#sarah is meant to be learning too

[alltheirdamn]

DECLINED | Mechanic!Joel x f!reader

PART 3

Summary: Swear? On my life. Rating: 18+ Explicit Word Count: 4.1k Warnings: Pre-outbreak (AU), mechanic!joel, oral (f + m receiving), fingering, squirting, deepthroating, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, spanking, unprotected piv sex, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (darlin', babydoll, cowboy), rough sex, creampie, mirror sex, shower sex, playful banter and teasing, so much fluff it'll make your teeth ache, porn WITH plot now A/N: I really just want to thank EVERYONE for all the love on this lil fic. It was really only meant to be a small one-shot for shits and giggles and you guys just made it mean so much more to me ;') I hope I did their love story justice <3

Masterlist | Ko-fi

“I think this is the last of it,” you huffed, handing Joel the final box off the moving truck.

It had been six months of long-distance before Joel finally put his foot down and demanded that you move in with him and his daughter Sarah. It didn’t take much coaxing since you were just as impatient as he was to live together. You had been practically glued to your cell phone over those six months, always staying up late talking to him. You learned all about him: his career, his life in Austin, his daughter, and his wife, who had left him after she was born. You came to find he was a fantastic listener, too. He’d sit there and listen to you babble on and on about your job at the marketing agency and how traffic in California always pissed you off. Once in a while, he’d hum in agreement with your complaints but always found a way to shut you up with sweet words…or dirty ones. It was no surprise to you that he had a filthy fucking mouth when he wanted to turn you on…which happened all the time.

You followed him into the house and up the stairs to the bedroom, where he set the box on the ground. Exhausted, you flung yourself onto the bed, exhaling a sigh of relief to be done moving finally. Joel plopped down next to you, staring off into the ceiling fan with an even louder exhale.

“Not sure why you’re huffin’ and puffin’, babydoll. I did all the heavy lifting,” he said, his voice soft and teasing.

You rolled onto your side, glaring at him with sweat still dripping down your face.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” you grumbled. “I’m not used to this damn humidity. It’s almost fucking eighty degrees in December! This is ridiculous.” 

“Aw, s’my girl missing the coast?” he feigned a pouty face.

“Fuck off,” you scoffed, rolling over to face the other direction.

“I’m just kiddin’, darlin’. I’m happy you’re here.”

“I am, too,” you sighed. 

Joel moved with you, the steady warmth of his back pressing against your body. You nuzzled into him, breathing in synchronicity, a moment of stillness in the chaos. You were home.

“Joel,” you whispered. 

“Yeah, babydoll?” He asked, pressing a gentle kiss against your neck.

“I need you.”

Moving your bodies in unison, Joel rolled on top of you, holding your face in his hands. He was softer than before, his eyes washing over you with a happiness you could only have dreamed of. You arched into his touch, pressing your lips to his for a slow, hungry kiss. His mouth moved on yours with such ferocity you had no choice but to surrender completely.

“S’all you needed, babydoll?” Joel murmured against your open mouth. “Just some attention and lovin’?”

“Maybe just a lil’ bit,” you confessed.

“Sarah’s not gonna be home from school for ‘few hours,” he mused. “Reckon, I can give you all the attention you want.”

You tugged at the hem of his shirt, giving him a playful grin. In a matter of seconds, you were both fully undressed. Joel leaned back on his heels, taking in your naked body spread across his linen bed sheets. His hand wrapped around one of your ankles, his fingers slowly sliding up your calf and thigh. He never took his eyes off of yours as his hands continued roaming over the curves and planes of your body; each brush of his finger a shockwave through your skin.

“If I ain’t the luckiest son ‘a bitch alive,” he shook his head, smiling down at you. 

“You’re not too bad yourself, cowboy,” you replied.

Joel was fucking gorgeous…everywhere. You knew all this time he was broad and muscular under that damn black shirt, but seeing his bare chest on display was something else. A spattering of hair covered his chest and down his stomach, a dark trail of it leading to his hardened cock. Every inch of him was defined, yet so soft, from how his biceps tensed and flexed to the curve of his stomach as his waist tapered down. You wanted to spend eternity exploring each freckle and mole, connecting the space between them on his tanned skin with an array of kisses. 

Cupping one of your breasts, Joel bent down to capture your lips again, his other hand falling between your inner thighs. Your arousal coated his fingers as he slid them between your legs, teasing you with the pad of his thumb against your clit.

“Can’t believe this is s’all mine,” he whispered into your ear. “You hear me, darlin’? You’re all mine.”

“I’m yours,” you agreed.

Joel’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes drawn to where his fingers worked at your body. You whimpered and spread your legs wider, urging him to keep touching you. You never wanted him to stop, never wanted these moments to end. Your hands tangled in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. 

“What ya’ want, darlin’? Use those words.”

“You…I—I want you,” you panted. “I want your cock, please.”

“Want it or need it?” He questioned, applying more pressure to your throbbing clit.

“Need it!” You cried.

Joel pushed two fingers inside you, stretching you out as he curled them deep inside you. He was teasing you slowly, pulling those embarrassing sounds from your mouth as you clenched around his fingers. Your body lit up as the pleasure built slowly, warmth spreading through your core. His fingers curled harder, hitting you at that blinding spot that made time suspend around you. All you could do was cry as the ecstasy swelled inside you, your hands clutching his neck to keep you grounded.

“Listen to those pretty lil’ sounds,” Joel hummed. “Fuckin’ love hearin’ ya cry out for me.”

“I—fuck! Fuck, Joel, please!” you begged. “God, please!” 

“Please, what, darlin’? Y’wanna cum? Is that what ya want?”

You twisted your face into the pillow, muffling a scream as your body tensed up one final time before you were drenching him with your release, the sheets under you becoming a complete mess. Your walls clenched around his fingers, pulsing through each ripple of your orgasm. Joel pulled his fingers from you slowly, your body sinking into the mattress as you removed your face from the pillows. Gazing up at him with heavy eyes, you watched as he brought his pointer finger to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the digit. Enamored, you stared in stunned silence as he licked away your arousal. Drawing it from his mouth, he pressed his middle finger against your parted lips, coaxing them open.

“Taste yourself, babydoll,” he ordered. 

Taking his finger in your mouth, you swirled your tongue, collecting the remnants of your cum. His pupils were blown wide as he watched you, the corners of his mouth twitching with an approving smile. He pressed his finger on your tongue, adding another as he pushed them further back.

“There ya’ go, darlin’,” he said, his voice rugged and dark.

You squirmed under him, needing more. A string of saliva dripped off your bottom lip as he pulled his fingers from your mouth, trailing them down your chin and throat. His hands reached down to hold your hips, flipping you over to your stomach. Hauling you onto all fours, he pressed the tip of cock to your entrance, giving you no time to prepare as he drove into you. The air was knocked out of your lungs as he buried himself deep, holding you steady until he started moving. And when he began moving… he was relentless. Your hands tried to make purchase on the headboard as he railed into you, his hips snapping at a violent pace. 

Your orgasm was tearing through you in no time, your cunt squeezing his cock into a vice as warm liquid dripped down your thighs. Joel growled behind you, his fingers bruising your hip bones.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl. Fuckin’ drenching’ my cock.”

His hand came off your hips, delivering a round of slaps against your ass that had you wailing in pleasure. The sting of his hand on your skin was enough to send you over the edge again, that desperate need to cum stirring inside you. 

“Joel!” you shouted. “I—I’m gonna cum again, please!”

“I know, babydoll, I know,” he crooned. “I got you.”

You white-knuckled the headboard, another rush of liquid gushing out of you. You were overstimulated and crying as he kept a brutal pace. Another spank, another drive of his cock inside you… over and over in repetition. 

“Gonna fill this pussy up,” he grunted. “Y’want my cum, babydoll?”

Words wouldn’t form on your lips; you could only wag your head in approval, needing him to fill you full. Joel wrapped your hair around his fist and pulled your body against his, your back meeting his sweaty chest. He slowed his pace, fucking you deeper and more rhythmically until he was panting in your ear as he caved into his release. You moved in unison, bodies heaving for air as the world dissolved around you. He held you against him for a minute, his teeth grazing your shoulder.

“Did so fuckin’ good for me,” he whispered against your skin.

You whimpered at his praises, letting your body sag into his embrace. Leaning your head back on his shoulder, you hummed in contentment, sinking into the press of his body against yours. Everything felt so right. Three little words were bubbling to the surface, but you swallowed them, too afraid to speak them aloud. You didn’t know if it was too soon; you were so caught up in the moment that you weren’t thinking straight.

“I think I need a nap after that,” you chuckled, leaving those words tucked away in your head.

“Bed s’all yours, darlin’,” Joel said, unsticking his body from yours.

You curled under the covers, his scent enveloping you as you nestled into the bed. Joel leaned down to kiss your forehead, smoothing out your hair. Through heavy lids, you gazed up at him and smiled. 

“Get some sleep, babydoll. I’ll be ‘round the house unboxing stuff ‘til you’re up.”

“Thanks, cowboy.”

**

December passed by in a blissful blur, every day bringing something new. You had found a new job at a marketing agency in Austin, spending the usual 8-5 huddle in groups as you worked through different projects. Joel was always home before you, a plate of dinner waiting on the table for you and Sarah. You teased him constantly about the grease marks on his arms after his long days at work and made sure to tease you right back for the dress and heels you wore every day—which somehow always ended up with you naked on the bed, still wearing your stilettos as he fucked you into the mattress.

It was Christmas morning, and you were waiting downstairs by the tree with Sarah. You both had devised a plan to surprise him with a new watch; his old one had cracked at work while he was elbow-deep working on an old Mustang engine. He never mentioned needing a new one, but you noticed how he would absentmindedly look at his bare wrist at breakfast time each morning.

“You think he’ll like it?” Sarah asked nervously, handing over the grey box to you.

“He’ll love it,” you assured her.

You were nestled into the couch in one of Joel’s shirts and sweats, waiting for the man himself to finish up in the kitchen. Walking into the living room, Joel had his hands full with two cups of coffee and a glass of orange juice squeezed between the crook of his elbow. He grunted at Sarah to grab the glass of orange juice, extending the extra coffee mug to you as he dropped onto the couch cushions.

“Alright,” He yawned. “Let’s see what the fat man got y’all.”

Sarah tore into her presents, squealing at the heaps of new clothes and accessories she pulled from each box. You stole a glance at Joel, watching him look at his daughter with so much love and happiness. You had caught him giving you that same look from time to time, sometimes when you were walking out of the shower or when you were curled up on the couch together watching shitty action films. Maybe he did lov—.

“Open your present, Dad!” Sarah exclaimed, dragging you from your wandering thoughts. “We got you something special!”

“Y’did, huh?” Joel looked at you with skepticism. 

You held out the box to him, shrugging with nonchalance.

“Surprise, cowboy,” you grinned.

He did a double take at the box in your hand, shock written all over his features. You looked over at Sarah, who was practically buzzing with anticipation as she waited for her dad to open his gift. Taking the box in his hands, Joel’s eyes shifted between you and Sarah, his big brown eyes softening.

“Y’all really ain’t had to do anything,” he protested. “Got all I need right here.”

You reached over to squeeze his knee, urging him just to open the damned thing. He caved, flipping open the lid to reveal his new watch. The wraps on the watch were made from military green nylon, and the face of it was made from black mineral glass that would be durable and long-lasting. It wasn’t anything flashy or extravagant; you and Sarah knew he’d hate that. 

Joel wrapped his hands around the nylon, holding it as he sat silently. You craned your neck to get a better look at his face; his brows furrowed, and his lips downturned.

“You hate it, huh?” Sarah asked quietly. 

“What?” Joel shook his head. “God no, sweetheart, I love it. Thank you.”

Sarah’s face perked up at his words, and she hauled herself up from the floor to give him a big embrace. You sat back and let them have their moment, enjoying the warmth floating around the room. Joel looked over Sarah’s shoulder at you, mouthing a soft thank you. 

Of course, you mouthed back.

He squeezed Sarah one last time before breaking the hug, ruffling her hair as she pulled away. He worked the watch around his wrist, clasping it on and admiring it against his tanned skin. 

“S’too much,” he mumbled. “Ain’t deserve these nice things.” 

“Yes, you do,” you responded.

Joel shook his head, for once at a loss for words. Sarah glanced between you both on the couch and gave you a small smile before grabbing her opened presents and disappearing to her room. You turned your attention back to Joel, already finding his eyes settled on you. 

“S’real nice of y’all to do this,” he sighed. “I really ‘ppreciate it.”

“She just wanted to do something special for you,” you said, scooting closer to him. “She loves you.”

“I know, I know.”

Joel hauled you into his lap, pulling your arms around his neck before his own settled around your waist. You leaned in close, brushing your nose against his before kissing his lips softly. Those words you had shoved down were coming back up again, crawling through your chest and banging to come out. You couldn’t wrangle them down this time.

“Joel, I—.”

“Don’t,” he whispered.

Your stomach dropped, the happiness you had felt crumbling away. Of course, it was too soon; you had been stupid to think he was ready to hear those words…or even reciprocate them. You chewed on your lip, trying—and failing—to hide your disappointment.

“Don’t say it,” he continued. “I wanna say it first. I love you, babydoll. S’fucking much.”

His features began to blur as tears fell against your cheeks.

“Swear?” You asked.

“On my life.”

Cupping your face in his large hands, Joel pulled you in for a deep kiss, his tongue tracing over your bottom lip as you surrendered to his touch. Your mouths moved together, hands roaming skin, sounds escaping in breathy moans. You hadn’t expected to fall for him so fast—or fall for him at all. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did, and you were happier because of it. 

“I love you, too, cowboy,” you whispered.

Later that night, Joel had you laid out on the bed upside down, your head dangling off the edge as you watched him above you through the mirror beside the bed. You could see his lips pressed against your stomach; you could feel the warmth of his mouth on your skin. 

“Watch me, babydoll,” he instructed. “Don’t take those pretty eyes off the mirror.”

You groaned as his tongue glided over your clit, each lick soft and slow. You bit your lip, trying to stifle your whines, knowing Sarah was only a few feet down the hall. You kept your eyes trained on the mirror, watching as Joel’s mouth worked at your wet cunt. His nose rubbed against your clit as he plunged his tongue inside you, a traitorous moan falling from your mouth. His eyes connected with yours through the mirror, the brown in his irises nearly black in the dim lights of the bedroom.

“Quiet, darlin’,” he warned. “Be good for me.”

“I’ll be good,” you promised. 

“That’s my girl.”

Then his mouth was back on you. He guided you toward the edge of your orgasm, keeping you suspended between bliss and delirium. You couldn’t hold on any longer, white-hot pleasure electrifying your nerves and spotting your vision. Joel kissed each of your thighs, raising his head to capture your gaze again, a lopsided grin plastered on his wet lips. You tilted your head up, the blood rushing back to the surface as you settled into the bed. Joel crawled up your body, caging you between his muscular arms. 

“So damn beautiful, babydoll,” he praised. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, cowboy.”

He smiled wider, pushing your legs apart as he lined up with your entrance. Breaking you open slowly, Joel rocked into you, his pace slow and sensual. You melted against him, the press of his skin on yours enough to send another wave of pleasure through your core. Your fingers flexed against the solid muscles of his back, his shoulder blades moving with each roll of his hips. Joel’s hand slid down your leg, cupping the underside of your knee as he hauled your leg higher, forcing himself deeper into you. 

“Joel,” you whimpered quietly. “Feel’s so fucking good.”

“I know, babydoll,” he whispered. “S’like you were made for me.”

You were mindless as another spasm tore through you, your legs shaking around his waist as your mouth dropped open in a silent cry. Joel chased his release moments later, spilling into you with a quiet slew of curses and grunts. He peppered your neck and jaw in an array of kisses, nipping at your earlobe with a string of praises falling off his tongue. 

He hauled you from the bed, carrying you into the bathroom, where you both stood under the spray of the hot water for nearly an hour. It wasn’t long before he had you pressed against the cold shower walls, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body. 

Into the late hours of the night, you found yourself wrapped around Joel, your limbs intertwined under the comforter's warmth. Your head rested against his shoulder, fingers dancing over the hair across his chest. Joel’s thumb rubbed circles around your shoulder blade as he pulled you tighter to his body. The smell of sex and cedarwood filled the air inside the bedroom, and your eyes drifted closed while you focused on the sound of his breathing beside you.

“I love you, Joel,” you sighed, nuzzling into his embrace.

“I love you, darlin’. Always.”

**

The months faded away, the air turning warmer as summer crept in. Work had been picking up as the seasons changed, and your schedule was always packed from start to finish each day. On a particularly sunny day, you found yourself free for the afternoon after a long morning meeting. Driving through the town, you turned onto a street far too familiar to you now. Aside from Joel’s truck parked in the garage, the mechanic shop was empty. Smoothing down your pencil skirt, you exited your car with a devilish idea in mind. The bells above the door chimed as you waltzed into the waiting room with a devilish grin. Joel perked up from behind the counter, setting down the newspaper gripped between his hands. 

“What can I do for ya, miss?” Joel smirked, quickly feeding into your energy.

“Got myself a flat,” you feigned distress, leaning against the counter before him. “Can you help me out?”

“S’gonna cost ya,” he shrugged. 

“I’m all outta cash,” you whined, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. 

“Gotta credit card?” he questioned.

“It’ll get declined,” you pouted.

Joel let out a heavy breath, scratching his neck as he took you in your exaggerated appearance.

“Well, that’s got you in quite the predicament.”

“A pretty big one, huh?” You stifled a giggle. He knew what you were implying.

“I reckon we can work somethin’ out,” he insisted, nodding his head towards the back door. 

You followed him out to the garage, excitement bubbling to the surface. Joel leaned against the hood of his truck, tugging at your skirt to draw you closer, forcing you to stumble a bit in your heels. Wrapping a big arm around your waist, he pinned you to his body, his hand coming up to cradle your face. 

“Y’sure are somethin’, babydoll,” he said before leaning in for a hungry kiss. 

“Whatever do you mean?” you said sarcastically. “I’m just an innocent woman lookin’ for help.”

“Keep runnin’ that mouth of yours, darlin'. It’ll only get you in trouble,” he warned.

“What’re you gonna do about it, cowboy?” you taunted, running your hands under the fabric of his shirt. 

Grabbing the base of your throat with a strong hand, Joel forced you down to your knees. You stared up at him obediently, an eager smile on your lips. With his hand still wrapped around your neck, he used the other to free his cock from his jeans, rubbing the tip of it over your parted lips.

“Better make use of that fuckin’ mouth,” he growled. “Since ‘ya need that tire fixed so bad.”

“I’ll do anything,” you pleaded.

You took him into your mouth, rolling your tongue over the head of his cock. The taste of salty precum swirled around your mouth as you took him deeper, eliciting a satisfied rumble from his chest. Joel jerked his hips forward, forcing you to sputter around his cock as he hit the back of your throat. You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking him harder with each thrust of his hips. You reached up to cup his balls, running your fingers over the silken skin as he drove into your mouth over and over again.

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, babydoll,” he instructed, his voice shaky.

You obliged, staring up at him with an open-mouthed grin. With a loud grunt and flex of his thighs, he coated your tongue in his release, some of it dripping off your lip. Your tongue darted out to catch it as Joel watched in a post-climax haze. His eyes were hooded and full of desire, and you could feel your cunt throbbing with need the longer he stared at you.

Standing on shaky legs, you reeled him in for a long kiss, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Joel deepened the kiss by twisting his tongue around yours, muffled sounds lost against your lips as he wrapped you into a tight embrace.

“So,” you drawled, pulling away from his hungry lips. “Think I can get that tire fixed?”

“I might be able to work somethin’ out,” he mused. “We can negotiate it over dinner.”

“Oh, you wanna wine and dine me now?”

“Damn right, I do,” he grinned. “Now, let’s go home so I can feast on you.”

“Take me home, cowboy.”

You both decided to leave your car parked at the shop and drive home together in his truck. With the console propped up, Joel had you pressed against his body, your eyes steadily watching him as he drove you home. Home. In the golden hour of sunset, you watched his eyes shimmer in flex of gold and auburn. His tan skin glowed in the sunlight, the silhouette of his face perfectly shadowed by the sun dipping below the horizon. He glanced down at you, a warm smile creasing the lines around his eyes. 

“What’s that look for, huh?” He squeezed your hip, his other hand gripping the wheel.

“I love you,” you sighed.

“I love you, too, babydoll. Always.”

[inklore]

code breaker

premise: there’s always been something there, between the two of you. unspoken and filling in the cracks of those moments where joel is helping you out of a tough situation and your offering up a thank you and sweet smile. if only it didn’t take bloody knuckles and some band-aids to finally crack the code of that something.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected p in v, smut with feelings really, fem receiving oral, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, mentions of violence and blood, alcohol mention, toxic exes and relationships discussed, dirty talk, biting and love marks mention, lots of banter, au (preoutbreak).

note: i meant for this to be darker but it turned out wayyy more fluffy and i’m actually really happy about it. i hella edited this but it still feels choppy so if it is i’m sorry ya girl has bad eyes lmao. gif made by me so don’t be an ass and steal it tysm <3

There’s words you should be saying right now. Expressing. Spilling from your mouth in a heap of thank you, I appreciate you, what would I do without you always being there for me…

But they just can’t seem to come out. The speech part of your brain—and your heart—aching and prompting you to speak. To show courtesy, your vocal cords refuse to let you get out. Like your mouth has forgotten its purpose, your throat hoarse from screaming Joel’s name in the chaos of thrown fists, people shouting, men trying and failing to haul Joel’s weight off of the bloodied body below it.

