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lokis-army-77 · 7 months

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Private Viewing

Camboy!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 6.8k

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?

Warning: 18 +. This is pure fucking filth. Spit, masturbation (m and f), use of vibrators and fleshlight, choking, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f reviving), fingering, voyeurism? Soft!dom Eddie, tell me if I'm missing anything.

Thank you @lesservillain for giving me this wonderful idea. 💗 and @munson-blurbs for figuring out if I should do this for Steve or Eddie and for helping give me a title💗.

Masterlist

Nothing but slick sounds filled your room, the occasional deep moan calling out from your laptop speakers accompanying your own sweet cries. The guy on the screen, Ed as he called himself, or DungeonMaster as he was known on Only Fans and Twitter, was fisting his cock in his heavily ringed hand. He was putting on a show for more than ten thousand viewers but the way he stared down the camera with those dark eyes made you think he was watching you, fucking his hand to the way you were pumping your fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy.

You had stumbled upon his Twitter three months ago and he immediately captured your eye. The way his tattoos wrapped around his pale skin, how he wasn’t all lean muscle like the other OF guys, his tummy by no means a six-pack but he still looked strong enough to sweep you off your feet with ease. His moans were heavenly and so was the deep timber of his force as he praised you through the thirty-second video clip. It was all enough to convert you from your usual consumption of smutty books to the infamous Only Fans sight.

Since then, his streams and videos have become the one and only thing you get off to. And like then, tonight was no exception.

You were so close to the edge, Ed’s moans spurring you on. Your fingers move at an almost inhuman pace in and out, in and out.

“Rub that clit for me, baby. Need you to cum.” He groaned, head resting on his shoulder as he continued you pleasure himself.

“Fuck!” You gasp as you rub your clit with your free hand. Your rhythm is horribly off but it doesn’t matter, you are so close to cumming. So so so close. “Please,” you beg out into your empty room. You aren’t too sure why or what you are pleading for. More friction? More fingers? More words of encouragement from him? Maybe you’re asking to cum?

It’s like he had heard you through the screen as he moaned out, “That’s a good girl. Just like that. Doing so well for me. You gonna cum baby? Yeah? Me too. Want me to count for you?” He nods his head lazily. “I knew you would baby. Okay. Five.”

You want to cry.

“Four.”

The strings tugging inside you are becoming taut.

“Three.”

You feel like you’re going to explode. He’s counting too slowly.

“Two.”

The tears are flowing now.

“One.”

You let out a strangled scream.

“Cum baby. Do it, now.”

Your walls clench around your fingers and your legs snap shut, trapping your fingers. Every muscle in your body is shuddering as those strings snap and your release comes out in a stream, wetting your hand and the bed. Your hearing has gone, there’s a ringing in your ears but you can faintly hear Ed cumming as well.

With watery vision and slow movements, you turn to face your laptop screen just in time to see his tattoo-covered chest painted with milky white ropes of cum.

When the ringing subsides you hear him say more clearly, “Thata girl. Always make me cum so much.” He takes a towel and wipes off his chest and stomach before adjusting the camera view to the shoulders up. “Get you some rest baby, I’ll see you on Thursday.”

And then the live is over.

Slowly, sluggishly, you remove your hands from between your legs and begin the now regular clean-up routine before going to bed.

…

Three days later, Thursday rolls around, and thus begins the fall semester of your junior year of college. It’s a groggy morning, everyone is tired and very unenthusiastic about having an 8 a.m. advanced music composition class.

You had struggled to get out of bed at six this morning just to get one of the dorm showers first before they were all taken up. Luckily two of the five were open and you were able to get to class a whole twenty minutes early, even having time to grab coffee at the on-campus Starbucks on the way.

The music building was old and the tables you and your fellow students sat at were even older. It all added to the sleepy ambiance. Your eyes drooped and you yawned every time someone else did, the black coffee you had chugged not doing anything for you.

You’re only awoken when your professor, a stout old man with a very severe receding hairline, slams open the door to the classroom a little too hard and it hits the brick wall, creating a loud, startling bang.

He apologizes before making his introduction. He then gets out a clipboard with a sheet attached and hands it off to a girl in the front row, instructing everyone to fill in their name and school email for his role sheet.

It’s only once you’ve finished and passed the clipboard on, that you notice the guy two seats down from you looks vaguely familiar. You can’t quite put a finger on it and it bugs you.

His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and his clothes make him look like the alternative guy of your dreams back in high school. He’s got rings on almost every finger and an aura that just screams confidence.

It begins to become a problem, your inability to place this guy's face. You’ve only taken a handful of notes the entire first hour and thirty minutes into this two-hour class. Your eyes are constantly staring at him no matter how hard you try to make yourself pay attention.

Then, he raises his hand to answer one of your professor's questions. That’s when it clicks. Your pen falls from your grasp and your mouth forms an O.

“Oh my fucking god. No. It can’t be.” You think to yourself but just to be sure you take out your phone, turn the brightness and volume down, and hide it under the table. You open Twitter as fast as you can and you don’t even have to look for his user, he’s the first post on the screen.

Ed @ DungeonMaster86 was boldly displayed above a picture of the guy sitting next to you with his massive dick in his hand.

It’s a wonder you weren’t caught with how you practically choked on thin air and began furiously looking from your phone to the guy and then back to your phone.

Your stomach drops. You can’t keep watching his videos, can you? That wouldn’t be right. That would be weird, watching the porn your classmate makes.

When class is finally called to an end you pack up as quickly as you can and bolt out the door to your next class, hoping that by getting away from Ed, you'd be able to concentrate. Out of sight, out of mind.

That statement turns out to be false when he is in your next class and when you spot him in the student commons talking with another guy. It's like once you made the connection of who he was, he was everywhere.

…

Arriving back at your dorm, you throw your backpack on your desk, snatch your laptop out of it, and struggle to jump up onto your bed. Never had you been so thankful for the single dorm than this moment as your curser hovered over the bookmarked Only Fans page at the top of your screen. No roommate meant no one would see the moral dilemma you were currently losing with yourself.

‘You know him, it’s wrong to keep watching his videos.”

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him though. The only way he would know you are watching is if you tell him, you aren’t going to tell him, are you?’

‘No…’

‘Then it’s okay, it’ll just add an extra element of taboo to his streams. Plus, he’d miss you in the chat.’

You sigh as the devil on your shoulder wins out once again, talking you into something you know you shouldn’t be. But hey, it feels good to be bad.

Steadily, you click on his bookmarked profile and the first thing to pop up is the live stream that is currently in session. And against your better judgment, you enter the stream.

He’s only just started, people are slowly filtering in. Ed is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, and a singular, ringed hand teasing himself through his black jeans.

You breathe a sigh as he looks into the camera, eyes half-lidded, luring you in. It does the job, because in an instant your fingers are typing out a message in chat.

Princess23: hi Ed

His eyes flicker as he reads his messages, smiling as he replies to you. "Hi, Princess. How's my girl been?"

There's a bubble of excitement at the fact that he recognizes your username, even if you've been a regular in the chat for months.

Princess23: stressful… you've been distracting me.

The reply to his question is truer than he realizes.

"Aww, princess, is that so? You've been thinking of me?" He leans back on his free elbow, still groping himself with the other hand.

Princess23: yes. been thinking about your cock, how much I want it in my mouth.

It's one of the less bold comments you make but it makes you blush all the same, especially now.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Of yours?"

Princess23: yes please

"Mmm." He hums, fingers now fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans.

You set your laptop to the side and start to situate yourself. Slowly taking your clothes off one by one.

Ed replies to a few more comments before announcing that it's time to start.

He leaves the screen for just a moment before coming back with something in his hand. Smirking at the camera he shows it. A flashlight in the shape of a mouth.

"This one’s for you, Princess. Since you need my dick so bad," Ed explains. He sets it on his bed before making a show of taking his jeans and boxers off.

