over your much finer hand, calluses on his palm that you can feel on the back of your knuckles. “I think now we’re both, maybe, not making sense. But I think that sometimes happiness is only the peripheral thought, the peripheral ending, like obviously we all always want to end up happy. I was always open to the journey, open to the different avenues my life could take, but all I’ve ever wanted was for me and Anna, and then later, Ellie, to be okay, to be happy. Nothing else matters after that. The way I get there, the way I’d make it happen never mattered. Only that, in the end, we’re okay.”

“No… I know exactly what you mean.” His brow caves in on itself, “I know exactly what you mean because I failed at that. That was all I ever wanted too, and look at what I ended up with. She’s gone, I failed her.”

“But you didn’t, Joel,” you say with all the fervor you can pull from your heart, all the certainty you absolutely know that he’s wrong with. You bring your other hand to his other knee, leaning forward to make absolutely sure he’s understanding. “You can’t honestly say that. You’re right, I did know her, and that little girl was an exceedingly happy child. If anything, you were nothing but a triumph, and you need to hold on to that, and think of it every single day for the rest of your life. You were triumphant in that girl. Never forget it. There is not even a shadow of failure in the memory of that child and the life she led.” And this does not seem like the appropriate environment to be having such a conversation, but you push on. His hand tightens over yours almost painfully, his blunt rough nails digging into your soft skin. “When she died – was she scared? Or peaceful?”

“She was so fucking brave,” he chokes. “She was so fucking brave. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in that heart. I’d swallowed all of it. I’d swallowed all the fear either of us could ever carry. She’s the one that held me while I fell to pieces. While I lied through my fucking teeth and told her it would be okay, that I’d be okay, that she could rest, she could go. And held me and tried to soothe me and told me she’d see me again one day, but not too soon. Eight years old, dying and comforting her father, cracking jokes. She was so fucking brave, and I’d promised her that we’d both be – that we’d both have courage and both get out of it, and in the end, I ended up being nothing but a goddamn liar.” And there are tears in his eyes, and maybe you shouldn’t and maybe you’re overstepping and maybe it’s the alcohol, but you lean forward in your barstool, that boldness and that desperation and that sadness pushing you along so that your knees are sliding further between his spread thighs to wrap your arms around his neck to hug him tightly to yourself, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, big hand coming up to cup the back of your head.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, even though you know the words are redundant. Even though he’s probably heard them an antagonizing amount of times. You are so sorry, and you have to tell him that you wish you could help him in some other way, that he’d not have to bear this alone, that he’d never have had to live it at all. I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m sorry that you lost your daughter, and I’m sorry you’re alone now, and I’m sorry we didn’t know each other better before, but maybe we can know each other now. I’d like to know you now more than anything else.

You feel the rattle of his wide back as he takes in a shaky breath, and you slide your hand soothingly up the broad expanse to tangle in the curls at the nape of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs wetly into the warm space beneath your jaw, rolling his forehead against your shoulder, “I’m killing the mood,” and you feel the wet press of lips to the soft spot beneath your ear, right at the vulnerable hollow. Your heart stutters, and you shiver a syrupy sweet little jitter down the line of your vertebrae in the clutch of his arms, letting your head fall to the side to open yourself further to him, you smell good, whispered into your skin, but the two of you are sitting at the center of the crowded bar, industriously dedicated patrons hooting and hollering around you, and you can feel Anna’s nosey gaze zeroed into the back of your head so you pull away, letting your hand on the back of his head drag around along the edge of his jaw, fingernails pulling through the soft whiskers of his beard so that you can feel the snick, snick, snick of each bristle beneath your nail.

“Let’s go outside,” you whisper, made only of boldness and desperation and want now. Wetness pooling at the center of you.

He pulls back, and his hand slides to grip your jaw in his wide, rough hand. The architecture of you feels inconsequential and without strength or steel in his grasp. “For what?” Voice serious but also knowing, also provoking.

“I wanna kiss you.” Might as well be honest now that you’ve got his hands on you.

“I think that if we go out there, I’m gonna do more than just kiss you. You prepared for that?”

“Yes, let’s go,” and you’re already pulling him out of his barstool before the words are even fully out. His hand goes to your elbow to steady you as your feet meet the ground, and you can’t help but give him a small laugh. “Are you okay?” Just making sure.

“Yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart. Are you?” His gaze is so warm.

“Yes.” And you can’t help but smile widely up at him. He gives you a huff of laugh through a half crooked smile that looks a little bit like the sliver of the moon when it’s nothing but a silver crescent in the sky, hand wrapping entirely around your bicep to tug you closer. You feel a little bit out of control when you slide your hand over his belly, and his eyes go immediately dark and molten, rubbing slowly up his chest. He makes a deep, rough sound, low in his throat. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” He pulls you along behind him, and as you’re making your way together out the door, you hear the sound of Anna whooping and whistling loudly behind you right before the bar door slams shut.

He tugs you along behind him, and then passes you gently in his hands to walk in front of him as he weaves through the crowded parking lot, his wide chest, smoldering hot through his clothes, pressed up against your back, big hands wrapped around the soft of your hips. You feel him nosing into the curtain of your hair, smelling you and humming appreciatively, and you realize that he’s steering you towards the back of the parking lot, his familiar truck tucked into the far dark corner, and you twist, suddenly, in his arms, walking backwards and reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. His hands go to the small of your back, bunching your dress in his hands tightly so that you feel the humid night air against the uppermost backs of your thighs. The look in his eyes is so dark, so wanting, and he presses you tight against his chest, your breasts squished up against the hard planes of him. He’s not even looking where he’s going, and your feet are barely touching the ground anymore as you tiptoe backwards, guided by his embrace. One of his hands comes up to grip the curve of your jaw, and then you feel the side of the truck against your back. He hoists you higher up towards his mouth, “I’m going to kiss you now,” he says, and before you can even think about saying yes, yes, please, finally, he’s swallowing your breath in his mouth, eyes still slightly open to watch you as he does it, pushing his tongue into the wet gleam of you to taste everything you so desperately want to offer him. He nips at your full bottom lip, then laps at it soothingly, and you moan for him, head falling back on your neck to open further for him, cradled now in the palm of his hand. Your hands smooth down the sides of his neck and then curl to scrape your nails down his stomach, and he groans into you, one thick thigh shoving between your knees. One of his palms slides over your hip to grip the curve of your ass, the other coming up, gentle yet unyielding, to circle your throat and tip your chin up to him as he pulls back to look down at you. The hand on your ass tips your pelvis into his and pulls your core along the broad expanse of his thigh so that your pussy slowly rides the hard muscle, once, twice. “Joel–” you gasp.

“Back seat,” he orders, tugging the truck door open and hoisting you inside. Are you really about to let this man fuck you in the back seat of his truck in a crowded parking lot? Yes, yes, you are. He follows in after you, and then slams the door shut behind him, encasing the both of you in this quiet, paused moment before he’s pulling you forward to straddle his lap, spreading his legs wide to widen your own stance perched atop him. You listen to the sound of your panting breaths as he runs his hands over your curves, squeezing and kneading as he goes, and you plant your palms on his strong chest, smoothing them down over his belly, reaching the line of his belt to tuck them inside, he growls low, leans forward to lick at your throat and you feel the tug of his fingers at the tie of your wrap dress, then the pull of the fabric as he bares you for his eyes. You pop the first few buttons of his shirt as his wet mouth moves down the thrumming line of your neck, over the wing of your clavicle to the tops of your breasts where he pulls back to take you in. You’re wearing a soft pink lace bra and a matching thong, and as his eyes move down the length of you, the fire already smoldering within seems to ricochet up to a burning inferno. There is something about the look in his eyes, compared to before, compared to the usual look, that is even more thrilling than just the fact of him gazing upon your naked body. He’s always so serious, melancholy and sad and straightforward, in a way. But taking him in like this, the way he’s looking at you now like he wants nothing more than to devour you, to push inside of you, it makes it all the headier. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, look at you,” he murmurs, smoothes his hand over your breasts, thumb catching and flicking at your nipple, down the soft swell of your belly, stopping at the little bow at the front of your thong. He pushes the sleeve of your dress over one shoulder and tugs you forwards, you feel him lift the back of your dress over the curve of your bottom, his hand following the path of bared skin, taking in the tiny scap of lace disappearing between your asscheeks, and he makes a breathy, desperate sound, “Where the fuck are the rest of your panties, little girl?” He pinches the lush of your ass, smoothes his hand down and around to cup you between your legs, and you’re sure he can feel the soaking wet there because you listen to the sound of his gasp, and then he’s pressing there, seeking out your clit and rolling gentle circles to the swollen, throbbing nub. You run your hands up his chest into his hair, gripping there, pressing your nose into the thick curls to take in the scent of him and then running them down the heavy swell of his biceps. He’s so masculine, hard in all the places you’re soft, and wet, for him. His other hand grips your hip to pull you closer, rolling you onto the thick line of his erection, and oh God, he’s big. You can tell just like this, thick and long. Your hand moves to his belt buckle, pulling at the leather and the zipper of his jeans, and then you’re slipping your fingers beneath his boxers and wrapping around the thick heft of him. “Jesus, fuck–” he gasps.

You fist him tightly, squeezing at the thick root of his cock and sliding up to the fat head to twist there gently. His fingers move beneath the line of your panties, finally making contact with your bare skin.

“Fucking wet little cunt. Shit, you’re soaked for me, baby.” All you can do is moan as you pull him out of his jeans. He’s heavy in your palm and your mouth waters as you take in the sight of his big cock. Thick and long, wide, drooling head an angry red verging on purple. He hooks the gusset of your panties to the side and slides the underside of the shaft through your swollen lips, pressing the fat tip to your clit, and then sliding along your slit to catch softly at your opening. “Joel, please–” you moan. The head of his cock catches again and again, and you’re so wet, coating his thick length in your slick. He reaches to pull both cups of your bra down, exposing your breasts to his gaze and when his mouth latches onto one peaked nipple, sucking sharply, his other hand wrapping around the heavy weight of your other breast you cry out, fingernails digging into his thick shoulders. You use your grip on his shoulders to drag yourself along the length of his shaft while he sucks and nips at your breasts, pulling back to gently slap the full side of one, sending a jerking shiver through you while he watches how it jiggles and sways for him. “Shit, you’re too fuckin’ pretty,” he groans, and you’re about to come just from this, just the feeling of his thick cock sliding through the lips of your sex, and you tell him so, wet mouth presses to the arch of his ear, you tell him you’re about to come, but he changes the angle, presses his hips up and then the tip of his cock is breaching the dripping mouth of your cunt, stretching you wide to take him and you both pant and gasp, burying your face in his neck as one wide hand presses at the base of your spine, forcing you to take more of that impossible length. You feel the pinch and snap of your thong around your hips as he rips the scrap of lace off of you, and you think you must shake your head or something, make some soft sound because he tuts his tongue in a gentle reprimand, “All of it, baby. The whole thing.” He squeezes your breast, strums at your nipple, presses a feather light kiss to the hinge of your jaw, and you feel your cunt flutter around him, sucking him deeper so that he can wedge that thick cock further inside of you. “Yeah… Fuck, yeah. Just like that, good girl. You asked for this, sweet girl.” You hitch and sob into his neck, clawing at his shoulders as he finally forces you down all the way onto him, buried balls deep in your weeping, fluttering pussy. “Now you’ve gotta take the whole thing, no cryin’” He sounds like he’s spitting the words through clenched teeth, struggling to get them out despite the demand of them. “You’re doing so good,” he whispers, “Taking my big cock in this tiny little cunt.” He kisses your ear, your throat, pulls back to suck on your nipples, all while his hands on your ass start to rock you on his length, working you loose and wet and pliant.

“Fuck– fuck, Joel–”

“I know, I know, it’s so much, isn’t it? But you can take it– deep breath, you can take it.” He fucks up into you, holding your hips steady as he feeds you his cock over and over again, and you drip down onto his balls and the leather seat beneath. “Does that feel good, sweet girl? Tell me–”

“It’s so– it’s so good. Wanted it so bad–” you slur, wet cheek pressed to his shoulder, you mouth at his neck, little teeth digging into the thick line of muscle so that he’s growling, thrusting up quick and a little painful into your cunt, tip punching right at your cervix.

“Lemme see you– I’ve gotta see you,” he says suddenly and presses you back. You reach back to plant your hands on his spread knees, arching your back to present yourself to him. His gaze is almost manic, licking over your skin, your bouncing tits as he fucks up into you, the swell of your tummy glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, down finally to the place where he’s fucking in and out of your swollen, blushed cunt, stretched obscenely around the base of him. “You’re so goddamned lucky we’re in a car right now,” he growls. He jerks you back into him, both hands squeezing your ass in each palm and rolling you hard and fast onto his impaling cock, your swollen clit presses into his pelvis on every thrust in, and you feel your cunt pull tight and then go loose as you start to come around him. Yes, yes, yes, fuck, yes – just like that. His cock kissing your g-spot with every press inside. You sob into his neck, pull at his hair, scratch at his shoulders and neck as you gush around him.

He surges up then, orgasm not entirely abated, and flips you over onto your back, laying you down on the truck’s bench. He pulls his dripping cock out of your still grasping clutch to kneel down on the floorboard, hulking form entirely too large to fit in the tight space, and drags the broad, flat of his tongue through your drenched sex, tasting the echoes and throbs of your climax, sucking your clit and your come into his mouth while you sob up into the roof of his truck. He pushes your knees up to your chest, displaying you for himself entirely and devours you. “Fuck, there ain’t enough room in this fuckin’ truck to eat your cunt the way I need to,” his accent suddenly heavier, a sharper twang cutting off the end of his words, lost to the taste of you and the feel of you and the scent of you. You lean up onto your elbows, sweaty face burning bright hot with shyness as you take in the sight of his mouth wrapped around your clit, lapping at your leaking sex. He looks up at you, reaches up to wrap one hand around your breast, one of your legs is hanging down the length of his back over his shoulder, the other hooked at the bend of his elbow to keep you open and spread wide for him, and the two of you hold gazes for a moment. His eyes flash with something… different to desire or lust, something more in tune with whatever it is that’s happening here between the two of you right now, something more than just a quick fuck. You whisper his name, and his eyes flash again, predatory and desperate, and he’s pushing up, the wet sound of his mouth unlatching from your pussy and crawling back up onto the seat bench, pressing his slick wet mouth to yours and licking into you, sloppy. “Taste–” he orders, he pulls back, fists the root of his cock and feeds it back into your gaping cunt, “That’s what it tastes like when you come for me.” His voice is a growl, something like a commandment or a promise, something else that hums beneath the mere words, something that says this is happening again, I need this to happen again, I’ve wanted this longer than I can say. He fucks into the very end of you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, let him maneuver and manhandle you to his liking so that both of your ankles lay limply over his shoulders, pressed entirely in half for him to pound into you.

“Open your fucking eyes,” he pants. “Look at me,” he begs. You do, and you watch a bead of sweat roll slowly down his temple, over the curve of his jaw to the point of his chin, and then drip and splash down onto the swell of your breast, seep into your skin.

He’s so deep like this, right at the heart of you, and it hurts and it feels good and you can’t help but think about the next time already, hope that this can happen again. “Yes, Joel,” you gasp, “Please, don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” He grits, lifting one hand to hold on to the edge of the window above your head, the other gripping at your ass to pull you onto him harder. “Yeah, just like that– Taking me so well, baby. Taking the whole thing like such a good girl.” He’s so big, maybe too big, and he pounds into your cunt, forces you to take the entire thing, thick thighs bracketing your frame, cock punching at your womb over and over again. You feel cock drunk, Joel drunk, and you turn your face to press into the back of the seat crying, telling him you’re about to come again.

“God, yes, yes, you’re such a good girl. Come on my cock again, one more time for me.” His thrusts speed up, harsher, stronger and he’s saying your name while you sob out his, while you leak around him. “Hey,” he grips your jaw, gives your head a little shake, “Hey, baby– you gotta tell me where. Where can I come? Inside? Can I come inside?” It sounds, a little bit, like he’s beginning.

You nod your head, yes, gaze delirious, unfocused, the swell of his anchoring bicep is so thick and distracting, and you start to milk his thrusting cock inside of you, muscles squeezing tight, fluttering loose – please, please, please, come inside of me, please, I want it so bad. He groans, grits a curse, your name, something that sounds like gratitude, and then he’s filling you, thick cock kicking and jerking and spitting his come right at the mouth of your womb, inciting your own orgasm to throb again, again, harder, deeper.

He drops his head to the damp crook of your shoulder, takes in the heady scent of your sweat and sex, licks a path up the side of your throat. He’s careful not to ask you to bear the full, heavy weight of him, and he pulls his hips back, shivering at the sensitive slide of his spent cock falling from your wet cunt. He sits back, grasps your knees to keep you spread and watches the flutter and clench of your hole as the thick white leak of his spend starts to drool out of you. He gives a low, appreciative hum, and then bends forwards to press his face into your tummy, nuzzling there softly. Your hands come to his hair, panting chest heaving, and he mouths and sucks at the skin of your stomach, the undersides of your breasts as you both catch your breaths. He looks up, then, suddenly, a thought occurring to him, “You’re going to have dinner with me, right?” Voice a little frantic.

You give him a slow, lovely smile, eyes sparkling, “Think we’ve gone and done things a little out of order here, haven’t we?”

He frowns in mock severity, then presses his face back into your tummy, another soft kiss, and shakes his head slowly, “No,” another kiss, this one to your hip, “Not at all. This morning counts as breakfast together.” He looks up to give you a quick, boyish grin. “How I see it, that’s actually an extreme dedication to order. Breakfast, sex, dinner.”

You sigh, laugh softly, “You know… I’m actually a little hungry right now,” you say contemplatively.

“Burgers? Fries?”

“Milkshake?”

“Well, we’ve gotta have somethin’ to dip ‘em in, right?”

“Of course.” Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling him up towards your mouth, “You’re so smart.”

“Very true. You’ve gotta stick with me now, I’ll teach you everything I know.” A kiss, another and another.

He rests his face back on your belly, looking up at you, and you run the pad of your thumb over the fan of his lashes, and he feels so happy.

It’s been months since then… and still even now, when he looks at you, all he knows is that he’s sure you saved his fucking life.

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#vic fic #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller/reader #Joel Miller smut #joel miller imagine #the last of us fanfiction

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readerthatreadsss · 1 year

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Requesting more dom!peter 😮‍💨🥵

𝗔/N: Your request is my command! (especially since I've been searching for more dom!Peter fics myself and have been failing so I might as well do it my damn self!) Also, yeah, it's been a damn long time lmao. I planned to finish up and release this like 4 months ago. Then a whole bunch of bad shit happened and I kinda gave up on writing for a little bit (outside of school cause I need that damn Bachelor's degree) BUT I've slowly started reading again and that bled into me opening up my drafts and finding this and spending some time with it. If you couldn't tell I had a shit ton of fun with this one...so feel free to check my newly updated Masterlist and request guidelines and send me more requests! The more I get, the more I'm gonna force myself to actually write them. (If you already sent one just know I’m working on it I promise)

𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 | 𝗧𝗮𝘀𝗺!𝗣𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

(heavily inspired by the song with the same title by Adele.) It came up in my shuffle and when I started listening to the lyrics it was just too perfect.

he's so fucking pretty aghhhh (gif not mine)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Tasm!Peter Parker x Vigilante!Fem reader

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.6k+ (This is my big comeback so I might as well feed yall)

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: You and Peter have been broken up for about 3 years, but when an impromptu visit to your apartment takes a turn...that may no longer be the case...

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 (𝟭𝟴+ 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗗𝗡𝗜): SMUT!, lil bit of angst at the end (ex to lovers so ofc), minimal use of y/n, P*rn-with-plot, Reader and Peter are FERAL for each other because of their powers (enhanced senses and all that), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you fuck her silly), a lil possessive Peter, oral (r receiving), fingering, praise kink, Peter using his webs to restrain reader (pre-consented ofc), dom!Peter, sub!Reader (bratty at first tho), pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, angel), choking, rough sex, brief spanking, other positions, creampie, etc...

The remaining sunlight of the evening bled through your wide studio apartment windows as you finished folding what was left of your newly washed laundry. The plan for the rest of the evening was simple;

Drink two bottles of wine (knowing that your enhanced metabolism would sober the effects), catch up on a few missing assignments to keep your NYU professors off your ass, then jump into your suit and go patrolling.

It was a familiar routine.

Or at least, it had been...since he left.

Your relationship with him ended during your first year of college. To say it hurt like hell would be an immense understatement.

What hurt the most was the fact that you both gave everything you had to make it work...but long distance can be a bitch.

On that warm Saturday night in May, your ex-boyfriend received a call informing him that he had been accepted into a very prestigious engineering program (with a full-ride scholarship attached) all the way in California.

You applied for the very same program, so you knew just how big of an opportunity it would be. And, in good faith, you pushed him to take the offer.

You both insisted, "we'll make it work," and "we'll video chat and text every day. It'll be fine!"

What a load of horseshit.

It took 6 months for you to both arrive at the conclusion that you couldn't juggle your individual academic loads, your nighttime hero personas, AND a long-distance relationship all at the same time. A three-hour time difference didn't help matters either.

It took a while, but you eventually moved on. You kept your grades up, went on a few dates here and there, and even managed to convince yourself that you were doing fine without him.

Until...

*knock knock knock*

Your head peeked out from the fridge to look where you heard the strong yet hesitant knocks on your front door.

Only a handful of people knew where you lived and you weren't expecting to see any of them today.

Assuming it would be a postal worker or someone along those lines, you swung open the door with a polite smile.

"Hi-"

You felt your voice die in your throat as you locked eyes with the deep brown ones you hadn't seen in three years.

"Peter," his name fell from your lips, barely audible.

"Hi, Y/N," he replied with that awkward grin you knew all too well.

His hair was shorter than the last time you saw him, but from the tight fit of his jacket, you could see that was about the only thing about him that shrunk.