The blood on his knuckles pulls your eyes in like a neon sign: caked, dark, and drying the longer the air gets to it. If it hurts Joel doesn’t state it—show it as he grips the steering wheel. You’ve never thrown a punch before, have never seen something like this up close and personal. You excelled at resolving conflicts before they arose. Never let arguments get past the phase of unfair yelling. But you would assume his knuckles must be aching, even if only a dull pounding.

You know for certain your ex's face is.

Good. 

You hadn’t expected him to show up at the bar, your job. Hadn’t expected him to start in on the possessive act—coincidently the local patrons were less than surprised at the all-too-cliché behavior. The town having labeled him as bad news ages ago. Something you had to learn the hard way, when you finally took off those rose colored glasses. 

Joel had been staring at you for the duration of the exchange. Even after your ex left to hang out with a group of his buddies in the corner, his gaze lingered on you.

"You alright?" He asked as he slid his glass towards you, his forearm leaning against the bar. A wordless nod letting you know he wanted another. 

"Yeah, he’s not the first creep I've had to deal with. It's in our DNA as women to deal with the lesser species of the male population."

"Can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse as a father."

"Oh," you send him a sweet smile. Setting his refilled whiskey in front of him, "no creep dare mess with Sarah. I’ve seen her make jocks cry."

"That’s my girl, taught her well." The grin he wraps around the rim of the glass makes something girlish—and foolish—spark in your stomach. 

Maybe if you had a man like Joel in your life, you would be less likely to keep making the same mistakes with no-good assholes who are good for a week and bad for the rest of the 358 days. 

A girl can dream. 

And she has. Embarrassingly. 

The two of you had continued to talk, your hip pressed against the bar as you cleaned a glass; perhaps you had been smiling and laughing too hard at what Joel was saying because your ex was back and grabbing you from across the bar in an instant.

An action that quickly landed him passed out and bloodied on the bar floor, and your boss trying to make sure Joel hadn’t taught him too good of a lesson to have him see God. 

And while the adrenaline of shock had been bruising your heart against your rib cage, your lungs devoid of air—when Joel had put his non-bloody hand against your arm, calling your name (the white noise of the commotion in the bar creating an impenetrable barrier to your ear drums), a warm thumb under your chin pulling your attention away from the limp body on the floor and up into his eyes—that adrenaline melted and turned into serendipity. 

Gratefulness. 

Those girlish sparks turning into an entire flame that quickly engulfed you as he asked if you were okay. As he comforted you with a barely there touch on your arm and chin, concern in his dark eyes. Concern for what? Frightening you? 

When your gaze is drawn to his knuckles, his body language responds with a grimace. When you see the gashes only bone against bone brings. 

He’s worried he’s upset you. As if he's done something wrong.

When he insists on driving you home you don’t argue. Wouldn’t dream of it even if the circumstances were different. It wouldn't be the first time he drove you home because your beat-up car wouldn't start or because the weather was bad and your anxiety was high.

That’s the thing about Joel. 

He was always there. 

If you needed help, he always seemed to find time. 

Because of this, and the aforementioned beating your toxic ex to a pulp, you shouldn't be allowing the silence to spread between the two of you like strangers. Like something in the air was making everything awkward, like you hadn’t sat in his truck a dozen times before. Like he hasn’t gotten you out of a pinch (minus the blood) before. 

And after he’s pulled into your driveway, engine turned off, the cicadas and crickets filling the silence, it’s Joel who finally speaks. 

Who cracks that barrier you have mentally been trying so hard to climb over. 

"I’m sorry if I," he clears his throat, flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. "If I overstepped." 

And the ridiculousness of him even apologizing has your mouth finally moving into action. "Joel, no, oh my gosh, no." Your palm presses against your chest as you look at him apologetically; you should be the only one saying sorry, thanking him, worshiping at his feet for this. "I should be the one saying that. I should have handled it myself or-"

"Or what?" He looks almost angry, shocked at your words. "He had a hold of you, and no disrespect, but I ain’t ever seen you kill a fly, let alone throw a punch at someone." 

"Hey! I could punch someone." 

"Could and would are two different things." 

"You sayin I couldn’t?" 

"I’m sayin' you wouldn’t." 

"Not tough enough?" 

"Your heart's too big." 

"If you knew how hard I was holding back the urge to prove you wrong by bruising that bicep of yours, Joel Miller, you’d think differently." Your scowl and threat only seem to amuse him because he’s grinning at you. "You’re lucky you’re injured." 

"I’m shaking in my boots." 

"As you should be." The laugh the two of you share makes your cheeks burn.  On the outside, many could and have labeled Joel as a complicated man. A man who takes a lot of nudging and persistence to get to know past that surface-level workaholic grump he sometimes displays. But he’s a man who would lend a hand at the drop of a hat. A man with honor embedded in his very DNA.

There’s a list you’ve kept in the back of your mind that has every bullet point filled out and doodled hearts around the edges of all the reasons Joel is a good man. A man you trust. A man you adore.

"Thank you, Joel." He starts to shake his head, but you stop him with your palm resting on his forearm, "thank you. "You're right, I don't think I even know how to make a proper fist, let alone connect it." Your soft laugh makes the corners of his lips tick up. "You didn’t hesitate to help me. You never do. It means a lot to me, I hope you know that."

He nods, his eyes only on your face. Listening. Taking in every word you’re saying, even if you know he hates the fact that you’re thanking him for this. But he deserves to know how much you appreciate him.

Your hand moves to his wrist, gently yanking it away from his vice-like grip on the wheel. Your index finger runs along a vein at the top of his hand—the one spot the blood didn’t cake on to. "Does it hurt?" 

"No. Between the callouses and the whiskey, it’s nothing more than a cat scratch." 

"You should still get it looked at."

"You’re looking at it, aren’t ya?" 

Your eyes roll. "I’m not a doctor, Joel." 

"All a doctors gonna tell me is to be more careful, hand me a band-aid, and charge me three hundred dollars."

"Well, in that case," you drop his hand and grab for the door. The dry summer air ineffective to your already burning skin from the man whose raising his brows at you, "I got band aids in the house, and I didn’t get to finish my shift, which means you owe me three hundred in tips alone sooo."

"There's barely three hundred people in this town, and you’re tellin me you make that in tips?" 

"Joel, just get in the damn house." You order, slamming the door of his truck and walking up the path to your front door. Smiling when you hear him huff and grumble under his breath as he gets out. 

A hiss—and a scowl so deadly it could scare away even the biggest and badest of grown men—has Joel’s hand twitching in your hold as you run a wet cloth along the tops of his knuckles. The fabric pulling up the caked on flecks of dried blood, the surface of the cuts along the bone already starting the healing process from being clotted with red. 

"I thought you said it didn’t hurt?" You smirk playfully. 

"Whiskey’s wearin' off," he grunts. 

"Or," you dab the cloth in the small cap of saline solution you’ve pulled from your first aid kit under the sink. Bringing it back to his skin to press gently across his cuts, his body tensing. "You’re human after all," his eyes roll. 

"Don’t alert the press." 

"Oh, they’ve already been informed." 

His hand rests on your thigh as you ball up some tissues to dry the area around his knuckles. Enough to keep the band-aids—the only thing he would allow you to use because gauze would just get in the way at work, he informed you when you insisted—from falling off. The heat from his palm burns through your jeans, and it's a blessing in and of itself that you're ignoring how it makes your insides feel; how your body's warmth is no match for how hot he feels. His legs are spread, body slouched against your couch, his knee against yours. A closeness he’s never been before. A casual touch and directness between friends that shouldn’t be making you feel feverish and cheeky. 

When he flexes his fingers a couple times and his fingertips run along the top of your thigh, you find yourself wishing you’d worn a dress to work. A skirt. Anything to have been able to feel him do that against your bare skin. A thought you chide yourself for. A thought you hope isn’t written all over your face when you look over at Joel and he’s staring at you. Eyes darker, expression unreadable and stoic, in that way you can never tell what emotion he’s feeling at that exact moment. He gives nothing away but still sends your stomach plummeting. 

After the band-aids have been stuck and you’ve cleaned up the mess on your coffee table you offer him a drink. 

"Unless you have to get back to Sarah, then I understand."

"She’s with a friend tonight." 

"You gonna tell her how you saved the day, all knight and shining armor style?" You tease as you walk back to the living room with two beers in hand, putting one in Joel’s outstretched one and the other to your lips. Taking a sip as you take your place beside him once again, this time a leg pulled under you as you face him. 

He snorts, "don’t know about all that."

"I’m sure word has already gotten around. Her friends are probably gabbing about how heroic Mr. Miller is, a real prince charming." You laugh when you see his grin. 

"Or," he says, swallowing the sip he's just taken. "She’ll give me that death glare that all teenagers possess after puberty, you know the one?"

"Oh, I know the one. Mine was so fierce my mother banned it from our house."

"It’s deadly."

"Truly."

"I’m sure prince charming will be the last thing connected to my actions. Rage and jackass sound more on the money." 

You frown. Watch as he stares down at the result of the rage he thinks will now be accompanied with his name. Tarnishing it that now people will forget the kindness that was once there, the man whose hardworking now turned into something vile all because of an act of heroism some might find obscene; with how much blood and possible damage it has caused to one mans face, you could understand why such an act would be. 

But to you—and those who knew how horrible your ex had been, how he had deserved every bone crunching punch, every spit of blood and teeth choked on—you knew that what Joel did was right. And maybe, somewhere deep down in those morals against violence everyone gets handed out to them at birth, you knew that Joel could be sitting in a jail cell instead of on your couch if those punches had been any worse. If it had been pure untamed rage like some will say. 

"You’re a good man, Joel. So you potentially hospitalized an asshole, who hasn’t?" Your heart leaps in your chest when he laughs, and you thank God that your joke landed. Thank him that this man with his disheveled hair that's begging to have a hand run through it, work shirt and jeans looking like they’ve seen better days—is in your life. Not every girl has someone willing to bruise another man's face while destroying the hand that's needed to do their job properly.

No one had acted as quick as Joel had. 

Joel Miller was a good man. 

"What did you see in him anyway?" Joel asks, taking another sip of his beer. His gaze is drawn to you from the hole he was burning into his hand. 

And if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know. 

Couldn’t answer that question with the full truth because you didn’t know why you always went for the assholes. The guys who liked to scream instead of talk it out. Who liked to steal money from your wallet for booze or a habit they couldn’t kick. The ones who never remembered your birthday but made sure didn't forget theirs.

Your father had been a great man. Your mother an amazing woman. You couldn’t take the easy way out and blame it on family trauma. 

So you answered with the only viable reason that came to mind. 

"Loneliness makes you ignore all the bad stuff." You take a sip, swallow it down (washing away the pinpricks of potential embarrassment for being so brutally honest with Joel). "It makes you talk yourself out of throwing all their stuff to the curb or burning it in your backyard, because it’s not always bad. Some days are good. Some of them wait to be assholes before the novelty wears off; others wait until you're two years in and they’ve already slept with half the town behind your back. And some will bring you flowers every time they mess up, until one day you look around and realize you don't have any room to put this new vase and there's dried flower petals all over your floors. But hey, at least you’re not lonely, and your house smells really good." 

The smile on your lips fades when you see the look on Joel’s face. See that he’s finding no humor in this story. And the gulp that swallows down the beer in your hands burns your throat the entire way down. Your cheeks are burning, and you have to look away from him. Distract yourself by picking at the label on the bottle. 

"Or maybe it’s as cliché as saying I haven’t found the right one yet." You try to save, nervously chuckling under your breath. In hopes that he forgets everything you’ve just said and clings to this one shitty joke. 

"Look at me."

You do, and you wish you hadn’t. The roughness of his voice makes your stomach swoop and fall like a rollercoaster of emotions you did not prepare yourself for. Hadn’t imagined this being in your future when you’d walked into work. But you’re looking at him. Meeting his eyes. Seeing the stern glower in them before he speaks. 

There’s a million things you imagine him saying. Telling you how much better you are than that, than all of those meaningless assholes. How you deserve better, and you’ll find it someday. Hell, you expect him to scold you with how low his brows are.

What you don’t expect is to feel his lips on yours. His fingers digging into the skin at the back of your neck, his chest inches from your now-heaving one. And it renders you speechless. Still. Your brain not computing with the signals your nerves are giving off right now. 

When he pulls away and looks at you, it takes you several blinks to meet his gaze. The air in your lungs weighing your chest down. You shouldn’t speak. Should allow yourself to get your bearings in order. To catch your breath and sort through everything you’re feeling right now. "Was that a pity kiss?" 

"A what—pity kiss?" 

"Cause of the," you swallow, lick your lips, "of the aforementioned assholes?" 

Joel’s breath fans across your face when he chuckles, "anyone who’d pity kiss you deserves to be added to that list of assholes. And I might be on many asshole lists, but hopefully not on yours." The fingers on your neck skate forward to your cheek, thumb pressed gently along your jawline. His features grow serious again. "I didn’t just knock that asshole out because he had it comin'. And if you haven't noticed, I’m either working or at home with Sarah. Both keepin' me more than busy."

"Too busy to be making house calls for leaky faucets and tarnishing your good name with your fists?" 

"Exactly." 

There's a long pause between you two, as if you're both waiting for the other to say something, anything, to put these unspoken mutual feelings out there.

"Joel, are you saying you coming over to fix my faucet and staying for the occasional beer was you…flirting?" The grin he gives you makes you laugh, "who taught you how to flirt? And please don’t say Tommy."

"No. If I had listened to him we’d be–" he doesn’t finish. Just shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. 

And maybe affirmative action with your hands wasn’t your forte, maybe you couldn’t do what needed to be done when it came in the form of actions. But when it came to words, to saying what you wanted, needed, craved when it was right here in front of you being hinted and teased at, you didn’t hesitate. 

"Maybe you should have listened to Tommy." Your hand mirrors his own, resting on his cheek. You already knew he ran hot from his palm alone. But his cheek feels just as warm as you do, burning right through to your bones. His gaze falls to your parted lips, and a decision is made in the seconds it takes him to return his gaze to yours.

An agreement. 

"C'mere." His lips collide with yours in a heated kiss of nicks of teeth and tongue that taste like whiskey and beer and something that your brain will forever recognize as Joel. A taste you know you’ll be wanting to swallow down again and again. To feel the burn of his beard against your chin until your skin is raw and blotchy from how hard his mouth is devouring yours. An arm wrapped around your waist pulls you into his lap, and your forgotten beers spill and stain the cushions of your couch. "Shit, sorry, let me," Joel starts, but you stop him with your hands on his cheeks. 

"Leave it, just come here." You insist, lips returning to his. 

"Yes, ma’am." His smirk molds to your mouth, wipes away as his tongue runs along your bottom lip to press against yours. A hand on your ass squeezes and presses you forward so you’re grinding against his lap. The seam of your jeans rubs up against the wet patch that's quickly forming on the fabric of your underwear, becoming sticky and clinging to your pussy. Joel's other hand runs down the column of your neck, gripping and pulling you away from his mouth so that his lips can latch onto your sensitive skin. A gasp leaving your lungs, teeth and tongue making you shudder and cling to his shoulders. 

Shoulders you don't let go of until your back hits the mattress and you're both pulling your shirts above your heads, your fingers quickly working the clip of your bra, joining the discarded pile of shirts and shoes on your bedroom floor.

Your heart feels as if it’s beating a hole through your chest, like it’ll fall into Joel’s hands as he leans over your body, knees between your open legs, as his palms run down your chest, between your breasts. Over the globes of them, calloused thumb circling around your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat as you press yourself up into his touch. He’s taking you in, letting his eyes trail every dip, possible mole, scar, and marking on your skin. How your chest heaves in response to his hand. How your breasts fit in his palm. How you gasp and cry into the air when he leans down and swirls his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh when he pulls off and does the same to the other one. 

His mouth finding its way back to yours again. His hips canting against yours; you can feel his cock digging into your thigh. And when you let your hand skate between the two of you to give him more friction. A dizzying desire to feel more of his heat and need for you burning through your skin and to your core, where you truly crave him. 

The deep grunt that falls from his mouth and onto your waiting tongue sends a shockwave of arousal through your entire body. Being. You want to hear it again, want to pull every noise from this man with your body and mouth until you are both drained and cursing yourselves for not doing this sooner. And you know he wants to do the same. Wants to catalog every pressure point and sensitive bit of your flesh so he can draw this out, can rile you up with a simple touch, scrape of teeth, run of his tongue along your jugular. Until you tell him how badly you can’t stand not having him inside of you. 

He's leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach, his fingers digging into the skin above your jeans, holding your hips still. Preventing you from moving them the way you want to from each press and prickle from his mouth and beard—scalding the nerves of your skin and making your insides whirl. 

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart." Joel murmurs into your skin as his fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans. Your body feels barren and cool away from his heat as he sits back on his knees, your hips lifting as he frees your legs from their confines. His thumb runs along the lace of your underwear, dipping lower and lower until it’s pressing into that wet spot. A silent, smug praise tugs at the corner of his lopsided smile as his eyes look up to yours.

If your mind was working coherently and not filled with Joel Joel Joel (the way he smells woodsy and rugged, the way something deep and gruff reverberates in his chest when your teeth sink into the skin of his neck, and how he keeps looking at you like a fine art piece hung in the Louvre. Movements quick and gentle as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, making quick work to push your legs apart, fingers digging into the back of your thigh as he lets himself take his time adorning you fully on display for him) there'd be a sassy remark aimed at him.

The callus of his thumb nicks your swollen clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips, your hips following the descent of his finger as it spreads you apart. Trailing a line from your clit to dip into your entrance, gathering your arousal on the pad of his finger, his eyes on yours as he presses it against his tongue. A burning hunger in his eyes as he sucks your wetness from his fingers. 

You're a panting mess by the time Joel positions his head between your legs, arms wrapped behind your thighs, lips, teeth, and tongue trailing up your inner thigh. Your fingers clench the blanket in anticipation, need, and want. The closer his mouth gets to your center, the more you can feel his hot breath moving in, the potential love bites and marks he’s leaving on your inner thigh—all a certain type of torture you don’t think you’re strong enough to put up with right now. 

You lift your head to start begging, to plead with your torturer, but he’s speaking before you can. 

"Wanna take my time, sweetheart." His tongue swirls at the joint of your inner thigh. And just as earlier, the words you mean to get out, to speak from the storm cloud of lust in your head, die in the back of your throat when Joel runs the flat of his tongue up the seam of your pussy. The torturous muscle wraps you around his tongue, following the slowest path to your clit, until the tip of his tongue flicks, making a pattern of strokes and licks, until his lips wrap around the swollen nerve, making you feel delirious. Keeps pulling gasps, moans, and pants of pleasure and ecstasy from your parted mouth; head thrown back on pillows; legs trembling around his head from the blazing fire that grows and grows the more he consumes you.

The more his nose nicks your clit when he fucks you with his tongue, the more his fingers dig into your quivering legs to keep you anchored to the bed and his mouth. 

It feels like hours with how slowly he goes. Keeps you dangling from the ledge with every stroke and suck. Every soothing indent his fingers are leaving in your thigh. Your skin slicked with sweat, knuckles cramped from its grip in the blanket. When your moans go up in pitch he goes slower in that motion, that spot that has you seeing stars. Then he lets your breath come back to you with slow strokes of his tongue at your entrance, giving attention to the other parts of you that you didn’t think could elicit such erotic noises from your lungs. 

Your fingers find their way into those disheveled strands you’ve been waiting a lifetime to thread through. To pull and keep yourself from the feeling of floating away from the intensity of the pleasure. From your orgasm coming closer and closer until you’re panting his name, "Joel, Joel, Joel–fuck," your body shaking, the cries pulled out from this man burning your throat as you finally fall from the ledge and into him; his tongue coated in you, his chin wet with your essence. 

Your body sensitive and heavy as you come down, a sweaty heat making you feel sticky. Joel’s fingers seem to bypass every sensitive part though, as his palm caresses the tops of your thighs, your hips, your curves, the side of your breast. Until he’s reached your burning cheeks, mouth pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips. The kiss was slow and gentle. Your arousal coats your taste buds when his tongue meets yours.

The kiss feeling more intimate than before, more heady. Knocking you right back on that loop you just got off of. That ache and throb he just sedated starting again in your belly, moving to where your thighs are soaked. 

"You’re overdressed," you murmur against his lips. Joel kisses you again, your open mouths exchanging a breathy chuckle.

"Do you wanna change that?" 

The question holds more than just the surface level of a joke and an answer of "yeah, obviously."  There’s a seriousness to it that makes you pull back from his lips and stare up at him. His thumb traces a soothing pattern into the bottom of your chin, his eyes holding an unspoken reassurance that he’s fine with it ending right here. With him just pleasing you, getting to take you apart and reassemble you with tender touches and a torturous mouth.

It can be all about you.

It is all about you.

You deserve nothing less.

His eyes and soft grin speak unspoken. 

Your nod is slow and reassuring. Your fingertips copy the motions of his thumb against the patches of skin in his damp beard. "Unless you’d rather help me get the stain out of my couch that you caused."

"I caused?" His brows shoot up. 

"It's to be expected when you can't keep your hands off of me," you say before shrieking as he pinches your side. His lips kissing your scowl away—a problem you foresee in the near future.

The kiss lasts for minutes (centuries you wish). Your fingertips never lift from the other's face, moving along jawlines, chins, and cheek bones. His chest comfortably against yours, giving you that heat you missed so dearly. His cock still stiff and hot in his jeans, grinding slowly against your pelvis. 

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? When feelings haven't even been discussed yet, but you just know? Already know what each touch, kiss, and caress holds behind it. Telling a wordless story in the way he had wanted to give you pleasure first—to taste—and take his time making you feel everything his mouth could do. Everything he wanted to do to you.