As you watch, your hands roam your body. Fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples before trailing down. The light touch over your ribs makes you giggle. Then you rub and scratch at the inside of your thighs.

Ed's moans are now coming through your speakers, you tilt your head to watch.

"Spit on my cock baby, get it nice and wet for me." He commands before spitting in his own hand and rubbing it on his thick length.

"Your mouth looks so pretty like this, waiting, drooling for me. Need me to fill it so bad don't you, baby?"

"Yes." You answer him breathlessly, fingers teasing around your mound.

You watch and he sits back down on his bed, thighs spread, a hand cupping his balls and the other grabbing the fleshlight. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan when he inserts his cock into the fake mouth.

"Fuck baby, your mouth feels so perfect."

You can't help but whine. Allowing your fingers to finally circle your clit.

The both of you go one like this for a bit. Him fucking the fleshlight and you massaging your clit. But then you need more, more than your hand can give you. So you reach to your bedside table, stretching at an uncomfortable angle to open the drawer and pull out the purple mini wand you kept there.

The vibrations start slow and constant as you press the toy to your clit. It pulls soft, quiet noises from you as you watch your computer screen. Your mind is blank, filled only with the pretty sounds Ed is making, the way his body looks, and the pleasure between your legs.

There are no thoughts. You follow his lead. When his hand speeds up, you kick up the vibrations, when he slows down, you turn the vibrator back to the first level.

It's a rollercoaster, almost, taking your pleasure for a ride. The stream isn't even done yet when you feel that tight pull in your abdomen. The toy works you up fast.

So you stop. Taking the toy away and changing positions. On your hands and knees, you hug a pillow to your chest and prop the toy up under you, keeping it standing as you push your clit down onto it. It's not even on and it's making your hips buck in sensitivity.

You turn it back on and immediately feel the slick seeping from your cunt and running down the toy.

"Oh fuck," you cry. Your eyes locked on the screen where Ed has also changed positions.

He's got his own toy lying on the bed and he's laying over it. The way his leg and glute muscles contract as he thrusts into the toy has you memorized.

He chants, "Baby, baby, baby." Over and over. What you would give to have him chanting your name instead. Like a prearranged falling from his lips, praising you, worshiping you.

The need for him grows and so does the tightness in your core.

Reaching your hand down you turn the speed up. Your hips buck into the toy and you bury your face in the pillow. You're close.

He’s not far behind. Peering up from your pillow you can see his thrusts are sputtering. Sporadic as he draws close to his end.

“God dammit, baby. Gonna cum in this perfect mouth of yours. Fuck. Can you swallow it like the good pet you are? Hum? The good pet I know you can be?”

“Yes.” You turn up the vibrator. “Fuck, wanna swallow all of you. Please.”

The vibrations are becoming too much but you keep the toy pressed into you, hips shaking at the feeling of being overstimulated.

Without warning, you cum with a guttural cry into your pillow. Body spasming, muscles twitching. You can still hear Ed moaning and the sloppy sounds of his cock fucking the fleshlight.

With barely any energy you reach down between your heavy body and the bed and turn your toy off. You don’t even bother with your computer, too exhausted and fucked out to exit the stream. You fall asleep to the sounds of your new classmate's self-pleasure.

…

It’s October now. The semester is halfway over and you’ve still been watching Ed, or Eddie. You learned his actual name in class when your professor called role on him by name the second week.

Today you are being assigned a partner for the final project. You have your fingers crossed that Eddie won’t be chosen as your partner but as your professor calls out pairs, it seems luck is against you.

You freeze when your name is called and directly after so is Eddie’s. You groan internally. How the hell are you supposed to do this? You already have trouble concentrating when he sits two seats away, what’s going to happen when he actually interacts with you?

There isn’t much time to think about that as he abruptly moves from his seat to the one directly next to you.

“Hi.” He says, eyes bright and expectant. “I’m Eddie.” He holds out his hand for you to shake but you just stare at him. He looks at you curiously before waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

You snap out of your stupor and accept his hand, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Sorry. I was a bit out of it.” You say, trying to play it off as you just staring off into space.

“No problem.” He smiles. “Uh, do you want to exchange numbers so we can figure out when we can work on this together?”

“Oh, yeah. Here,” You open your phone and push it to him with the messages app open. “You can text yourself.”

He does just that, even going as far as putting in his contact name as Eddie with the skull and crossbones emoji beside it.

“Great. I’ll text you when I’m free. I have work on Mondays and Thursdays, sometimes on Saturdays, but other than that I’m usually free.”

You nearly choke when you realize he’s given you his streaming schedule. “I- uh. Okay. Just text me when you can.”

"Sure thing sweetheart." He grins at you before standing, grabbing his things, and heading out of class along with the rest of the students.

You sit there for a minute, thinking. God, what are you getting yourself into?

…

You both have finally come up with meeting times that work for both of you. Tuesday and Wednesday after seven. Giving you time to get to the school library after the closing shift at your on-campus job.

It’s been two weeks of working together on this project and it’s been easier than you had originally thought to concentrate on the task at hand and keep your dirty thoughts at bay.

Right now, you are both sitting in one of the private study rooms looking at Eddie’s computer as he explains why this particular cord progression would fit with the emotions you are trying to convey in your composition.

You sigh, “Eddie, as much as I love that sound, I really don’t think it fits with the overall composition of the song. It isn’t as emotionally charged as I’d like it to be.”

“Well show me something similar to what you’re wanting.” He rakes his hand through his hair. It’s been a long night for each of you. It seems that every new section of the song you are creating for the project gives you a new challenge to work through together.

You pull out your phone and Eddie leans over to watch as you begin to type. There is a particular song you are thinking of that has the weight and emotion you are trying to convey with your own music and as you type the first letter of the song, O, the first suggestion that pops up is onlyfans/DungeonMaster.

Mortified, you slam your phone down on the table. Eddie looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“What was that?” He asks.

“What was what?” You answer.

“Why did you slam your phone down?”

“Oh, I just forgot the title of the song.”

“Right…” He scratches under his chin and then stretches back in his chair. “Why don’t we call it quits for tonight? It’s getting late and we aren’t going to agree on anything if we’re both tired.”

A yawn suddenly comes up out of nowhere and you then realize how tired you actually are. “That sounds good to me.” You agree with Eddie and begin packing up your things. You don’t want to be with him longer than you need to be right now, even if he seemingly didn’t notice his OF user pop up on your phone screen.

“Bye Eddie.” You wave to him on your way out the door.

Faintly you hear him call out to you, giving a goodbye of his own. "See ya, sweetheart."

…

After your little slip, you began avoiding Eddie. At least in person, you still tuned into his streams. You bailed on the next three meetups you had planned, helping only through voice notes and text. Eddie said he understood when you said your boss was forcing you to stay late to deep clean.

It was Thursday now and when you saw him in class he barely looked your way and you wondered if he had seen what you hoped he had not.

You tried stopping him once your lecture was over, feeling an anxiousness creeping into your mind. Your conscience had been telling you to come clean. To explain your perversion. Let him know you watched him, that you paid to enjoy seeing him fuck into a toy or his hand.

You called out his name and reached for his arm. "Eddie."

He turns to you. "Hum?"

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. "I wanted to say sorry for not being able to come help with the project."

"It's okay, you said you had work." He replies, unbothered.

"No, Eddie, I didn't get held back at work. That was a lie."

He doesn't look all too surprised.

"I've kinda been avoiding you because- well, because of what I think you might have seen on my phone that day."

Eddie stops you there. "Can this wait until later? I've really got some errands to run before work."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry to keep you Ed." You had meant it as a nickname but as it came pushing past your lips it was too late to take it back. You had never heard anyone call him that outside of his onlyfans.

You watched as his eyes widened at the name and a spark went off behind them. "I'll see you later sweetheart." The smirk he gives you isn't the usual playful one you'd seen him throw before. No, this was sinister, like he knew.