You wanted to actually hit yourself in the head for actually imagining yourself doing many things to his large...meaty...biceps- NO, no, no, no get a grip! a voice of logic sounded in your mind.

You hadn't realized how long you stood there silently sizing him up until he spoke again. "Can I...uh...come in, maybe?"

"Umm...sure," you nervously answered, finally taking note of the small cardboard box he was holding.

As you stepped aside to allow him entrance into your apartment, his familiar scent invaded your sensitive senses.

"Oh God," you muttered under your breath, knowing that he heard you, yet unaware that your scent had basically the same effect on him as well.

"You alright?" he turned and asked you in concern trying to hide the tightening of his jeans with the box he brought.

You nodded way too fast, promptly putting some distance between yourself and him. He hadn't been there for longer than 5 seconds and he was already having an effect on you.

"How've you been?" he questioned you, scratching his neck and actively avoiding eye contact. Unbeknownst to you, he was currently repeating every physics law he could remember in his mind to try to quell his growing erection.

It wasn't working very well.

"I've been fine. You?" you quickly spoke, slightly out of breath.

"I-uh-I'm alright," he shook his head with a tight-lipped smile.

He soon found himself just looking at you. It wasn't a blank stare, no, it was the sort of intense look you unintentionally gave someone when trying to commit every single feature to memory as if you weren't certain when you'd get another chance to.

It was a habit of his you noticed a lot when you were dating. And just as it did back then, it sent chills running rampant down your spine. Not to mention your nipples growing obviously hard behind your large shirt with no bra to hide it.

Peter noticed it immediately and fought back a smile, which you glimpsed.

"Why are you here, Peter?" you decided to get down to business before your body betrays you any further.

The brunette let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before actually coming up with an answer. "I wanted to drop these off," he placed the small box on your kitchen counter.

Your eyes immediately narrowed. "You could have mailed it. Or you could've just dropped it at the door and then left. So why are you really here Peter?" you would have felt worse about your tone if you weren't so bothered.

Why the hell did he feel the need to suddenly show up and make you start feeling things you swore you wouldn't feel for him again?

Peter took a deep breath. "Aunt May called me last week. She's not doing too good. So, I came back to help take care of her."

You felt your stomach sink at his words. While you both dated, May grew to be like a second mother to you. You had no idea she was sick.

"Oh shit Peter-I'm so sorry," you crossed the room to engulf him in a hug, despite your initial reaction to his visit.

Peter immediately accepted your hug and found the anxiety in his body dissipating soon after. Your hugs tended to have that effect on him.

He couldn't stop himself from deeply inhaling and drawing in your hair's familiar scent when he wrapped his hands around your clothed waist.

A few seconds passed before you released each other, with you also savoring the feel of his body against you and the way how your skin lit up with goosebumps though there was a thin layer of clothing separating his hands from you.

"I was just cleaning up my old room at May's and I found some of your stuff so I figured I'd drop by and..."

You nodded in understanding and walked over to where he placed the box.

It was mostly filled with old t-shirts, tools, and gadgets from days when you would sleep over at Peter's or stop by to help each other with school projects.

"Thanks," you sent him a smile as you closed the box.

Your smile warmed Peter's heart. It was actually his second favorite thing about you, after your hugs of course. "Yeah, you're welcome," he smiled back, running his hand through his hair. It was a mess by now, but you still wanted to run your hands through it…or maybe even pull on it-

"Sorting through some of this stuff made me realize how much I...missed you," he said, his tone growing more assured.

Thankfully, you were still facing away from him, not giving him the chance to catch the pained expression that briefly crossed your face.

But you could feel him slowly approaching your frozen figure and found your body silently reacting in ways it shouldn't be, yet again. "Do you miss me?" he asked, his voice heavy.

You held back the urge to scream "Yes!" because admitting that out loud would be taking 3 steps backward.

Admitting that you missed him would be undoing all the work and tears you put into moving on from him and the hopes and dreams you had for a life with him.

Admitting that you missed him would mean giving in to the part of you that thought back to your most intimate moments with him when you touched yourself.

And admitting that you missed him would mean letting him back into the four-cornered box you had locked yourself in for the past 3 years.

But, with every step closer that he took, your resolve disappeared that much faster.

"You okay?" he called for your attention.

Your sharp intake of oxygen brought a tense silence over the room when you turned to face him and realized that he stood close enough for your lips to nearly brush his.

"Peter, I-" you tried to form words, but then you saw his lust-filled brown eyes lower to your lips.

And that was all it took for the last of your self-control to disappear.

"Damn it," you mumbled once you realized what was about to happen.

Before Peter could question your outburst, you found yourself latching onto his jacket lapels and pulling him down to meet your lips.

It took mere milliseconds for Peter to react. After all, he had been thinking about doing this since you swung open the door and looked up at him with those eyes of yours.

His large calloused hands took hold of the sides of your face as you clashed in a heap of teeth and tongue. It was desperate and feverish but it was perfect.

It was a language only you and Peter seemed to master, even now after three years apart.

Your lips moved swiftly against his, eager to taste more and more of him with each passing second. You felt him press his growing bulge flush against you, causing a pathetic whine to involuntarily tumble from your lips and a smirk to find its way onto his.

"I did miss you," you softly spoke, "but we can't do this Peter," the logical part of your brain made an appearance, though you kept peppering his lips with kisses.

As his lips moved to your neck, Peter's hands slid down to your ass where he effortlessly lifted your legs off the ground and up around his waist. The feeling of his hands against the bare skin of your thighs garnered yet another moan from you.

"You don't sound so sure angel," you felt him smirk against your heated skin.

You hadn’t heard that nickname in years yet it sent small chills down your spine for the second time that night.

A mumbled curse slipped your lips when he nipped a particular spot below your ear. That was definitely gonna leave a mark.

You soon gathered the strength to pull Peter's hungry lips away from your body, swinging your arms around his neck to hold yourself up.

"We can’t go back from this, you know that right?" you spoke, the both of you panting from the effects of the last minute.

"I don't wanna go back," Peter shook his head, "I wanna fuck you, right here, right now," his lips immediately found yours before his words could fully resonate.

This caught you by surprise which allowed Peter to slip his tongue between your lips.

As his taste continued to flood your senses, you felt yourself grow alarmingly wet.

Peter knew it too because he slowly pulled back and smirked down at you. "I could smell you from the moment I walked in here. Glad to see three years hasn't changed the way your body reacts to me, angel," he accompanied his words with a quick slap to your ass.

His slap and the familiar pet name left you a moaning mess. Just like he knew it would.

A lovely laugh left Peter's mouth before his lips met yours again.

He walked your entangled bodies over to the kitchen counter without breaking the sloppy kiss.

Peter used one hand to blindly clear the counter and place you on it, which sent your box of things flying toward the floor.

Not that either of you cared.

"Too much clothes," you were barely able to say in between kisses.

You followed up by shoving Peter's jacket off his shoulders which fell to your hardwood floors with a thud. He immediately got the message and got rid of his t-shirt as well.

A shameless whimper left your lips at the sight of his very toned muscles. You easily maneuvered Peter's body closer to you and began kissing and sucking his neck and every other available inch of skin just as you had pictured earlier, making sure to leave a few purple bruises in your wake.

“You’re killing me here baby,” Peter harshly swallowed, his eyes sliding closed as you continued to have your way with his chest.

"Wouldn't be a terrible way to die though, right?" you mumbled between lovebites and licks. You felt like an animal in heat but you just couldn't get enough of him, the occasional flex of his muscles with each slither of your tongue and his deep groans only egging you on more.

The taste of his skin alone could've made you cum easily.

But the same could be said for Peter as the feel of your tongue slithering all along his chest had him practically creaming his pants then and there.

Fucking enhanced senses, he cursed inwardly.

“Alright, ease up pretty girl,” he reluctantly grabbed your head, detaching your swollen lips from his body.

“Your turn,” he tugged at the hem of your top.

You quickly pulled off the oversized t-shirt you were wearing to reveal your bare top half to him.

He spared no time in cupping your breasts with his eager hands. "Fuck, I missed you so much," he mumbled.

"Me, or my boobs?" you jokingly raised a brow at him.

"Definitely both," he grinned, bringing his mouth down to your tits.

As his tongue made contact with the soft mounds, you loudly moaned and wrapped your fingers in his unruly tangle of hair.

He switched between nipping and sucking on your nipples, in the way he knew you liked, while his free hand pinched and squeezed the other.

"Just like that Peter fuck-" hearing his name fall from your lips drove Peter insane.

His tongue flicked your sensitive nipples harder, and his eager sucking pleased you to no end.

Peter eventually pried himself away from your supple breasts, remembering the other parts of you he wanted to worship, and brought his hands to rest on the sides of your head. Your lips connected once more in a delicate kiss.

Though you knew what lay ahead for the evening, you were both perfectly content with each other's lips at the moment, just enjoying the constant waves of pleasure from the intimate contact.

But it wasn't long before the kiss grew heated and you tried to take control. Peter, however, wasn't giving you a chance.

"I leave for three years and you think you're hot shit, huh," he smirked.

"Why don't you ask the guy I fucked on this counter last week," you retorted, knowingly riling him up.

"Don't say shit like that, it's not funny," he nearly growled as his grip on your ass grew more forceful.

You secured your grip on his hair before pressing a small kiss on the side of his lips. "Gimme a reason to shut up then," you challenged him.

“Trust me, I will,” Peter grabbed your hands from his hair and forced them to your sides. His movements were swift as he laid you flat on your counter and ripped your thong off your body.

There he is, you smiled to yourself. This is the Peter you wanted to fucking ruin you.

You felt his face ghost your drenched opening as he deeply inhaled your scent. "You smell fucking delicious baby," he praised you, his mouth actually watering at the thought of tasting you.

A genuine smile found its way onto your face but morphed into a gasp when Peter teasingly ran his tongue up your sensitive slit.

"You taste even better," he added, using his strong arms to bring your thighs closer to his head. He wanted to tease you but it was getting harder to resist the urge to dive right into your heat like a man starved.

"Holy shit," you all but screamed as he briefly nipped at your swollen clit before sucking on it to soothe the sting.

His grip on your thighs combined with the ministrations of his tongue was pure bliss.

You attempted to slip your hands in his hair once more, but found that they were suddenly held in place against your counter by two of his webs.

Your eyes briefly widened at the feel of the rough, sticky material against your wrists, not having felt it in a few years. Back then, you expressed to Peter your desire to engage in some bondage, but being the daughter of a super soldier, it was clear that no rope or wire would be able to hold you. Peter's webs became the next best choice.

"That's not fair," you pouted, though it melded into a moan as Peter continued to suck and lick between your glistening folds.

The sounds of Peter devouring you resounded through the small apartment.

"I'm close Pete," you whined, your chest heaving in arousal.

Peter decided to focus his tongue on your eager bundle of nerves while he slowly inserted two fingers into your pussy. He instantly curled the digits causing you to briefly squirm at the sudden pressure against your G-spot.

"More," you begged, and Peter delivered, adding another finger inside of you. He immediately sped up his motion inside of you, making sure his fingers gauged that spongy spot to drive you over the edge with each thrust inside of you.

“That feels so fucking good, Peter, oh my God," you loudly moaned at the feeling of his fingers inside of you, calling forth an orgasm with no warning.

You repeatedly bucked against Peter's face as you came, white-hot pleasure filling your veins. Peter locked onto your stare, still skillfully working his fingers in and out of you, loving the way you constantly clenched around his fingers.

"Jesus fucking Christ," your legs jerked when Peter dove in and drank every ounce of slick you had to give while still fucking you with his fingers.

With his face now damp of your juices, Peter looked up to meet your blissed-out eyes. "Gimme one more, angel," he placed a soft kiss on your thighs, "I know you can do it for me."

You would do anything to keep Peter's mouth between your legs.

So, you eagerly nodded in response before taking a deep breath in preparation for another onslaught.

You didn't have to wait long.

Peter’s tongue went to work on your glistening hole while his fingers fiddled with your overstimulated clit. And, within minutes, your thighs were trapping Peter's head as an even bigger orgasm rocked you again, the borderline pornographic sounds leaving your lips shooting straight to his hardened cock.

Peter seemed perfectly fine with staying between your legs all night, but you had other plans.

"Pete, I need you inside me," you begged, tears of pleasure leaking from your eyes.

He rose from beneath you and climbed up to free your hands from his webs. "I know, baby, I know," he softly replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and using his hands to soothe your reddened wrists. Your own taste on his tongue flooded your senses which made you even more desperate.

Peter obliged, slipping out of his sweatpants and sliding his girth between your folds. He used one hand to hold himself up above you on the counter, and the other to slowly guide his dick into you.

You both shared a long moan as he buried himself to the hilt inside your pussy, your wetness making it way too easy.

He held still for a few seconds, waiting for you to adjust and give the all clear for him to move.

Eagerness guided your words. “Fuck me, please.”

Peter set a brutal pace, knowing you were more than capable of handling it. Satisfied cries left your chest as you dragged your nails along Peter’s back, hard enough to leave trails.

“You can take it, pretty girl, I know you can,” he groaned as he continued to pound into you, trying desperately not to blow his load with the way you were constantly clenching around him and marking his back.

You tried to reply, but all that you could form were sloppy moans and broken syllables.

“Oh look at you, drunk on my cock already?” he teased with a particularly hard slam that prodded your cervix, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Pleasure-filled cries mingled with words continued to fall from your lips as Peter gently moved a few fallen strands of hair behind your ear with a hand. "-feels so fucking perfect," you muttered, your lips curved into a drunken smile.

Peter reached down and pinched one of your nipples, gaining a loud whimper from you. “I love hearing you make those pretty sounds for me baby,” his strokes grew harder and deeper.

“All for you, Pete, all for you,” you panted as he fucked into you, the delicious smell and sound of sex lingering in the air.

Peter used a hand to wrap around your throat before using the other to reach down and fiddle with your aching clit.

The combination of Peter’s dick hitting that perfect spot, his fingers massaging your clit, and the lack of air from his hand around your neck was making you dizzy and overstimulated.

You fucking loved it.

“God, I missed you,” you spoke breathlessly.

He moved closer to kiss you briefly and tenderly. “I missed you too, baby.”

No amount of time could take away his knowledge on how to please you, how to get you like this with ease, not when you were all he thought about for years on end.

Peter pressed a quick kiss to your forehead then continued to fuck you on your kitchen counter.

"I'm gonna cum again baby, right fucking there," you moaned out.

Peter's grip on your neck grew tighter. "Not yet, don't you cum until I tell you to sweetheart," he commanded you, removing his fingers from your clit.

A frustrated groan rumbled in your chest as you forced yourself to sustain your orgasm.

"Don't pout," he smirked.

And before you could realize it, Peter had pulled out of you and effortlessly flipped you onto your stomach.

A hand soon gripped your hair, yanking you up against his chest and eliciting a pitiful whine from you.

"Tell me what you want,” Peter commanded, using his free hand to strike your ass. Hard.

You whimpered again at the sting of his slap. “I need you inside me. Please,” you pleaded.

He seized your hair harsher and leaned forward for his lips to graze against your ears. “Beg.”

A small whine left your lips at his words. You were so desperate you didn’t even care how embarrassing this would be in retrospect. “I need to cum, Peter. Please baby you're the only one who can make me cum.”

Peter pressed a kiss to your neck, nearly causing you to lose your footing. And he soon complied by ramming himself back into you.

“Oh my Fuck-“ you cried before biting your lip, suddenly aware that you had neighbors.

But Peter pulled his cock from your heat, with just the tip remaining, before roughly slamming into you, his hips slamming against your ass with the motion. “Come on, lemme hear you angel.”

He repeated the action, knocking the air out of your chest, “Peter!” your hands gripped the sides of your counter with such force you were sure you felt it crack under your grasp.

Peter caught wind of this and freed your hair before using his hands to pull your hands behind your back. "You're so perfect baby," he mumbled in your ear, continuing to brutally fuck you from behind, "So fucking beautiful with my cock inside you."

"I can't hold it anymore," you cried, "I need to cum, Peter, please."

With that whiny tone and those overstimulated tears to top it off, Peter couldn't deny you any longer. "Let it all out for me sweetheart. Cum for me," he littered your shoulders with kisses.

Your eyes slammed shut as your walls contracted around his cock, pleasure shooting through you and rocking you on a seemingly cellular level. Your mouth opened in a silent moan, unable to form a sound from the satisfied tremors attacking your nerves. The intensity of your finish is one only brought on when Peter fucked you and it was damn near cosmic.

"Shit," you groaned in relief, your long-awaited climax passing.

Peter slowed his movements inside of you and released your hands. "You did so good for me angel," he pushed your hair aside and kissed your neck, trying to stave off his own orgasm for a little while longer.

Aftershocks rocked your body while Peter continued sporadically moving inside of you, yet you couldn't get enough. Your body was more than ready to keep taking whatever he dished out.

Peter didn't need to read your mind to see that, but he needed to make sure. His lips kept up their onslaught on your neck as he softly spoke, "You wanna keep going?"

"Hell yes," you panted with a grin that he couldn't fully see, "You still haven't cum yet, and my bed is still fully made."

Happy with your response, Peter gave your ass a sharp smack. "That's my girl."

He pulled out of you and turned your body to face him, smiling at the sight of your fucked out face. "Three orgasms and a handful of tears later and you're still the most beautiful girl in the world," he held you by the sides of your face.

His words left you reeling, causing a slight blush to dust your cheeks and butterflies to swirl within your stomach.

Before you could form a response, Peter leaned down to kiss you. He soon hoisted up your legs around his waist, preparing to escort you to your bed as per your own demands.

As he looked around for the bed's location, you took advantage of his momentary distraction and latched your lips onto his neck, reapplying the bruises you left there that were slowly fading already.

Peter was the happiest man on earth as he walked over to your bed, his cock prodding your soaked entrance, and your lips ravaging his neck.

He carefully sat on the edge of your bed, with you now on his lap and your legs still around him. You expected him to ease his length back into you but he slowly brought your head down to meet his intense stare.

You carefully wrapped your hands around his shoulders to keep yourself up, the silence in the room growing deafening.

You could tell from his eyes that he desperately wanted to say something, and you wondered if it was the same thing you had been considering as well.

But you were both aware of what saying those words would mean for your broken relationship and simply settled for smiles instead.

Peter brought a hand up to lay your forehead against his, allowing your breathing to momentarily sync.

"You ready for me?" he questioned you with a hand at the nape of your neck to hold your head against his.

You immediately nodded in response causing his own head to shake in time with yours. A small laugh was shared between you both as your nose continued to brush his own.

"You're adorable," you said before you could stop yourself.

That stupid full-toothed grin that you hadn't seen in a while soon spread across his beautiful face at your words, gaining another laugh from you.

"Last round?” you eventually pleaded with a smile.

"Anything for you," Peter replied, meaning it in every way. Adoration littered his stare as he slowly lowered you onto his length.

A satisfied mewl slipped your lips at the familiar feel of him.

The slow drag of his cock in and out of you, while he rocked your hips back and forth to grind on him, had your bottom lip sucked between your teeth with eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure.

But Peter wanted to see it all. He wrapped a hand around your neck and forced you to meet his dilated eyes. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.”

His soft yet stern tone caused you to swallow back a moan as you continued to move on his girth.

He then slapped your ass with his free hand, silently urging you to move faster.

You leaned down and quickly kissed his lips before happily obliging, now beginning to bounce in his lap, chasing your next climax.

“There you go angel, just like that,” Peter’s stare never wavered.

Peter furiously fucked up into you, your moans and the constant smack of skin on skin filling the apartment.

His other hand which never left your throat now squeezed it harder. “Fuck!” You were barely able to moan out as your breasts bounced with your every move.

“Shit, you’re gripping me like a vice,” Peter groaned, his crude pace never faltering though his orgasm was closer than ever.

Your bed creaked under the onslaught of your bodies, but neither of you payed it any attention only having one goal in mind.

“One more time,” Peter planted his feet on the ground to get a better angle, "Need you to cum on my cock one more time."

But from the broken pacing of his hips to the strong furrow of his brow, you could tell he was close too. “Together?” You breathlessly suggested, grasping the nape of his neck with your hands.

Peter nodded in agreement before engulfing your chest and back with his arms, pulling you closer to his body.

Your breaths mingled, eyes focused on nothing except each other as his grip on your upper body allowed him to help you ride him even faster.

"Yes, Pete, oh my God-" pleas, curses, and moans tumbled from your lips as your skin buzzed at your incoming release.

"There you go, cum for me," Peter's voice grew strangled as his hips stuttered below you.

"Fuck," you wailed, your finish hitting you like a freight train and your pussy leaking into Peter's length.

The intense clench of your walls around him was all it took for Peter to explode with a groan, his pace faltering with that final pump.

"Holy shit baby," he panted, his cum painting your walls in spurts.

His firm hold on your body brought you collapsing on your bed together, satisfied and smiling.

And, for what felt like hours, you lay there in his arms. But of course, your thoughts began to run rampant.

Peter could damn near hear your thoughts spiraling.

"I don't regret this," he suddenly broke the silence you had elapsed into, "Do you?"

"Peter I-...I don't know," you freed yourself from his hold and sat up to look at him.

His brows furrowed at your response, hurt briefly flashing across his features.

"I loved you," you spoke, "I loved you more than anything."

"I know. I loved you too," Peter nodded with a small smile.

"And I will never blame you for leaving. Ever," you slipped a hand in his own and squeezed briefly.

"But?"

Your eyes stung with tears threatening to fall. "What happened to us, it damn near destroyed me, Peter. And it took so so long to put myself back together."

Peter swallowed harshly at your words.

"And then here you come, waltzing in here, fucking my brains out and making me feel things," you lowered your head, looking away from him.

You heard Peter move closer to you before feeling him lift your chin to face him again. His expression wasn't as disappointed as you'd expected, just confused. "Spit it out. I know you're holding something back."