He wasn’t thinking about himself after the fact. Wasn’t rushing to put you in a position that made it all about his pleasure. Giving you little to no space to cool down, regain your bearings, and have that fire slowly relight and become more tantalizing, as he is right now.

You really did date assholes. 

Your fingers move to his chest, splaying your palm along his body until you’ve reached where he’s hard and pressing against you. Your fingers curl around the outline of him. Stroking, massaging. 

"I want you, Joel." You breathe into his mouth. 

He growls against your lips in something akin to frustration and agony. It makes something inside of you sink, overthink that maybe he doesn’t actually want to push it past the points you’ve already reached. Maybe it’s too much, all too soon, for this new territory of your friendship—even if it already seemed a little too late with the couch confessions and his saliva still coating your center. 

He must see the thoughts volleying in your head because he’s scolding himself under his breath and shaking his head. A soothing touch placed on your skin. "I feel like I’m some horny teenager again, with how bad I want you." His chuckle soothes your heart, "I don’t have-"

And you can't help but laugh at his waving hand towards his pockets and the sentence he's about to finish.

"Jesus, Joel. Bless anyone who's ever thought you were the ungentlemanly type." Here you were worrying about whether or not he wanted you, the proof being clearer than just his dick against your fingers. While the only thing on his mind was protection. 

"Glad I’m amusin’ to you." 

Cupping his cheeks, you pull him back to your lips. "All a girl wants is a decent man to make her laugh, not break her heart, and be able to make her come. And so far you’ve done all three." You let your tongue slip between your mouths and run along his bottom lip, "I’m good if you are." 

I’m clean.

I take a little pill every day because life is chaotic enough and I don’t want any surprises. 

We’re protected.

Now take me already.

The drag of your tongue, the roll of your hips against him, the little whimper you let out when he bites your lip—speaks for you.

It’s all either of you needs to rid Joel of his jeans: hands tangled in belt loops, tugs, pulls, pushing until he’s completely bare in front of you. Your breath hitches when you feel the underside of his cock spreading you and running along your clit slowly and languidly. The heat of him feels nothing compared to your own, the throb and ache of requisite in every roll and drag. 

And when neither of you can stand it anymore, when he’s grunting and you’re begging, he leans up on an elbow, hand wrapped around his cock, lining himself up to your entrance. Your breath leaves your lungs, stomach falling falling down to where he’s pushing into you. Stretching you, filling you until there’s no telling where either of you ends or begins. Attached by that intangible string of pleasure and bliss of only being able to feel each other.

"Fuck," Joel groans. Mouth finding your shoulder, breath hot and heavy. His thrusts start leisurely, taking his time in that way you’re learning he loves to do. Loves to compartmentalize up what you need—more, faster, harder. Going off of the moans panted into his neck, nails digging into his back. 

There's a hand gripped in the pillow beside your head, another at your breast, his mouth connected to your neck, your jaw, your chin, your lips. His hips slamming against your open thighs, thrusts deep, sharp. His cock hitting places that make your back arch, his name strung together with pleas for more. The slapping of skin and wet squelching of bodily fluids between the two of you making a symphony of lewd delight. 

When the hand at your breast hikes up one of your legs, the cry you let out is swallowed by his mouth. The deeper he fucks into you, the more your body shakes, the more you feel him completely consuming you. turning you into someone who will never get enough of this. Of him. Of how good he's making you feel. 

"Sound s’pretty," his tongue brushes against the underside of your chin, teeth nipping at the bone. A trail of him brought down to the shell of your ear. Where his heavy breaths and grunts fill you just as his cock does. Fills you to the brink of pain turned satisfying pleasure, as each stroke brings you closer to a precipice he’s already pushed you from. "Can’t believe I held myself back from you."

"Joel."

"I should knock out every asshole who thought to hurt you, t’not love you the way you deserve. Put you first," he slips his hand between your slick bodies, palm hot against your pelvis as his thumb rubs fast tight circles around your clit. His words getting filthier, ragged. Becoming heaving breaths against your ear as he fucks you faster. As his thumb matches the pace, as you grow closer and closer. Led by his words and pushed over by his cock. 

"That’s it, sweetheart." He’s encourages as you come. As he fucks you through it, as that white-hot heat makes your body contort against his. Cling and squeeze around him. The string of groans and curses, your name mixed with something incoherent but soft and deep, makes your chest swish—bit into your skin as Joel comes not long after. 

And after the two of you have cleaned up enough to call it satisfactory, two new beers condensing on your night stand. Your cheek pressed into his chest as your bodies lay pressed together under your sheet. His chin resting atop your forehead, a soft brush of fingertips at your spine—there’s cheesy grins on your faces, "Tommy’s going to have a heyday."

"He owes me fifty bucks."

There’s faux shock on your face when you turn and lean on your elbow to look at him, "excuse me?"

"He didn't think I'd ever tell ya," Joel shrugs as his hand caresses your shoulder. A fondness in his eyes, "I never do anything for myself." You press a kiss to his thumb, "I think we both deserve something good for once though." 

"I guess I solved the mystery of how to get Joel Miller to be soft," you joke. Nip at the skin of his thumb playfully. 

"I ain’t soft." He grumbles.

"Postcoitous Joel disagrees with that statement," you say. The dramatic roll his eyes do makes you laugh. Your teeth nipping his thumb harder, a bite this time, you shift so you’re on top of him. Sitting up on your knees. "Since this bet is half at my expense.."

"Expense, huh?" His palm grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, causing you to rock in his lap. His cock already twitching to life again.

"I think we should get you your money's worth," you smirk.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," his fingers tangled in your back hair, pulling your mouth down to his in a hard kiss, before you get the chance to at least pretend to be offended.

[rebeccasteventaylor]

So why does Donna matter so much to me? To so many of us?

All the companions - old and new - had been young and they kind of knew they were brilliant. They had self-confidence and they knew their place was by the Doctor.

Donna was a middle aged woman who thought she was worthless. She spent her life thinking that her life meant nothing, she meant nothing.

Doctor Who has been running for 60 years. There are a lot of middle-aged women in this fandom who felt the same way. But no-one saw us in the fandom because middle-aged women are often - invisible.

But here’s Donna, just like us. And she does take the chance to travel with the Doctor and she is brilliant. She grows and learns and she becomes his best friend (he hasn’t called anyone that since Sarah Jane). She has a wonderful life and she finally knows she is wonderful.

And then it all goes. It’s not even that she loses the Doctor. She loses everything. She misses everything. She has no idea that she matters. She feels worthless again.

It broke us. And I remember sitting on a train on my way to see David Tennant in Hamlet and hearing a lot of women talking about Donna’s end and how it broke them. They had finally felt that with Donna, they had a place in the Doctor’s world too, and now they were told - they don’t.

But now - you could see Donna, once she had her memories back, once she knew what she had done, suddenly know once again that she is brilliant. That she is the Doctor’s best friend, that he loves her, that she matters. It all came back and it got given back to us too.

That’s why Donna matters. For all those middle-aged fans out there who think they don’t matter, no-one like the Doctor could care about them, they have no place by the Doctor’s side. Once again - we’re being shown we are brilliant and matter and are loved.

[httpiastri]

literally any driver: burying head in crook of neck, night kisses and shutting the other up with kisses

lacii my love <3<3 did this with lando, hope that's fine! merry christmas again, and i hope you enjoy this!! 😁

"lando, did i tell you about that time when i first met my friend clara?" the words are flowing out of your mouth like you're spitting bars. your boyfriend doesn't even get a chance to answer your question before you've started talking again. "oh my god, it's a great story. you'll love it. so, i was in a french class when my other friend, sarah-"

lando is smiling subconsciously as you ramble on about your adventures, just as you have ever since he picked you up from the club. his fingers help you slip out of your heels – not that you even seem to understand what's going on, way too focused on speaking – before one of his hands lands on your waist. he takes a deep breath to keep his composure and hold back the laughter threatening to burst from his chest at your continuous gibberish, before he guides you to his bedroom with soft touches. he chuckles quietly at the way you almost take the wrong turn and end up in his kitchen, too engaged in your storytelling to remember the layout of his apartment. he isn't surprised, though, because;

alcohol always makes you blabber.

in most situations, you're not the most talkative, preferring to choose your moments to speak with great care. but when you start to get tipsy, it is like you are the world's greatest extrovert. even after getting just a little alcohol in your system, you talk to anyone with ears, somehow assuming that they're really interested in whatever you're ranting about.

thankfully, if you have your friends around, they usually drag you away by your arm, apologizing to the poor stranger to whom you've over-explained the storyline of your favorite movie.

lando learned about this side effect of your drinking early on in your relationship. on your third date, after sharing a few drinks at a local bar, you wouldn't shut up for half an hour, not giving him a second to interject with anything. he'd been surprised, but mostly confused, until he got your text message the following morning: oh my god, i did it... didn't i?

he'd tried to pretend he didn't know what you meant, wanting to put it all behind you, but you'd persisted. i didn't shut up. i never do when i drink. i'm sorry :(

lando was always one to be quick to forgive and forget, not wanting you to feel too bad. everyone does some questionable things when drunk, and he'd seen tons of people act worse than you did. but after that date, there would be uncountably many more occasions of you not being able to hold back when booze was in the picture. award shows, drinking games at home with friends, podium celebrations. once, he even found you outside a club after a race, sitting on the curb with one of your hands petting a stray dog as your other helped you explain the meaning of life. safe to say, he is used to your habits by now.

so tonight, when he picked you up from your night out with a few of your friends, he wasn't surprised that your mouth didn't shut once during the trip back to his apartment. you were excitedly telling him about the people you'd met and the drinks you'd had, so eager to explain every detail to your boyfriend when you were getting into the car that you forgot about everything around you and he had to lean across the console to put on your seatbelt for you.

most of the time, he finds your habit endearing. but sometimes, like right now, it gets just a little tiresome.

"and then, when jamie came around, she was like, what are you doing?, and i was like, i'm just having some fun!"

you're both sitting on the edge of his bed by now, after lando's helped you change into something more comfortable for the night, your mouth still running like you're one of the gilmore girls. you don't even flinch when his hands reach for your cheeks and he stares intently in your eyes – but he can't do anything other than smile.

lando loves your voice. he loves it when you're whispering something in his ear when you're out with friends, when you're ranting to him about some stupid coworker, and maybe especially when you're moaning and whining his name.

but now, he reckons you've talked enough for today. your vocal cords must be sore, and his ears are about to fall off, so it's time to call it a night – and he only sees one way to shut you up.

mid-sentence, lando leans in, pressing his lips to yours. he swallows the yelp you let out in surprise, one of his hands gliding to the back of your neck to keep you close. it doesn't take long for you to relax into the kiss, your lips moving with his while your hands reach for the neckline of his hoodie.

it's so easy to get lost in kissing lando. when he parts the kiss, you find yourself wanting to seal your lips again, already missing the feeling. your mind is now completely blank; all you can think of is the kiss. the man beside you laughs at your hazy expression, utterly amused by how you're suddenly quiet for more than five seconds (something he's sure hasn't happened yet tonight).

when you slowly open your eyes, the very content look on lando's face makes something click in your mind. he sudden kiss, his big grin...

"was i rambling again?"

the silence that follows gives you your answer, and you throw your head back as you let out a little groan. "hey, don't worry about it."

"i really didn't mean to. you know how it is, it just happens, and i don't really feel it as it happens, you know? it's just, the alcohol, it's not my intention. i actually told sarah today that-"

and for the second time, lando pulls you into him, quieting you down with his own lips. this time, as you (for the most part) understand what he's doing, you can't help but giggle into the kiss. your boyfriend matches your smile, taking your bottom lip between his teeth as a joking warning. he lets it flop back against your teeth as he pulls away to look at you again, but you've already lunged forward, head resting against his shoulder.

"i'm sorry," you start, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. "i really am."

his arms snake around your waist before he leans back against the bed, pulling you down with him and into his side. "don't be," he answers, one of his hands reaching up to the back of your head, stroking your hair. "it's cute. you're cute." you continue hiding in his skin and he makes himself more comfortable in bed, pulling the blanket over you both. "we'll talk more tomorrow, okay?"

he feels you shake your head. "i'm done talking. i've talked enough. you know those tiktok videos where you only have a certain amount of words you're allowed to say every year? that's me. i've run out of words, i used them all today."

"oh yeah, i can tell," lando chuckles, pressing his lips to the top of your head. "close your eyes, baby. tell me about those tiktok videos tomorrow."

"didn't you hear me? i said no more words. i won't talk tomorrow because-"

lando sighs. it's going to be a long night.

[donatellawritings]

tella baby it’s ♡ anon I LOVE SWEETHEART READER but J was wondering what if Rafe were with an Americana aesthetic reader? I imagine her being a very vintage-esque girl who loves picnics, farm work, listening to Lana, thrift shopping, sucking lollipops, wearing small shorts and denim skirts, just your typical girl next door OMG sorry if this is too long of an ask I can send a shorter one ahhhhhh ♡ ♡

this is perfect! ugh i love this sm <3

rafe had met you, through the likes of his sister, sarah — she’d stumbled upon your parents’ land during one of her bike rides through figure 8, her lips parted in awe at the sight of you brushing the shiny coat of your white camarillo horse, who’d she quickly learn was named ‘leche’ a silly name that stuck since you first got the horse as an innocent child. that one question about your beloved horse, was all it took for you and sarah to become engrossed in an hours-long conversation about anything and everything. she fell in love with everything about you — your big bombshell hair, cutesy doll lashes, skimpy baby pink polka dot bikini top, and even skimpier daisy dukes, all the way down to the adorable butterfly belly button ring that adorned your tummy.

the moment you’d exchanged the pleasantries of learning each other’s names, sarah was quick to make you her very best friend, your latin tongue making itself known as you spoke, leaving the perky blonde even more entranced by you — making sure that you had her phone number, before she pressed a sweet kiss to the side of your horse’s nose, turning to send you a small wave as she got back on her bike, pedaling her way back to tannyhill. the two of you were pathetically giddy and the potential of your budding friendship, you both were left giggling into the late hours of the night, before ending the call with plans for you to teach sarah how to ride a horse, tomorrow. it wasn’t until you had been friends for about six months, that sarah decided that you should come over to her house for once, she’d grown to accustomed to the judgement-free air that came with being on the farm with you.

sure, you lived on figure 8, but your family’s property teetered on the fine line of being considered part of the cut, but your parents were insistent on you being in an environment where you could experience the lavish side of life. so, as you got to know sarah cameron, the daunting thought of stepping foot inside of tannyhill had left you a nervous mess as you meticulously dolled yourself up. latin music flowed softly through your speaker as you squeezed your tube of glittery lipgloss between your sparkly cotton candy pink acrylic nails, precisely smearing the sticky gloss across your swollen lips, mushing them together before your pulled away from the mirror of your vanity with a content sigh.

carefully clasping your rosary around your neck, you gently combed your nails through the ends of your perfectly curled hair, before smoothing your hands down your strapless micro dress, the lace and silk lined cups that confined your breasts, adorned with a neatly sewed bow, pushing them up cutely against your chest as you slipped your feet into dainty white kitten heels, before rushing downstairs, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor as you stepped out onto your driveway, silently praying to yourself that you wouldn’t make an absolute fool of yourself. i mean, it was only meant to be an innocent lunch where you’d meet your best friend’s family — surely, in your little naive mind, you manipulated yourself into believing that nothing too bad could come from having lunch with the cameron family. right?

you were broken from your whiplash-inducing thoughts with parted sticky and swollen lips as the sound of sarah’s familiar car horn filled your pearl-earring adorned ears.

୨୧

with a sigh, sarah linked her arm through yours, biting down into her bottom lip as the two of you stepped inside of the grandeur that was tannyhill. before the two of you could exceed the confines of the foyer, she pulled away from you, suddenly overcome with the impending annoyance and embarrassment that came with introducing people to her family, specifically, her older brother. your dolly lashes fluttered together as your eyes softened with confusion.

before sarah could speak, the staggering height of ward cameron stopping behind sarah came into your line of vision, your lips parting as he clasped a fatherly hand down onto his daughter’s shoulder as she forced a warm smile at you, “hi sweetie,” he pressed his lips to sarah’s head, squeezing her shoulder before he pulled away from sarah, extending a firm hand in your direction, “s’a pleasure to finally meet you, i’m mr. cameron,” ward smiled, nodding approvingly as you revealed your name, enveloping your small hand around his as you politely shook his hand.

“hi mr. cameron,” you extended a courteous smile, fighting back a laugh as you watched sarah roll her eyes teasingly.

with a clap of his large hands, ward stepped to the side, “well, we don’t want to keep everyone waiting outside, your brother should be home soon, sarah,” ward breathes out a laugh, your wide eyes sparkling with awe as you walked through the grandeur main room of tannyhill. sarah allowed a giddy smile to pull on her pout as she took in your observant gaze. she loved how despite your status of living on figure 8, you remained humble, extending kindness to every person and animal you came across, so much so that it inspired her to treat even the smallest bugs with utmost respect.

“your home is beautiful, mr. cameron,” you beamed, lashes fluttering as you stepped out into the pristinely decorated backyard. your brief moment of shock once again overtaken by your meddlesome nerves as you approached the flower adorned table, smoothing your hands underneath the plush curve of your ass, before taking your seat beside sarah.

the table was quiet as your wiped your clammy hands against your dress, suddenly overcome with insecurity as sarah’s stepmother and younger sister stared at you, their eyes greedily drinking you in. with parted lips, you began to speak when wheezie suddenly cut in, “you’re really hot,” she blurted, your parted lips expanding into a flushed smile as sarah snorted beside you, a complete contrast from the stern and bewildered stares that wheezie received from ward and rose.

“that was so inappropriate, wheezie,” rose scolded with a displeased roll of her eyes, before turning to face ward who kept his stern eyes on wheezie who sunk into her seat.

you were quick to mouth ‘thank you’ to the younger girl, before turning your attention to ward who let out out a sharp sigh, running a hand over his face, before forcing a smile, “alright, well — my son should be home any minute, so please, feel free to help yourself to what’s on the table,” ward motioned to the array of salad, sandwiches, fruits, and pitchers of juice that covered the table. with a shaky hand, you poured yourself a glass of orange juice, licking over your glossed lips as sarah did followed suit, filling her glass.

just as you brought the glass to your lips, the sight of a tall young man, with greasy strands of hair fanning over his face approached the table, dressed in a black button up and khaki pants. fuck, he was hot. subconsciously your pressed your thighs together, focusing your attention on swallowing down the citrusy juice that flooded your tongue.

“nice of you to join us, rafe — have a seat, son,” ward spoke gruffly, watching closely as rafe took the seat at the opposite end of the table, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took in your presence. his bright blue eyes immediately went the swells of your pushed-up breasts, before flickering up to meet your shy gaze, earning a disgusted scoff from sarah. ward did not miss his son’s inappropriate transgression, clearing his throat to gather the attention of the table, “son, this is sarah’s friend,” ward introduced you, rafe’s eyes remaining on yours as your name fell from ward’s mouth, causing rafe’s eyebrows to raise in intrigue as his head cocked to the side.

rafe decided that he had to toy with you, see if you truly were as light and airy as your physical appearance portrayed as he parted his pink lips, “yeah? how’d you get so lucky to meet my sweet sister, sarah?” rafe spoke, his tone pathetically condescending as he carefully watched you awkwardly shift in your sweet. you were a skittish one — he liked that.

with a forced and breathy laugh, you smiled politely, “she was riding her bike and she saw my horse, leche,” you answered truthfully, earning an amused chuckle from rafe that left you somewhat embarrassed. your doe eyes were quick to glaze as you swallowed thickly, before you turned to sarah.

“rafe, don’t be such a dick,” sarah spat, earning a corrective tut from ward as rafe glanced at his father with feigned confusion.

leaning forward, rafe focused his attention onto sarah, a tall knowing smirk on his face, “easy, sarah — m’just getting to know your little friend, i mean, isn’t that why she’s here?” rafe pushes further, returning his eyes to yours as your fingers fiddled with the silk trims that lined the hem of your dress. “she’s a big girl, i’m sure that she could speak up for her-” rafe began, before he was harshly cut off by the slam of ward’s closed fist colliding with the table, causing rafe to silence, his jaw clenched as he closed his eager mouth.

there was a part of you that felt bad for rafe, you almost felt responsible for his scolding, your soft eyes didn’t miss the way he flinched as ward hit the table. you could see that rafe just wanted attention, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ignore to subtle ache in your chest as he remained silent for the duration of the lunch, his eyes hanging low as the rest of the cameron family made polite conversation with you. it wasn’t until the entirety of the table went off to do their own thing, that you turned to rafe who blankly stared at his empty plate.

going against sarah’s wishes, you insisted on at least trying to talk to rafe and sarah knew that you’d simply felt bad for her brother — it was in your nature to want to fix anything that was broken. so, you remained seated, flipping your hair over your shoulder as your eyes feel on the gold signet ring that dressed rafe’s finger, “i like your ring,” you smiled, your core simmering as rafe brought his eyes to yours, his blank face empty of any definite expression.

“look — y’just a naive little girl who is my sister’s friend, not mine, y’understand?” rafe snapped, fighting back every urge not to bend you over the table as your glossed lips slightly quivered at his harsh words. your stomach churned with embarrassment as your eyes welled with hot threatening tears, “y’don’t speak to me, unless i speak to you, a’ight?” he spat, swallowing back the bitter guilt that became apparent in his tongue as you furiously nodded in your seat.