Your heart fell into your stomach as you watched him walk away, leaving you alone.

Tonight as you logged into the stream, it wasn’t to get off. It was to see if he'd show any signs of knowing you might be lurking about among the thousands of viewers.

When the video loads, Eddie is sitting in his desk chair. He's talking to the chat like he always does. There's something different in the atmosphere around him, mischief if you've placed it correctly.

He keeps replying to comments until the clock reaches 6:10. It's time for the show to begin.

"Tonight I have a very special treat for you guys." Eddie starts as he reaches over just off camera to his desk. "I've got the wand out."

The chat erupts. Eddie doesn't bring his vibrator out often, but when he does, you know it's going to be a good show for every party involved.

"I would also like to say hello to a special quest in the stream tonight." Eddie’s smirk gets bigger and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hi, sweetheart. Hope you enjoy yourself."

You feel like you've been shot. There's a ringing in your ears and your breathing has stopped.

He knows. Fuck. He definitely knows. You've never heard him say that pet name on camera. It's always babe or baby when he refers to the collective whole watching the stream. Eddie has only ever used that name with you.

Eddie starts up the vibrator, tracing it over his covered cock. He hums at the feeling, loud and long.

You clench your thighs together. You tell yourself you should stop watching but you can't bring yourself to.

'He knows." You argue with yourself.

'But he wants you to watch. Why else would he say his pet name for you? Why else would he say he hopes you enjoy yourself? He knows and he likes it.'

The devil on your shoulder makes sense again and you curse it.

So, you watch. Intently, you watch. Your eyes never leave the screen.

Eddie whimpers once he has his cock out of his pants. The tip is a deep purple/red color, showing how worked up he's gotten already.

He lets his head fall back, resting on his chair as he moves the vibrator down to his balls. He presses it into himself before dragging it up his shaft and to the head.

You feel a wetness seeping into the cotton of your panties and as his legs widen, yours press together more.

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, sweetheart." Eddie moans, mouth open slack and eyes squeezed shut.

You can't believe he's saying your pet name and making those noises. You wonder what he's thinking about. How you'd look sucking on his cock? Maybe what it would be like to be pounding into you, watching your cunt suck him in and clench around him.

Eddie grits his teeth when he turns the speed up. One hand is holding the vibrator just at the frenulum while the other is cupping and squeezing his balls.

Your thoughts are running wild and your hips have started to rock in search of some kind of friction.

He moves his hand from his balls and begins to tug on his shaft. Deep guttural moans fill the air, and the sound of them turns you on even more.

It's not long before Eddie is bucking his cock into his hand. You can see his muscles straining in his legs as he does.

"Fuck fuck fuck- ah fuck sweetheart, you've got me so close. Fuck." His voice is pinched. You can see the exhaustion in the furrow of his eyebrows as he pressed the vibrator over his tip, the change in placement making his hips shudder. “God, I’m gonna cum. The thought of you is gonna make me cum, sweetheart.”

Hearing his breathy, deep, timber of a voice say that the thought of you was going to do him in had you thinking you might just cum too. No touching required, just Eddie and his beautiful noises.

In a matter of seconds, Eddie is choking on his words as his balls go taut. He lets out a drawn-out grunt and ropes of cum begin to spurt out over his chest, covering him like a painting. He doesn’t even bother to clean himself up before he looks into the camera and says good night, chuckling when he mentions your particular pet name again. Then, the screen goes dark.

…

Fridays are slow in the used bookshop you work at. Especially after 4:30. No one had been inside in maybe an hour? Your boss left early, leaving you alone to close down at 6. For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been putting misplaced books back where they belong, sweeping, and tidying up anything else you see.

Because of the usual slowness, you have your headphones on. The music isn’t loud but it does drown out the sound of the bell chiming as someone enters the building. You are unaware of the person creeping up behind you until you are suddenly turned around and corralled against the bookshelf.

You let out an alarmed screech only for your mouth to be covered by a big, warm hand. Your headphones fall to the floor beside you as they are accidentally knocked off your head. You hear his voice then, whispering in your ear.

“Hi, Sweetheart.”

“Eddie-” You heave, relieved it wasn’t someone coming to kill you in cold blood.

“Did you enjoy my show last night?” He leans back, caressing a strand of hair away from your face.

You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You deny. Even after you had told yourself you would come clean to him, granted that was before you knew he knew your secret.

“You don’t know, do you? I think you do why else would my account have popped up on your search suggestions the other day?”

Keeping your mouth shut, you refuse to answer.

Eddie takes your chin between his fingers and moves your face to the side as he leans into you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks again. “So… Which one of my subs are you? Hum?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Eddie tuts. “Don’t get all shy on me. Tell me. Now.” His tone is dominating. It’s one thing to hear it over a computer speaker, it's another when you hear it in person. His presence alone had your knees knocking.

“I-I,” You can't help but stutter. “It’s Princess23.” You shamefully tell him your user, eyes looking anywhere but his.

He sucks in a breath. “Oh, Princess. That was you?”

He forces you to look at him and you nod your head.

You hate that he’s making you look him in the eye, but you can see what’s swirling around deep within them. Desire, lust, dominance, but nothing mean. Nothing hurtful.

As you watch him, you catch the minute changes in his expression. His jaw clenches and his eyes darken, a hunger taking over as he stares you down.

“I can give you a private show if you want, baby.” He leans back in. “Right here,” He nipps at your ear lobe. “Right now.”

“Eddie, we can’t… We’re at my work.”

He looks around you, head swiveling to peer down both ends of the aisle. “It’s fine Sweetheart, no one’s here but us, right?”

“Yes, but-”

He cuts you off with a finger over your lips.

“Then let me show you why the real thing is so much better than what you’ve seen online.” He doesn’t give you time to think before his lips are on yours.

They are soft, almost pillow-like as they mold against yours. His tongue slithers its way into your mouth, tasting you, he moans when he does.

To you, he tastes like menthol cigarettes and black coffee with the faintest hint of weed. It’s intoxicating, and addicting. You’ve only had one taste and now you won't be able to function without him.

His hand cups your cheek and pulls you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair. His body keeps you pinned to the shelves and he spreads your legs by inserting one of his own between them.

With him being so much taller than you, it only takes you barely bending your knees for you to make contact with his thigh. You are thankful when he doesn’t stop you from humping his leg. The friction of you rubbing yourself against him has the seam of your pants pressing against your clit. It’s a wonderful pressure that leaves your mind blank.

When he pulls away, you follow, not wanting his mouth to leave yours. Eddie chuckles when you give a needy whine.

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He coos. "But first, since you wanna get yourself off, you've got to make yourself cum on my leg."

You pout. "But Eddie…"

"Ah ah, don't complain sweet girl, you'll only make it take longer. Now get to work."

You do as he says, rolling your hips with purpose against him. He doesn't help you at all, he only provides support and kissed along your jaw every few seconds as he watches you work.

It's harder than you thought it would be. The layers of denim dulled the sensations yet added to the tension your clit felt as the fabric rubbed against it.

"Mmm, fuck." You gasp, fingers gripping onto Eddie’s shoulders. "M'so close. Eddie, I'm so close."

He smiles at you and he gives your body gentle touches. "That's it, Princess. Let go. Being such a good girl for me."

You moan loudly at his praise.

"That right sweet girl, use me to get yourself off. That's it, keep going."

His words are spurring you on, your hips, although losing their rhythm and steadiness, keep going strong. Then, you feel it. That tautness in your tummy and the ache in your bones. You are so close.

"Please, Eddie. Ah- so close. Need more." Your words are short and your hips move faster.

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" Eddie asks, willing to give you just a little.

"Kiss me again," you beg.

He obliges. Taking your face in his hands and practically devouring you.

The canter of your hips stalls as your body shudders against him. A sticky wetness can now be felt, uncomfortably, between your legs.