"Why'd you come back here and-and do all this? Reminding me of what we had when you know you're gonna be gone again in the next few weeks?" you felt your voice shrink to a broken whisper.

Peter used his thumb to wipe away a lone tear that fell from your eye, his previously puzzled look now morphing into a smirk. There was obviously something he wasn't telling you.

You sniffled and lightly hit Peter's shoulder. "Well, now it's your turn bug face, spit out whatever you're hiding!"

You received no answer other than Peter leaning forward and pressing a deep kiss against your lips. You eagerly accepted and returned the spontaneous action but were left even more confused when he pulled away.

"That wasn't an answer," you arched a brow at Peter.

"I'm not going anywhere," he smiled.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm moving back to New York, or already moved, technically," he began to explain.

Your mouth opened and closed in shock as your brain fumbled for a response and came up inconclusive.

"I'm gonna finish out the school year online and stay here to take care of Aunt May. I mean it, baby, I'm not going anywhere," he grinned, watching tears of joy fall from your eyes.

"This better not be some sick fucking joke Peter, I swear to God," you pointed a finger at him accusingly.

"Can you shut up and just come here?"

You couldn't help but laugh as you obliged and grabbed Peter's neck before pulling him in for another kiss, your face still wet from tears and a smile almost permanently etched onto your face.

You pulled away but sank into his open arms. You relished how securely he held you. "I'm so happy," you said aloud, truly meaning it for the first time in a long time, though it was only meant to be an inner thought.

Peter kissed your forehead and looked down to meet your eyes, "I'll never stop making you happy, Y/N."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

#tasm peter parker #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter smut #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm!peter x y/n #andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield #marvel smut #smut #oneshot #welcome back #tasm!peter parker smut

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braden-holtbys · 6 months

Text

Stay, Stay With Me

A/N: Hi everyone, I'm getting back into writing again! This will be a bit different for me as I'm dipping my toes into writing fics with F1 drivers. Please let me know if I should make a part two or start making more F1 and hockey fics! Or let me know if there's anything that I can improve on.

Warnings: None

Carlos Sainz x reader

“Carlos, babe…,” you started to say as you motioned for him to sit on the couch next to you. “I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah, what about?,” he asked as he sat next to you. He was puzzled, but it seemed serious from the look on your face. It’s something that was bothering you a lot, at least more than school and work. You have been in a masters program for athletic training since you two had started dating. Lately, you’ve been getting more and more hate about being Carlos’ girlfriend and how you’re just a freeloader, you don’t do anything, or you just go to school just to be closer to the other drivers.

Don’t leave me before the dark night traps me in. Do you still love me? If you feel the same, don’t leave today. Don’t ask why it has to be you, just stay with me.I don’t expect a lot right now, just stay with me.

“I- I’ve been trying to not let this bother me so much, because I truly don’t want you to worry about me. I’ve been getting a lot of online harassment for being with you and people just think I’m a freeloader or that I’m getting a masters just to be closer to other drivers. I know this isn’t true, but-,” you started to choke up. “Maybe it’s better if we take a break or something.”

Carlos looked at you with wide eyes, like you’re crazy for saying such things. Well it was more like the “fans” were crazy for even insinuating such things. For the last two years that you’ve been together, your hard work always shines through and he notices that. He’s always made sure to tell you that he loves that about you. No matter what team he’s one, the team principals, engineers, everyone, sees that and it’d be more of a loss to the team to not have you honestly.

Tears fell from your eyes. It felt worse with the silence, but he started shaking his head.

There’s nothing more I want right now. I can’t even tell if my heart’s still beating. Instead of having forceful conversations with others, I’d rather enjoy the awkward silence with you. So stay, wherever that may be. When darkness comes in sometimes, I’ll be your fire. In a world full of lies, the only truth is you. This is a letter from me to you.

“Babe, I don’t accept this,” Carlos replied in a quiet voice as he pulled you into a hug. You held him, snaking your arms around him, and rubbing your hands up and down his back. “It hurts me to hear you say that, princesa. What they say shouldn’t matter, what I feel should. You’re my everything and I don’t want to lose you.”

That made you cry a little harder, you couldn’t help it. He had thought that it was just school that was making you feel down, but no. He understood that “fans,” press, socials…. All that can be hard on the mind and heart at times. He reassured you as he kept kissing the top of your head, still holding you.

“Bébe, I want you to stay, stay with me,” Carlos finally said after a long silence. He let go of you and used one of his hands to lift up your chin. He looked into your eyes with such love and content. “I love you so much, and it scares me that you said that. I understand if you still want to break. However, I want you to understand that I will always choose you. I swear, no one on our team thinks you’re what the “fans” think or say.” You wiped away your tears as you nodded.

“I want you too Carlos. I-I’m sorry it got to me and you know how much you mean to me. Please, let me stay?”

“Please stay because I don’t ever wanna let you go hermosa,” Carlos whispered as he came closer to kiss you. A deep, reassuring kiss that was needed. You melted in his arms as the kiss deepened before he broke away. There was a sparkle in both of your eyes, just for the other. It was obvious to others that you loved each other like you were the only two people on earth.

“Thank you, hermoso,” You responded with a smile.

“Nandito ako palagi para alagaan ka (I am always here to take care of you),” Carlos struggled to say, but he was learning. This is his way to again, reassure you that no matter what, you’re safe and he’s here for you.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #formula 1 #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz

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mothdruid · 2 years

Text

The Librarian

pairing: Rhett Abbott x Librarian fem!reader

summary: Rhett wasn't expecting to find you as the new librarian, let alone the one that was teaching Amy's summer reading program. Over the course of the summer program you two start casually dating, falling in love with one another.

wc: 10.3k

warnings: fluff, smut, 18+, mdni, pet names (mouse, darlin', sweetheart), oral sex, hand jobs, unprotected sex (p in v), alcohol use, swearing

a/n: finally! it's here! i hope you all enjoy it!

Rhett had been surprised when he heard that Cecilia signed Amy up for a summer reading program. Summer was meant for fun and helping out around the ranch, not having your nose stuffed in a book. Amy seemed happy about it though, so Rhett didn’t question it too much. What Rhett did question was why he had to go pick her up.

“It’s just for today, Rhett.” Rhett huffed and rolled his eyes for a moment. Rhett got to his feet, grabbing his ball cap and placing it on his head. Why couldn’t she just go pick her up? She was the one who enrolled Amy in the program anyways. Amy was a smart young girl, she made him proud to call her family. Sometimes he wondered how such a smart person had come out of their family. It wasn't that they weren't smart, just not necessarily book smart. Perry had been the only one who went to college, making Rhett hope Amy would eventually follow Perry's footsteps.

After Rhett muttered an agreement, he grabbed his keys and headed out to his truck. The ride into town wasn't too bad, hot like any other summer day. The heat like this reminded Rhett of his youth, days when he was much more concerned about looking cool than reading a book. A chuckle or two would come out when he thought about it by himself, remembering how much of a prick he used to be. He never spent much time in the library growing up, it was never something that interested him. It tended to just remind him of how much he had hated school.

Rhett pulled into the parking lot of the library, killing his engine with a twist of his keys. He waited for a moment before checking his phone.

pick up is inside the library - mom

Rhett rolled his eyes once more, exiting the vehicle and heading up to the doors. Sometimes he wondered how Wabang was able to have such a nice library. Afford one that wasn't falling apart. Rhett made his way in, finding his way up to the main desk. A middle aged woman greeted him, answering his question and pointing him in the right direction. Rhett walked past a few different areas before coming up on a slightly open space. Couches and tables with chairs littered the area with about fifteen kids sitting at them. Some kids were talking amongst themselves, while only a select few were actually reading.

"Can I help you?" A soft and oddly familiar voice interrupted his sight seeing. Rhett was surprised when he turned, seeing you looking at him. It had been years since he'd seen you, high school in all honesty. He hadn't even heard that you were back in town. He didn't remember you ever looking this cute.

"I.. I'm.." You smiled at him, watching as he tumbled over his words. He closed his mouth, jaw clenching as embarrassment plagued him.

"Well, hello to you too, Rhett. I'm assuming you're here for Amy?" Rhett nodded. Why couldn't he just fucking talk?

"When did you get here?" Rhett asked bluntly. One of your eyebrows raised, a little confused by the question.

"Do you mean when I showed up behind you? Or when did I come back to Wabang?"

"The second one." Finally, his words were working again. Rhett looked you up and down for a moment, taking in your brown overalls and white long sleeve shirt. You were holding onto a few children's books, a small silver necklace hanging around your neck.

"Earlier this year, got this job shortly after. I've been flying under the radar. Under your radar." It wasn't a secret that the two of you had a history. Throughout high school the two of you pined over one another, that was until Maria came along. It hurt a little at first, knowing that you weren't Rhett's first choice, but you also knew that his hormones were too high at the time. By junior year the two of you had moved on, only making small talk when needed during class or at school events.

Your family had always been singled out as the "weird" family in Wabang. It was mainly because your family didn't ranch. They didn't do anything relatively "normal" for the culture in Wabang, aside from taking you and your siblings to the rodeo every now and then. It had never bothered you, and sometimes Rhett wondered if that was why he had a crush. You were different, but not too far off. Always had your nose stuck in a book instead of trying to get fucked after the Friday night football game.

Rhett let out an amused noise at your confession.

"That so?" Rhett smiled at you, the curve gathering to one side of his mouth.

"No, it's not. Just pushing your buttons." There it was, that odd quirkiness that seemed to pull Rhett in so long ago. He watched you give him a wink before you walked over to Amy. She was sitting at a table alone, reading a book. His heart warmed as he watched you tap Amy's shoulder for her attention. You leaned over and whispered that Rhett was here to pick her up. Amy immediately lit up, excited that her uncle was the one retrieving her.

Amy quickly gathered up all of her things, shoving her book into her backpack before you walked her over to Rhett. "I didn't know you were getting me today." Amy said with a bit of excitement. Rhett smiled at her words.

"Neither did I." Amy giggled quietly as she started to head towards the front of the library. Rhett nodded his head at you, a soft smile still plastered on his lips.

"I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you around cowboy."

Rhett couldn’t believe that he volunteered to pick Amy up. Again. Rhett was finding him picking her up from her reading program more often than he wanted to admit. It had been two full weeks into June, meaning the program was one third of the way done. Cecilia informed him after the first day that it was a six week program. Six lucky weeks that Amy got to spend with you.

Rhett didn’t want to admit that he was going to see you. But he knew deep down that was the main reason. Seeing you for not even a full five minutes was slowly becoming the highlight of his days. Amy and Cecilia also started to notice his happy demeanor after picking her up.

“What’s got you so uppity?” Cecilia asked when they walked through the door. A devilish smirk appeared on Amy’s face. She set her backpack down near the table. Rhett rolled his eyes at the both of them, setting his keys on the table.

“Uncle Rhett likes the librarian.” Rhett narrowed his eyes at her, a look of disbelief on his face. Amy giggled as she watched Rhett shake his head at her and held his finger up to his lips. It was supposed to be their secret, one they didn’t speak about. Cecilia turned around with a smirk on her face.

“It ain��t Mrs. Benson, is it?” Cecilia joked with Amy. Rhett gave her a simple ‘what the fuck’ face, listening to Amy giggle some more.

“No, Grandma! Mrs. Benson’s too old for Uncle Rhett. It’s Miss Y/LN.” Cecilia raised an eyebrow, acting surprised. It wasn’t like she had forgotten who you were, or who your family was. She remembered Rhett talking about you a little bit in high school, and how you would volunteer at the local old folks home. Cecilia had always known you were a kind soul, something she knew that might work out Rhett's rough edges. Amy trotted off to the stairs, running up the steps quickly to go search her room for something.

“Rhett..” He gave her a curious look, not exactly able to pinpoint the tone in her voice. Cecilia threw her dish towel up over her shoulder, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“What ‘ma?” Rhett didn’t like her silence. He slowly started to recognize the situation more than the tone of her voice.

“That’s Amy’s teacher right now. You can’t be messing anyth-”

“I ain’t messing anything up, ‘ma. Besides.. She’d be too smart for me anyways.” Rhett smiled while he thought about you. It had been a long time since someone made him feel like this. Feel more than just the urge to fuck. It was an urge to meet you, learn everything about you, the ins and outs of your very essence.

“Well someone has to be smart enough to look out for you. Lord knows me and Perry can’t do it forever.” Rhett’s gaze flicked up at her from that table, a glint in his look. He hated to admit it was the truth. He wasn’t rushing to settle down anytime soon, but he sure did yearn for it from time to time. And one of those times happened to be now.

Which is what led him to now. Sitting in the parking lot of the library, twenty minutes before he was supposed to arrive. His foot was tapping on the floor near the gas pedal, his nerves finally starting to get to him. After the conversation with Cecilia, he planned to ask you out. But now it was one week later, three full weeks into the summer program. He looked up at the ceiling of his truck, pulling the brim of his hat down to cover his eyes. “Fuck.”

Rhett moved out of his truck, finally deciding that this was it. It was now or never. He tipped his hat to Mrs. Benson who gave him a small smile. “You’re early, Rhett.” He nodded his head to her, walking up to the front desk.

“I know Mrs. Benson, I was hoping to talk with Miss Y/LN. I don’t want to interrupt the kids though.” Rhett whispered to her with a smile. It was a partial truth, he didn’t want to interrupt them. He also didn’t want them to see him ask out their summer learning teacher. Mrs. Benson gave him a knowing look. Was it actually that obvious?

“She’s in the back room. There will be a door all the way down the third aisle of the non-fiction area. Just over there.” Mrs. Benson pointed in a direction near where the kids would be, but not that exact spot. Rhett tipped his hat and gave her a nod with a thank you. He headed off to find you, making sure he didn’t get lost somewhere in the library. Perry would never let him live that down.

Rhett peaked around the corner of what he thought was the third aisle. He was rewarded by seeing an open door at the end of it. He made his way down the aisle, knocking on the wooden door frame when he got to the doorway. He poked his head in, looking around in the old store room. It wasn’t very big, but sizable. There were three aisles within the room, made by many bookshelves that housed old, unused, and extra copies of books.

“Come in!” He recognized your voice immediately. There was a small rustling noise that came from the third aisle, letting him know where to find you. After a few steps into the room he peered around, finding you on your tip-toes trying to grab a book from above.

“Need any help?” Rhett asked, hoping you would entertain his offer. He took in your outfit, a knee length maroon skirt with a neatly tucked in beige button down. A pair of slip-on black Toms covered your feet, which you rolled back onto after not reaching the book. You looked down the aisle at him, surprised to see him, a small smile covered your lips.

“Some help would be much appreciated. Normally,” he made his way down the aisle, “there is a stool. But it is MIA today apparently.” Rhett nodded with a smile, reaching for the book you pointed at. You checked your watch, seeing there was another fifteen minutes before pick up. “Pretty early today, Rhett.”

“Yeah,” he handed the book to you and watched you flip the pages, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, that so?” You looked at him, his warm oases staring down to meet your own eyes.

“Yeah, it is.” You moved back, leaning against the wall behind you. Rhett moved to stand in front of you, your hands clutching the book to your chest. Your heart fluttered, this exact situation being something you had dreamed about since meeting him. You could tell something was different, he was a little different. It wasn’t just the awkward small talk the two of you had while he picked Amy up.

“Well, go on.” Rhett bit his bottom lip for a moment, thinking about the right way to ask you. He had been over it multiple times prior, but now his mind was failing him.

“Would you like to go out? Like to dinner or something.” Rhett ran his tongue over his bottom lip, pulling your gaze away from his. You watched as the slick muscle glided over the dry skin, wetting it thoroughly. Rhett took notice and moved a little bit closer to you. Your cheeks filled with a warmth when you noticed how close he was, only a few inches away.

“I-I would like that, Rhett.” He never thought he would be able to get someone as articulate as you, to stumble over her words. You looked away for a brief moment, turning your head to look down the hallway. Rhett brought a finger up to your cheek, gently pulling your face back to face him. A soft smile matched his soft gaze. He tipped his hat up, leaning closer to you.

When his lips pressed against your it was like fireworks went off. It was gentle, a gentleness you were surprised Rhett had inside of him. One of his hands moved to your waist, just resting, while the other cupped your jaw and cheek. Three weeks of small talk and ruminating on memories had finally come to a precipice. The kiss wasn’t anything crazy, maybe the beginnings of what could have been an intense makeout. Rhett pulled back, the hand on your waist moved to adjust his hat a little bit. His thumb was rubbing your cheek, making your heart flutter.

“When do you want me to pick you up?”

“There ain’t no way.”

“No, I’m being serious!” The two of you had moved to the Handsome Gambler after diner, deciding to get a few drinks.

“How am I supposed to believe that little ol’ you stole a traffic cone?” Rhett could barely picture it in his brain. University years you drunkenly toting home a traffic cone. Not to mention the fact you were apparently living in the dorms at the time.

“I was different then, more wild.” You sipped at your cider while watching him. That dopey smile appeared again, making your heart flutter. It was true that your years at university were a bit more wild. Experiencing everything that wasn’t little ol’ Wabang was exciting at the time. You tried to experience as much as you could while at university. Partying, drinking, smoking, fucking, etc. It was all new and something you needed to try, at least once.

“I just,” Rhett leaned across the table a little bit as his voice lowered, “can’t really picture it.” You cocked your head to the side, giving him a questioning look.

“Picture what, Mr. Abbott?” Rhett felt a heat rise to his cheeks at your words. Mr. Abbott had always been a title reserved for his father, but he couldn't ignore what it stirred up in him. He leaned back into the booth seat, his hand holding his beer firmly on the table.

"Picture you out partying and what not. I'm just used to you being a little bookmouse." Rhett was mentally kicking himself in the ass. Bookmouse? What the hell was that?

"A bookmouse?" Rhett flushed even more, trying to hide his embarrassment.

"Yeah," Rhett thumbed the rim of his glass bottle, "cause you liked books and were quiet." Another flutter. You couldn't help but smile at Rhett's cuteness. The way he was talking, both awkwardly and confidently, made you giggle.

"Well, this bookmouse did a lot more than just read books at university." You winked at him. Rhett's mind swirled with possibilities of what you meant. He shifted in his seat, adjusting himself in his pants. "Maybe I'll show you some day."

Rhett raised an eyebrow at your proposition. Fuck, he liked the sound of that. He leaned over the table one more time, "How's about we get out of here?" Eyes flicking towards the door.

"I'd love to but," Rhett's eyebrows knitted together, "I gotta get stuff ready for the kids tomorrow." Rhett had almost forgotten that it was the middle of the week. He actually had forgotten until you grounded him. Rhett nodded, jaw clenching in a casual way. He wasn’t annoyed at you, more or less annoyed with the situation. Rhett loved that you enjoyed helping the kids with reading, making sure they grew up smart. Just like you.

“How’s about,” you mocked with a glint in your eye, “you take me home, cowboy?” Rhett smirked at your request, watching you finish off your bottle of cider. He nodded and finished off his own drink. He climbed out of the booth and offered his hand out to you. You gladly took it, lacing your arm around his.

The walk to his truck was full of giggles, your feet not wanting to keep you balanced. It had been awhile since you decided to drink, mainly leaving it back in your university days. Rhett was there for every stumble though, a smile plastered on his face while he caught you. When the two of you got to his truck you leaned near the rear fender, staring at him. A soft giggle came out of you, earning you a cute questioning face from Rhett.

“Hmm?” Rhett crept closer to you, his hands grabbing the top of the truck's bed. Rhett had effectively caged you between him and his truck. “What’s got you gigglin’ like that?” Rhett leaned towards you, bringing a hand up to tip up the brim of his hat. Rhett was only a few inches away from your face. Rhett couldn’t get enough of this, seeing you nearly pinned underneath him.

“You’re cute.” Rhett could smell a hint of cider on your breath, lacing your words while you talked. “I want you to come home with me.”

“You’re pretty cute yourself.” Rhett tilted his head so his lips were near your ear, “And that could be arranged.” Rhett’s hand traveled down to your waist. You squinted at him, remembering your words from earlier.

“We can’t do anything tho-” The hand that was on the truck came to your cheek as his lips covered yours. It was another gentle kiss, just like the one earlier in the back room. Your hands rested against his chest while his lips worked over yours.

“We don’t have to.” Rhett didn’t want to pressure you into anything. He wanted this to work out. He yearned for it to work out. “I’ll help you get stuff ready for the kids, promise.” Rhett pressed a small kiss to your cheek before removing himself from you. He stepped towards the passenger side door, opening it and gesturing for you to climb in. “Hop on in.”

The ride back to your little house was quick, not too far out of town. You always deemed yourself lucky by getting somewhere this close in town, not out in the middle of nowhere. Rhett’s hand sat planted on your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles during the ride. Rhett made sure to get the door for you, offering his hand to stabilize you when you stepped out of his truck. A smile spread across his face when he saw the inside of your place. Art adorned the walls while the shelves of your bookcases were packed full. It was messy but neat, something Rhett always found captivating about you.

“Whatcha think?” You toed your shoes off while you looked at him, balancing yourself against the wall. Rhett took off his own boots then followed you into the kitchen.

“It’s you.” Rhett couldn’t think of any other way your house would be. It felt homey. It felt like you. You grabbed out two glasses from the cabinet, filling them up with water from the sink. You offered him one, which he reluctantly accepted. Water wasn’t his favorite type of drink, but it would do for now. Rhett placed his hat on your kitchen table, sitting down while you sat across from him.

For the rest of the night the two of you joked while getting around your items for the program. Rhett questioned your choices of coloring pages, while you pressured him to drink more water to sober up. A warmth had spread all over him, knowing this is the spot he wanted to be. He wanted to be here helping you get wax paper ready for sun catchers, and laughing about the embarrassing old things the two of you had done.

“Sleep is finally catching up with me.” You checked your phone briefly, seeing how late it was. Rhett hadn’t realized how late it actually was. A part of him was surprised that you were even up this late. He thought you might be the type that went to bed at 10pm almost every night.