“okay,” you squeaked out, before hastily standing from your seat as you rushed to make your way back inside of the home, before rafe could see the fat tears that rolled down your blushy cheeks.

rafe knew that he had been a bit too harsh towards you, but he could tell that you needed some tough love — i mean, what was wrong with some redirection? your head was too far up in the clouds, and that would end up getting you into trouble that not even your pretty and swollen smile would be able to get out of. and what kind of a man would rafe be, if he didn’t look out for you, keep an eye out for you … even if it meant that he stole a glance up your dress as you tearfully walked away from him.

[sunraies]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write a one shot where rafe and y/n are a couple and y/n gets hurt or something and rafe becomes super protective over her?

Sure thing! I tried, I hope this is ok x

Freak Accident

Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

Warnings - Fluff, angst. Hospital, mentions of injuries. No use of Y/N

When Rafe gets the call that you are in the hospital, his heart drops to his stomach

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Rafe's heart dropped to his stomach when he received the call from Sarah that you were in the hospital.

At first, he thought it was a joke, some sick prank to get him annoyed. But when the reality of her voice sunk in, he had never driven a golf cart faster in his life, and he was pretty sure he broke the speed limit the whole way in Topper's Jeep.

He had been golfing at the club with Topper while you spent the day with Sarah. You wanted to learn to surf, and as much as he hated the idea, he knew he couldn't stop you. Once your mind was set on something, there was no stopping you.

Sarah had promised you would be safe. Kie and the other pogues would be there, all experienced surfers.

Once, he made sure you were ok. He was certain he was going to kill them all.

"Rafe!" Topper called out as he fumbled to catch the keys after Rafe dumped the jeep outside the hospital, leaving the engine running as he hurried inside. It was a miracle he was thinking straight enough to put the car in park.

He quickly found the front desk and asked where you were after cutting in front of a elderly woman. He ran for the elevators, mashing the botton, and when they took too long, he cursed before running up the stairs.

Sarah stood in the hall outside your room, wrapped in John B's arms when he finally made it.

"What the fuck, happened?" He breathed out, cheeks red.

"She's fine, dude," JJ spoke up after they all looked at each other. He sat with Kie, relaxing in the hard plastic chair and arm over her shoulders.

"I wasn't fucking talking to you" Rafe spat, pointing at him while still staring at Sarah.

"There was a huge wave, and she hit the rocks," Sarah said quietly. "But she's ok"

"How the fuck is she ok? She's in the hospital and it's your fault!" He snapped, running a hand through his hair.

"Whoa, it's no one's fault," John B stepped in front of Sarah. "It was a freak accident, man,"

Rafe nodded a little too frantically before scoffing and lunging for John B. "I'll show you a freak accident, man."

"Hey, Rafe. Not here." Topper held him back, having stepped out the elevator and found the scene before him.

They struggled for a moment before Topper snapped him out of it. "Go see your girl," He said softly, holding his shoulders as Rafe nodded slowly.

"He can't. The nurse is in with her, " Kie said quietly. "They said family only."

Rafe shook his head and closed his eyes. "Nah, fuck that"  He broke away from Topper's hold before barging into your hospital room.

You jumped a little as the door flew open while the nurse was taking your blood pressure. You were sure it suddenly spiked as your very flustered boyfriend stood in the doorway.

His ocean eyes scanning over you, focusing on the bruise on your cheek, to the cast on your left arm and down to the cut on your right leg.

"Hi, gorgeous." You smiled gently at him, hoping he would calm down at the sound of your voice.

The nurse looked between the pair of you as Rafe breathed out a small 'Hi'. His eyes were still checking your injuries.

"Your boyfriend?" She asked. "You know it's really only meant to be family allowed"

"Husband," Rafe blurted out. "I'm her, husband. No way am I leaving now. "

Your eyes went wide as the nurse shook her head before smiling knowingly, "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. It wasn't on the charts."

She obviously knew Rafe was lying but humoured it. She was very sweet. "Take a seat, I'm just finishing obs, and our girl here should be good to go."

Rafe didn't need to be told twice as he took a seat beside the bed, desperately wanting to hold you, but let the nurse finish.

"I'm a little worried about the concussion, but other than that. You should be fine for discharge." She smiled. "I'm sure with this guy around, I don't have to worry about someone to look after you once you go home"

"Damn right, she's not leaving my sight." He was deathly serious even though the nurse laughed at the charm to his tone.

"Alrighty then. I'll go get the papers." She left, leaving you and Rafe in silence while you could hear Sarah and the others asking about you.

"Come here, baby." You held out your uninjured hand to him, which he took quickly but carefully. He seemed nervous to touch you, like you would break.

"You scared the shit out of me," He sighed, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

"I know. I'm sorry." You sighed, hating the idea of him being so worried as you knew you'd be the same if the roles were reversed.

He sat down beside you, and you pulled him into your arms, ignoring the pain into your side as he held his weight off you. You ran your hand through his hair. "I'm ok, I'm just a little bruised"

He scoffed and pulled away, "and broken. You broke your arm, baby"

You hummed. "Oh yeah, would you look at that?" You were sarcastic as you looked down at your cast arm. "I wondered why it was heavy"

He rolled his eyes and smiled, aleast you were well enough to still be yourself. He chose that moment to gently cup your cheek. He was careful of the bruise as he kissed you.

You melted into him, thankful Sarah had called him. He was the best pain relief.

"I meant it, I'm not letting you out of my sight," He whispered against your lips.

"Husband, huh?" You whispered back, teasing as your foreheads rested together.

He blushed and smiled. "I would love to be"

"I like the sound of that. Wife sounds like a good word, too. "

"I would love you to be,"  He breathed, making you pull back in shock.

"Rafe Cameron, if that was a proposal, you can -"

He cut you off with the kiss. "Baby, the day I propose it will be a day you never forget. That was not a proposal." He chuckled.

Honestly, if he was asking there and then, you would have said yes. But knowing Rafe, it would be something involving fireworks and champagne.

[queers-gambit]

Save Me From Myself

prompt: ( requested ) in a moment of unparalleled anger, you learn what Joel really thinks of you.

pairing: Joel Miller x female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Last of Us

word count: (short as hell at) 1.9k+

warnings: very mild spoilers, there's probably cursing, oneshot (no part two), hurt no comfort, mild angst, shorty shorty short short shorty! author is disappointed in this one, she wanted to give much more.

browse Clingy Baby collection masterlist here

"Gimme that," you grunted at Ellie, picking her backpack from her shoulder with ease as the shorter young lady protested with a small growl.

"I got it - "

"Take a break," you smiled at the kid, shouldering her pack. "Tell me another one of those shitty jokes you love so much."

Ellie smirked and whipped out her book, flipping through a few pages, scanning the pages, then deciding on one. "What... Is Beethoven's favorite fruit?"

You shrugged, "No idea."

"Ba-na-na-naaaaa!"

You laughed, you couldn't help it. "Goddamnit. That's a good one," you praised, eyeing her for a moment as she silently read down the page. You wondered, "You know, I meant to ask, but why that book in particular?"

"My friend gave it to me... It was a present," she explained softly, seeing your head nod of understanding. "What did one ocean say to the other?"

"Nothing, they just waved," you smirked.

"You shithead," she tisked. "Okay, okay, here's a good one. What's brown... And sticky?"

"Oh, Ellie, don't be gross - "

"A stick."

There was a long pause.

"Oh, you know what? Fuck you," You laughed heartily. "I gotta remember that, I like that one."

"You'll like this one, too. Why should you never trust stairs?"

You knew the answer, but humored her, "Why?"

"Because they're always up to something."

You chuckled, "Good one, kid, yeah. Okay, okay, wait, I got one."

"Lay it on me."

"How do you cut a Roman Emperors hair?"

"How?" She grinned, ready for the punchline.

"With Caesars."

Ellie paused, offering a confused look, "I don't get that one."

You both stared at one another for a long moment, still walking through the cold, dead field.

"You don't know Julius Caesar?"

"No? Who the hell is that?"

You chuckled, "You know what? Just as well, who fucking cares about the Roman Empire when we're living in the end-of-days?"

"It's a decent joke," Joel spoke for the first time in hours; holding his rifle protectively as he lead you both through the wilderness, "for what it's worth."

You smirked at Ellie and teased, "Told you I was funny."

"You used the term punny."

"Both are accurate."

"I think you're just an idiot."

"I think you've got a helluva mouth on you."

Ellie grinned and flipped through her book, your gaze trailing to Joel and eyeing him for a long moment. You've known him since you were 19 and hired to babysit his daughter, Sarah. Joel was everything you could've asked for - loyal, sweet, protective, respectful. You had been at their house, doing coursework for your university program when the Outbreak happened. You did what you could to help protect Sarah, but in the end, nobody was safe, nobody was immune, and Death stretch His hand unto all of mankind alike.

He left only select few, you, Joel, and Tommy being amongst the survivors.

The past twenty years had been anything but easy, and while you had gone into this pandemic together, you and Joel didn't actually stick together the whole time. When you settled in Boston with Tommy, Tess, and a few other nomads, you were exhausted from the brutality you were forced to survive in, and so, first chance you had, you broke away.

Technically, you and Tommy broke away. But still.

Joel turned to a life of shadiness with Tess at his right hand (and on his cock). The two of you becoming estranged, until he saved your ass from a pair of FEDRA agents harassing citizens.

He didn't just distract your assailants, but put them in the dirt, helped pick you up, dust off, check for injury, then escort you home. Once at your apartment, he ensured you weren't hurt and was truly okay, and after that, he was back in your life - like the snap of fingers.

You hated to admit it, but it felt nice having a constant back in your life. Joel was your tether to reality, and without him, you felt akin to a kite with the string cut - useless and drifting away.

After that, you came around a little more to see how much your old neighbor had changed in your time apart. Joel was familiar, he was family; had always been something of a source of peace for you. He was usually protective of your wellbeing - even if he had a strange (and borderline unhealthy) way of showing it - creating a bubble of safety.

You eventually left the Fireflies and met Bill and Frank, venturing out and about with Joel and Tess; the latter of who simply despised you for just existing. She was never fond of you, more so now that Joel was obviously attached to you.

Joel never let her argue about you; he never cared for her opinion nor what assumptions she had. He kept you close, he liked your close; and if she sneered any hateful slander, Joel was swift to push her away in favor of you.

One time, he even literally locked her out of the apartment because she was rude to you and told you to "get lost!".

How could you not feel safe? Comfortable? Secure?

When you made it to Jackson and found Tommy once more, you were overjoyed by his familiar face and scent, but quickly pulled him aside to voice your concern for Joel.

"He's been clutching his chest, walking slower than I've seen before," you whispered to Tommy. "I don't think he's havin' a heart episode, but somethin' ain't right, Tommy. He's not doing the best."

"I'll talk to him," he assured.

You believed him, there was no reason not to. You (willfully blindly) believed Tommy would go about this subject with sensitivity and wouldn't mention your words of concern, but you were wrong. Very wrong. Joel had a known temper and if he caught wind that you spoke his name, even in passing, he would lash out, so, truly, you thought Tommy wouldn't tip Joel off.

The moment you returned "home" (to the house you, Ellie, and Joel were offered), you were met with a fuming Joel and an awkward looking Ellie. "What's going on?" You felt worried, fearing for the worst, asking, "What's wrong?"

"You," Joel snapped. "You're what's wrong."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Joel," Ellie tried with a frown, "she just walked in 0 "

"You had a word with Tommy now, did'yah?" He demanded, ignoring Ellie to focus his glare fully on you.

"Well - yeah - I mean - "

"No," he seethed with narrowed eyes and furrowed brow, "where the hell you get off talkin' to my brother like that? Huh? You worried 'bout me, you say somethin' to me - otherwise, the hell you talkin' for?"

"Joel - "

"You overstepped," he shook his head and pointed a scolding finger at you, "and my health ain't your concern - "

"Of course, it is! Fuck's sake, how can you even say that? I get you're mad, fine, okay, you know what? I get it, I'm sorry if I overstepped by telling Tommy how worried I am, but for the love of God, Joel, I am worried about you because you're not the same man you once were!"

"Are any of us?" He huffed.

"You don't think we've noticed the way you've slowed? How you clutch your chest? I'm allowed to be worried - "

"You know, if you weren't so Goddamn clingy all the time, you wouldn't feel whatever compulsion this is to concern yourself with something that ain't got shit to do with you."

You blinked in shock, feeling disarmed by the harsh tone and bruising words he offered. "Joel, we're both worried about you,," Ellie stepped in again. "Don't be such a dick, she's just looking out for you."

"By involving those that don't need to be involved?" He sneered, glaring at the girl before rounding on you. "From now on, you stay in your place - enough with this - this fucking - this protector bullshit you think of me as. You cling any fucking tighter and I'll suffocate, so back the hell off."

You nodded slowly, watching him storm off; door slamming after him hard enough to make both you and Ellie flinch. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, "I should... Um, uh, you know what, I'll jusy - uh, yeah, no, I can just... Yeah, I should - yeah."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"You didn't do anything."

"No, but that wasn't very nice of him to say."

"No, I suppose not," you smiled ruefully, giving a hearty, heavy sniffle. "I should, you know, go and find somewhere to crash - "

"Why wouldn't you stay here?"

"I don't exactly like to linger where I'm not wanted," you mused, keeping your tears at bay. "I just need to clear my head for a bit. Go for a walk or something. Maybe he just needs some space, I don't want to be here and upset him more... You two have a mission at hand," you tried to smile, "that's bigger than us all, and whether I see the end of it or not doesn't matter now - what matters is you, Ellie. This petty squabble will pass," you lied, "because you're all that matters. I won't risk further upsetting Joel, gambling with this already sketchy-ass plan and put everything we've worked towards so far at jeopardy."

You both smiled ruefully.

"I know when to walk away," you ended softly.

She nodded, opening her mouth but closing it instantly; knowing you were stubborn enough that she didn't even attempt to stop you. So, she did the only thing she knew she could do: offered her joke book.

"Oh, Ellie, no," you breathed, "no, no, I can't take that, it was a gift."

"And now I'm gifting it to you," she shrugged, holding the book out. "C'mon, just take it, it'll make me feel good knowing you're cracking shitty jokes to yourself - or whoever will listen."

"I can't take this," you whispered.

"Just make sure you stay alive to give it back," Ellie compromised.

"Deal," you smirked, opening your arms and embracing the girl the moment she rushed into your chest. "I'll miss you," you whispered. You promised to see her as soon as you could (so you could return the joke, of course), kissed her forehead, then grabbed your bag, which had yet to be unpacked, and left the house.

You managed to find lodging in the old cantina, and you'd never know that when Joel got back that evening and saw your items gone, he breathed a sigh of relief. In his head, with you gone, it was one less painful reminder of Sarah, the life he had before; and while his mind played tricks into thinking he saw Sarah in town today, he realized you were the constant trigger.

The single strand that kept him in the past.

Constant reminder of who he was, who he wanted to be.

Prevented him from truly moving on.

Though not done in the best or most respectful way, in his heart, Joel knew he needed to shove you into the mud to get you to let go; you saw too much "good" in him. You saw him in the same light as Sarah, and he couldn't handle that; could not fathom that there was anyone left in this world who saw anything remotely humane in him.

So, Joel did what he did best: made his own life infinitely harder by pushing away those who loved him.

requesting rules and masterlist

TLOU masterlist

Clingy Baby masterlist

[softlyspector]

birds of a feather

Summary: Sarah is going to kindergarten. Joel is forced to reckon with his differences with the other parents.

Word count: ~3k

Relationship: Joel & Sarah

Warnings: minor mentions of anxiety, a whole lot of love from one man about his daughter

A/N: I so hope you enjoy this 💕 Thank you for reading! I would love to know your thoughts! If you happen to read this please leave some feedback, this is my first lil Joel & Sarah fic 💕 As mentioned when the snippet was posted Sarah's braids were inspired by @pomegranatevampire's lovely art, which everyone should check out if you haven't already.

He’s younger than the other parents by years. 

It’s the first thing he notices when he and Sarah shuffle into the classroom and take their places along the back wall with the other parents and students. She stands beside him, and slightly in front of his legs, her hand tangled up in his. Her hair is that bright yellow that reminds him of cat’s clover and sunshine and lemon drop candy. 

The whole of her is bright. A bright purple dress that his mother had taken her to the thrift store to pick out, matching mary janes, and tights with cartoonish flowers on them.   

It’s not often Joel feels self-conscious, about anything, but especially about Sarah. He’s proud of the kid in front of him. He does the best that he can with her, and most days he figures he does pretty well, all things considered. 

Considering he’d grown up mainly around other men, considering he’d been so young, and so very alone, and that he’d never really had anything to do with a baby before. 

He barely remembers when Tommy had been that small, just a blip in his memory, a blur, a smear of a blink of time. 

When she had been born, it felt as though she fit in the palm of his hand. She was so tiny, and he felt so very big and clumsy. A giant really, not fit for such a small world, such a tiny life. 

Wrong, too. Because he was just a kid, not yet twenty, and sometimes he cried right along with her. 

Those long, impossible nights. 

The first few months, awful. 

Full of restless, aching nights, with a learning curve that felt like failure. There’s an indescribable kind of pain that comes with hearing your kid cry, and not know how to help, how to fix it. But he got the hang of the late nights and long days. He found out that singing, playing the guitar soothed her more than anything else he could do, anything those baby books recommended. He learned that she liked to be held best, tight against his chest, the smell of her sweet in his nose. 

He hadn’t known babies smelled like that. Pleasant, like a slightly milky vanilla. 

Those days had been awful, too, because he had known. Joel knew her mother was going to leave. There wasn’t any fanfare about it, and they really both knew it was for the best in the end. They weren’t meant to be married, anyhow. Circumstance and doing the right thing after gettin’ that damn girl pregnant had been the main factors and motivations of that union, rushed at the courthouse, before she started to show, to try to preserve the illusion that things had happened in reverse of the order that they really had. 

Shame had been the prevailing feeling that day; sunny and warm and uncomfortable on the courthouse steps, tie too tight around his throat. 

Joel was better suited to it anyway. It was natural for him, once he got the hang of it, easy as breathing. It hadn’t been for Sarah’s mother. It was hard, like pulling teeth without novocaine, no matter how much residual love she might have felt for Sarah. She just wasn’t meant for it, and that had to be okay. 

He was the one better suited to responsibility, too. He already had work lined up and a mother that was willing to babysit sometimes. So, Sarah was better with him, too, just for that, logistically and all. Maybe that was the only thing that really mattered. 

And, well, Joel had wanted Sarah. He wanted her to be his, even if it was something out of a nightmare sometimes, he couldn’t imagine life without her, not anymore.  

Once his ex-wife left, and it was just him and Sarah, Tommy doing the occasional babysitting stint, he forgot. He forgot the shame, the crushing guilt that made everything in the world seem his fault. 

He didn’t feel young, and being a parent came naturally to him, caring for Sarah, like he was always going to be her dad. He thought it might grate, that he might get resentful about it like he sometimes felt when he had to take care of Tommy growing up, but those feelings never came. 

It had been easy, even if sometimes it hurt, even if most of the time he felt like he had no idea what he was doing. It felt like it was something he had always been doing, that had always been done and needed doing. 

And it was easy and it got easier. 

He forgot, somehow, that he is not the typical parent, that theirs is not the typical household, especially not in Austin, Texas, in late 2006. 

But as he stands now in the tiny kindergarten classroom with Sarah’s hand inside his, so little and warm, it’s hard not to notice how very young he is, how very different they are as a pair.

The desks are so tiny, so miniature. Or, maybe the world is just too big. The room is heavy with that gummy new school year scent, of crayola and glue. It’s undercut by the acid lemon of some heavy duty disinfectant or cleaner or something, and by the floral, sharp snap of the perfume of the couple next to him. 

They smell expensive. They look expensive, and he suddenly wonders if this is the sort of thing people are supposed to dress up for. He’s suddenly aware of the crisp button-up shirts, the starched dress pants and jeans, the slacks and the dresses. 

He’s suddenly very aware that his shirt is rumpled and his jeans have seen their fair share of much better days. There’s a stain on the hem of his shirt because their morning had been a hectic one, somehow. Nerves about this, maybe, about coming here and being seen and judged despite it all, but also just about sending Sarah off to school. They were in a rush and when he elbowed Sarah’s half-empty cereal bowl across the counter, there hadn’t been time to change his shirt as they charged out the door. 

Joel hadn’t even noticed he got some on himself until this very moment, looking down at his scruffy boots. 

He was only a couple months shy of twenty when Sarah was born, and it shows in this room of more capable parents, of more prepared parents, of better put together parents. Only just a couple of years ago, he was attending the high school across the street. His little brother is a senior there, and Joel is still a month away from his twenty-fifth birthday. 

Probably twenty-five was the age most of the folks in the room had been getting married, maybe finding out they had been pregnant if they were young when it happened. 

But, he isn’t the only young parent in the room. It’s Texas, afterall, plenty married young and had kids young. 

He is, however, the only single parent, and, worse, he’s the only single father in the room. Cardinal sin, he supposes, in the harsh judgment of the bible thumping south. 

There are a lot of oh bless his hearts and poor things looks being exchanged. Joel recognizes some of the other parents. People from school and around town that definitely know what happened, that know how Sarah came into the world, that will go out to the parking lot after this and remind anyone that had forgotten. 

Got that girl pregnant and then she ran off and left him with the baby. Can you believe that? Oh, bless his heart, I’m sure he’s trying his best. 

Whole life ahead of him, what’s a little girl to do without a mother, needs a feminine touch etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. 

False concern hiding very real judgment.

Nothing he hasn’t overheard before. It does manage to sting here, though, because for the first time, it might affect Sarah too. Kids were more accepting than adults, but they repeated what they heard at home, too. 