"So good for me." He praises.

You can feel how hard he is, his needy cock prominently pressing into your thigh.

"Wanna feel you. Eddie please, I need to feel you." You're practically begging him to fuck you now.

"Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to stretch that pretty pussy on my dick? Make you feel so good, baby." He trailed his kiss down to your neck, stopping only to suck and nip at the sensitive skin.

You nod frantically. "Yes, yes Eddie. Need you inside me."

Hands rush to unbutton pants, fingers caress bare skin, breaths hitch. You tug at Eddie's pants impatiently as he pulls your own down. The sudden feeling of cold air hitting the pool of slick between your thighs.

You are both a whirlwind of arms and clothes and a few books falling from their shelf. Eddie’s fingers make their way to your center, exploring between your folds.

You throw your head back, cracking it on the shelf above. "Ow," You moan out in pain.

"Careful there, Sweetheart." He gives you another kiss and moves his unoccupied hand to cradle your head.

The pain is instantly forgotten when two of his thick fingers circle your clit before pushing into your entrance.

"Mmmm- god." He feels so good inside you, fingers curling into your walls. The wet slick of him moving fills the stagnant air of the bookstore.

"You're sucking me in, baby. Pussy squeezing me so tight." Eddie rests his forehead on yours, his breath mixing with your own. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Gasping in response, you buck your hips up into his hand. "More-"

It doesn't take much convincing for Eddie to pull his hand from between your legs and position his hard length at your entrance. Slowly he slips inside, meeting no resistance with how wet you are.

Eddie pushes into you, cock stretching you out farther than you think you've ever been before. His one hand rests on the back of your head while the other pushes your shaking hand out of his way as he goes to press it against your neck.

You grasp his arm, nails scratching his skin as he chokes you.

"Oh- oh, Eddie. Fuck me." You cry, cunt fluttering around him.

Your words are music to his ears. His pace begins steadily. In and out at a lazy, leisurely speed. Then he picks it up, hips bucking faster and faster.

He's giving it all to you. Everything you've dreamed of since you saw him on your Twitter all those months ago.

The head of his cock is repeatedly hitting that one spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You can’t keep yourself up. The feelings coursing through you have your knees buckling and Eddie does a good job at catching your weight.

He stops his movements to try and situate you. “Come on, baby, gotta stand up.”

You shake your head. “I can’t, s’too much.” Your heart is pounding in your chest, if you even tried to stand you would just fall again. “There's a couch.” You point to the back of the store. “It’s in the break room.”

Eddie grunts as he hoists you up in his arms and follows your directions.

The couch is old and made of leather. It is cold on your skin as Eddie lays you down and you shiver as he rips your pants and underwear from around your ankles. Never would you have ever imagined being naked from the waist down in your work break room.

In contrast to the cool leather, Eddie’s hands are searing hot. He grips the back of your knees, picking your legs up and spreading you out. You’re almost folded in half.

“Jesus fucking christ. You. Are. Beautiful.” He enunciated every word. The complement has you keening and clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at that pretty cunt. She’s gaping for me.” Eddie smiles, eyes flickering to yours before looking back to your most intimate part.

You let out a wonton gasp when he spits, a glob of it falling right atop your parted slit. Eddie takes a hand away and grabs his cock. He rubs the tip through your folds, giving your clit a heavy tap tap tap before entering you again and grabbing the back of your knee again.

Eddie wastes no time in pistoning his hips into yours. The new angle gives him free range of movement to fuck you fast and deep. The skin of his thighs makes a sharp slapping sound when he connects with your ass, it sets the rhythm for the song of your shared moans.

“Pull your shirt up.” He commands and you do as he says. Lifting your shirt up and over your breasts. Eddie lets out an irritated grunt at the sight of your bra. “That too.” He puffs out and you pull it up as far as it will allow.

Your breasts bounce as Eddie fucks you mercilessly into the couch. His eyes are shamelessly trained on them. “Fucking hell, Princess. Gimmie our hands.”

You reach out for him and he grabs your wrists, guiding you to hold your legs back like he had been doing. With the newfound freedom of his hands, he extends them out to play with your tits. He pinches and tugs at your nipples, making you moan in pleasure as he continues his assault. His thrusts become faster, harder, more desperate. You know he's close and you can't take much more either.

“Eddie… Ah- Eddie-” You babble out his name. You wiggle under his hold and the harsh prodding of his cock into your cervix. The strings of another orgasm are being pulled tight.

He growls. “I know baby, I know. Fucking cum for me. Cum on my cock.”

Tears well up in your eyes and begin to overflow. Your body writhes, back bowing, muscles straining. You’re on the precipice.

Eddie sees how close you are and moves a hand down between your legs, circling his thumb over your slick-covered clit.

“Oooh- Oh fuck!” You scream. “Shit shit shit shitshitshitshit…. Ah!”

“Louder.” He moans. “Want the whole town to hear you sweet girl.”

“Eddie! Oh, I’m there. I’m fucking there.” You cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you let go. A scream erupts from your throat. Even in your ecstasy, you can feel Eddie’s tempo shift. He’s losing speed.

“Goddammit. I cumming too.” Eddie whimpers, sinking into you fully. His cum fills you up and you can fill you as it runs down your ass as he pulls out.

Your body is twitching as he moves you to lay more fully on the couch. He doesn’t follow though. No. He sinks to his knees and before your foggy mind can even comprehend it, he attaches his mouth to your pussy.

You are pliant under his touch, unable to resist. His tongue explores you and you moan in pleasure. He’s lapping up the mixture of his cum and your slick, humming at the taste the whole time.

You choke back a sob when his tongue flicks repeatedly over your clit before he begins to suck on the already abused bud. “Eddie, please.” Reaching down you tug on his hair but he doesn’t move. “Ed-” He starts shaking his head, burying himself in your pussy.

Another orgasm is quickly approaching. Your breathing quickens and you can feel your body trembling as he works you up, sending you higher and higher until you can’t take it anymore. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and your body spasms in pleasure. He doesn't stop, continuing his ministrations until you finally come down from your high once more.

“Christ. You taste so good.” He says as he crawls up your spent body. Draping himself over you he places kiss after tender kiss all over your face. “Did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah?” You whisper.

“Mhum. So proud.” He grins, the light of the room catching in the wetness covering him from nose to chin.

Eddie cuddles into you more and your eyes close. He’s exhausted you. You both lay there in silence, content in each other's presence. Eddie eventually falls asleep, his breathing slow and steady. You don’t have the heart or the energy to wake him. You stay awake, just barely, still in awe of what happened.

It feels like hours have gone by when you finally do shake Eddie, calling out to him softly. He stirs, grumbling as he looks up at you.

“Eds, baby, I need to lock up.”

He only rests his head back down between your breasts. You shake him again.

“Eddie.” You say it a bit more sternly. “Get up and I’ll let you take me back to yours.”

That gets his attention and he’s up and dressing himself in an instant. You on the other hand are slower, feeling the prominent ache between your legs. He has to help you pull your panties and jeans back on.

He has to help you close the store as well, your legs weak and not trusted to hold up your body weight without crumbling to the ground.