“It’s about time I left then.” Rhett didn’t want to leave, he wished he could stay forever. He reached for his hat, fingers barely touching it when he spoke up.

“Or you could stay.” Your eyes met his, watching as his tongue wetted his bottom lip. Rhett tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. The proposition was too tempting.

“Would that be okay?” His cerulean eyes never left yours. After a moment you averted your eyes and nodded. The two of you placed your cups in the sink before making your way back to your bedroom. A nervousness was settling inside of you, a part of you worried that things would get out of hand. Rhett noticed this and placed his hands on your shoulders, pulling you in so his chest was pressed against your back. “It’ll be okay, we won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

Rhett wouldn’t admit it, but he was also nervous. Nervous to finally have you in this manner, something so domestic. It was scary, opening himself up to someone. It was more terrifying than riding a thousand pound bull. The thrill was much different though. “I don’t have any pants for you to sleep in.” Rhett nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’ll wear my underwear, if that’s fine.” You reassured him that that was okay before moving out of his grasp. You dug into your own dresser, finding your own sleep shorts and then an old t-shirt. You excused yourself to the bathroom, taking your clothes to change into. You hadn’t expected your nerves to ramp up.

After you brushed your teeth and changed you made your way back to your bedroom. Rhett sat on the edge of his bed, typing out something on his phone. He had shucked off his pants and flannel while you were gone, sitting in his grey boxer briefs and white t-shirt. A flutter stirred inside your chest, making your nerves jump up again. Rhett set his phone on the side table before noticing you were back.

“Oh, hey.” A small smile covered his lips when he saw you. God, you were so fucking beautiful. He took in your messy hair and old Wabang High t-shirt, one that he probably also had laying around somewhere.

“There is a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet.” Rhett nodded before standing up. He stopped next to you, bringing a hand up to your cheek. A small kiss was placed on your forehead. Rhett’s thumb rubbed softly against your cheek until he left for the bathroom. You climbed into bed, a loving smile on your face.

Many thoughts swirled around in your head but one specifically stood out. He is the one you would want to do this with every night. He is the one you wanted to be domestic with. The one you didn’t want to screw up with. Rhett was the one.

The sound of your alarm woke you up first. You quickly turned it off, not wanting the blaring noise to continue any longer. When you laid back down a firm arm wrapped around your midsection. It reminded you that there was someone else inside of your bed. Rhett Abbott. He was pulling you back into his toned chest.

Heat radiated from his chest to your back, igniting a flame inside of you. This is everything you ever wanted. The man you had always wanted curled up behind you, keeping you close to him. If it wasn’t for having to work you would lay here all day with him. Rolling around in the sheets, the both of you treating each other to all the pleasures you had to offer. But alas, the library was calling. You went to sit up, the firm arm not releasing you.

“Don’t.” His voice was gruff, soaked in sleep still. When you looked at him he kept his face pressed into your shoulder blade, rutting his hips into your ass lightly. The heat in your chest moved up to your cheeks, his erect cock pressing into the flesh of your ass. A small part of you loved that he wasn’t even trying to hide it. Hide the effect you had on him, especially so early in the morning.

“Rhett, I have to.” Rhett nuzzled into you, pressing his hips harder into your ass. Rhett was really trying to get you to stay, tempting you with something you both wanted. You didn’t have intentions of giving in fully, but what would be the harm and giving him something to remember?

Rhett’s hand gripped on your hip, you rolling your ass back onto his cock. A groan emanated out of him. “Fuck.” You pulled back from him and rolled over to face him. Rhett moved onto his back as you shifted to hover over him slightly. Your hand snaked under the blanket, palming his dick under the covers. Rhett let out a few more groans and profanities, eventually pushing the blanket down to his mid thigh.

Rhett’s breath was a touch shaky as you dipped your hand below the elastic band. His hips bucked slightly when you fully grasped his cock. Rhett groaned at the contact of your soft hand on his cock. “Fuck, darlin’.” His head fell back into the pillows as you watched him, feeling his cock pulse under your touch. Rhett’s hands drifted to push his boxer briefs down, letting you get a full view of everything. Rhett looked back up at you, oases warm and inviting as ever.

You connected your lips with his, consuming his groans while you continued to stroke his cock. His hips bucked every now and then, trying to get more friction. When you pulled back from the kiss, you moved your mouth down over his cock in your hand. After stopping your strokes you locked eyes with Rhett, letting a large glob of spit fall off your tongue to his cock in your hand. Rhett groaned as you resumed your strokes, a new slick feeling to your hand. You ran your thumb over his head every now and then, collecting his precum to mix with your spit.

“So dirty.” It was all Rhett could say as his hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you up to him. He smashed his lips into yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You never thought Rhett could get this needy, but god did you love it. Rhett’s cock started to twitch more often in your hand, signaling his orgasm was approaching. You pressed your forehead to his when you pulled back from the kiss. Then as faint as a whisper you heard him speak. “Please.”

“Give it to me Rhett, let go.” Rhett’s free hand moved to push up his t-shirt, showing off his flexing abdomen. Without another second Rhett was spilling his cum on your hand and his stomach. A ragged ‘fuck’ fell from his lips, with whimpers mixed with groans following. You stroked him through his orgasm, his hips stuttering and bucking with every stroke. Rhett couldn’t remember the last time a hand job made him feel this good.

Rhett laid there, blissed out on the bed. Rhett could barely focus on the world around him, only focusing on the amazing hand job he just had. He was pulled back from his thoughts when he felt a warm wet washcloth drag over his stomach, He groaned softly when you wiped off his cock, cleaning off all potential left over cum.

Rhett smiled as he watched you toss the washcloth into the hamper, moving back over to him on the bed. “That enough to hold you over?” Rhett pulled his boxer briefs back up around his waist. He leaned up and kissed you, one of his hands cupping your cheek.

“More than enough.”

For the next three weeks Rhett made it a point to show up for pick up early. He would seek you down in the library, not caring if you were with the kids or not. If you were with the kids he would patiently wait, scanning whatever bookshelves were closest. That’s where you caught him today.

“Gonna start reading anytime soon?” Rhett looked up from the shelf to see you. You were wearing a pair of mom jeans today, something you corrected him on a few weeks ago. The baggy sweater you wore complimented them. Rhett put on a little bit of an embarrassed smile as you crept a bit closer. He took his cowboy hat, leaning in a bit closer to you. He was only a few inches away from you now.

He couldn’t help but stare at you. How did he manage to actually capture your attention? Someone this ethereal giving him the time of day seemed like a dream. Your eyes flicked from his cerulean eyes to his lips. Rhett brought his hat up to the side of your faces, shielding anyone from seeing the two of you. It felt like the heat of the library had been turned up a few degrees.

Just as he was about to kiss you, you put your hand up to his chest. Rhett stopped immediately, not wanting to push too far. It wasn’t that he was worried about you not wanting him. You definitely wanted him, or at least that’s what he picked up on from late night texts and pictures you had sent him. “Hmm?”

“I don’t want any of the kids to see.” Rhett smiled. That was one thing he had learned to love about you within the few weeks. Even though they tended to be too much sometimes, you always thought of your summer program kids first.

“You’re right,” Rhett took a step back from you, “wouldn’t want them to get any ideas.” He placed his hat back on his head.

The two of you slowly made your way over to the work area for the kids. They were reading, as usual. You had told Rhett that this was the best way to get the kids to calm down before handing them back to their parents. Amy had always been a relatively calm kid, so he couldn’t imagine what she’d be like riled up.

“End of the week?” Rhett was counting down the days. Waiting for the end of the program to finally show up. Waiting for the night he could take you out, show you how much he cared about you. Rhett ashamedly couldn’t wait to bed you either. His own hand was starting to get boring, the only thing spicing it up was the half naked photos you sent him accompanied by texts about what you’d like to do with him. His brain clung to the memory of you jerking him off, something he couldn’t let go of. Which made the next day extra special.

Rhett barely got a lick of sleep that night, fisting his dick harshly until he came to the picture you sent him. It was as if you knew the effect you were having on him. Sending a picture in this old cowboy hat you had found somewhere, black lace bra and panties on display. It was a good thing that Rhett wasn’t a religious man, because he would definitely be condemned to hell after this month.

So, Rhett made sure to show up to the library an hour early that day, not just fifteen or twenty minutes. Mrs. Benson politely told him that you were in the back room again, a bit of a confused look on her face. He bee-lined for the back room, silently walking in and closing the door behind him. He made sure to switch the lock on the back room door before looking up and down the aisles for you. He found you in the third aisle, in just the outfit he needed you to wear for his plan. He had double checked in the morning, asking for an outfit picture which earned a small winky face with a picture.

The plaid skirt flared out from your hips, stopping at a little bit before your knees. A baggy cardigan covered your top, making Rhett wonder if you had a tank top or anything underneath it. God, he wished he could have done this sooner.

“Hey.” Rhett watched you jump slightly, spooked by his presence.

“Oh my god, Rhett. You scared me.” You held your hand over your chest, Rhett’s eyes trailing to look at your fingertips touching the bare skin of your clavicle. Nope, no tank top. It was the skin he craved to mark up, leave little trails that you could remember him by daily.

“Wasn’t my intention.” He flashed a crooked smile as he took a few steps closer. You could tell there was something different about him today, almost as if he was stalking you. When he reached you he pecked your cheek, making your heart flutter. You loved that he still had this effect on you. You checked your wristwatch, realizing he was much earlier than normal.

“What’s got you coming in so early? There ain’t another hour, well, forty-five-ish minutes before you have to be here.” You went to turn back to face the shelf but Rhett grabbed your wrist.

“Wanted to give you a surprise.” Rhett walked around you, guiding you so your back was almost against the bookshelf.

“A surprise? I don’t recall you saying you had one for me.” Rhett chuckled at your words, leaning in and kissing your jawline.

“Wouldn’ be much of a surprise then, now would it?” Rhett’s lips trailed down your neck, nipping every now and then. Your hands instinctively moved to his chest and shoulders, the material of his flannel soft under your fingertips. One of his hands settled on your waist while the other cradled the other side of your jaw and neck. A soft noise escaped you, urging Rhett to continue with his plan.

“Been waiting weeks,” he lips were soft on your neck in between words, “waiting patiently.” The hand on your waist found the bottom of your baggy cardigan. It was thrilling when he pushed it up slightly, his calloused fingertips grazing over the newly exposed skin.

“Rhett, I-”

“I locked the door.” He pulled back, pupils blown wide with lust as he stared at you. “Wanna make you feel good, the same way you did to me.” You checked your wrist watch again, seeing there was still forty minutes before you had to get the kids ready to leave.

“You better make it quickly then, Mr. Abbott.” Rhett groaned at the title you called him. You had picked up on it throughout the weeks, noticing how his breath would hitch after hearing it. Rhett smashed his lips into yours, a messy kiss pursuing.

The hand grazing your skin under your cardigan moved to the front of your skirt. Fingers dipped between the apex of your thighs, pressing tightly on your pussy. A moan was torn out of you, not expecting Rhett to do this. Was this the surprise he was talking about? It had to be. The hand on your pussy left your body, Rhett pulling back for a moment.

“I wanna taste you.” It felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, slightly worried about the situation. What if someone were to walk in? Rhett did say he locked the door though. Finally you spoke.

“Depends on how quick you can be, Mr. Abbott.” A smirk tugged at his lips. Without warning, Rhett started to drop to his knees. His hands moved to the hem of your skirt, barely brushing the skin of your thighs.

“Don’t worry ma’am, I can be quick.” The heat in your cheeks boiled as you nodded your head. He pushed the plaid skirt up your thighs, kissing newly exposed skin. “Hold this.” Rhett said as he offered the edge of your skirt to you. You grabbed the material, holding it in your hands tightly. Rhett let out a groan when he saw your soft pink lace panties.

Without warning Rhett pressed his fingers against your panties, rubbing softly at first. Rhett could feel a wetness soaking through the front of your panties. He watched as your hands tightened on your skirt, faltering slightly. His hand touched yours, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Keep your skirt up, sweetheart.” Your cheeks burned at the pet name he had started to call you through the weeks.

Rhett moved closer, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He slowly guided them down your legs, taking them off and sneakily placing them in his back pocket. He pressed quick kisses to your thighs before reaching your bare cunt. Rhett pushed his tongue between your folds, licking at your clit. You used one hand to hold your skirt, stabilizing yourself with the bookshelf behind you.

Your mouth hung agape as Rhett flicked and licked at your pussy. One of his arms wrapped under your thigh, placing one of your legs over his shoulder. You gripped the shelf behind you tighter, pleasure mounting inside of you. Rhett brought a hand up, slipping a finger inside of your entrance. It was a stretch, but it wasn’t enough. The sensation made you yearn for more, yearn for more of Rhett to be inside of you.

“Rhett..” His name was barely a whisper on your lips, trying to stay quiet. You looked over at your wrist watch once more, noticing only ten minutes had passed. Rhett pushed another finger inside of you, earning a moan as your head lolled back. His two fingers thrusted into you as his mouth gave all its attention to your clit.

“You taste so good.” Rhett whispered just loud enough for you to hear. “Been thinking about this for weeks.” The hand on your skirt tightened a little bit more, your hips starting to cant forward. You started to roll your hips against Rhett’s mouth, the vibrations from one of his groans adding to your pleasure. Rhett’s fingers prodded at that sensitive spot inside of you, increasing the speed of his tongue flicking your clit.

With that combination you let go, coming all over Rhett's mouth. Rhett’s tongue switched from the quick flicks to slow languid strokes, helping not to overstimulate you too much. Soft moans poured out of you, riding out your climax on Rhett’s tongue. Rhett pulled away from you, his fingers leaving you empty inside. A strong desire within you wished he would fill you again, with his cock this time. But you knew that there wouldn’t be any time for that.

Rhett helped lower your leg down, standing up and making sure you were stable. You let your skirt fall, reaching out and grabbing his hand. You brought his hand up to his mouth, taking the two fingers covered in your cum into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits, making him groan and adjust himself in his jeans.

“You’re so dirty.” Rhett whispered against your cheek, his forehead resting against your temple. “Told you you tasted good, don’t ya?” You nodded. You popped off of his fingers, licking your lips afterwards.

“Can I get my underwear back?” You asked playfully. Rhett smirked again, giving you your answer. “Really?”

“It’s my prize, sweetheart.”

The two of you left the back room, earning a questioning look from Mrs. Benson. It was only ten minutes before the other children's parents would start showing up. Rhett hung around and chatted with you, letting Amy keep reading her book. Which ended up with her still reading after all of the other kids had left. Rhett said she could use the time, but you knew the real reason why he was hanging around.

It was a Friday night, which meant the summer program was over. It had ended that morning, Rhett showing up early to pick Amy up for the last time. He hadn’t mentioned this ride all week, probably not wanting to pressure you into coming. But you wouldn’t have considered it pressuring, you wanted to see him.

Rhett was beyond happy to see you out at his competition tonight. Even more happy when you gave him a small kiss, telling him to break a leg. It was something you had picked up in college, your theater friends explaining that it was bad luck to wish someone good luck before a show. Which you had explained to Rhett briefly one night while the two of you were cuddled up watching a movie. Rhett couldn’t help but think that was what saved him during his ride, when his hand felt like it was gonna slip from the rope. It didn’t though, finishing his ride without anything bad happening.

Tonight was the first time he was allowed to show any type of overly affectionate PDA. Finding you after his ride couldn’t come soon enough. You were hanging out near the rider area, patient as always. Rhett just needed you, needed to thank you for everything. You let out a squeal when his arms snaked around you, picking you up and spinning you around. You quickly grabbed for your glasses, making sure they wouldn’t fall off your face. Hoots and howls could be heard from the other riders. Rhett tipped his hat after he set you down, hand caressing your jawline. His lips connected with yours, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

It was a gentle kiss, like a lot of the kisses you had shared so far. Kisses at the library, when he took you home after dinner, on the couch cuddled up. So many gentle kisses before, but this one was different. It was something unspoken in this one. An unspoken amount of love for one another.

“Let me take you home.” He whispered, adrenaline still pumping through his system. Rhett hunted down Perry, instructing him to drive his truck home. Perry gave him a knowing look before telling him he was proud of him.

Your heart raced as you sat in the passenger seat, Rhett driving the both of you back. His hand was glued to the inside of your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles. It wasn’t that you were nervous to be with Rhett, that was not it. It was the gravity of the day. The two of you had been keeping things as steady as possible, not wanting anything to get too convoluted while you were teaching Amy. But you weren’t teaching her anymore. The two of you were essentially free now, free to be together to the fullest extent.

“We don’t hav-”

“I want to.” You looked at Rhett, his eyes flicking over to you before focusing back on the road. You adjusted your glasses, “I’m not nervous about doing it or anything.”

“I mean you did promise to show me your wild side one day.” Rhett snickered, remembering the first night the two of you went out.

“I think your surprise at the library counted as that.” You shot him a playful glare as the two of you pulled into your driveway. “It’s just..” Your words trailed off, biting at your lower lip.

“Jus’ what?” There was a short silence. The look on your face was softer now, not as playful. But Rhett could tell you were struggling with something, there was clearly something on your mind. He reached out, rough fingertips gently guided your face to look at his. Rhett knew it had to be now that he told you the thing he had wanted to tell you for weeks.

“I love you.” The two of you said it at the same, confessing your love for one another. You let out a giggle as Rhett flashed you a big smile. He leaned in towards you, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger. His lips moved heatedly on yours, consuming everything you had to offer. His hand shifted to the curve of your jaw, fingers splaying out near your ear. The kiss continued for a moment longer before you both pulled back for air.

“Inside, now.” You demanded.

Rhett killed the engine while you got out. His hand snaked around your waist when you got to the door. While you pulled your keys out, Rhett’s hand sneaked into the back pocket of your jeans. A brief squeeze on your ass had you shooting him a look. He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss onto your neck. “Who locks their door out here?”

“It’s an old habit from the big city.” You explained while you slid the key inside the lock. “Plus, I don’t want any unwanted critters inside.” The two of you stumbled in the doorway, Rhett still close by your side.

“Is that what I am? Unwanted critter?” Rhett joked, hands pulling you flush against him after closing the door. You giggled as he started nipping at your neck.

“Don’t think I’d tell an unwanted critter I love him.” Rhett chuckled at your response. The two of you headed through the hallway, hands and lips traveling all over each other. Rhett’s flannel and hat had been lost in the living room, yours in the hallway.

Once to your bedroom, Rhett started to take a bit more control. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them tight to his. You could feel his cock getting hard in his jeans, his belt buckle digging into your hip. One hand moved to your face, cupping your cheek while kissing you roughly. He kept walking you back until the bed hit the back of your knees. The kiss broke as you went to lay down on the bed, Rhett following you immediately.

"You look so beautiful." Rhett said as he admired your beauty. He finally had you laid out underneath him, a dream come true. His hands ghosted over your sides, grabbing at your hips and pulling them tightly to his. Your arms snaked around his shoulders, fingers combing up through the hairs on the nape of his neck. Rhett’s mouth worked on your neck, groaning as he left a wet trail along your skin.

A small giggle came out of you as he nosed along up your neck. He kissed up your jaw before pulling up to look at you, “What’s got you gigglin’”?

“Oh nothing, Mr. Abbott.” Rhett rutted his hips into you harshly at the name.

“You better watch yourself with saying that.”

“What? Don’t like it, Mr. Abbott.” You teased. Rhett groaned, fingers grabbing your chin tightly.

“You know what that does to me.” You pulled him down and connected your lips with his. The both of you smiled into the kiss as your hips rocked together. His hands moved to the hem of your t-shirt, pushing up the shirt to get access to your skin. Fingers ghosted and trailed up the skin of your midsection. He pushed the shirt up over your chest, exposing the light pink lace of your bralette. Your back arched when he grabbed your breasts, kneading over the lace.

“Like what you see?” You only half joked.

“You have no idea.” Rhett tugged at your shirt more, signaling it was time to remove the article. After your shirt was gone Rhett kissed the valley between your breasts. His hands kneading at your flesh while kissing your chest. His fingers slipped underneath the band of your bralette, guiding it up over your head.

It was the first time he had seen your bare breasts. Yeah, you had sent pics of you in lingerie to him, but never anything completely bare. He pressed a few more kisses all over your chest before taking a nipple into his mouth. Your back arched slightly, his mouth consuming more of your breast. His thumb and forefinger started pinching and rolling your other nipple. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly.

“Rhett.” His name was barely a whisper on your lips. You could feel him groan around your nipple when your hand trailed down between the two of you. You palmed the front of his jeans, his cock pressing hard against your hand. Rhett sat up, pulling his own shirt off and undoing his belt buckle and jeans. After he shucked them off he moved to undo your jeans.

“A matching set?” Rhett questioned when he saw the light pink lace panties. You had planned it out all week, knowing that you would finally have a moment like this. A moment of being completely vulnerable to Rhett. His fingers ghosted up over your legs as he settled between your legs. You felt completely bare under his warm oasis of a gaze. A bit of nervousness flowed through you, nodding softly as a response to his question.

“Cat got your tongue, mouse?” You shot him a little look. The little name took you by surprise, a small call back to your first night at the bar. Fingertips trailed over the pink lace covering your core. Rhett started rubbing his fingers on your clothed cunt, feeling the small wet patch that had started to form. His gaze locked with yours as you let moans and gasps fall from your lips. His hands moved to the edges of the lace, pulling them down slowly over your legs.

After tossing the panties somewhere behind him, he grabbed one of your ankles and lifted it up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your ankle. Soft lips continued down the inside of your leg, Rhett slowly settling against the bed. His hot breath fanned over your cunt, your insides clenching at the sensation. Rhett wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping you locked in place before he even started.

Rhett’s tongue flattened on your clit, licking slowly. Both of your hands snaked down, one landing on the comforter while the other took its place in Rhett’s hair. Your back arched, pleasure flowing through you with each lick of his tongue. One of his arms left your thigh, reaching out to your hand on the comforter. He laced his fingers with yours as he continued his feast between your thighs.