That knot of something hot and mean locks up in his chest, something protective and angry. The kind of thing those fucking anxiety pills are supposed to help with, but never seem to. Not something he wants to think about. He can just deal.

Sarah tugs at his hand and he looks down at her duck fluff hair, sticking up off her forehead because he’s still so damn bad at braiding. His mother had shown him how, weeks ago, the twist of her fingers nimble and quick. He thought he had it down, had even been proud of his work before they left the house that morning, even amidst the chaos. But looking down at his baby’s hair now, he thinks it looks clumsy, a little snarl of sunshine yellow. 

She just smiles up at him with all her teeth, the gap between her two front teeth notwithstanding, pink little tongue poking through the hole, eyes crinkling up until he can’t see her irises anymore. 

He snorts and a few people shoot him dirty looks, the teacher stuttering at the intrusion on her introduction. The pressure working around his ribs eases just a little. Who knew kindergarten orientation could be so intense?

Joel straightens up and squeezes Sarah’s hand back, his attention refocused on the middle aged woman at the front of the room. He nods, only half apologetic about it. 

The rest of the morning he follows Sarah around the little classroom, weaving between the desks and other peoples’ kids. She’s excited for school for months, all summer, always asking the neighbor girl across the way about it, watching for the yellow of the school bus through the living room window each morning with a little sigh. 

She’s smart, and Joel wants to dare to dream more for her, more for the both of them. 

She’s a social little thing and Joel does his best not to feel intimidated by the other parents. It’s hard though, when he’s gotten asked three damn times if he’s her brother. Somehow, a twenty year sibling gap in age is easier to accept than Joel being her dad. 

“Oh,” the ones that don’t know say. “Mama busy today then?” 

Mom is out of the picture. Sarah is his. 

Then, the inevitable, “Oh, you poor thing. Raising your girl all alone.” 

Sarah holds onto his hand again when they leave, and even if he was miserable the entire time, he feels better about it. She talks the whole way home, from the backseat, big eyes watching his in the rearview mirror, crinkling up in that way he loves when she laughs. They stop for milkshakes on the way home, and her smile is covered in chocolate by the time they get home. He mirrors it back to her.  

He feels better about the whole thing. The inexplicable knot of guilt in his chest has loosened. The first day of school would probably come with no tears or anxiety, but a smile and excitement. That neighbor girl across the way is already promising they can sit together on the bus. 

Joel wants to drive her to school, but there’ll probably be mornings that wouldn’t be possible, not with the schedule he’s going to have to keep with the new job. He feels bad about that, too, because it means less time with her. 

It’s terrible, another generation of Miller latchkey kids. He needs more time, but that’s the very thing he doesn’t have. 

That’s okay, he tells himself, because Sarah will like it. She’ll like going to school and making friends. She’d see her grandmother in the afternoons, and her Uncle Tommy, too, if he really was close to having enough saved to get himself a truck. Tommy could pick her up after school sometimes, too, take her home and play babysitter for just a couple of hours. 

It would be fine. 

Sarah would love school. She’s already a smart kid, and too clever for her own good. She’s sociable and funny, friends would come easily to her like they do to Tommy. And hopefully those kids have better sense than their parents to say anything to Sarah about her mother. 

Except that first day comes a week later and everything goes to hell. 

And he has to wonder if everyone goes through this much grief about everything or if he’s just so goddamn unique. Just so goddamn bad at managing things. That morning is the spilled milk and cereal multiplied by a thousand. 

Nothing goes right. 

Not breakfast, because he opened the box of cereal and found only crumbs left in the bottom of the bag and he knew his dumbass brother ate the rest of it and that toast would not be good enough for Sarah, and, typical they were out of just about everything else. 

Nothing goes right. Not rebraiding Sarah’s hair, because she insisted on sleeping with it in those messy little twists that he’s still yet to perfect. 

Not getting dressed, because there was suddenly a glob of toothpaste in the middle of Sarah’s shirt which meant they had to pick something else out to wear and that was a whole ordeal, and he’s fairly sure not a single item of her clothing actually goes together.

He’s pretty damn sure they both look a mess. It would only take one look at them for everyone to know Joel is way in over his head, messing things up with her, doing bad job of it. 

They can’t find her backpack, he has to pack her lunch last minute, he can’t find his goddamn keys.

But everything eventually turns up and then they’re both dressed in clothes that don't have toothpaste on them, breakfast in their bellies, and so they get out the door fine. 

And then—

Joel very suddenly finds himself kneeling in his driveway with his daughter teary eyed and begging him not to make her go, and his heart snaps in half. Gravel digs into his knees, sweat drips hot down the back of his neck, but he stays there on the ground, eye level with his girl. 

“I don’t wanna go without you,” she says, miserable about it. “You were there that other day we went.” It’s said like an accusation, like the beginning of an abandoning. 

And he guesses that’s pretty much the center of it. They’ve never really been apart, and maybe it hadn’t been so clear school was something she had to take on on her own. 

Her cheeks are bright pink with distress. 

“It’s only durin’ the day, baby girl,” he says, thumbs sweeping away the tears that just keep on coming no matter how many times he pushes them away. “Uncle Tommy’ll be there to get ya after. And I’ll be home in the evening, same as always. Hey, take a breath.”

She sucks in a snotty lungful of air that hitches up in her chest and then slowly breathes it out. “But I want you to do it,” she says desolately. He cups her face, soothing away an impossible ache. “I want you to be there.” 

Joel closes his eyes briefly, biting back the frustration that bubbles to the surface. He figures there’ll be lots of times like this in the future. Times where he won’t be able to be there, where he’ll have to come home late, miss dinner, miss little life events, miss things he should be there for. 

Maybe he should get this first time right. 

“All right. I can’t come with ya all day. It just ain’t allowed. But I’ll be there to pick ya up. Since it’s your first day n’all. Can’t be everyday, though, clear.”

She sniffles and Joel brushes a lock of her hair back, thinking that maybe his braids aren’t as bad as he thought. “Really?” 

“Yep.”

“Promise?” Bottom lip trembling, another crack in Joel’s heart. 

“I promise, baby. I’ll be there.” He tucks another loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Now, c’mon, we gotta get goin’. We’re already late.” 

She giggles, tears drying in tacky streaks on her cheeks. “We’re always late, dad.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, adjusting the twisted strap of her pink backpack, some kind of themed princess ordeal. “We’re always late and always a mess.” 

He gets to his feet and takes her hand when she holds it out to him. They walk to the truck over the crunch of gravel in the driveway and Joel helps her into her carseat. She does up the buckles herself and he checks them before closing the door. 

Sarah hums along to the oldies station on the radio and Joel thinks it's only half out of nervousness as she watches the familiarity of their neighborhood roll by. 

Even though he could let her out at the curb, Joel parks and walks Sarah to the front door. He’s getting this part right, he knows it by the way she smiles up at him, in that funny way she has that makes him chuckle. 

He stoops and presses a kiss to her forehead. “You’ll be here?” She asks one last time. 

“Cross my heart.” 

“Okay.” 

“Have a good day, baby girl. You’ll do good.” She nods and straightens her tiny shoulders, flitting across the sidewalk to take her teacher's hand and be herded into the building along with the rest of that year’s class. 

“Appreciate it now,” a mother next to him says. “In a couple years time she won’t want anythin’ to do with ya. Just be embarrassed.”

He knows it’s probably true. He still can’t picture it. 

She turns and waves over her shoulder one last time before the door closes, and Joel thinks her braids look pretty damn good. 

Thanks for reading if you got this far 💕 Would love to know what you think!

[tkwrites]

I can't belive you're here. - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Title: I can't believe you're here.

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Warnings: Unprotected sex - p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), Captain kink unlocked, oral & fingering (f receiving), squirting, swearing, surprise visit, if I missed anything, please let me know.

Summary: After a very long time apart due to bad timing, Sarah surprises Quinn on the road. Wearing his jersey, she fulfills one of his long harbored fantasies. The night just gets better when he sees what she has on underneath. 

Word Count: 6,000

Comments:

Hoo boy. This is by far the most depraved thing I’ve written. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If you did enjoy it, please let me know! Your comments and questions inspire me to keep writing!

To the lovely anon who requested this: I hope it lives up to your expectations. I had so much fun writing it.

Anonymous asked: 'In some ways, he’d love to see his name across her back, but not at a game.' Ohhh, I'd love to see something about this in the future. Later on in their relationship, he's on a roadie and not seen Sarah for 4 weeks due to it and some study trip prior. He has just played either Brady or his brothers who noticed he's really down and missing her, they call Sarah and organise to fly her to his next destination to suprise him after the game. She's waiting in his hotel room, wearing nothing but his jersey to cheer him up after a loss 😉 Or a more wholesome storyline of her first WAG jacket or something aha Absolutely love all your pieces and can't wait to continue reading of their universe xx

I can't believe you're here.

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Fatigue and failure were deep in his bones as he walked into the hotel. 

Logically, Quinn knew winning streaks always come to an end. It was impossible to have a perfect 82 game season. No one had ever come close to that. 

It didn't matter how much he tried to reason, it still felt like shit to be on the receiving end of a shut out after two straight losses. 

The fact that they were still on the road didn’t help. The fourteen day trek away from home was always terrible, no matter when it fell in the season, but having it come right after Sarah had to be at a conference was torture. It meant he hadn’t seen her in over 12 days. 

It was terrible timing. The day after he got back from the six day Midwest road trip, she left for a seven day ocean conservation conference in Costa Rica. She got back two days after he had to leave again. 

It had been nineteen long days since he'd seen her for more than twenty four hours. 

They talked and sent messages and photos, but it wasn’t the same as talking face to face and kissing her and feeling her skin and smelling her perfume. 

He’d learned from the past and brought her pillowcase with him, but even that was beginning to smell less and less like her.

He only had to get through three more games and five and a half more days before he'd be back home and in her arms. 

One of the team assistants ran up to him in the lobby, “Hughes,” he said, a little breathless, “they changed your room.” 

“What?” he asked, trying to pull himself from his misery and back to the present.

“They had to change your room. Something about the heater being broken,” Sean said. 

“Okay. Petey still with me?” 

“No, they had to separate you,” Sean forced the key into his hand as they stepped on the elevator, “I already moved your bags.” 

He’d slept four quick hours in a room that felt perfectly fine before heading to the pre-game meeting and meal. He couldn’t remember if he’d left his stuff all over the bathroom counter. Hopefully, Sean didn’t have to go through too much trouble. Quinn definitely owed him dinner. 

The room was dark when he walked in. And it smelled like… it smelled like Sarah’s smoky vanilla perfume. 

Fuck. He missed her so much, his mind was playing tricks on him. 

At least he would have a room to himself, and could call her in peace without the threat of Petey listening in. They could probably even get some phone sex in, which hadn’t happened for far too long. 

Then, he would get a full night's sleep before their flight to Chicago. That, in itself, was a rare luxury he was outrageously thankful for. 

When he flipped on the light, the first thing he noticed was the king size bed. The bedspread was mussed, as if someone had been lying on it. Strange for any hotel, but especially one this nice. Rooms he came into often looked so pristine, it was as if no one had ever stepped foot in them before. 

He pushed the worry out of his mind and started toward the bathroom. 

“Hey.” 

Great, now he was hallucinating. It sounded like Sarah was right behind him. He must be more tired than he thought. 

“Quinn?” 

He stopped dead in his tracks, backpack nearly slipping to the floor. If he turned and she wasn’t here, he didn’t know what he’d do. 

A touch grazed his shoulder, and a strong whiff of her perfume made his knees shake. “Sarah?” he asked, hoping against hope. Why would she be here? 

“Yeah,” she said. 

He turned and felt a strange, strangled sort of gasp escape his throat. 

Sarah was in his hotel room. She was here. She was in Boston. How was she here? 

When his brain finally reconciled the fact that she was actually in front of him, he noticed she was wearing his flying skate jersey. 

“I - how?” 

She smiled softly, set his backpack aside and wrapped her arms around him.  

His body caught on before his brain did, hugging her against him fiercely.

Coming home from her conference in Costa Rica, which had been lovely but incredibly socially exhausting, all Sarah had wanted was to fall into bed with Quinn. When she came home to a dark and empty house, it had been a rude reminder he was on the longest road trip of the year. The apartment felt too big without him in it, especially for so long. 

“I missed you so much,” she said into his neck. 

“How did you do this?” he finally asked.

He’d known other players' wives and girlfriends occasionally showed up on road trips, but generally, their partners always knew, and it was usually because they were close by one of their hometowns. 

“Brady called me. He said you were so sad and not yourself on Wednesday, he wanted to do something. So he bought me a ticket and called Brock to get the schedule.” 

He sniffed and she pulled back.

“Oh, Quinn,” she said upon seeing the tears pooled in his eyes.

“I’m just…” The shock of seeing her brought all his emotion up to the surface.

“I know,” she said, pulling him into her again, feeling a few tears slip down her own cheeks. It felt so good to hold him.  

His mouth landed on her neck. It was a comforting thing to taste her skin as they embraced. He mumbled something against her. 

“Sorry?” she asked, trying to pull away so she could see his face. 

He didn’t want to let her go, not even for a second. Instead, he lifted his lips just enough so he could repeat, “I missed you so much.” 

“I know Quinny,” she said, running her fingers into his hair. “I missed you, too, but I’m here now, and we have all night.” 

His mouth was still on her neck, though he’d started moving with more intent, licking and kissing. The shock to his system was giving way to relief and desire. 

Finally fed up with his teasing, Sarah took his jaw in her hands and forced his head up so she could kiss him. 

He sighed into it, and found some way to pull her tighter against him. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she was wearing his jersey, but the shock of her in his hotel room, seeing her face and her blue eyes and her lips - god her lips, he couldn't get enough of them - stole all of his brain power. Now, as his hands splayed across her back, feeling the numbers patched and stitched there, the reality of it hit him. 

Forcing himself to break away so he could look at her, his knees threatened to buckle when he noticed she wasn’t wearing anything else - not that he could see anyway. The fabric hit her upper thigh, leaving much of her legs bare.

“I -” he tried to say something, but lost the words. 

The idea of wearing his jersey came from Emma. Sarah thought it was cheesy, but Emma assured her he’d love it. She’d surprised Brady at the end of a roadtrip like that, and “I swear his brain, like, short-circuited or something. He just stood there, staring at me for like 30 seconds before he went wild.” 

It didn’t surprise her Quinn didn’t have the same immediate reaction. He was so much quieter than Brady, and from what she could tell, they had a much more subdued relationship than the Tkachuks. 

The way he was looking at her now, though - like she was the thing he'd been anxiously waiting for on Christmas morning - made it all worthwhile.  

“I borrowed it, I hope that’s okay.” 

“Yeah,” he breathed. 

When they were apart, the mechanics of an orgasm could be there, but it just wasn't as good. It could never be. She missed feeling him: his skin, his breath, the rigid length of him inside her.

It wasn’t that she’d been hoping he’d ravish her right away (okay, maybe she had been, but she knew Quinn, and knew he would never react that way), but all this looking without any touching was getting out of hand. Impatience was pulling tight through her stomach. The prospect of finally feeling fulfilled was driving her crazy.

She needed to give him a little nudge. 

Leaning in, she let her lips graze his ear, down to his jaw and then back. He made a soft, breathy noise, and she knew she almost had him.

Just one more push. 

“How do you want me?” she asked, following it up with a slow, open mouthed kiss to the soft spot under his ear. 

Blood rushed from his head so fast he felt dizzy. 

“I want you to ride me in this,” he managed to say, fingering the stripes on the sleeve. 

It was a fantasy he'd harbored since middle school, but had yet to experience. He'd asked his college girlfriend once, and she had scoffed, telling him it would get too hot, which he thought was a strange argument considering a jersey was designed to do the exact opposite. 

Sarah didn’t acknowledge his request other than popping open the buttons of his shirt, one after the other. That set him into motion, tugging at his clothing. He couldn’t get it off fast enough. 

Through a jumble of arms and hands, tangling in their effort to get him naked, they found themselves on the bed. Quinn flat on his back, breath heavy with anticipation, and Sarah astride him, trying to game plan her next move. She had on lingerie he’d never seen before and didn’t want it to go to waste, but he wanted her in the jersey, and she couldn’t take anything off without spoiling the surprise. 

He grew impatient as she debated, shifting his hips up, trying to entice her onto him already. “Sarah,” he whined. 

Finally, she decided to just move it to the side, and sink onto him. The stretch after so long was a pleasant burn. 

His eyes rolled back, and his hips jumped, wanting to fill her more. 

“How are you so wet?” he asked. They hadn’t kissed for that long. Usually, it took a little more to get her this soaked. 

A wicked smile spread over her face, “I may have gotten myself off while I was waiting, thinking about finally seeing you again.”

“Fuck.” 

She was a vision. Riding him after so long? Wearing his jersey? Confessing to touching herself in this bed thinking of and waiting for him? He was the luckiest man on the planet. 

She pitched forward to get the right angle, and moaned, loud and earnest. Good thing they moved him two floors up from the team. 

He tried to brace himself, but the fantasy of it, of her being here and wearing his jersey - the golden C winking at him, reminding him of all the work he'd done to get here - knowing his name was on her back made him groan out loud. His restraint stretched until it was paper thin. 

His hands explored under the jersey only to feel something smooth tied at her hip and lace at her ribcage. 

He coughed, “are you wearing lingerie?” 

“Just for you,” she said, meeting his heated gaze with a coy smile. 

He didn’t think this could get any better. Now, his mind was wild with possibilities. 

“Come for me and I'll show you.”

Holy shit. 

The little control he had snapped and he flooded her with a loud groan of her name.

Sarah's hands traced his arms, entwining their fingers before guiding them to rest on either side of his head as she leaned forward to kiss him. 

His chest pressed into hers, catching the scratchy logo on his jersey as he tried to catch his breath. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

Shaking her head, she pushed herself off of him to go to the bathroom. She needed to clean up and readjust before the next part of her plan could move forward.

He lay there and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. It was almost too fast for him to remember the way he wanted. The bathroom door opened, and he looked over.

“Alright, captain,” she said, leaning on the door frame. She felt incredibly silly, but relished the way his eyes widened at the nickname, “are you ready to see what I have for you?” 

Oh God. 

He nodded, though he wasn’t sure how he could possibly be prepared for what was coming. 

“Do you want to, or should I?” she asked, fiddling with the hem of his jersey, exposing the little heart tattooed on her thigh. 

“You can.” His voice squeaked a little as he said it, and he blushed. 

Being sexy wasn’t really in her forte, but Sarah tried her best. Lifting the jersey over her head, she thought briefly about tossing it in his face. Deciding that was a step too far, she let it fall to the floor. 

Quinn gaped. 

Most of the time, Sarah wore cotton briefs - occasionally she switched them for lace or a thong, but this was something totally different than what he was used to seeing her in.

For one, the matching set was so sheer, he could see her nipples through the swirling pattern of the black lace. Then, there was the fact that it was obviously made to be removed. The bra tied in front and her underwear tied at the hips, each with a silky black ribbon, like she was a gift for him to unwrap. 

His mind ran away with the thought of tugging the bow on her bra undone with his teeth. 

When she did a little twirl so he could see the back, the breath knocked out of his lungs. She looked so damn good, she might just kill him. His heart might just explode. 

“What do you think?” she asked, walking closer. She could already see how much he liked it in his wide eyes and panting mouth, but she wanted to hear him say it. 

“I -” He didn't know it was possible to get hard so soon after coming. 

“Do you like it, Captain?” 

His breathing hitched. He never thought he'd have a captain kink, but hearing the title come out of her mouth while she was wearing that? He might just develop one. 

Adjusting the bows at her hips so they sat more naturally, Sarah looked at him and repeated, “do you like it, Quinn?” 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Yes. I love it.” 

She smiled and climbed onto the bed then straddled him. His hands went to her waist of their own volition.

Her hips ground down. 

“You can’t do that,” he said, teeth gritted as he forced the words over a moan. The soft texture of the lace against his cock was incredible. 

“What?” 

“You can’t ride me again. I won’t last and you haven’t come yet.” 

She leaned down so her mouth was inches from his, her breath making him hyper aware of his own mouth and how much he wanted it on her. 

“And what are you going to do about that, Captain Hughes?” 

He topped her so fast that Sarah grunted and let out a little giggle when her back slammed into the mattress. 

“Sorry,” he breathed, only half meaning it as he planted a wet kiss at the base of her throat. He moved down her chest, following the outline of her bra with his mouth. He almost made good on his fantasy of biting it open, but held off. He wanted to watch her fall apart with it on. 

“What were you thinking about when you were getting yourself off?” he asked, kissing over her tattoo. 

“You,” she panted. 

“And what were you imagining me doing?” 

She whined. 

“What was I doing, Sarah?” he asked, lifting his mouth from where he’d just kissed down to the band of her panties. 

“You were eating me out,” she confessed, a blush rising high on her cheeks. 

Sometimes, he wished she would have told him how much she fantasized about and enjoyed oral sex before the first time he’d done it. There were four solid months he could have been pleasing her he would never get back. 

He smirked a little, “is that what you want now?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” he asked, tracing his fingers up and down her thighs. 

“Yes, Quinn.” 

He tutted, “Yes, what?” he asked as his lips went to her inner thigh. 

The bolt of electricity that fractured up her spine tipped her voice into a high, breathy whimper.

When she didn’t answer, he repeated the question again, ghosting his fingers against the lace of her panties. 

Her hips jumped. “Yes, Captain.” 

Oh, it was definitely a kink now. He couldn’t get over the sound of it coming out of her mouth. 