Never had you thought this was how this would end. Sitting in the passenger seat of your favorite camboy's car as he drives you to his apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat as you both think of all the fun things you’ll get up to. Round two was bound to be wilder than the first.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #camboy!eddie #camboy!eddie munson #soft!dom eddie

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jamminvroomvroom · 4 days

Note

hi babe i’m here from the dms but. speaking of brain rot, thinking abt fwb lando again where u stay the night after and wake up in the morning expecting him to be gone already for smth work related or what not but he’s still in bed absolutely clinging to u. and then more soft sleepy morning sex 🫠🫠

play pretend.

ln x fem!reader

in which it’s time to stop pretending…

just a little blurb to say…. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lavenderlando !! sorry i made you wait like 6 months for this lmfao i love u girl, u mean the world to me and i hope this hits the spot 💖💖 lemme know what y’all think, more 4k requests will be worked on asap (it’s exam szn ew)

songs to set the mood: denial by james marriott, real love baby by father john misty, can i call you rose? by thee sacred souls

warnings: 18+!! minors go away! smut, morning sex, friends to lovers, best friend!reader, friends with benefits type relationship, fluff, unprotected sex (don’t be silly…)

1k words

cool air casts goosebumps over your bare skin, the open window letting in the morning breeze. you tug at the grey bedsheets, dragging them higher over your frame where you lay. you eyes are cracked open, hazily taking in the sight before you.

he’s still here.

you often expect lando to be gone when you wake up. sometimes it’s because of work, sometimes it’s because you’d promised not to do this again but alcohol had then rendered the both of you irresistible to the other, and it was too awkward to have yet another jarring conversation about how you’re such good friends.

but he’s there. and he’s looking at you.

“hi.” he croaks, soft and low. you revel in his morning voice on the rare occasions you get to hear it.

“hey.” you mumble, leaning in closer to him.

he pushes the duvet up and away, inviting you into his arms, and you wriggle towards him. he’s a human heater, and you’re cold, that’s the only reason you snuggle up, tucked between his arms.

“you’re still here.” you whisper into his chest, purposefully quiet, almost as if you don’t actually want him to hear you.

“couldn’t leave you.” he mutters quietly.

you crane your head to look up at him, eyes blown wide at the admission.

“why?”

“i hate leaving after.”

the ‘after’ hangs heavy in the air between you for a second. he’s eyeing up your lips and you’re returning the gesture, sleepy eyes flitting between his and his plush lips.

this never happens. usually, the night starts with too many drinks too quickly, progresses to his hands dropping dangerously low on your waist, leads to the pair of you mentally scarring an innocent taxi driver, and ends with you underneath him. or, on top of him. and then, he’s gone.

“for the record, i hate it when you go.” you reply, and the space between you dissipates. there are so many unsaid words being traded between you, an intense charge of energy. you’re anxiously sliding your hands up his sides, itching to feel impossibly closer.

“maybe i should stop going then, hm?” two of lando’s fingers grasp your chin, tilting it up to bump his.

“yeah.” you breathe.

it’s like he’s tugged an invisible string, and you’re melting into him, his lips slotting immaculately over yours, as if they were sculpted by god to rest against yours. he tastes familiar, it’s rare you get to kiss him sober and in the light of day. you bask in it, finding the messy, loose curls tickling the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the thick, brown strands. he groans, parting his mouth just enough for you to slide your tongue over his.

“want you. now.” you gasp urgently into the space where your lips part, your body rolling hungrily against his.

“i always want you, drives me crazy.” lando grunts, grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you even closer.

lando slots his thigh between your legs, and you search for friction, rutting against him. you’re both naked from the blurry night before so you can feel everything, each part of him so ready for you. you’re slick for him already, can feel the way it’s painting your inner thighs. you hate how easy it is to lose yourself in him.

“take me then.” you whine, your forehead collapsing against his shoulder.

lando smirks, flipping you over so that your back is to his chest, like you’re nothing. he hooks your top leg over his, sliding himself closer to where you’re aching for him.

“can’t keep pretending.” lando whispers against the shell of your ear.

he slides deep, then, filling you to the hilt. it knocks the air out of you, your back arching at the sensation of him hitting every single spot that mattered.

“then let’s not pretend anymore.” you choke out, your head rolling back against his shoulder.

“yeah, baby? wanna be all mine?” he teases, thrusting deep and slow, the slide of him shooting pleasure over your body like the slow, satisfying drip of warm honey.

“already am, all yours.” you sigh, totally and utterly content as your nerve endings pulsed with pleasure.

“good girl.” lando praises, his voice fucked out and lovestruck.

as if he’s rewarding you for your admission, the pad of his finger slips down your navel, finding your clit. you’re soaked for him, wet and warm, and he traces circles into the bundle of nerves, each touch sending you keening back into him.

“so close.” you sound like you’re begging, pleading for him to let you finish all over him.

“gotta say please.” he nips the skin of your shoulder and you squirm, toes curling.

“please, lando.” you writhe, canting your hips back against him.

“sound so pretty for me.” he coos, peppering kisses down your neck.

his fingers speed up against your folds, working you perfectly to a sweet release. everything is still blurred by sleep, your body overly sensitive from the cool air pouring in through the window and the slumber still lodged in your bones.

“cum with me.” you slur, your eyes squeezing shut. you almost turn into him, convulsing in his arms to the point where you’d be staring into his stormy eyes if you could manage to pry yours open.

“let me see those eyes.” he commands, your entire body shuddering. you blink, staring up at him, and you both fold, meeting your ends. he looks fierce, starved, completely enamoured with every single way your face moves.

your jaw hangs agape, a choked cry stifled in the back of your throat. it’s all too much, and just about enough, huge, calloused hands roaming your body as your shake, spilling all over him.

“god.” you breathe, flopping limply against him. he stays buried inside of you, his face lost to the damp skin of the crook of your neck.

“i never would of left all those mornings if i knew this is the good morning i’d get.” lando laughs, the sound deep and wholesome. you cosy yourself up even closer to him.

“not letting you leave from now on.” you murmur, smiling to yourself when you feel his lips press against the back of your head.

“you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

sorry this is soooo bad lmao i felt the urge to write something short n sweet xoxo

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @formulaal

#lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris blurb #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #f1 fic #f1 blurb #f1 smut #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #formula 1 fic #formula 1 smut #formula 1 driver x you #lando norris oneshot #f1 oneshot

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swiftispunk · 4 months

Text

snowflakes, a fireplace, and you | joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist | main masterlist | kofi | follow @swiftispunkupdates for fic notifs

pairing: bed and breakfast owner!joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ word count: 13.9k

summary: you get more than you bargained for when you end up snowed in at miller's inn on christmas eve. warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] fluff, the softest joel you'll ever meet in your life, some mentions of grief, brief smut, reader celebrates christmas, food, alcohol is consumed but no one gets drunk, reader has some family angst (specifically some mother issues), reader's father is dead and the fic will touch on how he died, reader can fit into joel's sweater, found family trope, sexual tension, sweet joel kisses, unprotected p in v sex, brief oral (m + f receiving), joel gets both his daughters, this takes place in upstate new york because i said so. no use of y/n. *note: this reader is basically an ofc. she has a backstory, a family, and several details about her life are relevant to the plot. i wanted to tell a full story with this one. i hope you will still find it immersive and enjoyable.

a/n: thank you to everyone who willed this fic into existence! i had the very best time with it. she's tropey as hell, but ya'll knew what you were signing up for. love yas and merry christmas (one day late) to all those who celebrate! divider by the lovely @saradika-graphics

dec. 23 - the arrival

Just beyond the quaint village borders of Cooperstown, New York, lies the cozy, family-owned Miller's Inn. Housed beneath a cover of pines in the lush surrounding forests, this historic cottage has been lovingly refurbished and meticulously kept-up in order to maintain its original charm and architecture. With just four fully furnished rooms, every guest at Miller's Inn can expect to be treated with unparalleled care and service during their stay.

Whether you're here for one night or one week - at Miller's Inn, you're home.

It's all warm and fuzzy - and you're sure it's true to a certain extent - but the sweet little blurb on the simply designed website fails to mention the inn's most appealing feature:

It's not your fucking mother's house.

Christmas spirit be damned, that had been the deal. You'll make the trip home from Austin (half a day's travel complete with flight and drive), you'll even come for Christmas dinner and play along with the whole happy family charade. But only on your own terms, and only with an appropriate level of space. If that means spending your nights somewhere several miles away from the house you grew up in for the few short days you're back in town, so be it.