Gasps and moans mixed in with calls of Rhett’s name, urging him to continue. Small vibrations could be felt from Rhett’s groans, pushing you closer to your climax. The tightening sensation in your abdomen was becoming more noticeable. Rhett flicked his tongue on your clit then dragged it slowly back and forth.

“Holy fuck…” You could almost feel the smirk on his lips. Rhett flicked his tongue more intensely on your clit, finally pushing you over the edge.

This was a similar sensation that Rhett got from riding bulls, pure ecstasy. All Rhett could think was how beautiful you looked, coming all over his mouth. The way your back arched off the bed, hand tightening against his own. Seeing you give yourself up to him, letting him push you over the edge in such an intimate way had him grinding against the bed. Rhett couldn’t help but think about how good you would feel wrapped around his cock. Being connected at your core.

When he pulled back you finally got a break, your chest falling heavily. A small trail of wet kisses was created as Rhett moved back up your body. He nuzzled your neck and jaw, pressing more kisses before capturing your lips with his. You could taste yourself on his tongue, moaning into his mouth.

“You taste so fucking good, mouse.” You rolled your eyes.

“My turn to taste you.” You pressed your hand on his chest, acting as if you were going to roll the two of you over.

“Nah,” Rhett grabbed your hand and laced his fingers between yours, “I can’t wait to be in you any longer. Been waitin' too many weeks for this.” You rolled your hips up, feeling Rhett’s clothed cock press against your cunt. A groan rumbled in Rhett's throat while he captured your lips with his. One of his hands snaked down between the two of you, pushing his boxers down.

A moan passed your lips when you felt his cock rest against your pussy. Rhett haphazardly pushed his boxers all the way off. You brought your hand down to wrap around his cock. He groaned at the few strokes you gave him before you guided the tip to your entrance. Rhett propped himself up, looking down at you as his hips pushed forward.

Rhett watched as your jaw went slack. The stretch of his cock was intoxicating, filling you up the more his hips pushed forward. Your eyes never left Rhett's, warm oases welcoming you. A small whimper left Rhett once he bottomed out. Your warmth encapsulated him, letting him know this was where he was meant to be. Rhett eventually broke the stare, nuzzling down into your clavicle. Small kisses were peppered all over your skin.

Rhett dragged his hips back a little, slowly pushing forward the small amount. The sensation already had your body shivering with pleasure. Rhett started slowly rolling his hips, wanting to savor the moment as much as possible. He knew that the chances of this activity happening again were high, but he just needed for this moment to last. You wrapped one arm around Rhett's left shoulder, threading your fingers into his hair once more. Your other hand rested on the front of his chest.

"God, you're perfect." Rhett groaned, placing kisses along your neck and jawline. He knew sex would be special with you, but life-changing wasn't what he was expecting. The way your body reacted to every small touch had Rhett teetering on the edge of climax already.

"Rhett, I-" You couldn't finish the sentence, to caught up in the waves of pleasure flowing through you.

"What do you need, sweetheart?" Rhett pulled back to look down at you, cupping the side of your face. "Tell me."

"Harder."

Rhett pulled back, leaving just the tip inside of you. He kept his eyes on your face as he slammed back in hard. Your whole body reacted, back arching while your hands scrambled for purchase. Your mouth was agape as sinful sounds poured from it. Rhett kept this steady pace of hard thrusts, giving you exactly what you wanted.

"Oh fuck, Rhett!" The head of his cock pounded into the sensitive spot inside of you. Every time he hit it, a new jolt of pleasure ran through you. The coil in your lower abdomen was tight, about ready to snap and send you over the edge. You could tell Rhett was getting close too, harder breaths coming from him. Rhett didn't say a word, his hand moving between the two of you to rub your clit. That's when it was game over.

The combination of his fingers on your clit and powerful thrusts sent you tumbling over the edge. Pleasure washed over your nerves, Rhett’s finger still working your clit. Rhett groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. His thrusts started to stutter, focusing on the feeling of your walls working his cock. Crescent shapes formed in Rhett’s skin, your nails digging harshly as he kept your orgasm going.

“Fuck, sweetheart. The way you feel,” Rhett pressed his forehead to yours, “I ain’t gon’ last.” You nodded as you stared into his eyes. It was Rhett’s turn for his mouth to be agape, groans and heavy breaths coming from him. Your fingers threaded into Rhett’s hair once more, pulling him down to the nuzzle against your clavicle. Rhett felt safe with you, rutting into your warmth that he had craved for weeks. It was a sense of security, something he had never truly felt in his life.

“Fuck, I love you.” Rhett whispered against your skin.

“I love you too, Rhett.” With those four words and his name he was gone. His hips steadied as he thrusted into you one last time. Small kisses littered your collarbones as he kept his hips tight to yours, spilling his cum inside of you.

The two of you laid there for sometime, Rhett still slotted between your thighs as your fingers traced small circles on his shoulder blades. He traced a small pattern along your side, basking in the subsiding afterglow. That sense of security was blanketed over him. He never wanted it to end, wanting to feel this safe forever. A part of him wondered how he had never felt it before but he knew why. He hadn’t had you before. Not just in a sexual way, but he had never fully experienced this kind of love. The love that let him know he was always welcome. Always loved.

“Hmm?” You questioned, sensing a tiny shift in his demeanor. It wasn’t a bad shift, something much softer than what you thought Rhett might be capable of.

“Nothin’, I just..” Rhett propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at you. Your beauty was something Rhett could still marvel at. Like watching the early morning sun rise. “You make me feel something.” Small butterflies could be felt in your stomach.

“Feel what?” Rhett smiled, pushing some hair back from your face.

“Welcome.” A kiss. “Safe.” Another kiss. “Happy.” Another kiss. “Loved.” A final kiss. A warmth had raised into your cheeks. The smile on his face was one that was pure. The two of you stared at each other for a few more moments, just taking one another in. Rhett shifted, pulling himself out of you. Even though he was softened it still felt like you were losing something. Rhett moved to the spot on the bed next to you. You rolled on your side to look at him, letting out a soft noise as his cum started leaking out of you.

“We should clean up and talk.” The look he gave you was one full of sincerity.

“Talk about what?” You questioned. You used a playful tone to mask the tiny amount of anxiety you suddenly had. Rhett must have noticed because he cupped your cheek when he sat up.

“Don’t worry,” he pressed a kiss to your nose, “it’s nothin’ bad, mouse.”

The two of you made your way to the bathroom. Rhett used a warm washcloth to clean himself up, you sitting on the toilet watching him. It was domestic, something you could get used to. Might even let him clean you up the next time. Rhett kissed your forehead before heading back to the bedroom, letting you finish using the toilet and cleaning up.

Rhett had climbed under the comforter when you got back, his boxers being the only thing he wore. He was checking his phone briefly before looking at you, placing his phone on the side table. You moved to your dresser, grabbing a large t-shirt from the drawer. You didn’t bother with any underwear, climbing into bed and curling up next to Rhett. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close.

“So-”

“I th-” The both of you stopped and giggled. Rhett motioned for you to go first.

“I was just gonna ask what you wanted to talk about.” Rhett nodded, thumb rubbing softly on your skin.

“I want to talk about us.” Rhett was never great with conveying his emotions through words.

“What about us?” You teased. Rhett rolled his eyes.

“About how I want to,” Rhet paused for a moment, “want to be with you.”

“Rhett, you ju-”

“No,” Rhett bite his lower lip, “I want you more than physically. I want to be with you all the time.” You knew what he was asking of you. It was funny to watch him still beat around the bush after everything.

“Rhett, I’m not quite sure what you’re asking me.” You said with a smirk. He rolled his eyes once more, letting out a sigh.

“You really gon’ make m-” Rhett was cut off by you pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Rhett, I want to be with you too.” Rhett smiled as he kissed you again. His arms wrapped around you completely, rolling the two of you over. He peppered you with kisses, happiness spreading over the both of you. Rhett couldn’t be happier with you, happier with his little bookmouse.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott fluff #outer range fic #outer range #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman character

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heartseungs-archive · 2 months

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love.fm | h.rj

genre ❥ fluff, angst, coworkers to lovers pairings ❥ radio show host!renjun x fem!reader word count ❥ 7.2k warnings ❥ none author’s note ❥ had this sitting in my wip for a while after rewatching renra on akdong seoul....just thought it would be a really cute idea!!

My love's so young, I'm young, at a sweet age I can't only look at you

As the ‘ON AIR’ sign flickers to life, you pick up the familiar pair of headphones at your seat, colourful stickers decorating the headband to separate it from the rest. The other guys at the station don’t particularly mind sharing headphones, but you find having a personalized one more enjoyable.

Seulgi, your program director, stands behind the glass wall, flashing a thumbs up from where she’s comfortably nestled in her chair. Jeno is just beside her, but he’s much more focused on the music controls, ensuring that it’s broadcasting smoothly. There’s a teleprompter in front of you, but you know you won’t need it. You’ll probably go off script anyways.

Which is why your partner flashes a warning glance at you, and you simply grin. He’s the one who keeps track of time and attempts to stick to Seulgi’s meticulously planned program sheets, reigning you in when you go off tangents.

Huang Renjun has been your partner host for the past year, and the both of you make a good team. A wonderful team, actually, if the listener numbers are anything to go off by. You know it’s partially luck that the both of you got an interesting show to helm, but surely part of it is due to your efforts as well.

Renjun’s dressed in a comfortable black hoodie today, already wearing his reading glasses as he looks over the script. You had teased him for his poor eyesight until he finally caved and bought the white frames that now rest comfortably on his nose.

A cue from Seulgi jolts you out of your thoughts, and you quickly take a sip of water before turning on the microphone. Renjun flashes an encouraging smile at you, even though it’s practically routine at this point.

“Welcome to The Love Club, where we provide a solution towards each and every dilemma you have about romance. It’s your favourite DJ, Y/N, along with Ren-D. I hope your Friday is going good, dear listener, so grab a cup of tea and let us accompany you until midnight!” The words flow out of your mouth smoothly, from weeks upon weeks of practice. Even then, the rush of excitement that fills you each time you speak into the microphone still remains as new as the first day you stepped into the studio.

“Thank you to everyone who sent in their stories! Today, we’ll be discussing the topic of first loves. Our first story is from user jiyeonluv.”

Dear Ren-D and Y/N-D,

I’m Jiyeon, a high-school student. I have a crush on someone in my school, and I really, really like them. But we’re graduating already, and I think we’ll be going to different universities. Should I pursue him?

You hum gently, thinking over your reply. The letter causes a fond smile to make its way onto your face, just from how adorable it is. “I think you should go for it. After all, if both of you really like each other, it’s possible. Besides, it’s better to try and be rejected, rather than not and worry about the what ifs.”

Renjun nods. “Besides, I heard long-distance relationships are the trend now,” he adds.

“I’m not sure where Renjun gets his trends from, considering he barely uses the internet,” you contradict, and Renjun scoffs slightly. “However, I hope everything goes well for you, user jiyeonluv! On that note, the first song of today that we’ll be playing is Young Luv by STAYC.”

“Good job today,” you say, and Renjun quickly returns your tired grin. He pushes open the glass door, you following behind him. Your tote bag lies on the shelf outside the office along with your sneakers, and you quickly put your shoes on, smartphone in hand.

Seulgi and Jeno wave goodbye to you as you leave, both of them already preparing for the next programme. Their schedules run a bit differently from yours and Renjun’s, considering they manage the night programmes until two in the morning. You wouldn’t be surprised if the both of them were almost nocturnal at this point.

The hallway is dim at this time of night, the broadcasting station void of much activity except for the room you just exited. However, there are still footsteps here and there, likely from interns or security patrolling the building.

It’s a short walk from your studio to the carpark, but you’re already shivering by the time you exit the building. It’s coming to fall, and the leaves are already transitioning to shades of autumnal red and yellow.

It’s quickly halted by the feeling of a jacket over your shoulders, however, and you quickly look up at Renjun, a silent protest in your eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a hoodie on. You, on the other hand, should really start remembering to bring your own jacket.”

“I don’t need to, when you lend me one anyways,” you reply, and he huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes.

However, you’re quick to move your hands towards the heating vents of Renjun’s car once you’re inside, sinking into the plush leather seats comfortably.

“You don’t need to send me back, you know. The public buses are still running,” you mutter, your breath fogging up the window. You draw a smiley face on it absentmindedly, watching as the cityscape flies by.

“It’s not that safe. Besides, you’re on the way anyways.” Renjun’s lying, because you know where he lives, and it is most definitely not on the way. In fact, it’s likely added an extra fifteen minutes to his journey home, but you’re not going to protest with him further, especially when the rides are in your benefit.

Even though the both of you are able to continue an entertaining banter throughout the entirety of the radio program, you and Renjun seem to lapse more into silence once alone, likely due to fatigue as well. You suppose it’s also due to the fact that there’s not much need for words to be exchanged for you to feel comfortable in Renjun’s presence, him focused on the road and you with…well, nothing exactly. The drive is always a good time for you to clear your mind, considering Renjun’s careful enough and you completely trust him to get you back home safe.

“See you tomorrow,” he says once the both of you are in front of your apartment building and you wave to him before stepping out onto the pavement, watching as his car gradually disappears down the winding path.

When you reach home, you’re quick to fall into bed, already exhausted. You’ll shower tomorrow, you think, but for now, what you need is a good night’s sleep.

“Well, someone looks cranky.”

“Shut up, Haechan.”

“Even I don’t mess with Jaemin, Haechan. You should be careful,” Mark says, and Jaemin just nods. Haechan sighs dramatically, sinking back into the chair, and his antics are the first thing you see when you step into the office.

“Well, I hope no one’s cranky after what I bought,” you announce, paper bags with recognizable green logos in your hands. Jaemin immediately perks up, looking at you gratefully.

“You’re so much better than Haechan,” he says, a sound of indignance coming from the other boy at his statement.

“Eight shots for you- I don’t know how you actually drink that, by the way, an iced tea for Mark and a latte for Hyuck.” The boys mutter soft thank yous as they take the cups from you, leaving two inside. Your caramel macchiato, and someone else’s-

“Speak of the devil.” Renjun is quick to grab his drink from your outstretched hand, raising a brow at you. It takes a while for you to realise you said it out loud, and your cheeks turn red, quickly shaking your head. “I was just wondering where you were, and you walked in right after,” you explain, and he nods, stealing a sip of your drink before he goes to his seat. You’re used to it at this point, even if Renjun has already gotten his own cold brew. You had been the one to persuade the boy into trying your macchiato a few months ago, to no little amount of effort. After a while, he had caved, but Renjun would never admit that he liked your drink more than his own.

“Today’s meeting is quite important, which is why I asked you guys to meet early.”

“At nine in the morning, no less,” Jaemin mumbles, and there’s barely audible laughter from the other two boys in the room. You had been wondering why Mark had texted the groupchat asking all of you to come down to the office early.

This morning, you had stumbled out of bed groggily when your alarm awoke you, running to the bathroom when you realised you might be late. The coffee had simultaneously been an apology and a distraction, but it ended up not mattering as much, since Renjun had arrived later than you.

“We need to discuss our plans for the second half of the year. If you guys want to revamp your programmes, change something about it, or anything.”

Haechan raises his hand quickly. “I think 37.5MHz should be extended to four hours.”

“No one wants to hear you talk for four hours, Haechan,” Renjun replies, and Haechan looks at him incredulously.

“Just because you can’t appreciate the masterpiece that is my voice, doesn’t mean others won’t-”

“Let’s stay focused, guys,” Mark reminds, but even he’s struggling slightly to maintain a serious expression on his face. The five of you are already familiar with each other at this point, being the ones to host the weekday special programs.

Mark’s in charge of the broadcast from ten in the morning to noon, his programme aptly titled Mark’s Music Space. You had come up with it at a meeting once, and he ended up liking it a lot more than you expected.

At two, Jaemin’s the one in the studio, a cup of coffee always by his side. Which is accurate, you suppose, since his entire programme is cafe-themed. He’s the one in charge of curating most of the playlists for the station, considering how well-versed the boy is in picking songs based on the mood.

Haechan takes over at five with 37.5Mhz, brightening the natural lull of the afternoons with his cheery personality. The boy runs it almost like a podcast at this point, often spending more time chatting than playing music. Still, if his ratings are anything to go by, you suppose there is an audience that he appeals to.

And then at nine, it’s you and Renjun’s turn, with Love.fm. The most interesting program, in your opinion, but you’ll never tell the other guys that, because they’ll definitely begin arguing with you incessantly. Still, you’re proud of how much work you and Renjun have put in, taking hours to plan out your themes and filtering through the listeners’ letters personally.

“Y/N, Renjun. Anything you guys want to change?” You look up at Mark, shaking your head. “I’m happy with the program.” “Me too,” Renjun replies, and you grin at him.

Jaemin lets out a slight chuckle, Haechan right after him, and you cast a pointed glance at the two. “What?” Jaemin quickly shakes his head, expression becoming blank once again. “Nothing.”

You look at Mark’s hesitant expression, and decide to just bite the bullet. “Mark, what is it?” The boy’s expression is stricken as he meets your gaze, and he coughs slightly before continuing. “Oh..um…I was gonna ask if you and Renjun wanted to make Love.fm a viewable broadcast.”

”Why don’t I get a viewable broadcast?”

“Because you post everything on your Instagram already. If I was your fan, I wouldn’t want to see your face anymore,” Jaemin responds, and Haechan huffs petulantly.

“Like….a live stream?” Renjun asks hesitantly, and Mark nods. “Yeah. Your program is already so popular, and I think a lot of the listeners are quite curious about what you guys look like. It would be a good idea for publicity. Of course, you don’t have to do a viewable one every day, it could be once a week, or something,” he explains, and you consider the idea briefly. It isn’t a bad one. You’re not someone who’s particularly afraid of the camera, and neither is Renjun. The idea’s almost exciting, the fact that you and Renjun are something like mini-celebrities because of your programme.

“I’m down if Renjun is,” you say, smiling, and Mark looks relieved, turning to your partner. “Sure,” Renjun says, and Mark claps his hands together. “Great! We can do the first one on Monday? For everyone else, Seulgi’s also discussing with the publicity team about getting us to film additional content, so I’ll keep you guys updated on that.”

You realise now that this is likely Seulgi’s idea, and it makes sense, really. When you had first started the job, you hadn’t expected the listeners to show so much support for their show hosts. Jaemin, Haechan and Mark have something of their own following as well. The five of you have potential as media personalities, and it's obvious that Seulgi’s making good use of it.

“Want to get breakfast?” Renjun asks, leaning over to your seat. “Yes please, I’m starving.” You grab your things and follow him out, waving goodbye to the others in the room.

As you pass by the recording studio, you hear faint voices filtering out of the room.

“Welcome to Chenji’s this….”

“And that!” You immediately recognize Jisung’s baritone and see the two younger boys inside, already rehearsing for their show. “They’ve improved a lot,” you comment, a fond smile on your face as you watch the two.

“I remember when they first joined. Jisung couldn’t even say one sentence without stuttering,” Renjun adds, and you let out a soft giggle. “Well, it’s thanks to you that he’s so good now. Don’t act like you didn’t stay up practising with him.” Renjun’s cheeks redden at your comment, but you know it’s true. Despite his colder exterior, Renjun is caring to the ones closest to him, and has a soft spot for the nervous youngest. It’s something you’ve noticed about him after spending so much time together, his quiet acts of service.

“What are you thinking about?” Renjun asks as the both of you step out into the bright morning sunlight. He looks nice today, brown corduroy jacket over a white shirt and jeans.

“I like your outfit today,” you comment, not catching the way Renjun’s breath hitches, his pulse speeding up just barely.

“Are you just saying this because you want the jacket?”

“No promises.”

When I see you happy Naturally, I'm laughing along I get excited by your actions and toss and turn

Technically, you shouldn’t even be nervous. But you can’t shake the tension that grips you, despite the two cups of hot chamomile that you’ve already consumed. It’s okay, you tell yourself. Today is like any other broadcast, Y/N.

“We just hit fifty thousand listeners,” Seulgi announces, and you sigh shakily, hearing Mark let out a low whistle at the news. You take it back. Today isn’t like any other broadcast. That’s close to double your usual number. Your train of thoughts- more like a nervous trainwreck at this point, really- is brought to a halt by the feeling of a warm hand on yours.

“You okay?” Renjun asks, his gaze warm, and you feel your heartrate slow down slightly. It’s not that you don’t want this- you’re quite excited, to be honest, but there’s also a little fear at the viewers’ reactions.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he continues, out of earshot of the people outside. However, you’re quick to pull yourself out of it, shaking your head at Renjun. His concerned gaze doesn’t leave your figure, but you smile at him reassuringly.

“I’m fine. Ready as ever. Seulgi, shall we start?” You ask, and she nods, turning on the cameras. There’s a screen in front of you that shows the comments, but you decide not to look, instead focusing on your script and the camera.

“Hello, everyone! Today is a very special day. As you can see, Ren-D and I are meeting everyone for the first time via live stream.” Renjun waves shyly at that, and you automatically grin, nervousness easing slightly as you fall back into the routine of hosting.

“I feel like someone doing a face reveal,” Renjun points out, and you laugh slightly. “Yeah, me too. Honestly, I was so nervous.”

You’re feeling much better now, and it feels like any other evening in the broadcasting studio, Renjun next to you, script in hand.

“Let me read out our first letter today, from user tyongya.”

Dear Y/N-D and Ren-D,

You have no idea how excited I was for the broadcast today! I wrote this letter because I’ve been in a relationship with someone for two years, but we haven’t told each other we love each other yet. What is love to the both of you?

Thank you for this program, and I’m cheering both of you on!

“Oh…” you trail off as you think over your reply, head tilted. “Wow, that’s a big question,” Renjun comments, and you nod.