He made a satisfied noise and hooked two fingers under the lace gusset, pulling it away from her experimentally. The ties pulled taught, but didn't seem to want to slide over her hips. He tugged again, a little harder. 

Flinging a hand down, Sarah grasped the band, “you're going to rip them.”

“I'll buy you more,” he said, almost off handedly, still pulling. 

“Quinn, that's not the point. Please don't.”

The pulling stopped, and he pulled back to look into her face. “Okay. I'm sorry.”

Her face melted into a smile, “thank you.” She reached down to ease the ties over her hips. 

“No,” he breathed. 

Her eyes snapped to his, questioning.

Before she could ask what he wanted instead, he was knocking her hand away and licking one of the ribbons at her left hip into his mouth.

He pulled it away from her with his teeth, eyes growing darker when the bow unraveled and the pieces fell apart. 

Taking his time to kiss and lick his way to the other tie, he repeated the action, and groaned when it also untied so easily. 

He pulled on the whole thing and flung the garment away. It sailed somewhere across the room, ties flailing. 

Sarah bought this set because it was cute and sort of reminiscent of her black bikini he liked so much. She didn't realize what a fetish he would have for the bows. 

Settling back between her legs, she whined as he parted her lips and blew on her hot core. Shivers ran up her spine and down to all her fingers and toes.

“What were you thinking about?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“When you were touching yourself, what were you thinking about me doing?” 

“You were eating me out,” she repeated, confused. 

His laugh chuffed a burst of hot air against her that had her squirming.

“I mean how. What exactly was I doing? 

“You want me to describe it to you?”

“I want to do it for you,” he confessed, voice gravelly. 

She made a little squeaking noise that told him how much that idea excited her.

“Tell me how you want me to touch you,” he said before he leaned in to press his tongue against her, just to feel her twitch. 

Something inside her broke. Even though she felt depraved at the very thought of telling him this, it was too late to go back. The possibility of feeling it had taken over her body and wouldn’t let it go. 

“You had your fingers on my g-spot,” she breathed. 

“How many?” 

She squirmed again.

“How many, Sarah?” he repeated, circling her entrance, enthralled at the way she flexed.  

“Two.” Her mind made her continue and she squeaked, “then three.” 

His eyes widened and shot to hers. “Will they fit?” 

She nodded. “If you get me off first, they should.” 

His eyes were blown dark and full of mischief when he glanced down then back up to meet hers again. “And how was I using my mouth?” 

She moaned out loud just thinking about it. “You were doing that suck and flick thing with your tongue.” 

He had no idea what she meant.

He'd done it before: the night they'd been eliminated from the finals last season, but she couldn't very well bring that up. I want you to eat me out the way you did when you'd had one of the worst nights of your career? There was no way. Maybe if she demonstrated...

“I can show you,” she said, grasping one of his shoulders, “I need a part of you.” 

He toyed for a moment with the idea of presenting her his dick, but if he did that, he wouldn’t want to stop feeling her mouth, which defeated the whole purpose of this. Instead, he crawled over her and tipped his head to expose the column of his throat. 

His eyes rolled back as her open mouth connected with his hypersensitive skin. She ran her tongue over his pulse, following it with her bottom lip, before ending with suction, and a flick with the tip of her tongue.

Moaning, he ground against her hot center when she did it again and again.

He wrenched himself away before he could follow through with his desires to sheath himself and take her any way she would let him. 

Settling back onto his stomach, he shook his head to get back into the right frame of mind before leveling his gaze with her perfect, pretty pearl again. 

He tried to follow the movement of her mouth, and her hips jumped at the feeling. 

“Quinn,” she whined as he eased two fingers into her, curling them against that sensitive spot. “Oh my god.”

He continued on. She could feel the movement of his chin, up and down and in and out with each pass of his tongue. 

“Harder,” she begged. 

He dug his fingers into her soft spot even more. 

Throwing her head back, she moaned loudly. “Oh my god, Quinn. Just like that. Don't stop. Please don't stop.” 

Like he would ever stop when she was at his mercy like this. Grinding into the mattress, he continued on, moaning at the way her body undulated as she moved with him. 

She let out a gasping noise as if someone had forced all the air out of her in one swift hit. Her core began to pulse around his fingers, trying to suck them deeper inside her. 

Tipping her chin back, Sarah sighed as wave after soft wave of pleasure crashed over her.

When she stopped contracting so tightly, he waited until one of her aftershocks passed to work another finger into her. 

Her voice echoed around the hotel room as she cried out. 

He said a silent prayer of thanks to whoever had the wherewithal to separate them from the team. There was no way he wanted anyone, let alone someone who knew them, to overhear this.

“So good, Quinn,” she croaked out. “Feels so full.”

He continued kissing her bundle of nerves the way she wanted, pausing every few passes to suck a little more intensely. 

A surge of pleasure coiled low in her belly, winding tighter and tighter until every breath ended in a moan. She felt so full and stretched open. So… Alive. All other thoughts fell out of her brain except Quinn and his silver tongue and wicked fingers. 

Feeling as if she might just shatter to pieces if she didn't get some relief, Sarah moaned and panted and begged, “please, Quinn. Please.”

She had no idea what she was asking for, but the waves of pleasure kept coming and coming until it was winding up her spine and pulling so tight, she thought it might just wrench every vertebrae apart and fill each gap with the soft promise of her impending release. 

He could feel her high building and kept urging her up the slope. Anxious for her summit, he sealed his mouth to her, milking her clit like her orgasm might just satiate his hunger.

“Quinn,” she gasped, spine arching as her hands abandoned her nipples and rummaged for some way to ground herself. One ended up in his hair, and the other fisted into the bedspread. “Oh my god. I think I'm gonna…” 

Her voice dissolved into a noise he'd never heard her make as her muscles locked around his fingers. He forced them to continue, working through her orgasm. 

Quite suddenly, as pleasure whirled through her veins, a feeling, intense and ferocious, swelled within her.  

As a tsunami of white-hot ecstasy crashed over her, he unlocked a space deep within her she didn't even know existed.

“Oh, fuck! Quinn!”

Something molten erupted in her belly like a long dormant volcano. 

Vaguely, she heard him groan as if every fantasy he'd ever had was being fulfilled. 

Though he knew women could, he’d never seen it in person, never even imagined what feeling her release gush over his hand would be like.

Sometime last season, Beauvillier had gone on and on about making his girl squirt, and Quinn remembered wishing he would keep it to himself. He didn't want to think about that every time he saw them together. 

Now, having experienced it first hand, he understood why Tito wanted to tell everyone he knew. 

Pleasure continued to ripple through her. No high had ever gone on this long. It eased away the tension that had knotted up in her body, until all at once, sensitivity and overstimulation set in.

“Too much, too much,” she croaked, trying to squirm away from his touch. 

He’d been so mesmerized watching her face, he hadn't realized his fingers were still moving. They uncoiled and stilled, and she melted into the mattress as a sigh melted from her lips. 

Her chest rose and fell steeply, the tie of her bra pulling taught with every heavy inhale, making the cups ride up the swell of her breasts. God, she was so beautiful.

It took quite a while for her to come down. He gently eased his fingers out only after she stopped pulsing. 

A whine escaped her throat at the sudden emptiness. 

Slowly coming back to herself, Sarah registered something wet underneath her. 

“Oh my god,” she breathed. “Did I -” her eyes darted to his as her face flushed with the reality of what had just happened, “did you make me squirt?” 

“Yeah," he said, crawling over her again, "and it was the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life.”

The embarrassment she felt at making such a mess ebbed away with his confession. 

“No one's ever done that to me before. I haven't even been able to.” 

A look of immense pride took over his face. “Did you like it? I mean, it seemed like you liked it.” 

She nodded, “I've never felt anything like it.” 

He brought his lips to hers, and the taste of herself on his tongue made her passion throb to life again. 

“Well, Captain,” she said a little while later, smiling at the way his jaw slackened and eyelids grew heavy at the title. “I think I've got one more round in me. What do you want?” 

He twitched against her. 

“I just want you,” he brought his mouth to her neck. “Want to feel you come on my cock,” he murmured into her skin.

“I think we can arrange for that,” she said, fingers winding into his hair. 

Bracing up on his elbows, his gaze fell to her bra. 

Instead of using his mouth, he twirled one of the ribbons around his finger and pulled gently to ease the bow undone. It fell apart, revealing a knot in the middle. 

“It kept coming undone,” Sarah confessed, hands coming up to help him with the knot, which had pulled incredibly tight amidst her heavy breathing and writhing around.

“I think it's stuck. I can't get it out while it's on me, anyway,” she said, raising her arms above her head. “Here.”

At least he'd been able to remove her bottoms the way he wanted. He eased the lace over the swell of her breasts and helped her lift it off. 

He made love to her the way he did whenever he got home from a long time away - earnestly and full of wonder, compliments falling from his lips like raindrops, as if they didn’t cost a thing.  

“Fuck, Sarah, you feel so good.” 

“I can't believe you're mine.” 

“You're so pretty. I can't stop looking at you.”

“God, I'm so lucky.”  

They didn’t cost him anything, but they made Sarah feel like she was worth a million dollars.

“I love that sound,” he murmured when she gasped in pleasure and followed it with a low moan.  

As he drove into her again and again, he shuttered and moaned, feeling like she was going to shatter him into a million little pieces

He'd been hot all night. A sheen of sweat had spread over his skin as soon as she'd climbed on top of him in his jersey. The prospect of a fantasy being fulfilled sending his body into a frenzy. Working her up to that intense high hadn't been a walk in the park either. He'd been on edge and so focused. Now, he felt like his body was on fire.

She felt and sounded and looked so good. He couldn't think of anything but her.

When she tipped her face to the side with a loud moan, he attacked her jaw and neck with his lips, desperate to taste her again. 

She was here. She was in Boston. She was here, in his hotel, in Boston. He just made her squirt, and he didn't have to be down to the bus until 10 the next morning. He must have been doing something right.  

When he felt her fall apart around his cock, he breathed through it and hung on for dear life, twitching with the bliss of it.

Coming down from her high, Sarah was mesmerized by him. The defined set of his jaw, the sweaty sheen to his skin, how his curls fell over his forehead.

“You're so handsome, Quinn.”

She knew he was holding on, hoping to urge another high from her, but she didn't have one to give him. It was time to send him over the edge. 

Propping up on her elbows, she traced her mouth along his jaw up to his ear. He let out a panicked little whimper. 

“Want to feel you,” she whispered. "Want you to fill me up."

His hips stuttered.

“Come for me, Captain.” 

White spots blipped in his vision and he had no choice but to obey. 

Her name fell from his mouth like a prayer as she pulled him over the edge. 

When they walked back in the room after showering, Sarah realized just how much of a mess she'd made of the bed. There was no way they could sleep in it as it was. 

“Oh no.” 

“What?” Quinn asked, lowering the towel he was running over his hair. 

“We need new sheets and housekeeping is going to know exactly what we've been doing.”

“No they won't.”

She pointed to the bed, “you want to tell me they're not going to know we weren't just having sex?”

He laughed, “fine. So they might know. What does it matter? It's not like we know any of them.”

“It's so embarrassing.”

“What is? That your boyfriend made you come so hard you squirted?”

“No,” she was blushing though, “I mean…no. That was amazing.”

“So what's the worry?”

“I just…I don't want anyone else to see.”

He laughed, “that's fair. I can just ask them to bring some extra bedding. No one has to come into the room.”

She nodded, “okay.”

He called the desk, and despite his insistence he would prefer to make the bed himself, the hotel sent someone up anyway. 

Sarah folded the comforter before hiding in the bathroom. 

Quinn noticed the housekeeper's eyes lingering in one corner of the room. When he glanced over, he saw Sarah’s panties from where he'd thrown them, ties scrawled over the carpet like calligraphy strokes. So much for being discreet.

After giving the woman a tip, he tucked them in Sarah's suitcase before letting her know the coast was clear. 

As they settled into bed, Quinn relished holding her close.

Before sleep could overtake her completely, Sarah needed to set something straight. 

“I hope you know that Captain thing is only for special occasions. There is no way I'm calling you Captain all the time.”

“That’s fine,” he said, laughing. “Makes it more special when you do.”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to like it so much,” she said. 

She’d called him Captain as a kind of joke, and half expected him to tell her not to do it again. Quinn didn’t even like pet names. She vividly remembered the way he grimaced the first (and last) time she called him baby.

He ran his fingers through her soft hair. “I don’t know that I would have either. I’ve never had that happen before. You said it, and it went straight to my dick. I think your lingerie had something to do with that.” 

She propped herself up on an elbow. “You liked the lingerie?” she teased, full well knowing the answer. 

He scoffed, “I'm going to dream about it for the rest of this damn road trip.” 

Giggling, she leaned down to kiss him. “Maybe I'll have it on when you get home,” she said against his mouth. 

He groaned, “don't joke about that.” 

“Why not? Wouldn't it give you something to look forward to?” 

“I always look forward to coming home to you.” 

She looked down at him for a long time, memorizing the love in his eyes. “I love you, Captain Hughes,” she said before lowering her mouth to his to tell him that way too. 

“Tease,” he chided when she pulled away. 

She smiled and settled back, laying her head on his chest. 

“I love you, too,” he whispered into her hair before they fell asleep. “I can't believe you're here.”

The next morning, Sarah put his jersey back on and put his morning hard on to good use - slower this time so he could remember it properly.

After room service breakfast and a very steamy shower, he walked her down to the lobby to catch her car to the airport. 

“I love you,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“I love you too.”

“Thank you for coming.” 

“You're welcome. You should really be thanking Brady, though.”

He watched her pull away before heading back to his room to pack his bag. 

On the elevator ride, Quinn did just as Sarah suggested. 

Love you man. I owe you big time. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[xreaderbooks]

Habits

Pair: JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary: Based on THIS request; Y/n's so used to taking care of everyone else, the consequences of her actions finally catch up to her, and JJ is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: Language, illness (not covid)

Word Count: 2.7k

Links: Wattpad - AO3

JJ Maybank Masterlist - Navigation

JJ was known to be dramatic, and overly, not to mention when someone was sick. Heaven forbid someone got near him when they were with the flu. Everyone thought it was weird since he had a bad habit of eating expired, moldy food and filled his lungs with unhealthy substances- weed not included.

He warned you against taking care of Kie who had gotten a cold, then Sarah who had gotten it from the former, you’re luck had run out by the fourth day you had John B on bed rest. Pope had kept a safe distance so he was in the clear. He’d been the one who had told JJ of your current state.

You should have taken greater precautions, worn gloves, not gotten as close, and not slept over at every sick person's house to make sure they were okay.

Your bad habit was taking care of your friends and forgetting to take care of yourself in the process. Not that you minded, they needed you and you were happy to provide. They were your friends, after all, they were all you had and you were all they had. Your parents don’t care where you are or who you’re with, never did- that gave you the freedom to do anything you wanted.

It also meant you had to learn how to take care of yourself and in doing that, you naturally started to take care of others.

The pogues depended on you, you kept them fed; kept snacks in a bag that you brought with you everywhere, you always kept an extra shirt or two, and allergy medicine for that particular season. You didn’t exactly have the money for all that but you picked up a thing or two from JJ, they never knew all that you would do for them.

Ever since that fated day in kindergarten when you threw sand in a boy's eye to slow down his chase on John B, he grabbed your hand and ran with you until the teacher put a stop to the 5th grader's terror over the two of you. You took care of him and he took care of you, that was kind of a Pogue thing, something you took pride in.

This fever though, is not your finest moment.

Kie was on bed rest at her parent's house when you were taking care of her. Her parents were needed at the Wreck and couldn’t stay home with her so you did. Passed the time with gossip and movies, you forced medicine down her throat when she resisted, made sure she didn’t get out of bed because all she wanted to do was chill in the sun on the HMS. Her parents had strict orders, she felt guilty that she was barely ever home and helping with the restaurant so you worked her shifts when she was in the stages of getting better.

Sarah was the same except she was much needier, she missed John B and was whinier than Kie, cursed you out as if you were the one that got her sick, and then asked if you could spoon her cause she was lonely.

John B was worse. Way worse, so bad that next time he was sick you’d take your chances at your own house. He was a literal man child, if he was the first one that got sick you would have thought it was the plague from how he insisted he was dying from something worse than a cold.

Now because of the big baby who refused to take the medicine, accidentally sneezed one too many times without covering his nose, and who was still sick by the way- you were on your own deathbed. Pope passed by to see how the quarantine was going, John B was slowly recovering but still not considered alive and you appeared to be a walking zombie.

JJ was pissed, not that he would show how angry he was but he’ll definitely let it known how annoyed he was. He brought Tylenol, Benadryl, and NyQuill, and went to three different drug stores to get each without being suspicious in his dealings.

You were currently making two cups of noodle ramen, one for you and the other for John B. JJ placed the medicine on the counter, his hip leaning against the edge with his arms crossed, staring at you as you poured the soup into a bowl for John B.

“The hell are you doing?”

His voice made you jump with a small yelp, the rest of the hot soup splashing and burning the top of your hand. The pain went away in a second as you licked the droplets on your hand, you glared at him, clutching the blanket around your shoulders after putting a spoon in the bowl and heading to John B’s room.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You shuffled your way to his room almost losing balance as you felt yourself get lightheaded. Your back was to him so you could see the way JJ reached out his hand as if giving you the strength to stand or to catch you if you did fall.

He shook his head and went to you, grabbing the bowl from your hands, “Give me that.”

“JJ, that isn’t for you!” You exhaled with a shaky breath.

He rolled his eyes, “I know.” He went into John B’s room, you heard his surprised voice at the sight of JJ in the quarantine zone. JJ was in and out in a second, shutting the door to your shared best friend’s room, he stood in front of you with a stern face and hands on his hips.

“Well?” He gave you an expectant look, you quirk your brow in question. “What are you waiting for? Get to bed.”

“What?” You stuttered. “But my soup!”

“I’ll bring it to you, you're officially now on bed rest,” He shooed you with his hands. “Go on, get. Better be under those covers when I get there.”

You huffed in annoyance but followed his orders, the bed did sound nice. You didn’t get a lot of rest in taking care of the others, you were like a mother hen all worried, they joked about how you would get sick of them one day. You never thought it would actually be true.

Your body shivered as you felt the coolness of the unused bed, you sat against the pillows with the comforter over your lap. Your head throbbed at holding the weight of your head, you wanted to lay down and sleep but your stomach growled at the thought of the noodles. You didn’t even have much of an appetite but you haven’t eaten since earlier this morning when you force-fed John B some toast.

JJ bursting through the door made you jump again, you winced “Can you move more… quietly?”

“My bad, Y/n/n.” He gently placed a tray with the soup and Gatorade, he knew you got thirsty when drinking something hot. He didn’t know if it was healthy or not, but he knew that even if you were drinking hot soup you wanted something cold. “Eat.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Thanks.” You picked up the spoon and began to sip.

“You’re done taking care of John B,” He softly shut the door behind him, leaning his back against it. He watched you pause halfway dipping your spoon back into the bowl, “Don’t give me that look, you’re sick.”

“So is John B-”

“He’ll be fine, I’ll be here and make sure you’re both alright, besides John B’s feeling better already.”

You give him a deadpanned look, “Give him a couple of hours, he’ll be telling you it’s his time for the third time today.”

“It’ll be your time if you let yourself waste away because you’re taking care of everyone else but yourself.” He sat on the edge of the bed by your thighs, he reached out his hand and brushed a stray hair behind your ear. “You can’t keep doing that, pretty girl.”

Your body shivered again though this time you weren’t sure what it was from, JJ or the fever. “If I don’t then who will, J?”

“They appreciate it, I know they do, alright but remember that one year when we had finals you were hella stressed and yet you were talking Pope down a ledge, volunteering with Kie cause you didn’t want her to do it alone when she asked and nobody wanted to, John B always needs your help with something-”

“Just sounds like your jealous,” Your face held a lazy smirk at the joke.

He clicked his tongue, “You take care of me too. A lot, that gets me to my point, you need a break. You reached that point, just like you did that year when you got physically sick because of how stressed we were making you.”

“This isn’t like last time, I just caught the cold, but I’m fine I just need to eat then I can make sure John B gets better.”

“I’ll make sure John B doesn’t die and I’ll take care of you.”

“You?” You almost want to laugh at the thought of JJ taking care of both you and John B, especially with his affliction with sickness but the increased pounding in your head prevented you.