An uncomfortable sense of familiarity passes over you as you drive through your hometown. Main Street looks much the same as it had when you'd left all those years ago, blanketed now by a thin layer of snow, every storefront decked with garland and fairy lights. Fog rolls off the distant mountain, barely visible through the grey, overcast sky.

You think you catch someone waving at you from the sidewalk; maybe an old neighbour, maybe a family friend, maybe a stranger - if one could really call anyone in Coopertown a stranger.

You don't stop.

No, you keep your eyes straight and drive clear out of town, following the directions on your GPS until the village dissipates into dense, green forest.

It's even further out than it had looked on the map, a solid twenty minutes of driving before you see billowing smoke rising above the treetops, another five before you come upon a clearing and the sign that lines the road beside it: Miller's Inn.

"Turn right and you've arrived at your destination," the robotic, pleasant woman in your phone tells you.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," you grumble, turning off the app and chucking the phone into the passenger seat beside you.

There are three vehicles already parked out front, two with out-of-state license plates and one a rusted old pick-up truck. You pull in beside the sedan from Ohio.

Despite the short walk from the car to the front door, you bundle up in your mittens and coat, steeling yourself before ducking out into the cold winter's day with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder. The flecks of sun peeking through the clouds sting your eyes, reflecting uncomfortably off the layer of snow on the ground, thicker here than in town.

Standing before the front steps of the cottage, you assess it for the first time. A wraparound porch surrounds the small, two-storey cottage, which appears to be built mostly of stone. Christmas lights don the railings of the deck, and a lush, pine wreath hangs on the red-painted door. In the centre of the wreath, there's a neatly decorated wooden placard, painted over with the words, Happy holidays, welcome home - The Millers.

It makes you cringe.

A bell rings above you as you open the front door and cross through the threshold. Inside, you're greeted by an air of warmth, the faint sound of Christmas music, and the smells of burning wood, fragrant pine, and sugar. A front desk, littered with garland trim and popcorn strings stands unattended before you, and you frown, peering around you towards the cozy common area to your right, complete with burning fireplace, mismatched couches, a large, haphazardly decorated Christmas tree, and altogether no people.

"Hello?" you call out to no one in particular.

"Crap - " a voice says to your left. You whirl to face the source of sound, and take in the other half of the main floor of the inn. A long wooden table takes up most of the space there, accented with candles and nutcrackers and a festively patterned runner. Roughly ten chairs surround it, the entire scene bathed in daylight from the wide window on the far side of the room, revealing snow-covered forest just beyond its frosted glass.

Amidst it all, a young girl, tall and curly-haired, barely older than fourteen, clamouring out of a room you can't see beyond the dining set-up, clapping what appears to be flour off of her hands. She all but sprints to take her place behind the front desk, muttering, sorry sorry sorry under her breath the whole way there.

"Hi!" she says, nearly out of breath when she finally meets your gaze with a put-on, beatific smile. "Welcome."

"Um, hi, I'm just checking in," you tell her, hearing the way your voice tilts up a bit at the end like you're asking a question.

"Great!" she exclaims, but then she frowns as she peers down at a mess of papers on the desktop, and you get the feeling she doesn't normally handle this part.

"Um...okay...so...name?" she asks, her curls bouncing as she looks up at you, then down at what appears to a sign-in sheet, then up at you again.

Uncertainly, you tell her and she nods with feigned confidence, glancing back down at the list of names and furrowing her brow.

Who the fuck is in charge here?

"Uh...shit," she murmurs and now you frown, suddenly terrified there's been some sort of mistake.

"Is there a problem?"

The girl chews her lip before hastily shaking her head and softening the worry on her face, for your benefit, you assume. "No, no! I just can't read his stupid writing. Hey, Dad?"

She calls that last bit over her shoulder, towards an open door behind the desk. No one responds.

The girl rolls her eyes. "One sec," she tells you.

"Okay..."

She flits behind the door and you tap your foot impatiently, starting to get uncomfortably warm under all your layers.

You hear another voice now, deep and gravelly, but you can't quite make out the words. Then, a moment later, the girl returns with someone new in tow.

A man, at least forty-five, a smile painting his weathered face adorned with greying scruff under a mop of messy brown curls. He's broad, framed by thick arms and wide shoulders, deliciously accentuated by the green flannel he's wearing, the sleeves of which are rolled up the elbows, revealing tan skin and a black-banded watch on one wrist.

Unconsciously, you stiffen, stand a little straighter in his presence - what's that about?

"Alright, what's the issue?" he's asking the girl, both of them rifling through the stack of papers. His accent gives you pause; it's one you're used to hearing back home, but not here.

"The issue is your chicken scratch," she gripes, pointing at the list of names accusingly.

The man just chuckles, clearly unbothered by the gentle ribbing.

"It ain't that bad," he grumbles. Finally, he looks up at you, his eyes all soft and brown, the right side of face dimpling as he smirks at you crookedly. "Welcome, miss. Sorry 'bout all the confusion. Name?"

You repeat it, your voice coming out a little breathier this time as your body responds to his low drawl and his unwavering eye contact.

Something flashes across his face when he hears your name, something like recognition, something like sympathy, something that makes your insides twist as you drop your gaze and he quickly collects himself.

"Alright..." he hums to himself, the girl peeking up over his shoulder as he trails the tip of a pen down the list.

When he finds your name, he rolls his eyes dramatically.

"Come on, kiddo, it's right there," he says to the girl, glancing up at you like he's trying to loop you in on the joke. You smile tightly.

She leans in close to see the name he's pointing at and scoffs.

"Is her name Scribble McScribbleton?" she jokes and her Dad laughs like it's the funniest fucking thing he's ever heard.

"Shut up," he chuckles, noting something beside your name before checking you off his list and playfully hip-checking the girl away.

She's laughing, the sound all trilling and soft as she pops out from behind the desk and starts to make her way back to the kitchen.

"Hey!" her Dad calls after her. She turns back to face him without hesitation. "Go find your sister, please."

She salutes him and then darts off in the other direction, calling for an, "Ellie" as she goes.

"My daughter, Sarah," the man tells you once you're alone, cocking his chin towards where the girl - Sarah - had just disappeared.

"Hm," you nod, fully sweating under your winter coat now, distinctly uncomfortable at all the family comradery. You've never understood how it seems to come so naturally to other people.

"I'm Joel. Joel Miller," he goes on, reaching across the desk to extend a hand out to you. You fumble with your duffle bag as you take his hand in yours and shake, his massive palm engulfing yours, even wrapped in your fluffy mittens.

"Oh, hold on there," he says, hurriedly rounding the desk to take your bag off your hands and hook it over his shoulder.

"Uh, thanks," you mutter, finally slipping your woolly mittens off and unzipping your coat. Your hands are clammy and your mouth feels dry, but with the way Joel's eyes are glimmering in the warm light of the inn, you get the feeling it's not just because of the fire.

"Quick tour," he announces, already turning to lead the way into the room to the left, the one with the long table and the wide window.

"Dining room, obviously," he grins. "Breakfast is from 7-10 every day. Coffee, eggs, cereal, all that kinda thing. Even got oat milk now, if that's your thing."

"Just cow is fine," you tell him. He chuckles.

Properly in the room now, you take it in in all its understated glory. It's clear the space had been an extension from the original structure, the walls here lined with wood panels rather than the stone you could just make out in the living room. There's a small radio on the windowsill, which you now recognize as the source of the Christmas music, the sound slightly scratchy and hollow now that you're hearing it up close.

It strikes you how it all feels less like some stodgy hotel and more like the dining room of a loving family. You swallow hard against the emotion that stirs in you.

"Kitchen's just back there," Joel says, pointing towards the door Sarah had come from earlier, where the smell of cinnamon and ginger is steadily wafting in your direction. "You ever need anythin'; food, water, coffee…just holler for me or one of the girls."

"Great, thank you," you mutter. Then your curiosity gets the better of you. "Are you from the South?"