“I think love is wanting to see the other person happy, no matter what. Like, seeing them smile makes you smile too. That’s the simplest way I can put it,” you finally state, and Renjun makes a sound of agreement.

“Y/N said it well. If I love someone, I think I would place their happiness above my own. Personally, I would say that loving someone means that being with them makes you want to be a better person, both for them and for yourself.” Renjun’s looking at you as he says it, and his voice takes on a noticeably softer tone. You’re suddenly unable to look at him for some reason, gaze darting downwards to your script nervously.

Once you regain your composure, you continue, even though the back of your neck still feels warm for some reason.

“Yes, don’t forget that self-love is important too, guys,” you say, and Renjun chuckles, causing you to inevitably let out a laugh of your own as well. He’s smiling brightly, and you’re not sure whether it’s because of the excitement of doing a live video broadcast, but you can’t hold back the wide grin that appears resolutely on your features as well.

“Now, our next song is Love, Maybe by Melomance. User tyongya, this is for you. We hope you find love soon!”

“I knew you would recommend Love, Maybe,” Renjun says, a teasing smirk on his face. “It’s a good song!” you defend, and he doesn’t reply, causing you to jab him softly with your elbow.

“Say it’s a good song, or I won’t stop playing it in the car,” you threaten, leaning towards him until your faces are close. Renjun leans back playfully, away from you, and you only lean closer, eyes questioning.

Until your headphone wire gets caught, causing you to stumble forward into his chair. Renjun’s quick to catch you, and you turn to look at him, only realising your faces are a hair’s breadth away from each other when it’s too late.

You’re quite sure you’ve stopped breathing as you look into Renjun’s wide eyes. It seems like forever before he quickly regains his senses and puts some distance between the both of you, standing up from his chair and letting out a nervous cough.

You’re still in a daze, cheeks already reddening with their familiar flush.

”Guys, good job on the broadcast today- are you two alright?” Seulgi glances confusedly at the both of you as she steps in, and Renjun is the first to respond.

“Yeah…we’re fine. What did you say?” He asks, and Seulgi looks rather doubtful, even as she grins at the both of you.

“We broke our viewer record today. And you guys should see the comments,” she adds, handing the both of you her laptop. You scroll absentmindedly, taking a while to focus. There are thousands of them, coming in at a mile a minute even though the broadcast’s over.

Wow….the both of them look exactly how they sound. And I love their voices, so that speaks for itself.

Y/N looks like she could be a celebrity! And Renjun too.

It’s hard to conceal your happy smile at the positive comments, even if it’s shallow to care about your appearance. Renjun catches your eyes, and the previous tension seems to be dispelled. You continue scrolling down, not entirely ready for the next barrage of comments.

The more I think about it, Renjun and Y/N look so good together.

These two are so compatible…I wonder if they’re dating?

Wouldn’t it be so cute if they were a couple? They even run Love.fm together…it’s like something out of a fiction book.

You cough abruptly, cheeks flushing as Seulgi looks at you, concerned. Renjun seems to have noticed them too, handing the laptop back and averting his gaze from where you’re standing. You hear the door open, and realise the midnight news broadcast must be starting soon.

“Right, you guys must be tired. Go home and rest,” she nags, almost pushing the both of you out of the recording studio. You don’t even bother to resist her, thoughts hung up on the comments from the listeners.

There’s an awkward silence that hangs over you and Renjun as the both of you leave the company building, and you fiddle with your fingers, unsure of what to say. It continues even as you enter the car, and Renjun seems to feel it too, for he immediately plays music the moment the both of you get in.

You lean your head against the headrest, occasionally taking quick glances at Renjun when you think he isn’t looking. It makes you feel nervous somehow, as if you’re doing something you shouldn’t.

His profile is soft under the streetlights, silver hair shining brightly even in the darkness. You remember when he had first walked in with it, and you stared at him open-mouthed in shock. It was such a stark contrast from his previous raven black hair, and yet seemed to make his features glow even brighter. The thought makes your heart flutter against your own will. You’re bewildered at the strange feeling, and yet can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the boy.

“You’re staring. Is something wrong?” Renjun’s direct question causes you to sit up immediately, heart rate stumbling. “Nope, nothing,” you stutter out, stubbornly turning your gaze out the car window, just in time for you to miss the amused smile on Renjun’s face.

“Y/N, wait.” Your hand is on the car handle when Renjun halts you outside your apartment building. You turn back to look at him, tote bag already in your grasp. “What is it?” The silver-haired boy falls silent at that, seeming to hesitate over something. You’re patient, however, leaning back into the seat just as you recognise the next song that has started playing through his car speakers.

I'm gettin' really tired of this back and forth Why don't we just give in to this driving force? I mean, there's somethin' between us

The lyrics make your brain short-circuit, and you can’t help but interpret them in the context of the situation, filling your heart with a heady sort of hope as you look at Renjun. It feels like you’re wading into unfamiliar waters, but something tells you to keep going.

“You did well today.”

“Huh?” You’re brought back down to reality, Renjun’s words grounding you.

”You were nervous, but you got through it. I’m proud of you. That’s what I wanted to say, I guess,” he mumbles, and the words are sweet, warming your heart.

“That wasn’t what I was expecting,” you say reflexively, and he turns to you. “Were you expecting something else?” His gaze is strangely searching as he turns to you, almost as if he’s silently beseeching you to say something else as well. However, you’re seized by nerves, and quickly shake your head.

“No, nothing. Thank you, Renjun. You did well today too. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Even then, you feel a sense of disappointment, but you can’t possibly blame him for your own overactive imagination. It must be the comments getting to your head, you think, as you step out of the car and Renjun waves to you.

Still, you can’t shake the thought of Renjun being more to you, of the both of you being more than just colleagues and friends. It’s never been something that’s come to mind, and yet made glaringly obvious by the events of today. The way you are starting to find it harder to let your eyes stray from his features, the drives home with him becoming the most treasured moments of your day.

The answer’s simple, really. Stupidly simple that you should have figured it out a long time ago, considering the fact that the both of you run a romance advisory programme. You have feelings for Renjun. Not-so-platonic feelings, if the speeding up of your heartbeat in the past few days are any indication.

You only remember the second half of the lyrics when you’re on your sofa, the lyrics of the song that was playing in Renjun’s car.

If I'm on your mind You know that you're on my mind I don't want to fall in love alone

“I don’t want to fall in love alone either,” you say to no one in particular, the only accompaniment being the four walls of your studio apartment. You’re at a loss on what to do with Renjun, haunted by both the endless possibilities and the fear of rejection.

Love is hard when it comes to Renjun, and you’re not sure if all your experience with hosting will have any use.

It’s two days before Renjun sees you in the studio again. On Tuesday, he had been waiting for you outside, before Seulgi had fired a quick text saying you had called in sick.

When you were absent from your seat beside him on Wednesday, there had been a foreign feeling of emptiness in the studio, compounded by the fact that you had yet to reply Renjun’s messages. Even then, he tries to make the program as engaging as possible, assuming that you’re home resting.

It’s not the same, no matter how hard he tries. It’s not the same without you.

By the time you step into the recording booth, Renjun’s positively overcome with worry, ready to jump out of his seat and hug you at the sight of you well and alive. However, he’s not sure if it will overwhelm you. He decides to force himself to stay where he is, fiddling anxiously with his fingers as his eyes follow you around the room. You smile pensively at him when you catch his gaze. In truth, you hadn’t been sick. You were just scared of seeing Renjun, especially immediately after being confronted with the weight of your new feelings.

The introduction passes as usual, and you put in extra effort to make your voice bright and cheery after your absence, knowing that the listeners must have missed you. Even then, Renjun can detect a note of artificiality in your voice, almost as if you’re deliberately trying to present yourself that way. Maybe you’re still feeling sick, he thinks, and feels a pang of guilt for hounding you with his messages. However, he already has medicine in his bag, and a heat pack for you later, just to make sure you recover as quickly as possible.

You’re less talkative than usual today, giving short replies outside of the programme itself. Renjun tries not to let it unnerve him, but he’s not sure how to reach out to you.

“Renjun, can you read the next letter, please?” You ask cheerfully, the way your emotions switch up from lethargic to energetic becoming rather disarming to him. “Oh yes, of course,” he says, panicking slightly as he fumbles with his script, lost in thought.

Dear Ren-D and Y/N-D,

Hello! I’m not sure if you can call me a regular listener, but I’m very familiar with this program. I wrote this letter because of a very big dilemma I have. I think I have feelings for a good friend of mine, who also happens to be a colleague. But confessing might make our relationship awkward, and I don’t want to ruin it for us. At the same time, my feelings are so strong that I don’t know what to do with them.

“This is from user caramelmacchiato,” Renjun adds at the end, and you’re awfully silent as he looks at you, waiting to see if you’ll reply first. When you don’t speak after a while, he decides to go first.

“I think you should go for it,” he encourages, and the only thing he hears from you is a sharp inhale, causing Renjun to furrow his brows in concern.

“Often, we don’t have control over what we feel, or the people we like. I think it’s better to confess first. If he’s really someone you like that much, I’m sure he’s a good person who will understand your emotions, and the friendship won’t break apart that easily,” he continues, and you’re staring at Renjun now, a stricken expression on your face.

“And…for all you know, user caramelmacchiato, your friend just might like you back too.” Renjun’s mouth tilts up in a grin as he says it, his heart fluttering strangely for some reason. It definitely doesn’t help that your gaze is riveted on him, and Renjun runs a hand through his hair self-consciously. You’ve always made him nervous, even if you’ve known him for more than a year.

He quickly remembers that the both of you are on live broadcast, however, Seulgi and Jeno still watching. “Y/N?” he asks, and you shake your head as if clearing your mind from a fog.

“Oh, yes. Good luck, um…user caramelmacchiato.” Your voice is slightly high-pitched and squeaky, and it’s obvious you’re nervous, though Renjun can’t think of a reason why.

“As the night comes to a close, we have one last song for you. This is Fall in Love Alone by Stacey Ryan. Goodnight everyone!” You successfully bring the programme to a finale, and Jeno ends the broadcast.

Renjun’s quick to grab his things and make his way over to you, but you’re two steps ahead of him, almost jumping out of your chair once the microphone is off. He stares at you from where he is, and sees the same confused expression on Seulgi’s face. It’s unlike you to simply just up and leave, especially when Renjun is the one sending you home. And he doubts you have plans after midnight.

When he enters the hallway, there’s no sign of you, and Renjun worries his lip in frustration. He’s not stupid. There must be something wrong, somewhere. He thinks back to each of his interactions with you over the past week, picking each of them apart moment by moment in his brain.

The both of you had called to discuss the live broadcast four days ago, and ended up watching a movie together. And then it was the broadcast itself, where he sent you home afterwards. Where he had been so close to saying something that was on the tip of his tongue, but didn’t.

The next two days, you had disappeared without contact while you were sick.

There had to be something he was missing.

Maybe Saturday? But nothing happened other than the morning meeting. When the both of you had gotten breakfast after you bought him a matcha latte and got yourself a…

“Oh God,” he mutters to himself, the puzzle pieces falling into place. It’s not an entirely plausible idea, and Renjun’s pretty sure he’s making connections based on pure gut feeling. Still, it’s too much of a coincidence. Or maybe it isn’t. The way you’re acting, the song that you chose today to finish the broadcast, they fill Renjun’s heart with just the tiniest bit of hope.

He really has to find you now.

Renjun’s grateful he wore his better pair of sneakers today as he rushes out of the building, eyes scanning the place for your familiar figure.

It’s almost a solid five minutes of his heartbeat thundering in his ears until he spots you, walking in the direction of the intersection, and then he’s running.

Renjun reaches you right as the light turns green, grabbing your hand and causing you to spin around in shock. You’ve got your headphones on, and the sudden disturbance leaves your eyes wide in shock. You don’t even resist as Renjun drags you to a bench, motioning for you to sit next to him.

You guessed he would ask about your odd behaviour eventually. You just didn’t expect it to be so soon. The area is deserted except for the both of you, and Renjun’s still slightly out of breath as he sits next to you.

You don’t dare to look at him. It’s a cloudless day today, and you can see clearly even though there’s barely any lighting, thanks to the moon.

“Well, I’m sure you have something to say-” you start, but you’re quickly cut off by Renjun.

“User caramelmacchiato. That’s you, isn’t it?” His question causes your heart to stutter to a stop, and you’re hoping you heard him wrong. Still, the resounding silence tells you that you heard him exactly.

Honestly, you should probably have picked a better username. You’re kicking yourself for it now, realising you overlooked Renjun’s natural knack for observation. Your silence makes it obvious that he’s right, and the boy next to you lets out a soft sigh, causing your heart to fall slightly.

Your posture is tense, already prepared for the sting of inevitable rejection. “It’s okay if you don’t like me, Renjun, really, I’ll be fine-” you’re cut off by his palm over your mouth, and you stare at him incredulously. Renjun, for his part, looks frustrated, forehead scrunched as he turns to face you.

“Will you let me speak for one second?” He says exasperatedly, and you nod.

“I was right about the friend. He likes you back too,” Renjun mutters, and you stare at him for a few seconds too long before the words sink in. You push his hand away roughly, your lips falling open into an expression of shock.

“What?” Renjun shrugs at the disbelief on your face. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“No, it’s just that the both of us-” You’re quickly silenced again, but this time, instead of his hand, Renjun’s lips are on yours. He’s kissing you, and you’re frozen, eyes wide.

Renjun fills with alarm when you’re unresponsive, and he’s wondering if he’s made a terrible, terrible mistake. He’s just about to pull away, when there’s a tug on his hoodie. You’re kissing him back, and he can hear nothing but his heartbeat.

Renju’s not one for physical affection, but he thinks he might be dreaming. You’re definitely topping the list of people he doesn’t mind being touchy with, and he might just seek it out himself.

It seems like too soon when you finally pull away, but Renjun doesn’t mind. After all, he’s hoping that the both of you have plenty of time, to do….whatever this is. There’s still a tiny part of him, however, that fears the thought of you realising this was a mistake and running away.

That fear quickly disappears when you break out into the most radiant smile Renjun has ever seen, causing him to let out an exhale of relief, and you burst out in giggles at his expression. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy,” you confess, and Renjun’s heart feels so full, so light, as you lean against him.

“I think I liked you the first day you walked into our office. I was just too much of a coward to consider even dating a colleague,” you continue, and Renjun lets a fond smile make its way onto his face.

“If you’re a coward, then I’m an idiot for not realising sooner. Will you let me send you home now?” At your soft nod, Renjun extends a hand out to you, relishing the feeling of your smaller palm in his.

It may have taken a year of waiting, confusion, and a whole lot of running, but Renjun finally has you, and he’s never going to let you go, not if you’ll have him.

“Ren-D, some of our readers are asking about your first love. Do you have any fun stories to share?”

There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and the only thing preventing Renjun from rolling his eyes is the fact that the camera is currently panned to him.

“No fun stories, unfortunately, but I do have a reader’s letter to share.”

“Oh?”

Renjun clears his throat, feeling strangely nervous.

Dear Y/N-D and Ren-D,

Yesterday, I finally found the courage to chase after someone that I liked, and looking back, I think they might be my first love. I didn’t realise it until they confessed to me first, but I found myself missing their presence unconsciously when they were gone. I think many of us don’t realize how precious someone is until they’re no longer there. Hence, to all the fellow listeners here, I hope that you’ll live without regrets, and bravely chase your first love no matter what!

“Oh,” you exhale softly, eyes wide. The letter was strangely sentimental, heavy for a program such as yours. You can see the comments flowing in, and you’re sure many of them feel the same as you now.

“This person is really good with words,” you comment, and Renjun huffs a laugh, almost like he’s hiding a secret.

“This is from user matchalatte,” he says, and you nod absentmindedly in response, before you freeze, head whipping to look at him. The corners of his mouth are tilted up in a smirk, and you’re staring at him, before realising that the cameras are now panned to the both of you.

There’s heat rushing to your cheeks now, realising that you know who exactly user matchalatte is. Of course it’s him. Only Renjun would think of returning the gesture, just to see your reaction on broadcast.

“Um.” You’re not yet able to formulate words to respond, even though you know that Seulgi and Jeno are likely in the other room watching you both, along with tens of thousands of listeners. Renjun lets out a soft laugh at your starstruck expression, and it causes your heart to skip a beat at his happy expression.

“The next song we have for everyone is Je T’aime by Joy. We’ll be back after the break!” Renjun smoothly takes over your line while you’re still distracted, and embarrassingly enough, it makes you melt even more.

The gentle notes of the starting piano play are audible throughout the studio, and you jolt with familiarity, eyes meeting Renjun’s. You had added this to his playlist while the both of you were drafting the program schedule, and even though he had been ambivalent to the song at first, you found the album sitting on your desk a week later.

Honestly, you should have realised it sooner. That he was the one you wanted to have morning coffee runs and midnight drives with. The person whose playlists you would listen to and whose favourite songs you would save.

Je t’aime. It’s an expression of love, but you don’t think all the languages in the world are enough to describe the way you feel with Renjun. He makes you feel like you’re floating, but at the same time the one who’s grounding you, a tethering force that makes you feel safe.

There’s a consistency to the way Renjun cares for you, the way he makes a space for himself so easily in your life that he feels like home. Having his love has already become a force of habit, one that you never want to break.

The beeping of the timer reminds you that the advertisement break is up, and you’ve managed to regain some semblance of composure externally, even though there’s still a light pink dusting your cheeks.

“Welcome back to Love.fm with Ren-D and Y/N! Today’s a chilly Friday evening, so let us accompany you into the weekend. Send in any romantic worries you have, and we’ll answer each and every one of them,” you start, and narrowly avoid stuttering when a hand encapsulates yours under the desk. You flash a warning glance at Renjun despite your previous nervousness, but the boy simply has a smug grin on his face.

Still, despite his teasing, you’ll gladly give anything to live in these moments forever, him next to you with his headphones on and script in hand.

Stay by my side like a delicate scent I guess I love you, I'm in love I hope this pleasant feeling will never change

34 notes · View notes

callsign-dexter · 1 year

Text

The Sibling Connection

Summary: Now 23 and 38 the Bradshaw siblings come back to Miramar and see an old face. Feelings come up and surprises are revealed.

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x Sister!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, very inaccurate military talk, and timing

Masterlist

First Installment- Brotherly Love

Second Installment- The Sibling Connection

A/N: Italics mean that they are up in the air or getting ready to be up in the air.

Y/N wasn't at The Hard Deck when her brother arrived; this is due to her being fresh out of flight school and now officially a pilot. She had just been at her base in Fallon, Nevada for 3 days when she was told she would be helping out at Top Gun for a secret mission. She exceeded all of her training but then again what do you expect when you have an uncle that is the Commander of the US Pacific Fleet and taught you everything to know about flying?

When Y/N turned 18 she applied to the Naval Academy but first talked with her brother about it. He wanted her to chase her dreams and so he helped her even though he didn't get in, he wasn't gonna hold her back like Maverick did to him. He supported her the entire time. She kept him updated with everything and also Maverick too but it was mostly about her and not Bradley, per his request, and she respected that. When she told Bradley that she wanted to fly he was ecstatic, when she told him she wanted to fly the F-35B he was a little disappointed it wasn't a F/A-18E Super Hornet but didn't make her switch, they even joke about it and play fight.

The next day when everyone showed up to class, Bradley looked around for his sister but she wasn't there and he frowned slightly. He really didn't pay attention to what was going on but he was listening.

"Attention on deck!" Someone said and everyone scooted their chairs back and stood at attention as Warlock and Cyclone.

"Morning." Warlock said and everyone sat down "Welcome to your special training detachment. Be seated. I’m Admiral Bates, NAWDC commander. You’re all top gun graduates. The elite. The best of the best. That was yesterday. The enemy’s new fifth-generation fighter has leveled the playing field. Details are few, but you can be sure we no longer possess the technological advantage. Success, now more than ever, comes down to the man or woman in the box. Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve. Your instructor is a top gun graduate with real-world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master. His exploits are legendary. And he’s considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced. What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death. I give you Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: “Maverick.” Warlock finished as Maverick walked up the aisle and Bradley's frown deepened.

"Good morning. The f-18 natops. It contains everything they want you to know about your aircraft. I’m assuming you know the book inside and out." Maverick said Bradley was listening but wasn't happy about Maverick teaching him. Oh how he wished his sister would show up.

"Damn right." Jake said and another person said "Damn straight."

"You got it. So does your enemy." Maverick said threw the book into the trash.

"And we’re off." Warlock said

"But what the enemy doesn’t know is your limits. I intend to find them, test them, and push beyond. Today we’ll start with what you only think you know. You show me what you’re made of." Maverick continued "Before we continue Cyclone has something he wants to add." He said and took a step away and to the side as Cyclone walked up.

"Since this mission is dangerous and high stakes, we are bringing in another pilot. She will be flying the F-35 but will not be running the mission with you but will be training with you. She will be back up in the skies only and will take off with everyone else. She will assist if she needs to." Cyclone said and Bradley could feel his smirk, mood lightening, and sitting up straighter. "She has exceeded her training and has graduated early from pilot training and is now a stealth pilot. Everyone, I would like you to meet Lieutenant Y/N Bradshaw. Call sign: Sparhawk." Cyclone said as you reached the front and turned. You smiled and waved at the rest and then your eyes turned onto Bradley who had a smirk on his face and you smiled back at him.

Everyone was dismissed. Y/N was already out by her F-35. She would be going up with every hop to pose as another enemy along with Maverick. She saw Bradley get stopped by Maverick but wasn't able to hear anything. Bradley walked away from Maverick and came up to her.

"Took you long enough." He said playfully and she laughed and smiled.

"I wanted it to be a surprise." She told him which is true he knew she was coming but just not when. He smiled and shook his head.

"You haven't changed one-bit little sis." Bradley said.

"I haven't but you have." She shot back she missed the playful banter. He just smirked.

"If you need anything. Let me know." He told her and she nodded her head.