“Shut up and eat your noodles.”

~~~

The rest of the day he doted on you, doted was too mild a term, full-on hovered over you. He kept you fed, reached things for you when he didn’t have to, he gave you a little bell for you to ring like he was your servant.

You fucked with him a little too much with it until he threatened to take it away but he came every time you rang. It made you hopeful, a little too hopeful, in a way that you shouldn’t of your best friend. Because that’s what this was, one best friend taking care of the other. He wanted you to be comfortable but not weirdly comfortable, and he was only taking care of you because he felt bad.

Then again you and JJ were never just normal best friends. You both had no boundaries when it came to one another, the line was never drawn and neither of you wanted to form one, perfectly complacent with the unsaid rule of being there for each other. You loved each other like family and respected each other like friends, but every touch had an underlying meaning that was better off not being unmasked.

Even now when your fever had you shivering like you were in Antarctica with JJ’s body heat on your back, his chest exuding a warmth that made you nuzzle further into him. You felt a little moisture coming from him, poor guy, you had him sweating from how hot it was. But internally you were freezing.

You groaned as you felt your body ache, the back of JJ’s hand went to your neck and your forehead, and he hissed.

“You’re hot, Y/n,” He put his weight on his forearm to hold himself up. He looked down on you like a golden angel and you briefly thought that you wouldn’t mind if the fever took you out.

You breathed out a chuckle, “Yeah, I know. Remind me when I actually feel like it.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked anyway, “Your temperature, Pretty girl.”

“Mm,” You turned your weak body to talk to him face-to-face without having to twist your neck. “Shut up and cuddle me.”

“You gotta actually take a nap this time though,” He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “You need to rest.”

“Sir, yes, sir-” You would’ve saluted but that meant moving your arm that felt way too heavy to lift at the moment. JJ turns to grab something from the nightstand and hands you a plastic shot cup, the one that comes on top of the medicine bottles.

“Drink this,” He hands you the tiny cup with the red liquid. “I thought you would like taking it this way so you could pretend you're taking a shot.”

Your heart melted at the sentiment and took it out of his hand, “Are you trying to drug me right now?”

“Probably the only time I’d do something like that but I’m willing to do it if it means you’ll feel better.”

“You’re annoying,” You drank it with one swallow, expecting it to taste worse than it actually did but the flavor he picked out made it sweet.

He placed a hand over his chest in mock hurt, “Is that any way to speak to your nurse?”

“The elderly people at the hospital would treat you way worse.”

“That’s why I’m only qualified to take care of you,” He bopped your nose and you scrunched it as his finger tapped lightly.

He settled down beside you after he took the empty cup out of your hands and set it aside, his hands traveled from your waist to your arm into your hair, playing with each strand on the top of your head.

You began to faintly trace the curves and angles on his face while trying not to think about how intimate this was, you were close, so close your noses were touching.

You wished your brain would stop thinking so you didn’t feel the need to break the silence, suddenly being hyperaware of the fact that while both of your legs were tangled in each other, bodies touching, fingers roaming- all the while intense eye contact was being made. “You’re going to get sick being this close to me.”

“I like being this close to you,” He whispered. “If I get sick, you’re worth it.”

“I don’t like when you say things like that,” You nibbled on your lip only slightly- another bad habit that you picked up on when you were nervous and felt awkward. His fingers untangled themselves from your hair and you regretted speaking but it was how you felt. Him saying things like that made it feel like this was more than what it was and you knew better than that.

His eyes flickered from where your teeth were caught on your lip, his thumb pulled it with his index curved under your chin. “Why?”

“Because,” Your breath shuddered.

“Because?” His ocean-blue eyes held yours and you were about to give it all up right then and there. You were sick, you weren’t in the right state of mind and you would never forgive yourself if you admitted your love for him right now and he rejected you while you already felt like you were dying.

You couldn’t handle looking at him anymore and began to move your body so that your back was facing him when you talked but his hand slipped onto your cheek and he pulled you into him, attaching his lips to yours.

He kissed you once, twice, and the third time felt like he was speaking a language that you understood all too well and you reciprocated. Your lips moved languidly with his, an natural movement that made your heart flutter through the fever that held you captive all day.

He pulled away giving you one last kiss, “I love you. I’m tired of pretending I don’t and that everything I do for you is just because we’re friends when we both know that it’s more, at least I hope it is because if not then what just happened made us a hell of a lot closer and definitely more awkward. I love you, and you don’t have to feel the same cause either way I will always always take care of you but I just needed you to know because I feel like friends or not, you forget that people care about you too. We care about you, and I love you.”

You blamed how sick you were feeling for the tears that threatened to spill out of your eyes from his confession, “God your such a sap.”

His panicked expression searched your face for any other sign of a reaction to the word he just spoke and you kissed him. You kissed him deeply and with the assurance that you hoped translated with the way your soft plump lips spoke on his. “I love you more, J.”

He brought you into his chest, cradling your head, your arms around his middle holding him tight. The distraction of his confession interrupted the thoughts of how frail your body felt but now it was coming back as his heartbeat thumped against your ear and your mind slowly drifted into sleep.

“JJ?”

He hummed in response.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Anytime, baby,” He squeezed you gently. “Now go to sleep.”

[princessmaybank]

Public Play Time

Pairings: Dark!JJ x Fem!Reader

Warnings: FWB, name calling, public play, vibrator, fingering, rubbing, squirting, voyeurism (?), cumming, teasing, degrading, humiliation, etc.

Summary: JJ got a new toy for you two to play with.

Authors Note: If I missed anything let me know! Also I love hearing what you guys think! It's not required to leave comments but it is very much appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

JJ smirked and scrolled his thumb up his phone. You squeezed your legs together and gave JJ the 'im gonna kill you' face. "Are you okay Y/N?" Sarah asked sounding concerned. You nod your head in response then took a deep breath as you felt the buzzing inside of you start to go away. "Yes I'm okay, I really have to pee though."

"Oh do you want me to go with you?" Sarah asked. "No, you really don't-" She cut you off. "Well, I have to pee now too, let's go." As Sarah tugged you away by your arm, you stared daggers into JJ's skull. He silently laughed at you as he watched you tut along to the mall's restrooms.

When you got into the bathroom, Sarah rushed to the end stall and locked herself in. You went into the farthest one from her that was available and not disgusting. All you could think of was taking this damn thing out, so you began pulling your pants down and reached for the vibrator. When your fingers wrapped around the tail, it suddenly turned on and you felt that amazing sensation again. You knew you had to keep quiet but without you knowing, a loud moan came from your lips.

"Are you okay Y/N?" You heard Sarah call from the sinks. "Yeah-yeah I'm awesome." You felt the vibrations increase speed, which unfortunately meant you could hear the sound it was making. "Uhm Y/N, are you sure you're okay? What's that sound?" She was now in front of your stall. You couldn't handle this, you reached down and quickly removed the pink toy from your hole. The power button was hard to find but when you did find it, it immediately stopped buzzing. You dropped the toy into your purse, flushed the toilet and walked to the sink. "Yes I'm fine, and I'm not sure what that was, you heard it too?" You played dumb.

Sarah only gave you a side eye as you walked out and caught up with everyone else at the food court. JJ was chatting with Kiara while Pope and John B were off in an arcade.

You and JJ aren't exclusive, you are kinda just friends with benefits, lots and lots of benefits. So you feel bad when you see Kiara rubbing up on JJ and get jealous. Lucky for you, JJ doesn't like her like that, and when he sees you, he has no problem bringing you into the conversation.

While the three of you are discussing what to get for lunch, you notice JJ pulling out his phone, ready to have a little fun with you. You smirk to yourself remembering what you did moments ago. As his finger glides across his phone screen, he looks to you with his lip between his teeth, waiting for a response that you never give. JJ quickly looked back at his app and saw the phrase 'not connected'. He immediately glared at you when he realized that you turned it off.

He couldn't make a big scene so he simply asked to have a private word with you. Kiara walked around trying to decide on what to eat. JJ pulled you into the hallway that leads to the bathroom and pinned you against the wall.

"Fess up princess" His eyes were dark, he was clearly upset. "To what Jayj? I didn't do anything." You taunted him, never taking your eyes away from his.

He threw his hands under your skirt, moved your panties to the side and stuck two digits inside your soaked pussy. "Jay-" You moaned into his shoulder but he cut you off. "I knew you were lying, you can't hide anything from me, slut." He whispered in your ear while slowly moving his fingers in and out. "Someone might see-" You pleaded. "I don't give a flying fuck princess. Let them look, maybe you'll learn a lesson."

He snuck his fingers into your purse while his other hand was playing with your heat. When he felt the oval shape he remembered, he pulled it out slowly making sure to not alert you. When he was ready and had the toy turned on, he pulled out his fingers and just as you were getting ready to complain, he shoved the toy back inside you. "I never said we were done playing princess." JJ opened his phone and made the toy start buzzing. "Now you're gonna be a good girl while we eat with our friends. No moving, no whimpering, and especially no cumming." He moved his hand to your face and gave your cheek a little slap. "Got that princess?" JJ grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him. As you shook your head yes, he sucked his teeth. "You know I need you to use your words." His eyes were somehow darker and you were already squirming from the pleasure between your legs. "Come on, you at least know how to say yes and no, right?" He teased. When you finally worked up some courage to answer he slapped your clit. You moaned from the pain and pleasure it caused. "Stop being a dumbass and answer me you fuckin' slut!" His voice was demanding, he was getting louder and people were giving small glances.

He caught you looking around as people began watching you. Like he said, he didn't mind people looking, so he put his hand in your panties and rubbed your clit while his other hand controlled the vibrator.

"Is this a turn on for you? Being degraded and humiliated in public?" He whispered in your ear making sure you could see the faces of people gathering to see you. "Jayj- th-this is wrong-" He cut you off once again but this time with a harder slap to the face. That caused pretty much everyone to walk away from the situation. "What was that? I thought you liked being treated like the skank you are? You didn't wanna fucking answer, I'll make you answer." Your eyes started brimming with tears. This was becoming too much but you felt your orgasm coming. "Oh look at the little baby, you're crying now too? You're being a little bitch, just cum. Since you clearly can't handle the pressure." That was enough to throw you over the edge. You thought you were just cumming until you felt the explosion of liquid come from your tired hole.

"And after all that, we learn that you can squirt. Look at the fuckin mess you made, someone is gonna have to clean that shit up. They'll think 'I wonder what whore did this.' and it's you, you will know that you're the whore that made this fuckin mess for them."

There couldn't have been better timing for Sarah to walk down there. She looked between the both of you and giggled. "I knew it was you two everyone is talking about." She started walking to the bathroom. "What do you mean?" You try and fix your appearance and pretend you have no idea what's happening but Sarah isn't stupid. She gave you both a smirk and crossed her arms. "Omg you guys have totally got to check it out, some hot blonde is finger banging his girlfriend in the hall!" She recited the words she heard from one of the girls sitting at the table next to the group. "Not to mention everyone else saying things about what you two were wearing, AND you guys have been gone for an unreasonable amount of time. But at least you got your kicks." Sarah giggled and walked into the bathroom.

JJ planted a kiss on your cheek. "Sorry I slapped you. I was really turned on." You smiled and looked back at him. "Was?" He gave an awkward smile and pointed to his shorts which now had a wet patch gracing the front. You couldn't help but giggle at him. "I guess we can call it even. But let's get you and this mess cleaned up." You started pushing him to the guys room. "Okay but let's just go home after please, I don't know if I can stand the looks on their faces right now." He whined. "Look who's being a little bitch now." He rolled his eyes with a small laugh.

After everything was cleaned up you walked out with JJ, everyone's eyes were on both of you. A few guys that JJ knew shouted and clapped for him as you were trying to hide your face. When you sat down in front of the group, you could feel everyone glaring. "Did you have a good talk?" Kiara asked. "Learn anything new?" Pope poked. "Have some fun?" Sarah winked. "Did you get your dick wet?" John B teased which resulted in JJ throwing napkins at him. "What? I heard the hallway was flooded!" He teased some more.

Eventually you moved past the topic and you had some PG fun at the mall. When it was time to leave you headed to the Twinkie and JJ walked behind you with his arms around your shoulders and he gave you little kisses on the neck. "Hey Maybank! I don't need my van flooded too! Hands off!" John B yelled back at JJ while he put the keys in the ignition. "Yes sir!" He saluted John B and got in the van. The rest of the ride home and the night at the chateau were filled with jokes and teasing moments for the two of you. The girls even took you while the guys took JJ and prodded you both with questions. "Would you ever do it again?!" Kiara asked. "Absolutely."

[deancaspinefest]

Take The Long Way Home

Author: sidewinder | Artist: caught-a-dragonfly (Sarah)

Posting on Monday April 15

Two months ago, the world didn’t end. But for Dean Winchester, who fully expected to sacrifice not just his life but his very soul in order to stop Amara? The celebration has been clouded by the disappearance of his best friend, Cas—the friend he’d started to realize meant more to him than he’d been willing to accept until now. The last anyone’s seen of Castiel was when he was banished from the bunker by Toni Bevell. The Brits swear they don’t have him. Neither Heaven nor Hell claim to know of his whereabouts. All of Dean’s calls, texts and prayers to the angel have gone unanswered, and Dean can’t help but worry that a "Winchester win" has once again come at a terrible price. One day hope finally arrives in a lead from an unexpected if not always trustworthy ally. However finding Cas might end up being only the first step in saving him—not simply from the forces holding him captive, but from the prison of his own mind.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

As Dean approached the galley, he saw the light on there already, meaning he wasn’t the only early bird up and about today. His mood brightened with a momentary spark of hope—Cas rarely slept, and when he was around the bunker, he usually enjoyed hanging around in the kitchen to read or watch cat videos and shit all night on one of their laptops. But Dean’s bubble of hope burst when he saw it was just his brother, sitting there in his sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt, chugging a disgusting-looking green smoothie. Sam was no doubt ready to head out on his morning self-imposed torture session—that is, a five-mile run looping around the bunker to Lebanon and back.

Kid seriously had to be the devil’s vessel if he found that kind of physical torment enjoyable.

“Hey,” Dean grunted at his brother.

Sam looked up from his laptop at Dean and nodded. “Hey. You’re up early.”

“You too. Couldn’t sleep?”

“Rarely do.”

Yeah, that was something they had in common. “Anything up?” Dean asked on his way to fill the coffeepot with water. 

“Not really. Just restless, I guess. I found a case, maybe. Not that I was looking for one,” Sam added quickly. “But while I was searching for any signs of Cas, or Lucifer, I came across a news story about some strange deaths in Wichita. It’s not far from here, and—”

“If you wanna go hunt whatever it is, go for it,” Dean cut him off. “Take mom. I know she’s itching to get out of here and do somethin’ other than stare at our ugly mugs all day.” 

“Dean—”

“No, Sam. I mean it. Until I know where Cas is, I just can’t. My head’s not in the game.” A distracted hunter was a dead hunter. That was the rule their father had drilled into them as soon as they each could carry a weapon, and learn about the things that went bump in the night being real. A week ago, Dean had let Sam talk him into going on a “milk run” hunt to clear out a small vampire nest near Toledo and he’d nearly lost his neck thanks to not fully concentrating on the job at hand.

“Okay, I get it.”

“Do you?” Dean snapped. “Cas has been missing for two months, Sam! We have no idea where he is, if he even—”

Dean cut himself off. He couldn’t say it. Not out loud.

If he even survived.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Monday April 15)

[vodkabodies]

Surprise?

Summary: A seemingly normal celebration trip where Harry learns that consuming alcohol isn’t the only thing that can get a girl puking.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Non-showbiz gf

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, pregnancy, and some fluff <3

A/N: My first published work here so please be gentle. Enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Y/n didn’t know what prayer worked out of the multiple ones she consistently recited for this day to finally come into fruition. The day where Harry set aside work and exchanged his incredibly busy schedule with one where his only agenda was to unwind and bond with his family, friends, and ofcourse Y/n, his girlfriend of almost five years. Today was a couple of days before his birthday and a day before their anniversary, so it meant everything for Y/n that the love of her life gets to celebrate the way he deserves to, even for just the weekend.

They were currently staying at a resort in Big Sur, Harry’s mom and older sister, as well as a couple of their closest friends had cleared their own schedules to be able to celebrate with Harry. Y/n took pride in finding the perfect venue for this weekend getaway, and she was just as proud at the gifts she had bought for her man, a bundle of vintage vinyls she knew he’d absolutely love, and an electric guitar he’d been eyeing online for quite some time now. She intended to give him these gifts once they got back from their trip.

Anne and Gemma were picked up directly from the airport by Mitch and Sarah, with their child in a car seat who was asleep for most of the drive, while some of their other friends drove themselves to the resort. The couple on the other hand, ran a little later than intended as the night before, they did some ‘special adult activities’ that they were aware they could not do on the group trip, to keep it as wholesome as possible. Y/n woke up, bundled in sheets, beside Harry who was still deep in slumber while the clock on his bedside table read 7:15. The drive from their shared home in L.A. to Big Sur would take at least 5 hours, but traffic would surely be expected so they planned beforehand to leave as early as possible so they could arrive at the venue by noon. Thankfully, they finished packing and loading their things in the car early the day before so all they had to do was quickly get ready and make sure they didn’t forget anything.

“You made sure the oven isn’t on?” Y/n asked loudly as she bolted out the front door, “Baby, we didn’t even cook anything yesterday, the oven is off… And so are the lights in every room. We’re good to go.” Harry explains as he gets in the driver’s seat. “I’m so excited! The weather’s so nice!” Y/n exclaimed and to that Harry smiled, while pulling out their driveway. The drive went smoothly, at the three hour mark they realized that they were definitely not gonna make it on time, so Y/n  sent a text in the group chat that the group, who all surprisingly showed up on time, should eat lunch without them and that they’d just pick up some drive-thru on the way.

The clock read almost 2 p.m. when they arrived and everyone thought it was funny how it seemed like the couple planned their grand entrance by being tardy like the duo they were known to be. Always so fashionably late. Catching up was necessary and so that was what they mostly did throughout the rest of the day, besides watching a couple of movies and cooking dinner. It unexpectedly rained around dinner time so their plans of starting a bonfire that night were postponed until tomorrow evening. Everyone went to their designated rooms after they all agreed to wake up extra early for a hike, Anne and Gemma deciding not to join as their jet lag got the best of them and so they could look after the burnt out parents' baby.

After their group hike in the morning and a very filling lunch when they got back, everyone spent the rest of the afternoon swimming until the water got too cold and the sun was setting. "Thank you for convincing me, Y/n. I really needed this." Harry said as they walked back to their room to freshen up before dinner. "You're welcome, baby. You always work so hard, I'm so happy you actually agreed. I'm sure the others needed this just as much as we do." After taking a quick shower and changing to more comfortable lounge clothes, everyone headed to the dining table where comfort food was served.

“You have one year before you turn three decades old, darling.” Anne jokes and Harry shakes his head with a chuckle as they sit beside each other at the table. Harry handed Y/n the bowl of rice before replying to his mum, "Making me sound so old!" and Anne returned the same laugh. "Well, you're not necessarily a baby anymore… Might as well have a baby of your own!" Harry didn't reply but smiled at the idea. His career was doing incredibly well, he's well received by the public, he has amazing family and friends who have supported him throughout the years, and a girlfriend he never thought he'd deserve. Life was good, and a family of his own one day sounded like heaven to his ears.

Dinner went by fast as everyone devoured their meals, hungry from the activities they did all morning and afternoon. Noticing that the sky was clear tonight, they decided to finally start the bonfire and set up some chairs around it. S'mores were made and beer bottles were opened as stories were shared by everyone. Sarah accompanied their baby to their room as it was approaching bedtime. Mitch picked up the guitar he had brought with them and everybody cheered when music started echoing the open area.

Although it was a simple get together, Harry was having the time of his life… Singing, drinking, laughing until he almost fell off the foldable chair, all while being wrapped in his lover's embrace and surrounded by nature. "I can't wait to show you my gifts when we get home." Y/n whispered in his ear. "Why wait at home when you can show it to me tonight?" he playfully replied, making her erupt in giggles. "That's not what I'm talking about. I have more to give but they're at home." She says as she kisses his cheek.

Y/n was singing along until she felt something boiling at the pit of her stomach. She quickly excused herself from the circle to go to the bathroom. Could it have been something they ate? Everything served was fresh and no one seemed to have an upset stomach aside from her at that moment. Immediately heading for the bathroom door, the knob appeared to be locked from the inside. "One second!" Gemma exclaims as she turns off the sink. Once she opened the door, Y/n rushed to the toilet and puked most of dinner out. "Y/n, are you alright?" Gemma asks in worry as she rushes towards Y/n's side. She took a minute to answer as she vomited one more time, "Uh… I'm fine. Just an upset stomach, maybe." Right as she finishes her sentence, another round of puking erupted from her as Gemma held her hair up and rubbed her back soothingly. "How many have you drunk so far?" She hasn't had anything to drink tonight… Come to think of it, the past few weeks she had refrained from drinking overall. No particular reason, she thought. But truly, a part of her brain was telling her she shouldn't.

"I haven't been drinking at all lately." At this, she stood up and headed over to the sink. "I've been feeling nauseous lately, but never to the point of puking. I don't know if it's something I ate today… I don't know." She adds as she rinses her mouth with water, lightheaded from the endless vomiting. Cog wheels started turning in Gemma's head as clueless Y/n explained her current situation. "Y/n I don't want to alarm you, but do you think maybe there's a chance… you might be pregnant?" She asked, trying her very best to not worry her, in case the girl didn't want to hear that right now.