He smiles as he guides you out of the dining room and back through the front hall.

"S'it that obvious?" he asks, casually placing a hand between your shoulder blades to herd you towards the living room. You're not prepared for the way it makes your stomach flutter.

"I just - I live in Austin. I mean, I grew up here, but I live there now."

That flash of recognition crosses his features again when you tell him you'd grown up here but again, he swiftly reins it in, something more like curious disbelief taking its place.

"Get out," he laughs. "S'where I'm from."

"Oh," you nod, glancing around the quaint little common area, the bright red stockings marked Joel, Sarah, and Ellie that hang above the stone fireplace, the smattering of ornaments dangling from the real pine tree, the various rugs that cover the hardwood. Family photos and vintage photographs of Cooperstown line the stone walls, and towards the back of the cottage, you can just make out the end of a staircase, along with a door leading out to a mudroom marked Staff Only.

"So how the hell'd you end up here?" you find yourself asking, regretting it the minute it slips out.

When he doesn't answer right away, you backtrack.

"Sorry - I didn't mean - " you stammer. "The inn is beautiful, that's not what I - "

But Joel just laughs, clearly not offended by you putting in your stupid foot in your mouth.

"I just can't imagine choosing to live in Cooperstown when you could live well...literally anywhere else in the world," you confess.

Joel's laughter dies down and then he's looking at you in that way again, all quiet sympathy and understanding. You stare down at your boots.

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it.

"Came up here with my brother a while back," he explains. You breathe a sigh of relief. "We loved it so much we brought the girls with us the next summer. We all kinda fell in love after that. Then this place went on the market and we just couldn't say no. Mind you, it was in shambles when we got our hands on it. But Tommy and I fixed it up." He pauses, deep in thought as he remembers. Then he turns to look at you with an affectionate smile, answering your silent question. "S'my brother, Tommy. He's moved on - got a wife and kid out in Wyoming. Just me and the girls now."

You nod, working to keep the conversation away from the past. "They help out around here?"

His smile widens. "Yeah, they're good kids."

You nod, wishing the fondness in his voice didn't make your chest pang with a deep-seated ache.

It twists open into a gaping hole when he speaks his next words.

"Hey, I don't mean to pry or nothin' but when you said your name, I - "

He's blissfully cut off by the door to the mudroom cracking open, bringing with it a gust of cool air and Sarah, accompanied by another girl now, the one you can only assume is Ellie. She's shorter than her sister, though they appear roughly the same age. Her pale cheeks are painted pink with cold and she shakes snow out onto the doormat when she removes her hat to reveal knotted brown locks, dampened with sweat against her forehead.

You note that the two girls don't particularly look alike.

"Found her!" Sarah announces, while they both remove their coats and boots and leave them strewn messily in the mudroom. With the door cracked, you can see a large pile of wood stored there, and what you think must be a chest freezer.

Ellie seals the door shut behind her, locking out the cold and following Sarah to their Dad's side.

"Didn't I tell ya we got check-ins today?" he admonishes Ellie lightly.

"I was just goin' for a walk; don't have a cow, old man," she teases, already helpfully taking your duffle bag from him and slinging it easily over her tiny shoulder. Sarah erupts into a fit of giggles and you're stunned to see Joel take it all in stride, shaking his head with a fond little smirk.

"Well how 'bout you make yourself useful and walk our guest to her room?" he teases right back, mussing up her hair even more with a big hand on the crown of her head which Ellie slinks away from smoothly.

"Okay, okay," she laughs, attempting to smooth out the stray hairs to little effect.

"Room Four," Joel tells her, pulling a key from his pocket and tossing it her way. She catches it with practiced ease.

"Yes, sir," she says with mock obedience.

You all turn towards the kitchen then as a loud beeping noise echoes through the cottage and Sarah throws her hands in the air excitedly.

"My cookies!" she squeals, and in the blink of an eye, she's gone.

"Cookies?" Ellie asks, looking at Joel expectantly.

He hums. "Think she's got gingerbread goin' or something."

"Fuck yeah," Ellie says, the casual curse falling from her lips in a way that feels both completely natural and totally jarring. You can't help but laugh. Joel, on the other hand, gives her a stern look.

"Let's mind our manners, please," he warns her, in a voice that makes it sound like it's not the first time he's had to remind her of that.

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters absently, waving a hand at him dismissively with a playful smirk. "This way, miss," she says to you, already making her way towards the staircase.

"Thanks again," you murmur awkwardly to Joel as you make your way after Ellie. He nods in response, his smile a little tighter than before, that knowing look back in his eyes.

"'Course," he says, burying his hands in his pockets. "You need anything at all - "

"I'll holler," you finish for him, repeating his words from earlier with a friendly smile.

The old, wooden floor creaks below your feet and Ellie hasn't stopped talking for a second.

"Room Four is the best," she's telling you as she leads you down the narrow hallway, past all the other rooms and a few more doors marked Staff Only. "You get the best view, if you like looking at the brush, I guess. Sometimes there's an owl that hangs out on one of the trees but I haven't seen him yet this winter. You'll definitely see a deer though. Do they have deer in Texas? I can't remember. Joel would know."

Joel, you note. She calls him Joel.

"I'm pretty sure they have deer in Texas," you grin.

She shrugs, reaching the last door on the left, the one adorned with a large, white 4.

"Ah, well," she says as she unlocks it and leads the way inside, still chattering away. "There's also the turkeys, they're kinda funny. And Sarah says she saw a bear once but that's bullshit."

She plants your duffle bag down onto the hardwood and spreads her arms wide.

"Here you go," she grins.

It's cozy, a corner room so there are actually two windows, one that faces the forest beside the cabin and another that looks out onto the back lawn. The snow-covered grass is bordered by even thicker woods, nearly impossible to see through, especially as the already grey sky above begins to darken, evening rapidly closing in.

The room itself consists of a queen sized bed, made up with quilts and a superfluous amount of pillows beneath an intricately-whittled wooden headboard. Warm light bathes the space from the lamp on the nightstand, bringing into view the embroidered wall art and the large multi-coloured accent rug under the foot of the bed.

"Thank you," you tell her.

"Shared bathroom's just across the hall, breakfast's at seven, and uh....I think that's it," she concludes, though she quickly corrects herself when she remembers another detail. "Unless - sorry, shit - do you have any other questions?"

"I'm good."

"Cool," she nods, handing you the key and making her way back towards the door. You inch further into the room, twiddling the key marked 4 in your fingers.

"Oh, one other thing," Ellie calls from behind you. You twist around to find her halfway out the door. "Um, cell service is kinda shitty here, so if you need to make a call or something, just come to the front desk."

Great.

"Thanks."

She gives you one last little nod and a smile, and finally ducks out of the room.

It's freezing.

Not at all wanting to trek down to the front desk to call your mother, you'd opted for a text instead, just a note to let her know you'd made it to town and were safe at the inn. It had taken forever but eventually it had sent, and with little else to do, you'd changed into your sweats and curled up into bed, exhaustion quickly catching up with you after your long day of travel.

You'd slept barely an hour before you'd been awoken by the sound of your own teeth chattering, your toes numb even beneath the two quilts you'd burrowed yourself under.

A glance at your phone tells you it's just after 8 p.m. and that the absence of daylight has apparently caused the temperature outside to drop; it’s now well below freezing. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you now see that it's snowing, the flakes all fat and fluffy where they stick to your window and coat the pines outside.

There's no fucking way you're going to be able to sleep like this.

You pad out of bed, on a mission to find more blankets if it kills you. One of those doors marked Staff Only had to have been a linen closet, surely.

Only when you creep out into the dimly lit hallway, you immediately come face to face with Joel. More accurately, you walk right into him, colliding with his solid chest and stumbling back until two of his hands on your shoulders steady you.

"Whoa, careful now," he hums.

He's still clad in his green flannel, only now paired with a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a thick pair of wool socks.