"You got it, bro. Be safe up there." She said and turned to get up in her jet.

"You too sis." He replied and headed to his own jet.

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The training was going well. Each hop was different from the last since each pilot had different flying skills. Y/N stayed unseen which was doable since she had a jet that was almost completely invisible from radar. There were a few times that she had freaked out the others by flying right next to them and they didn't even know. She especially liked to freak out Jake.

It had been when Jake, Natasha, and Bob were up for one of the hops. Jake was looking over at the other two and that's when Y/N silently flew up next to him. Both Natasha and Bob were smirking.

"What are the two of you smirking at?" Jake asked and they said nothing but Y/N's voice came into the comms.

"Why don't you look to your left, Bagman." She said with a smirk on her face and you could hear it. He looked to his left and saw her there and he jerked his jet to the right and almost hit Natasha and Bob but he corrected it before he crashed.

"Geez, Spawhawk. Where did you come from?" He asked, "You almost gave me a heart attack." He continued and she laughed.

"I've been here for at least 10 minutes." She said with a smirk on her face.

"Warning next time would be nice." He said and she laughed.

"That would beat the purpose of it being a stealth jet." She responded back with sass. They didn't get to speak much longer because Maverick's voice came on the comms.

"Ok enough chit chatting. Sparhawk, time to start." Maverick said and she nodded even though he couldn't see it.

"You got it Mav." She said and dropped her speed and seamlessly disappeared but in reality she just dropped down below the other jets and let them speed past her. She flew to Mav and settled right next to him. They decided to make the others sweat and they switched to private communication.

"So an F-35?" Maverick asked her and she smiled though he couldn't see it.

"Yea I figured it would be a nice change of pace and I like stealth." She said and he laughed.

"You sure do. Are you ready to take them down?" He asked her.

"Absolutely." She replied and off they went. Mav was the distraction while she stealthy came up behind them and toned them. This went on for several hops.

Bradley was the toughest but eventually he was toned too. When Coyote went into g-loc she thought she was going to have a heart attack along with the bird strike, but in the end everyone was ok.

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Not much time was given to hang out except when Maverick made time for dogfight football. It was wild and Y/N loved it. She always had a competitive side with Bradley and just in general. Getting to hang out with hot sweaty, shirtless, muscled, 6-pack abs, and sun-kissed skin guys wasn't bad either.

After Y/N and her team won against Bradley they all sat down to cool off and some even went into the ocean. Bradley came over to her and threw an arm around her and she made a face.

"Bro you're sweaty. Get off of me." She said and pushed him away and he laughed.

"Look who's talking. You're just about as sweaty as I am." He pushed her back and smiled. They eventually stopped and talked until the sun went down and they headed home. What they didn't know was that Maverick was several feet back watching them smiling. He was glad Y/N stayed in touch and sad that Bradley didn't. He was surprised that she went into the Navy but couldn't blame her.

Everyone left the beach and headed home to continue the next day. Then they were off to do the mission and come home, safely.

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The time has come for the mission. Everyone was nervous but ready for it. Maverick picked his team and Y/N was shocked when Bradley's name was called and her stomach dropped. She already knew she would be going but she feared for her brother. They all started to go out towards their jets when Cyclone stopped her.

"Lt. Bradshaw, stay back for a few seconds." She stopped and turned to look at him as the other left and Bradley gave her a questioning look. He also stopped Maverick before he left "Captain Mitchell a word." He said as he was getting ready to leave.

"What can we do for you?" Maverick asked and then Warlock walked up to them.

"We have decided to send Lt. Bradshaw out before the Daggers." Both Maverick and Y/N were shocked, this was not the plan.

"Captain Mitchell, you will still be leading the Daggers. Once everyone gets to the opening of the mountain, Lt. Bradshaw will drop out and do air control." They both were silent as Warlock spoke about the change of plans.

"Understood." Both of them said.

"Dismissed." Cyclone said and both Cyclone and Warlock walked out of the room followed by Maverick and Y/N, but not before looking at each other.

When they got to their jets and Maverick and Bradley talked, Bradley walked up to his sister. "What was that about?" He asked.

"You know I'm not allowed to say. It's just the plans have changed. You'll see once we get up in the air." She said and he nodded but he could tell that she was nervous, they could always tell when something was up with the other it was just the sibling connection they shared. The announcement came on telling them that they were ready to launch. They hugged each other. "I love you, big brother." She said and he hugged her tighter.

"I love you too little sis." He replied and then let go of her and they went and got in their jets getting ready to take off.

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They had Y/N's jet taxi to the catapult and she could feel the eyes of her teammates on her. They would be asking questions later. "Safety Dagger up and ready." She said into her comms. They gave her the go and the shooter gave the command and she shot off the deck and into the sky. Once she was far enough away they gave the ok for the other Daggers. She could hear Maverick talking but wasn't paying attention. She was on the lookout for bandits but found none. She saw the missiles fly above her and once the opening of the canyon, she dropped down and let the now-in-formation Daggers go ahead of her. She broke right and went around the mountain monitoring the skies.

She was far enough away from the mountains but still close enough. As she was monitoring the skies she came across one of the bandits. "Safety Dagger this Comanche. You have a bandit at 3 o'clock." She looked at her radar and so behold there it was.

"Comanche, this is Safety Dagger. Copy that. Will not engage unless need to." She said into her comms.

"Copy that Safety Dagger." Comanche said. Everything was going smoothly until they spotted her and it was game on.

"Comanche bandit is engaging, Safety Dagger is responding." She said.

"Copy, Safety Dagger." They said to her, she dropped her speed and dropped altitude. She was trying to disappear from their radar and it was working.

She got behind them and got tone but she was still far enough away from them they couldn't see her. She got closer and they panicked and started to try to lose her. Each move they made she made. "Can't shake me. Our jets are practically the same." She said to herself. "Oh you're good but I'm better." She said and after a few minutes and a few missile shots and gunshots, she got the final tone and shot, taking them down. Her 1st confirmed kill. She still has a lot of ammo left. She had this feeling that something was right and boy was she right when she started to hear all the commotion going on and then Maverick went down and her heart dropped. She saw Natasha, Bob, Mickey, and Javy emerge but not Bradley. She flew up beside them. "Where is my brother?" She asked any of them but they remained silent "Answer me." She almost growled.

"He went back for Mav." Bob finally said and boy was she angry. She quickly pulled her jet to the left and headed towards where they were last. When Cyclone came over the comms

"Safety Dagger, return to the ship." He said and she was pissed.

"What's the point of a Safety Dagger if it's not going to protect the fellow Daggers?" She replied and Cyclone knew she was right and she might be in trouble but be damn with it.

"Safety Dagger you are clear to proceed." Cyclone said and she nodded and proceeded to her brother. She flew around but couldn't see them. She practically growled. "Safety Dagger, report." He said.

"Plane wreckage but not shoots or bodies." She said looking through the bottom of the plane thanks to her extremely up to date technology helmet. She then saw an F-14 on the runway and knew it was them but didn't say anything. She didn't want to alert the enemies.

The F-14 took off and was in the sky. Once far enough away from the base she flew up beside them scaring the crap out of them. But once they saw she was friendly they were relieved. "Thought I would never see you again boys." She said into the comms. Bradley laughed.

"What made you come looking for us?" He asked.

"Let's call it the sibling connection kicked in. I knew that you were still alive and I wasn't about to not help." She said to her brother and pseudo father.

"Well, I'm glad it's still working. Let's go home." He said and that is exactly what they did but not before running into several bandits. They put up a good fight. Y/N could give them that but she had a jet of the same technology as them. She broke away from them and took off after the 3rd bandit and they watched her in a dogfight, and they were impressed, while they were fighting off on their own. They quickly got rid of their first one and they watched her take down the 3rd one, which was behind her but she shot a missile and it shot out but it went up and behind her hitting the 3rd bandit, they were impressed, confirming her 2nd kill. The second bandit was now chasing Maverick and Bradley through the canyon but she had another problem, a 4th bandit showed up and she was in another dogfight.

Y/N and the 4th bandit were chasing each other just as soon as she took down the bandit, Bradley and Maverick came back without the bandit and knew they would be ok. The 4th bandit was her 3rd confirmed kill. A 5th bandit showed up and Maverick and Bradley were out of ammo she put up a fight for them as they tried to invade and damaged the bandit but soon ran out of ammo.

Just as soon as they thought they were done for the plane that was in front of them but now behind them, after turning avoiding gunshots, them blew up and Jake came out of the smoke. "Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman, this is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seat belts, return the tray tables to their locked an upright positions and prepare for landing." Jakes voice came through the comms.

'Hangman , you're looking good." Bradley said

"I am good, Rooster. I'm very good." Jake said to him being the cocky son of a bitch that he was. They all headed back to the ship, first Jake then Y/N, and then finally Maverick and Bradley. Once Bradley and Maverick crashed landed they got out of the plane and everyone cheered.

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Once they debriefed and got onto solid ground everyone gathered at The Hard Deck, except Cyclone, Warlock, and Maverick. They all chatted about and making plans for their well deserved team when Y/N silently slipped out on to the deck and looked out over to the ocean. Her brother noticed the absence of his sister and went out to her. He slung an arm around her shoulders and she leaned into his embrace. "Warlock tells me that you have now 3 confirmed kills." and she smiled and nodded.

"That would be correct." She said and he smiled.

"I'm proud of you. I know it was hard to take a life. Mom, Dad, and Uncle Ice would be so proud of you too." He said a laid a kiss to her hair. They heard the others cheering but didn't pay attention to it they were enjoying their sibling time together.

"You're right it wasn't easy but it was necessary." She said. Maverick walked out onto the deck and joined them smiling at them before walking up beside them.

"You missed the announcement." He told them. Bradley and Maverick were working on their relationship it would take time to heal but it was going in the right direction. They both looked at him.

"Oh?" Y/N asked as Bradley spoke up. "What's that?" Bradley asked at the same time.

"Yes. I just got out of a meeting with Cyclone and Warlock. They have decided to make this squad a permanent one. He also said that Y/N will also train and learn to fly the F/A-18E Super Hornet." Maverick said to the both and they all smiled. No words were needed. They all looked out into the ocean and setting sun.

Bradley hugged his little sister tighter and dropped another kiss to her head. Y/N leaned further into her brother enjoying the warmth from him and the familiar scent that she had grown up with. Maverick looked out into the sunset just thinking that Goose and Carole were up there smiling and begin glad that they had him in their life, even though there was rough patches. Occasionally Maverick would look at them and smile. He was glad they were together again and they were safe.

Bradley and Y/N truly did share the sibling connection. Now they don't have to be away from each other. Now Bradley could protect his little sister from guys, especially guys like Jake and Jake. Y/N had her big brother and pseudo father right there when she needed someone to go to when things get rough. The family was back together again.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx20

#bradley bradshaw x sister!reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #top gun fandom #top gun imagines #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #nick bradshaw x daughter!reader #carole bradshaw x daughter!reader #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick imagines

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exrellian · 7 months

Text

MC Replaced AU

My first tumblr fic so please let me know if there is something I can do better or fix!! I will get better with time but I would love some advice! This will start like an average replaced AU but it will have a twist that I haven’t seen in any other fic

The first part is third person but it won’t remain that way! Also it is male MC (there aren’t enough male MC fics out there and it makes me sad)

TW: None for this one except some REALLY minor angst at the end!

Part 1

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Welcome to the Devildom

A normal day, as normal as a day can be in the Devildom, the only slightly different thing was a meeting with Lord Diavolo scheduled for the first period at RAD.

“Do we all have to go to this meeting? Can’t MC just give me the rundown after school?”

“No Leviathan, Lord Diavolo made it clear we all have to be there.” Lucifer shoots a glare at the sulking envy demon. A mandatory meeting that required not only all the brothers to attend but also the exchange students, it must be something relatively important to require all the attendees.

The walk to RAD was average, mammon talking to MC, Satan reading as he walked and getting distracted by any stay cats he saw on the way, Leviathan playing a game on his phone, and Beel chowing down on some extra snacks.

Barbatos greeted the group at the door, welcoming them into the Student Council room where the angels already waited

“Hello everyone! I’m glad to see you all made it! I have a very special announcement to make today” As Diavolo started MC tilted his head

“I’m sorry to interrupt but you said we all made it but… Solomon isn’t here?”

“Solomon had business in the human world so he has returned for a few months and won’t be attending this years exchange program” Barbatos explained

“It is unfortunate but there is nothing we can do about it, work is work!” The lord gave his normal, joyful smile as he spoke “His absence does bring some good news though! We have accepted a new human exchange student!” As if purposely timed, a portal opened up and out shot a human girl, immediately MC noticed just how beautiful she was, long blonde hair, a perfect slim body, and the most beautiful blue eyes MC had ever seen.

“Where am I? Who are all of you!?” She looked around frantically, her eyes landing on MC, quickly running over to him “You look normal! What’s going on? Where am I!?” Her arms flung around MC, hiding from the demons

“Haha, please calm down hun, your not in any danger” MC smiled, trying to reassure the new girl

“I’m am glad you already seem to trust MC!” Diavolo laughs, crossing his arms “Welcome Amelia, to the Devildom, you have been chosen to participate in our exchange program at RAD. I am Diavolo, the prince of the Devildom, it is a pleasure to meet you” The new human, Amelia, seemed to relax a slight bit, enough to come out from hiding behind MC but still tightly grasping his hand

“Is this… hell? Are you all demons?”

“Technically, yes, this is hell and yes, we are demons” Lucifers replies, his presence intimidating as ever

“MC, Amelia will be staying in the House of Lamentation with you for the time being, keeping her with you may help her get accustomed to living here quicker, do you mind sharing a room with her?” Diavolo asked, but MC knew it wasn’t really a question, there was no answer other than yes

“Sure, I don’t mind, my room is definitely big enough for both of us” MC smiled, glancing over to see if Amelia was okay with this arrangement, by the small smile in her face it seemed she was content

“MC, Mammon, I want the two of you to show Amelia around and get her used to RAD and the House of Lamentation” Lucifer said, looking back and forth between Mammon and MC

“What? Why me!? Can’t MC do it alone? They have been here for like… two years! They know the place well enough!” Mammon complained, not really wanting anything to do with the new girl, he had MC! Why would he need another human?

The tour went… well

Amelia really likes Mammon

And it seems like he likes her a lot too.

Tags: @cutest-tenshi

#obey me #obey me satan #obey me solomon #obey me angst #replaced MC #obey me x reader #obey me Lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me Diavolo #obey me asmodeus #obey me Beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me barbatos #obey me Simeon #obey me Luke

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obislittleone · 8 months

Text

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 1

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: The Hunger Games reaping. Canon typical angst. Reader has a speech impediment.

Chapter Summary: Lukas Artanhour is your best friend since childhood who makes the worst decision of his life when he volunteers as tribute for the 71st annual hunger games... Luckily, he won't be going alone, and you didn't even have to volunteer.

Word Count: 2.8k

Don't be detered by the OC in this chapter, he is just someone I made up to make the hunger games more emotional of an event 🙃

The representative from the Capitol being the same every year was almost a comforting sort of repetition through the years, but compared to the annual tradition it surrounded, you were hardly relaxed at seeing him make his dazzling appearance. A new outfit every year, made from the finest fabrics and silks that eight had to offer… And you wore the same green top and skirt. At least this year there were seashells.

“Good afternoon, District Four!” His shout of happiness was hardly felt by any who stood here in this gathering. “There’s nothing like being here, amongst the beautiful waters and sandy beaches.”

It’s cold and windy down by the docks, with the sand getting kicked up from time to time. District Four is one of the most beautiful places in all of Panem, and it’s known, as all districts are, for its main production to the Capitol. Fish.

The people here are wealthier than most in the districts, a close third in rank to both one and two, who reign supremely amongst the favorites. The Hunger Games have obviously played a serious part in all of that. Four being a career district meant that the Capitol goers were far more likely to invest. Careers are the favorites, no matter which district they come from.

The reaping is today, and you don’t want to think about it. It is why you arrive at your work station an hour before you need to be there. You’ve spent years of your life down here by the docks, whether it was waiting for your father’s boat to return, or your friend to bring you the boxes that needed to be loaded onto Capitol trucks. You’re a mover, it’s your job. It doesn’t pay well, because the real money is in fishing, but you wouldn’t dare go out on a boat.

“You’re early,” Lukas nearly spooks you, smiling after watching you jump from surprise. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s r-reaping day. I couldn’t s-sleep.”

He was used to the skip and stutter of your words, un-phasing him as you spoke each one.

“I get it. My mom keeps hounding me about it. Every year I grow taller, stronger, she tells me I could win,” he sat down next to you in the sand, handing you a shell he found on his way here. “Another for the collection.”

“Thanks,” you took it gratefully, placing it in your pocket for safekeeping until later. You journeyed back to his previous words, what he meant by them. “Does your mother w-wish you’d gone through the career program?”

He shrugged, looking out into the sea, his mind just as full of indecent thoughts as yours.

“I’m not sure what she wants. Ever since dad died she’s just been… different.”

“My parents have s-said, if it ever gets t-too bad, you c-can always stay with us.”

He nods, his appreciation shown through a single sideways glance. He knows he has places to go, he knows that there are others that are willing to treat him as a son should be treated, but he wants his own mother to do it. He longs for the woman she once was, and hopes if he can make her proud enough, maybe she will be that way again.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, but he’d been saying that for the past year.

So far, you’d learned she’d been hitting him, been yelling and screaming about how he would never measure up to his father. You never saw these interactions of course, because if you had you may have broken down for him, your friend of eleven years. In school, he was the only one who would talk to you, the only person who ever gave a damn about the girl with the stutter. He defended you when they made fun of you left and right, for nearly everything they thought was wrong with you.

“You s-shouldn’t listen to her,” you shook your head, the waves crashing on the shoreline several yards down. It was the only thing that would remain peaceful about today, when later on two children would be hauled off and expected to fight or die. “She isn’t in her r-right mind anymore.”

“I know that.”

He agrees, he knows. He is well aware that her mind slipped maybe even before her husband died. She had been driving him to the long hours that he’d worked, and eventually made him work out on a ship during a storm. The boat sinking was just fan to the flame of her deteriorating mental state.

He picked up a rock from the sand a few feet over, standing up and tossing it to skip over the water before it began to wash on the shore. He gave you a hand to your feet, pulling you up until you were steady.

“Boat leaves in a few minutes, I’ll see you when we get back,” he said, turning on his heel in the sand. You nodded at him before he walked off, into the working hours of the day. You shouldn’t even be here for another hour. You know that they’ll be gone for two or more and you don’t need that long to prep the boxes. But you can’t sleep.

Lukas returned to the docks with a much better mindset. The water always made him feel serene. He came to land, lugging the giant nets tied together to keep the fish from falling out. Today’s catch was good as any other, and the songs the boys sang on board nearly made him forget everything else.

“Salmon are catching like crazy this time of year,” he muttered, meeting you halfway to help you untie the knots and start packing the boxes. “Thinking I might sneak one home if there’s extra. You probably can, too.”

“I’ll t-try. My pa could use s-something more to eat.”

He weeded through all the skimpy ones, pulling the biggest catches out first and laying them sideways in the boxes, filling the middles with ice before adding another layer. It was the same thing everyday, but he never tired of it. He was content to live the life of a district four fisherman, and he was good at it.

“How’s his arm doing?” He asked, since you’d brought up your father.

He’d broken it in a rigging accident about two months ago, and the slow healing process was not doing your family any favors. You’d been hungry several times, so obviously extreme measures had to be taken. You won’t think about that right now, though.

“Not any better, n-not any worse.” The fish box was nearly packed, but you paused to think for a moment. “Maybe I s-should try and catch. It pays a lot m-more, and we could use the money.”

He grabbed you by the shoulder and turned you to face him.

“You’d be scared to death. If your family needs some money, I can help out. It’s the least I can do when they offer me free lodging,” he half joked, completely serious in all aspects about the help with financial assistance.

“Lodging that y-you’ve never taken.”

“Listen, I’m happy to help if you need me to. Especially with your brother, now,” he mentioned, making you think about the sweet little sleeping face you’d passed by on the way out of your home. Your baby brother, born not a year ago. You hated the idea of him growing up hungry, or having to start work early in his life like you did.

“Well, t-thank you. I’ll think about it.”

He shook his head, seeing as how you quoted him from all the times your family offered him help before.

He waved you off when you finished stacking the prepared boxes onto your slab dolly, tilting it back and beginning to push it towards the truck that pulled in not too long ago. It was a steep climb, up the ramp from the docks and onto the street, but it made you quite strong over the years. That and all the heavy lifting, becoming easier with every twenty by thirty of fish.

Lukas would be taking off early today, as would most of the other boys of age. You would be heading home after loading this shipment as it were. You had to shower, had to clean up your hair and skin and make yourself presentable for the reaping.

You opened the back of the truck, tossing the boxes up one at a time, before climbing into it and stacking them neatly in one of the four corners. You always managed to obtain a single splinter from every shipment loaded, but luckily today’s wasn't too bad, you could probably dig it out with a small pin.

Later in the day, your mother gave you a solemn smile as you walked out the door, having just been readied and dressed in your best clothes. Even in a wealthier district, they still had mended holes in the bottom of your skirt. That’s the sad thing about every district. Even amongst the wealthier ones, there’s still poverty that simply cannot be helped. The Capitol's greed and thirst for luxury, needing every little thing that life has to offer at their beck and call. You can’t even imagine what it’s like in places like eight or twelve. Places where food is not the primary cultivation of the people.

It was light green, your outfit. It had white seashells on the waist of the top, and a few along the edge of the skirt as well. They hadn’t always been there, but you insisted they should be. You didn’t really have much else of a use for all the shells you stole from the sands of the shoreline. You hated wearing the same outfit to this single event every year. You hardly wore it any other time, which made a distaste for it grow every time it came out of your closet.