It took her a minute to process what Harry's sister had said. Could she really be pregnant? If she was, that could explain everything she'd been feeling lately. Even as hectic as Harry's schedule was, they did still have some time to themselves and ‘bond’. Not as often as they would've liked but they take advantage of any time they could have together. The past couple of weeks though, Y/n had found herself becoming clingier than usual, craving his presence a little more than she already did. And she started losing a bit of appetite for food she'd normally be able to inhale when she craved it. Feelings she thought were seemingly normal, turned out to be symptoms all along. No wonder the mere smell of alcohol made her stomach turn!

She stared at herself in the mirror for a couple more seconds, then turned to look at Gemma with concern on her face, patiently waiting for Y/n to say something. "It's not impossible… I might be." Y/n finally spoke. She was genuinely shocked. Really shocked because they haven't really planned on having children any time soon. Should she tell Harry now? Or should she take a test first just in case? "Do you want me to grab a pregnancy test for you?" They were walking out of the bathroom now. "It's alright, I'll take a test the moment we get home tomorrow. I don't think I should tell Harry yet." Y/n whispers as they head back to where everybody was, following the sounds of loud singing and beautiful guitar playing. Before they could exit the door, Gemma grabbed Y/n's hands. "If you really are pregnant, I just wanna say that I'm happy Harry gets to start a family with you. I'll try to hide it from mum for now but I can already tell she'll be ecstatic!" This meant everything for Y/n. His family loved her like their own and she values them so much. After hugging, they finally arrived back at the bonfire. Fortunately, some of them were too tipsy, Harry included, to notice their absence. "Hey, baby!" Harry reached for Y/n's hand and motioned for her to sit beside him. She obliged and quickly engulfed in Harry's warm embrace. 

After another hour and a half, with Sarah joining them again once the baby fell asleep, they were bringing their chairs back inside and headed to their rooms to end the night. Harry and Y/n were laughing as Harry stumbled into their shared room after losing his balance when she opened the door. "Oi! Laughing a little too loud at a poor man falling instead of helping him up?" she giggles uncontrollably while reaching her hand out to help him.

Harry was about to kiss her after he closed the door but Y/n immediately felt the same wave in her stomach as she did earlier and bolted to the bathroom. Harry rushed behind her as he watched his girlfriend puke her guts out, head hanging above the toilet. "Are you okay, love? Had too much to drink?" he asked as he knelt down beside her. For a second she stared at the bathroom floor, not knowing if any second she'll puke again before she can get any words out. After a minute of silence she finally spoke, "Harry, I didn't drink at all tonight." She didn't want to tell him just yet, she wasn't entirely sure after all. But the way she looked at him almost begged him to read between the lines and understand the point she was trying to make. It took him a moment, still in his half drunk state. She looked into his eyes then down at her stomach, which wasn't showing, but she hoped he got the message.

"You're pregnant?" he asked in confusion, searching for answers in her eyes which were now welling up with tears. All she could do was nod as he pulled her in his arms. "I'm not entirely sure yet. But when I left to use the bathroom earlier, I ran to puke and Gemma helped me. She was the one who asked if I was possibly pregnant. I wasn't really thinking about it at all." Harry pulled away before he could reply. "We're having a baby?" he asked, more enthusiastic now. "Maybe…" she replied after rinsing her mouth. Without wasting another moment, Harry closed the gap between him and his lover as he kissed her prior worries away. She didn't want to ruin the trip by announcing this to her partner out of the blue, but it was never bad news to begin with. Once they pulled apart from each other's hungry lips, Y/n had one thing to say, "Surprise?" They both immediately laughed and hugged at her words.

They went outside again, that very same night. While the rest were fast asleep, they walked hand-in-hand talking about clearing both their schedules to book and attend an appointment for a check-up. Harry didn't think this getaway would get any better, but it just did. "Baby, I almost forgot!" Y/n alarmingly exclaimed as she looked at the time on her wrist watch. "What?!" Harry asked with concern, but she smiled at him before he could panic. "Happy Anniversary, H." she spoke, resting her hand on his cheek, pulling him into a quick peck on the lips. "Happy Anniversary, angel. I love you so much."

When they finally got home the next day, Y/n gave Harry the gifts she had bought, he adored every single one of them. And while she napped after unpacking their luggage, Harry spent the rest of the afternoon scavenging for the perfect engagement ring online.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A/N: Thank you for reading! I would appreciate some feedback for future reference <3 More updates soon once I get the hang of this app!

Twitter: @vodkabodies

[thetriumphantpanda]

I Was Enchanted To Meet You | J. Miller Drabble

Summary | Literally just a Drabble about Joel being an era's tour dad, meeting a pretty girl in cowboy boots and flirting. That's it. It's dumb. This goes out to my girl Doni @morning-star-joy who is going to see Tay-Tay tonight and can now be delulu about meeting Joel Miller there. And also therapy for me because I'm in the UK and got waitlisted for tickets, so CRIES. I wrote this in like an hour so excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

Joel Miller didn't exactly understand when he'd signed up to take Sarah to her first concert. When she'd asked to use his credit card to buy the tickets, he'd just nodded and handed it over. When his bill came through the next month, he almost passed out from the cost. But stood here now, in seats that might very well give him a nosebleed, watching Sarah almost lose her mind over the fact that Taylor Swift was about to appear on stage, it was all forgotten. All Joel ever wanted was for his little girl to be happy.

He'd spent weeks listening to the songs, learning the lyrics so he might be able to sing along with Sarah. He watched her sit in front of the television each night making bracelets to trade, and he squirrelled away as much money as possible so he could buy her a t-shirt or something on the night too.

Joel was watching as Sarah swapped friendship bracelets with two girls to her right when something else caught his eye. Two people shuffling into the two seats that had been vacant in front of Joel and Sarah for most of the night. One of them, around Sarah's age, was almost as excited as his girl, bouncing up and down, looking around the stadium with eyes as wide as saucers, taking it all in, but you? You were something else entirely. You had a white cowboy hat sat on top of your head, not dissimilar to his own apart from the colour and the fact yours was covered in sparkly rhinestones. You had a white dress on, falling to your mid-thigh, made of lace and scalloped edges, and a pair of beat-up old brown leather cowboy boots. The literal picture of heaven on earth as far as he was concerned.

He watched as you pointed to the two seats in front of him and Sarah, motioning for the other girl to sit down so you could hand her the soda you were carrying. He noticed your wrists were covered in the same type of bracelets his daughter had been going wild for all evening. Almost on cue, Sarah leans over, tapping your shoulder.

"You wanna trade?" She asks, holding up her own plastic-laden wrist to show you.

"Hell yeah," You smile, nudging the girl with you, "Why don't you give this little superstar one of yours too?"

Joel watches intently as you let Sarah scan your wrists for the specific bracelet she wants, picking one made of pink beads, swapping it with one of hers that was made of black and gold. Joel had no idea what any of them meant, all he knew was that the bill for friendship bracelet materials on his credit card nearly rivalled the bill for the tickets.

"You want one as well, mister?" Your voice cuts through his thoughts, "Can't come and see Taylor and leave with empty wrists I'm afraid."

"Well, I ain't got anything to trade ya with." Joel shrugs.

"That's okay," you smile, "I'll forgive you, this time."

Joel keeps an eye trained on you as you search your wrists, obviously having something incredibly specific in mind for him. You find it, eyes lighting up as you pull it from your wrist and hand it over to him. He takes the delicate thing in his big palm - red, white and blue beads with letters in hearts that spell out 'Cowboy Like Me'. Very fitting.

"Thanks, Darlin'," He smiles, slipping it over his hand, "You been waiting to find the perfect man to give that to all night?"

You let your head fall back in a laugh and Joel thinks you might just be the prettiest goddamned girl he's ever seen in his life. Sarah is pulling at his wrist so she can see exactly what bracelet you've given her dad, laughing and then leaning forward.

"I made him wear the hat!" She exclaims, "Told him he had to fit in."

"Well, you made a good choice," You grin, "He looks mighty fine in his cowboy hat."

You finally turn your attention back to your companion - judging by your likeness he assumes it must be your little sister. You're pointing out things around the stadium for her to look at, and he can't help but find it endearing how she's bouncing in her seat at every little thing, much like Sarah had done when they'd taken their seats.

Joel feels a nudge to his side, Sarah is looking up at him with that glint he knows and loves so much - she's got an idea.

"She's really pretty, dad."

"Sarah!" He chastises, eye flickering to you to make sure you didn't hear what she'd said, but you look completely oblivious.

"She is though!" She retorts in a hushed whisper, "I think she likes you."

Joel brings a finger to his lips to try and get this devil of a girl to be quiet, but he can't help but indulge her - Sarah was right, you are really pretty, "She don't know the first thing about me," He finishes the conversation, "Now you sit tight, I'm going to find you a soda."

When Joel returns, to drinks in hand, he can see Sarah leant over the seats speaking to you. He dreads to think what she's been trying to cook up, seemingly obsessed with making sure he's not so lonely in life anymore.

"Move over," He asks, Sarah shifting to the seat he was in before he left, "Don't drink it all at once, you'll need it for all the screaming you're gonna do." He says, handing the soda to her.

Once he sits back down, you turn in your chair to speak to him.

"Sarah says you're a builder?" She asks, clearly just trying to make polite conversation with him whilst your sister speaks to Sarah.

"Contractor actually," He shrugs, as if it matters, "But yeah, I build stuff, what do you do?"

"I'm a teacher," You smile, "Teach 4th grade." He's about to ask you another question when every single person in the stadium starts screaming, he thinks by the end of tonight he might actually be deaf, "Well, you enjoy the show, mister, hope you learnt some lyrics."

Contrary to what he'd thought, Joel actually does enjoy the show. He sings along to some of the songs he remembers, dances with Sarah for most of the night and keeps a close eye on you during it all. You know every single word to every single song, just like your little sister and he has to admit that when you're throwing your hands in the air and screaming to the lyrics, he finds you prettier than he had done all night.

When all is said and done at the end of the night, you say a polite goodbye to him and Sarah. When he finally sits in his truck, waiting for the scores of traffic to clear so he can get them home, he kicks himself for not asking for your number, but resigns himself to the fact that it was fate. Meant to meet once and that was it. It's not until he's finally carried Sarah up to bed, fast asleep in his arms and settled down to unwind in front of the TV that he pulls his phone from his pocket and sees a message from an unknown number.

I was enchanted to meet you, Joel. Drinks? Saturday @ 6pm?

[talistheintrovert]

okay i'm having thoughts about acting and specifically kissing in dramas.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT CHIMON BECAUSE IT COULD STILL BE AN ACTING CHOICE, it was just PROMPTED by seeing this discourse on my dash again (remember the outrage at the "dead fish kiss" in To My Star and then the egg on everybody's faces when that was a deliberate choice?)

I always gave it the benefit of the doubt btw

HOWEVER I do think, at this point, if you're gonna make ANY romance, and I'm not even talking just BL - you've gotta start learning to kiss properly.

I would genuinely rather a drama had NO kiss than had a bad one. Because if you've got great chemistry and a nothing kiss, it feels like a waste of chemistry. like. go girl, give us nothing! the chemistry vanishes in the blink of an eye because what was it all leading up to?

every single person in any show in any country needs to take a lesson from Nanon Korapat. that man had never done a BL before, probably won't ever do one again, and did not need to go as hard as he did, but he strutted in and kissed that man like he goddamn MEANT IT.

if you are an actor and you're not bringing this level of commitment, RESPECT YOUR CRAFT MORE!! you don't have any excuse not to!!

and I'm not saying that every show requires a full makeout sesh, they don't! the reason why I love kiss scenes so much (particularly as an ace person) is that it feels like a culmination and continuation of the characters' dynamics. characters kiss like THEMSELVES, which means actors can switch how they kiss between roles, because it's just another facet of *acting*.

Perth is actually a great example of this! So is Ohm Pawat, and Saint Suppapong!

And if we're straying out of Thailand, Ji Chang Wook does this well, as does Seo In Guk. Lee Junho, Park Minyoung, Chae Soobin, there are a lot of korean actors and actresses who've done this.

There are Western actors who are fantastic at this too - David Tennant, Billie Piper, Colin Firth, Chris Evans, Sarah Michelle Gellar etc. etc.

Kissing isn't just there to titillate audiences, or it shouldn't be. it's there because it's part of the STORY, part of these characters, and it MATTERS.

which is also why I'm hoping Chimon's response to the kiss was a deliberate choice because it doesn't make any sense for this man to not commit when his partner is renowned Great Dramatic Kisser, Perth Tanapon.

anygay-

[sunraies]

OH I LOVE YOUR WORKS SM I REALLY READ THEM EVERY DAY ITS A ROUTINE TO ME

my request is kook!reader who gets along with Camerons very well. tutores to Wheez, gives her old study notes to Sarah, chit chats with Rose etc. and Rafe is adoring her. but they have some problems lately like Rafe's friends behaviours or Rafe's addiction or something about her idk really. and all these little problems becomes a big one and they finally have a fight. BIG. at Camerons. Wheez worrying, Rose is confused and Sarah is like 'finally, Rafe dont deserve you.' idk end however you want.

actually to me FULL ANGST. but however you want to end it honey. whether fluff or angst i am sure id love it. love you.

Oh my god! You are gotta make me cry 😭😭😭🥰. I love you too x

I hope this does your request justice. I tried to make it angst filled, but I'm such a fluff girl!

Goodbye

Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

Warnings - Angst. Some fluff. Drug, alcohol and addict behaviour.

Your lifelong friendship with Rafe started to break slowly, but when he learns that you are leaving, it hits breaking point.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-**-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You spent as much time at the Cameron's as you did your own home, if not more. Your family lived next door, having moved there when you were young. Being neighbours meant growing up closely together and having Rafe Cameron as a best friend was a rollercoaster.

From the moment you first met Rafe, he adored you. The little blue-eyed boy with a wicked smile didn't know what hit him, literally. One minute, he was pulling your hair, and the next, you were punching him in the stomach. When questioned what happened, neither ratted the other out. It was you and Rafe against the world.

As you grew, you were always there for each other. He was there for you when Hank Harrison broke your heart and you were there for him when his mother left, leaving behind a broken Rafe, a small Sarah and baby Wheezie.

Your lives were tangled and waver together so tightly that you never thought it would break.

It started to fray after senior year. With the pressure of the future, you noticed a change in Rafe.

He had always loved partying hard, the girls and the booze, but no matter how far he took it, it never affected his daily life or how he treated you. You were his VIP guest to every party. It wasn't until he met Barry and a friend in the form of white powder that you had your first small fight.

You had been dancing with Sarah most of the night, having a good time until you became tired. You found Rafe surrounded by people, some you knew like Topper and Kelce but others you didn't. He was trying to convince Topper to take his first bump.

"Rafe," you called over the pounding music. He frowned before giving you a lopsided smile and pulling you into his lap, earning a few glares from the girls sitting around him.

"There's my girl." He grinned and wrapped you in his arms. "I missed you,"

With you, he didn't care if people saw him soft. You were his sweet other half. You brought out the softer side in him. He never admitted it to you, but he was sure he had loved you since the age of 5.

"I have been here all night," you said softly, seeing his pupils blown so wide, broke your heart a little. "I was coming to say goodbye,"

"Goodbye?" He frowned as you ran your hand through his hair, making him sigh. "The party's just started,"

"It's 3am."

"Stay, have some of the good stuff." He offered you a sip of his beer before grabbing a rolled up bill for you.

"Rafe, I don't want that,"

He groaned and loosened his grip on you, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back "Don't be so fucking boring"

"Good night, Rafe," you whispered, moving out of his lap and heading for the door. You heard him calling after you, but you didn't go back.

▪︎•▪︎•▪︎

The next slightly bigger argument you had was when you and Wheezie found him, drunk and high in the kitchen. You had been over to help Wheeze with her French homework. Being completely flunt, you were the best person to help.

You had gone to the kitchen for snacks, finding Rafe stumbling, slamming cabinet doors as he muttered away to himself. Something about hidden money, that his dad must have a stash hidden in the kitchen.

Ward had stashes in every room of the house, and you were sure of it but never thought of looking into the theory.

"Rafe?" Wheezie asked softly. He span around to her and sighed.

"Have you seen any of the money, dad hides?" He asked but Wheeze shook her head "Fuck"

"Why do you need it?"

"Cause, I fucked up Wheeze" He groaned "I fucked up big time!" He took a swig of the open whiskey bottle from the counter top before offering her some.

"Did you really just offer me, booze?" Wheezie frowned. "I'm 13"

"Shit, god. I'm sorry, Wheeze." He covered his eyes with his hands and groaned again. "I'm so fucked, but I'm gonna fix it"

"Go upstairs, Wheeze. I'll be up in a minute. " You fixed one of her braids, and you watched as she hurried up the stairs before turning back to Rafe.

"What you do this time?" You asked, arms folded as he looked over at you. It was like he had just noticed you were there.

"Why does it have to be something I did?" He asked, frowning as he took a drink again

"Is it Barry again?"

He laughed "No it's not fucking Barry. Just get off my case"

"Rafe, you just told your 13 year old sister, that you need money and offered her whiskey" You pointed out "Now tell me what the fuck the problem is"

He looked you up and down. "My sister. Exactly. It's a family problem. Don't worry yourself over something that isn't your business"

You tried not to take it to heart. He was hiding the fact that he was in trouble by cutting you out. It wasn't the first time he'd been in debt to Barry, but it was the first time he didn't admit it to you.

"Rafe" Wheezie whispered from the door way. She had a small bundle of dollar bills in her hand "Will this help? It's all I've got for now"

She received a small allowance from Ward, something all the Cameron kids had. Being the youngest, she didn't get as much, but she saved it all, claiming she wanted to buy her own first car.

"Shit," Rafe muttered as he suddenly broke down in front of you both.

You hurried over to him and cradled his head to your chest as he sobbed. Poor Wheezie stood helpless as she watched her big brother crumble in your arms.

Later, you found out that all the money Rafe paid Barry back had been stolen by Sarah. You hoped that day would be a wake-up call to make him stop, but it only got worse.

▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎

You hadn't seen Rafe for a few weeks when you sat in the Cameron's kitchen, munching grapes as you sat on the kitchen island, speaking to Rose as she made a pot of coffee.

"I'm so proud of you." She smiled. "I can't believe our girl is going to Paris!"

You smiled back. You had come round to pick up Sarah for a shopping spree and told Rose the news that you had been accepted to a collage in Paris.

"I can't believe it either." You popped a grape in your mouth. "I honestly didn't think I would get in."

"Of course you would. I mean, look at you. They would have been stupid, not too. "

"Not to, what?" Rafe stumbled into the kitchen, his hair messy from sleep as he wore only sweatpants, he smelt strongly of the night before and had a light sweat on his brow, clearing in the middle of a come down.

"Not accept her to their collage." Rose smiled as the kettle boiled.

Rafe nodded and grunted as he grabbed a cup before he paused. "Collage? What fucking collage?"

You had told him a million times that your dream was to go to Paris. Collage was the perfect way to have the chance to live there.

"Paris," Rose answered, slightly oblivious to the tension building in the room. You flinched as Rafe dropped his cup down, harder than needed on the side.

"Paris?"

"Yes, Rafe. Paris, " You muttered. It was meant to be the most exciting news to share with him, but with the way things had been, you hadn't got the chance.

He stared at you as you stared back. He was waiting for the punch line. It had to be a joke. You were leaving him.

"Rose? Have you seen my white Converse?" Wheezie asked as she entered the kitchen before looking between you and Rafe.

"No, honey. Maybe in the sunroom?" Rose suggested before going to look with her.

"Fucking Paris?" Rafe frowned

"Yes, Rafe fucking Paris" You said back, in a even tone.

"So you were just going to up and leave me?"

"No, I told you about this before. Not that I'd been accepted, but I've been wanting to go all year"

Soon, you were yelling at each other so loudly everyone in the house could hear.

"Just fuck off to Paris, then!" He yelled "I don't fucking need you anymore! Always dragging me down!"

"Oh, I'm planning too!" You snapped back. "Sorry to have been such a downer. I'll be gone in no time!"

"Good! I'll be fucking free!"

"So free! Have fun fucking the girl you have up stairs!"

"Wow. Jealous?!"

"Nothing to be jealous of," you said calmly. You never insulted him back before. Normally ending the arguments quickly but this time you were done "Just a drunk, drugged up dickhead"

He stared at you, "Fuck off" He muttered

"That's the plan." You didn't want to leave him behind, but you needed to go after your own future.

"Ready to go?" Sarah asked, looking between you. The looks you were throwing it each were deadly.

"Yeah. I'm done here." You pushed yourself off the island and left Rafe to watch you go, smashing the cup against the countertop after you left.

▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎•▪︎

You checked your passport, ticket, and flight number three times as you stood with your family and the Camerons, minus Rafe. Everyone hugged you goodbye. You subconsciously glanced around as you had the heavy feeling of something missing.

"You don't need him here," Sarah said softly as she pulled back from a long hug. "I'm sorry, I know you want him here. But you don't need him."

You nodded, knowing she was right. You didn't need the Rafe you'd seen recently, but part of you wished you had your Rafe there.

The one who gave your first kiss when you were worried you would never get one. The one who snuck into your room with your favourite ice cream after punching Hank Harrison and spent hours holding you. The one who checked in on you at parties. The one who took you to prom, claiming he was the only date worthy of you. You knew he'd threatened anyone who tried asking you, but at the time, you didn't care. You had your Rafe.

After a long goodbye and a final call for your flight, you made your way to the gate when you heard him calling your name over the sound of the music in your earphones.

You frowned, turning around slowly as Rafe Cameron ran towards you. He was completely out of breath when he made it to you, but he looked different.

His eyes were clearer, those gorgeous ocean blue again. He smelt of his cologne and not of the night before.

"Don't you dare tell me not to go." As a part of you was happy to see him, another was worried.

He shook his head and gently grabbed your arms. "No, no. I would never"

You raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm going to miss my flight."

"I'll make it quick. I promise." He moved his hands to your cheeks when you didn't move away from his touch.

"What is it?"

"I couldn't let you go without saying goodbye," He whispered before slowly moving closer to you. "I'm so sorry, baby."

You sighed softly and nodded. Your heart rapidly beating in your chest.

"I have to go," you whispered, but you made no move to leave as they announced your flight again.

"I know, I know." He breathed as his lips made contact with yours.

You whimpered against him, unable to control it before deepening the kiss. The airline announcing they were on last check-in broke you apart.

"I love you," He whispered against your lips

"I know, I know." You breathed, pulled back. "I love you too."

"Go on, baby." He smiled, nodding towards your gate as the last few people walked through the doors.

You gave him a quick kiss again before hurrying away. Leaving him to watch you go with a smile on his face.

Just as you were setting your phone to airplane mode, you received a message:

'I'm getting clean. I mean it this time. I love you, I'm sorry I didn't say it before. I promise you, baby. I'll see you in week' Rafe sent a picture of a plane ticket he just purchased.