The way your mother did your hair was simple. A single french braid down the back of your head, tied off with a light green ribbon to match everything else. She watched how it fell a bit looser with every step you took, making your way across the streets and into the city’s center. It’s your last year, and having avoided every year before, you know you should feel a semblance of relief, but you don’t.

Your mother waits for the peacekeeper behind a stand to check your name off a list before she parts with you, hugging you tightly one last time and allowing you to kiss the head of the baby on her hip. He’s primarily the reason you remain so nervous. Even if your name doesn’t get called, his could be, someday.

You line up in an open space, next to the last girl that checked in. She wasn’t in your row last year, you would have remembered her. She was pretty, with blue eyes and dark raven hair. Her skin was tanned like most in four, but had a certain glow about it. She’s too pretty to be reaped, you thought. It didn’t make a difference, though. As you stared head on to the bowl on the stage, centered in front of the girl’s side, you got tense. Your name is in there six times this year. That’s three more than last year, and five more than the year before.

Someone could still volunteer. But the career program had not made mention of producing a female tribute this year. It all depended on the luck of today’s draw. For all you knew, your name would be surpassed by someone else. There were other poverty stricken areas in four besides yours, and it made sense that somebody else could have been hungry enough to outgo you.

You looked around to the boy's side. Lukas was there, and further up in the rows. He must have gotten here quickly after leaving the docks. His face was sullen, and something had changed, but you were unsure of what it was. When he looked around, you almost thought he’d been looking for somebody, but his expression told a far different story.

The last few children in the line were filing in, and the musical fanfare blasted through the speakers by the stage. You were grateful not to be so close to those this year.

His rabble was boring, and nearly the same as it was last time. The anticipation was killing just about every girl and boy in this crowd, knowing there were no careers at the ready this year. It was always easier to rest at night while knowing if your name was called, another courageous youngster would step in to take your place.

“I’m so excited to be back and reaping this year’s tributes for the 71st annual Hunger Games!”

There was a surge of excitement coming from the sidelines, and it was only now that you looked past the blockades to see that there were actual Capitol civilians standing there this year. How nice, some onlookers for when an innocent child gets sent away to their death. Absolutely wonderful. You looked on past them, towards the victors standing close by. They seemed anxious as well, the old woman holding one fist to her mouth while the other clutched her chest. She rocked back and forth on her heels, and had to take a step every few seconds to keep from becoming too restless. The young man was stiff, his arms behind his back and every muscle in his body tense as a board. His eyeline never left the bowls on the stage. They went through this once, too.

When you refocused on the man at the microphone, your heart beat rapidly. He was approaching the boy’s side of the stage.

After a small flourish of his hand, the Capitol rep stuck his hand into the glass, two papers in his hand before he dropped one. The dropped paper’s namesake got immensely lucky this year.

“Harley Miggsen,” he read the paper, but before the peacekeepers had a shot at cornering the poor fourteen year old kid, with his eyes wide in horror, another voice spoke up.

“I volunteer.”

Your head snapped to Lukas, his hand raised high in the air. Murmurs started almost immediately about how everyone thought there weren’t any careers prepared. They spoke softly and wondered if there would be a career for the girls, too. Lukas isn’t a career, why would he do this?

“I… guess we have a volunteer,” the man at the mic clapped his hand, watching the young man getting ushered up the stairs to stand beside him on the stage. “What’s your name, son?”

“Lukas Artanhour, sir.”

“Lukas Artanhour, everyone!” He raised his hand as to signal applause from the capitol guests, and they cheered, happy to see that there was now a potential victor as opposed to that poor boy from before. “Now for the ladies.”

You spared a glance at the victors once more, and they looked even more on edge for this pick than the last. Female victors were obviously more rare in every district, so getting a decent tribute that wouldn’t die right away was probably preferable. You couldn’t imagine all the people they’ve tried and failed to save over the years. The young man won only six years ago, but with no other victors since, that means he’s gone through twelve tributes. All dead, all gone.

Your mind had been momentarily distracted, or at least it had been until the next name came over the loudspeakers.

“Mercedes Blythe.”

It almost didn’t register.

It almost went in one ear and out the other.

It almost was paid no mind or attention…

But that is your name, and you’ve heard it said a million times since you were a baby. Not once did it ever sound like that, though.

You stood still until you realized there were peacekeepers on their way to grab you.

It was slow, the way you took steady steps from your row towards the stage. You couldn’t be rushed even if they tried to make you. You could only look at the ground. You didn’t want to chance looking up and seeing your mother past the blockades. God only knows what she’s thinking and feeling right now. After everything bad happens to a family, the mother of that family should not have to wonder whether her child will live or be killed in an arena.

You finally looked up when you got to the stairs, meeting Lukas’ eyes first, and seeing they were sad and full of pity. You stood beside the Capitol rep on the other side, allowing him to raise your hands together while the tears finally welled up in your eyes. The delay in your mind was the only one to blame for that.

“Ladies and gentlemen, district four’s tributes!”

Tags (open):

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair hunger games #finnick x reader #sam claflin #the hunger games

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callsigndragon · 2 years

Text

Miscommunication | Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x fem!reader

A/N: To the beautiful nony that requested this THANK YOU! It was really a challenge to write another enemies to lovers for Hangman when i'm writing my own seried A Rebel In My Soul (here's the link to chapter 1 if you want to read it) with him as well. I don't know how to feel about this but I hope you like it! <3

Warnings: misCOMMUNICATION (really, a lot), friends to enemies to lovers, swearing, Hangman being Hangman, one (1) suggestive comment at the end. (if i forgot something please fo tell me)

Masterlist

Being Hangman's best friend during your adolescent years was easy. He was always there for you. You don't have a single memory from high school in which he wasn't present. Always smiling, teasing you, protecting you from the world.

When the both of you entered the Naval academy, however, things changed. You were better than him on some aspects and he was jealous. Your friendship was seriously damaged to the point that you two couldn't be in the same room without arguing.

You would be lying if you said that you hated him. You loved him with all your soul. And not only as a friend. You had loved that man since the first time you two had crossed paths. Honestly, you couldn't imagine your life without him.

Sadly, you had to live without him because, as much as you loved Jake, he had turned into a complete arrogant that was nothing like the man you knew. He worked hard to beat you in every single aspect in which you beat him. He liked to tease you about how you were always in the second place. It ended up with you screamed at him to never talk to you again.

And he never did.

Now, you’re here at Top Gun. You’ve been admitted in the 13-week program. You’ve never been happier. You walk in the base, observing the photos of previous generations in the wall. You’re sure you can find some of your teachers if you look close enough.

“Y/n?” you hear someone calling you.

You know that voice. Is the voice that calmed your nerves before a test in high school. The voice that made you laugh in class, getting scolded by the teachers. The same voice that made your heart flutter when he called your name.

You turn around, jaw clenched and arms crossed. “You gotta be kidding me”

“They really let anyone enter here” he mocks walking closer to you.

“I know, right? I thought this was exclusive but here you are” you look up at him, to those green eyes that so many years ago were your safe place. Not, they don’t feel that welcoming anymore.

“Well, I guess we know who’s gonna be the second place, right sweetheart?” he said, patting your shoulder.

“Don’t call me sweetheart”

“You used to like that”

“And I used to tolerate you but things change” you turn around, leaving him in the hallway.

However, as weeks pass, you two are paired in several exercises, having to talk to him even if you don’t want to. He is still the same arrogant idiot from Naval academy, but he tries to be less cocky around you.

Today, you’re practicing a course in between mountains. High speed and several turns. It’s a recipe for disaster. You are following Hangman, he’s team leader for this exercise. He is not talking to you and you know the instructors will be really pissed about it when you get off the aircraft. One important thing about this program is communication between team partners. And you two seem to be the only ones having a problem with that.

Just when you’re about to remember him that this is a team exercise, you see Hangman pulling up turning to the left really fast. He doesn’t tell you why but you understand the reason soon enough. There's been a landslide, and the field is different from the one you saw in the map this morning. You follow him, turning without any damage in your aircraft.

“You know there’s a radio for you to communicate with me, right?” you say, annoyed by his lack of communication.

“You just need to follow me, I'm the leader” he answers.

“Yeah, and a leader communicates with their team. Is that hard to understand?”

“Don’t see the need to if you follow all my movements”

“You really don’t get it” you let out a dry chuckle, exasperation running through your veins.

“What? You miss the sound of my voice or something?”

“Jerk”

“Care to explain what the fuck is your problem, lieutenants?” you hear the voice of your instructor from the radio and you know you’re fucked. “Come back immediately. 100 push-ups once you’re off the aircraft”

“This is what you get when you communicate” murmurs Hangman, but it’s loud enough to be heard by everyone.

“Want them to be 200, Hangman?”

“I apologize, sir” he replies quickly, turning his aircraft around.

21. 22. 23. 24...

“You should be the one doing push-ups, not me” you say, face fixed on a point in the tarmac.

“You were the one that wanted to talk to me, sweetheart”

“Don’t call me sweetheart”

“What should I call you then? Lieutenant L/n?” he says with a mocking tone. He's getting on your nerves.

“You know, you were nicer in high school”

“And you were the one to choose to scream at me in a locker room instead of telling me that all the jokes I made were hurting you. Who’s got a communication problem now, huh?” you try to answer but he gets up the floor and leaves you.

You don’t talk to him after that, and the instructors now better than to put you two together again. It hurts, actually, to have him again in you life but being unable of having a normal conversation. You wish things could be like all those years ago. The problem is, and you need to understand it, that both of you had change since high school. It’s not the same as it was, and it will never be.

Five days after the fight in the tarmac, you are grabbing your things from the locker after a long day when you hear his steps approaching you. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for whatever it is about to come. He turns around until he finds your figure and walks closer, stopping behind you.

“Y/n” he calls. You don’t move, still retrieving your belongings.

“Y/n” he says again, this time you can feel the exhaustion in his voice. “Y/n, c’mon” you continue to ignore him, closing your locker and turning to leave without looking at him in the eye. However, you don’t make it too far before he grabs your wrist and turns you around, his body so close to yours that you end up against the lockers. “It’s been five days since the last time you spoke to me and it’s driving me fucking crazy. Talk to me, yell at me, scream at me, do whatever you want but please. Please talk to me”

It takes every ounce in your body to not look up at him. Your heart it’s beating like crazy and all those feelings that you thought were gone are coming to light. They weren’t gone, just hidden.

“I lost you once, I don’t wanna lose you again” he whispers, his hand slowly reaching up to touch your cheek. He lets his hand in the air for a few seconds, a silent question behind his actions. He’s waiting for you to pull back if you don’t want to be touched. He could be a jerk, but he would always ask before doing anything that could make you feel uncomfortable.

You don’t move away and he lets out a shaky breath when his fingers brush your cheek. It's been years since the last time you were this close. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. “Talk to me, sweetheart”

“I hate you” you mutter while opening your eyes, a single teardrop falling from your eye. He wipes it with his thumb.

“No, you don’t” he whispers, his forehead against yours.

“No, I don’t. I couldn’t hate you even if I tried. I thought you were laughing at me with all those jokes”

“I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart. I’m never going to be able to change the past but I want to make things right and be part of your future” he pulls back, raising your head with his hands to make you look him in the eye. His eyebrows are pulled together, his mouth closed in a tight line, his mouth corners drawn downwards. He means it. He really means it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you those jokes hurt me, Jake. You’re not the only one to blame here”

“I honestly don’t care about who has the fault. I just want to be with the girl I’ve loved since high school” he admits with a beautiful shy smile.

“I love you too, Lieutenant” you say, returning the smile.

“Using the ranks now, are we?” he laughs. “In that case...” he stands at ease, smiling. “Lieutenant, permission to kiss you?”

You giggle, not believing how you’ve been angry with this goofball for years. “Permission granted”

He grabs you by the neck, pulling you towards him and kissing you like you’re the air he breathes. You put your arms around his shoulders, trying to bring him even closer. He smiles against your mouth, and you swear you’ve never been happier.

“We need to work on our communication skills, you know” you say against his lips.

“Oh, I know a perfect place to practice” he states, lifting you and carrying you princess style towards the exit.

#jake hangman fic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfic #hangman seresin #hangman imagine #top gun x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman x fem!reader #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman x you

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princess-glassred · 4 months

Text

A short interaction I wrote between Henry and Butch about Patrick

Tw: Bruises, abuse, blood, cuts, Butch Bowers, toxic henpat

It was 11 AM on a saturday, and the Bowers house was still dark as a sewer drain. The warm sunlight from the windows hit the floor to illuminate the room, but even natural sunlight was not nearly enough to make the pig sty of a house feel like a home. Today was like any other day in the Bowers residence, everything was right where it was supposed to be, as if Henry and Butch had been plopped down in predesignated spots like dolls. They sat on the couch together, not talking, entranced by the cold blue glow of the tv. Nothing good was ever on tv at this time, not that public access television was ever that good to begin with, but at least on late nights you could find some decent adult programming. Right now it was all shitty kids shows, probably ran by people who shouldn't be within 25 feet from a school zone, so Butch and Henry were stuck learning colors and watching unfunny clowns preform for screaming kids on a bench until around 6 o' clock.

Henry wasn't too focused on the tv though, he was watching, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was much more focused on the bowl of oatmeal he was stuffing in his face, almost like he expected Butch to reach over and take it from him. He was pretty famished though, his stomache had been rumbling since he woke up, and lord knows Butch Bowers would never cook breakfast. That was a woman's job, and when there wasn't a woman around to do the job, it was Henry's. They sat in silence for a little while longer, until Butch suddenly turned his head to look Henry up and down. As per usual, Butch's eyes were only ever locked into one specific emotion whenever they landed on Henry: contempt. Suddenly his eyes stopped on one specific part of Henry's body, transfixed on his right wrist that he was currently using to shovel strawberry oatmeal down his throat. Butch cocked his head to the side and squinted at Henry. "You're not very sneaky son." He said plainly, and right on cue, Henry's entire body went stiff.

Despite the vauge statement, his son's suddenly panicked face indicated that he knew exactly what he was talking about, which only made it worse when he inevitably tried to deny it. "What-" Henry coughed, nearly choking on his food as he put his spoon back in the empty bowl with a clink. "What are you talking about?" He said, trying and failing to hide his terror. "I raised you, I know when somethings different about you. Your stupid braclets are on one side of your arm now, you've never done that before. You're hiding something." He grumbled, grabbing an open can of beer from the end table and taking a swig.

Henry blinked in shock then tried to deny it again with a nervous laugh "That doesn't mean-" but suddenly, Butch lunged for him, and Henry instinctively flinched. Fortunately for Henry, this did not result in a punch or slap like it usually would, but Butch did grab his wrist and pull it over to his side of the sofa. His muscular calloused hands squeezed down hard enough that Henry wanted to yell "you're hurting me!" but stopped himself. Butch wasn't a man who could listen to reason, and in fact, to Butch, "you're hurting me" was basically like saying "Good job!" and would have encouraged him to do it more. He used his fingers to scooch Henry's bracelets down his arm, his fingernails and the thick leather of the bracelets causing even more pain to him as they inched down his arm. After what felt like an eternity of burning, scratching, and writhing, the pain finally stopped, but Henry's shame quickly took it's place as Butch stumbled upon his secret, and there was no way for Henry to hide it anymore.

There were big bruises on his wrists, and even a big cut on the back, like some one wanted to cut him but didn't wanna risk slitting a vein open. Henry had attempted to cover up what the bracelets couldn't hide with make up yesterday, but that was now rubbed off too, and even then, Butch could tell. Seeing bruises on Henry was typical, in fact, Butch was often the cause of these bruises, but Butch was always very careful to only do it on the torso where they could be easily hidden. Whoever caused this had been sloppy though, real sloppy, maybe even wanted them to see the bruises for some weird reason. For a brief moment he considered the possibility that Henry might have done this himself, but that was quickly dismissed. Henry was too much of a pussy to ever hurt himself, he could barely handle Butch's beatings with out whining. Besides, Henry knew if he did some embarrassing cry baby attention seeking shit like that then Butch would have to buckle down and give him something to really cry about.

Eventually Butch unclenched his grip and allowed Henry to break away, leaving him to cower and rub his wrist on the far end of the sofa like an abused housewife. A twinge of shame and pain flashed across his face as he rubbed and whimpered like a scared dog, something Butch found both pitiful and incredibly annoying. Those bruises on his wrist could only be from one person in this stupid town, Henry might have been a little pansy but he was big for his age, so the only person who could hurt him like this would have to be some one taller than him, and more importantly, some one who he'd actually let hurt him. Butch crossed his arms and frowned, making the already humiliated and scared Henry feel even worse.

"So, who did that?" he asked, not a hint of concern for Henry's well being. "I... don't know." Henry mumbled, letting his voice go a little soft like he always did when his dad caught him in a bad situation. "But it was probably you, sometimes you get-" "Bullshit." Butch interuppted, insulted by the accusation. Butch might have been a crazy abusive drunk, but he could always recognize his own work on Henry, and those bruises were not his. "It's him, isn't it? It's from that Hockstetter fag you hang out with. I know it is." Butch said, so disgusted it was a miracle he didn't spit in his fucking eye.

Henry looked down to the floor, no longer able to deny the truth, but still desperate to cling onto his last shreds of dignity. Henry groaned, growing a little angry and defensive "it's not a big deal! He said he was sorry..." that was a blatant lie though, and Butch knew it, Patrick never apologized for anything unless it benifited him in some way. He'd apologize to adults anytime he got in trouble, but he never meant it, he was just very good at manipulating others to get what he wanted, and those manipulative tendencies leaked into every facet of his life, including sex. He got sex through manipulative means and the sex itself was a form of manipulation, but Henry just couldn't find a way to ever say no to him. Everything they did seemed to cross a boundry, and yet, everytime, Henry still found himself asking if it was really bad enough to warrant putting his foot down. It always started the exact same way too, first it would be pretty normal, then it'd get rough, and then it'd get violent, and then it'd be over before it ever really started, and Henry was beginning to like it less and less each time.

"Do you have pig shit for brains, son?" Butch questioned, catching Henry so off gaurd he thought he misheard him at first. "Huh?" he stammered, and Butch sighed at his own sons stupidity "I only ask 'cause i'd never be fucking brain dead enough to be friends with a guy who beat the shit out of me." he continued, getting up with a grunt to go get himself his third beer from the fridge. Whatever, it was certainly better than asking him to go get it, but it did kinda seem like the only reason he went to fetch it himself was so he didn't have to look at Henry anymore. To anyone else that would have sounded almost cartoonishly cruel, but for Henry that was just the kind of shit his dad liked to do, and had been doing to him for years.

Henry lowered his head and clenched his fists, beginning to quietly seethe with anger he would no doubt let out on Mike Hanlon or Bill Denborough later on. He shook ever so slightly as his rage boiled inside him "well- you hit mom and expected her to stay..." He mumbled, regret hitting him like a truck the instant the worlds left his mouth. Butch spontaneously let the beer in his hands slip out of his fingers, sending the bottle plummeting to the floor where it bursted into a big mess of booze and broken glass. The sound was so loud and out of nowhere, Henry jumped from his seat in fright and skittered away from the couch. He'd been afraid of that sound for a while now, ever since Butch got a little too drunk one night and threw an empty bottle at him, he'd found any kind of breaking glass noise horrifying. He thankfully missed him, but it was still a pretty fucking awful thing for a kid to experience, and it left some lasting damage on his psyche.

Butch whipped his head around to glance back at Henry while he knelt down to the broken glass, a difficult feat for some one as large and out of shape as him, but one he still managed to accomplish regardless. "That's different, women need to be hit so they don't get out of line, if they don't get hit they don't learn. You're just a fucking idiot who thinks when some one beats you it means they like you." butch shouted over his shoulder, poking at the shards of glass but never daring to actually clean it. Henry nervously swallowed and stared off to the side, racking his brain as he tried to understand it all. He furrowed his brows as his lip quivered, unsure of what to say but not quite content with the awful silence that filled the room.

He sighed and hung his head, still shaking and still silently enraged. "Yeah... wonder where I could have possibly gotten a stupid idea like that..." Henry muttered, letting his gaze drift down to the floor and away from his father. Suddenly, Butch rose up and put his hands on his hips, his face twisting into a repulsed grimace. At this point, Henry fully expected to be screamed at, beaten, and kicked out of the house, all in that order, but butch managed to do none of those. Instead, he just stood and stared at him in scornful silence to show his disappointment.

He glowered at him, balling his hands into tight fists ready to strike and shook his head "you know what? I take it back." said Butch, breifly catching Henry's attention again with the smallest bit of false hope. "Maybe this hockstetter kid has the right idea about you! after all, you were always a bit girly, maybe you need a good smacking every now to knock some snese into you." He elaborated, and that small bit of false hope Henry had flew right out the window, because of course it did. His father turned back to the broken glass and groaned, gesturing at Henry to look at it and do something. "God, Why don't you do something actually useful and clean this shit up? I'm sick of looking at it." he "asked", but really it was more of an order, an order he knew damn well Henry would never have the guts to say no to.

He hesitated there for a moment, shifting his weight from side to side on each foot before eventually giving up and giving into his fathers command. Even when Henry complied Butch didn't even have the decency to stick around and see him clean, he grabbed his coat and ran out the front door with out a word, probably off to go get wasted somewhere else. But that was fine, it didn't matter if he left or not, I mean, it did kind of hurt but Henry didn't really care, just like how he didn't care if Patrick hurt him sometimes. He was used to hurting, in the same way he was used to hurting others. Henry was durable. He was strong. He could handle himself just fine with or without his fathers input.... or at least, that's what Henry liked to think to himself. In reality, if all of that were true, then Henry wouldn't be in this situation right now. Groveling down on his knees, sniffling back sobs as he scooped little pieces of broken glass into a dust pan, the tiniest bits of blood dropping down his fingers with each new bit he tossed...

#it 2017 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #gay clown movie #it stephen king #it 2019 #bowers gang #henry bowers #butch bowers #oscar bowers #oscar butch bowers #henpat #patrick hockstetter #patrick x henry

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