"Shit, sorry," you mumble, shaking your head as you try to wake up. Joel drops his hands.

"S'alright. You need somethin'?"

"Um." You point a thumb back over your shoulder towards your room, your bravado fading in an instant. You suddenly feel distinctly guilty for having to voice your discomfort. You've never exactly been good at asking for help. "It's just kinda cold in my room. I was looking for blankets if you have any but, I'm sure I'll be fine, it's not - "

"I got blankets," he cuts you off with a smile and if you didn't know any better you'd think he looks a little endeared.

"Oh - great."

"C'mon," he says, beckoning for you to follow him down the hall. Sure enough, he leads you to one of the Staff Only rooms, flinging it open to reveal shelves of sheets and towels and indeed, several blankets.

"How many you need?" he asks, already fishing out two and stacking them in his arms.

"Two is probably fine."

He grabs a third anyway. You hold your hands out for them but he keeps them in his grasp as he walks you back down the hall to your room.

"Sorry 'bout the cold," he adds. "Heat's actin' up. I'm gonna take a look at it tomorrow. What with this storm comin' and all..."

"Storm?"

"Some big winter storm comin' through tomorrow. I think they're oversellin' it," he smirks.

"I hope so." As if things weren't already shitty enough.

"Don't you go worryin' your pretty little head, darlin'. You're in good hands here."

Your heartbeat inexplicably stutters at that, the way his drawl curls around the pet name and the casual use of the word pretty. You freeze up as the two of you reach your door, Joel at last handing out the pile of blankets in his arms.

"By the way," he murmurs, his voice dropping like he's telling you a secret. He leans a little closer and your breath hitches in response. "You don't gotta go sneakin' around. F'you need somethin' - don't matter the time - you just knock on my door. I'm right down the hall. Okay?"

You nod back at him somewhat dazedly. "Okay."

He pulls away, flashing you that disarming smile again and crossing the hall towards the bathroom.

"See ya at breakfast," he says.

"See you at breakfast," you reply but he's already closing the bathroom door behind him, leaving you alone in the hallway.

You fumble your way back into your room, fan the blankets out onto your mattress one at a time before curling back into bed with just one thought on your mind:

The bed and breakfast owner is really kind of handsome.

dec. 24 - the storm

You unceremoniously jolt awake at the sound of whistling wind kissing at your windows.

Under layers of woolly insulation, your body is warm and sticky with sweat. But the second you free your arms from your mountain of blankets, you're hit by a stinging kind of cold, pricking at your skin and making you shiver violently.

The forest outside your windows is almost completely invisible, cloaked by a thick fog of blowing snow. You wrap your blankets tightly around yourself, all the way up to your neck, and roll over to check your phone. You must have beaten your alarm.

You tap the screen once, twice, a third time, finally frowning confusedly when it doesn't immediately come to life. Then you realize - it's off. But you'd had it charging all night. What the fuck?

You press down on the power button but are granted only the low battery symbol in return. You check the cord and it's definitely plugged in. Unless...

You reach one arm free from your cocoon of warmth to flip the switch on the lamp on the nightstand and -

Nothing. No power.

Goddamnit.

With a heavy sigh, you steel yourself and throw the blankets off, finally rising up out of bed. Even the rug on your bare feet is cold. The hardwood is worse. Your entire body shakes as you layer up in three pairs of socks and hurriedly slip into the one sweater you'd packed. It's still not good enough. As silly as it feels, you decide to add your winter coat for good measure before ducking out into the hallway.

In the bathroom, you brush your teeth and attempt to warm your hands under the faucet but it's no use; the water stays cold no matter how long you run it.

It occurs to you then that you don't even know what time it is. What if you've missed breakfast?

"Shit," you curse under your breath, stuffing your freezing hands into the pockets of your coat and rushing downstairs.

It gets warmer and warmer the closer you get to the living room, the smell of burning wood tipping you off to the fire there. Unconsciously, you drift closer, allowing the warmth to seep into your bones and bring your frozen fingers back to life.

There are no guests on any of the couches, you note, no teenage girls or handsome bed and breakfast owners.

And as much as you'd like to stay right here in the glow of the fire, your empty stomach is screaming at you to find some food, and fast.

The sound of laughter has you whirling towards the dining room and you breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe you haven't missed breakfast after all.

Only when you reach the threshold to the dining room, you find there are no guests here either. Just Joel and Ellie, sitting beside each other at the table with playing cards in their hands, and Sarah, jotting idly in a notebook across from them. They're all dressed in sweaters and woolen hats.

"Read 'em and weep, old man," Ellie grins, slapping her cards down onto the table with triumphant relish. "Full house."

Joel raises his eyebrows and nods, his expression unreadable as he carefully assesses her hand, and then his own.

"Hey, Sarah," he says to the other girl.

"What's up?"

She looks up from her notebook and Joel cocks his chin, beckoning her to come around the table and join him. She smirks, flitting to his side to peer over his shoulder and peek at the cards he's displaying for her.

"What do you think?" he asks her.

Sarah considers his hand for a moment, eventually pursing her lips and shaking her head sympathetically at Ellie.

"Aw, what?" Ellie groans. "No fuckin' way!"

"Sorry, kiddo," Joel shrugs, fanning out his cards beside hers. "Four-of-a-kind."

Ellie throws her head back in frustration while Sarah laughs hysterically, turning to retake her place on the other side of the table when at last she notices you, wrapped in your winter coat, curiously watching the entire ordeal from your place in the kitchen doorway.

"Oh! Morning!" Sarah greets you, her brows furrowing when she notes your getup. "Uh...Dad?"

He twists in his chair to face you, his eyes widening at you wrapped up in your coat before his expression softens into a smile.

"Mornin' sleepyhead," he chuckles, rising to meet you in the entryway and walk you into the dining room with an arm around your shoulders.

He pulls out a chair for you and you uncertainly take a seat.

"Sorry - my alarm didn't go off. Is the power out?"

"'Fraid so," Joel says, rummaging in a cabinet behind him and setting a plate and utensils out on the table before you. "We got the gas goin' at least, so I can get some breakfast goin' for ya."

"Oh, I didn't miss it?" you ask up at him. He smirks.

"Oh, no, you missed it," he admits. At that, Sarah and Ellie snigger but Joel easily silences them with a look. "S'just after 11:30."

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Embarrassment washes over you - how had you overslept so much? "You don't have to make me anything, it's my own fault - "

"S'okay, darlin'," Joel assures you, placing a comforting hand on your upper back. "We're all holed up here till this storm passes anyway. You want some coffee?"

"Um, sure, okay."

He nods Ellie and she rises from the table without question, darting to the kitchen in the blink of an eye.

"Sarah, can you see if we still got some fruit?"

"Mhm," she replies easily, closing her notebook and following Ellie into the kitchen.

It strikes you how happy and willing the girls are to help him out, and not in a way that makes it seem like they're afraid of him. It's like they genuinely want to do right by him. You can't begin to understand how he's managed to cultivate that kind of relationship with them; it's completely foreign to you.

"How do you like your eggs?" Joel asks you, backing away towards the kitchen after the girls. "I gotta use 'em up before they go bad."

"Um, scrambled is fine but - Joel, what do you mean we're holed up here till the storm passes?"

He stops in his tracks, staring back at you in confusion like the answer should be painfully obvious. "I mean it's a mess out there, darlin'. Got about three feet of snow last night."

Oh, god.

You turn towards the window for a better look and now you see it - thick layers of snow blanketing the earth and the road and the hood of your car. Ice and snow pellet the window ceaselessly, and the force of the wind outside vibrates violently against the exterior of the cottage.

You also note that your car is now the only one parked out front, alongside the rusted old pick-up you can deduce must belong to Joel.

"Did the other guests leave?" you ask, frowning.

Joel strides back towards the table, and when you turn to face him, you think he looks a bit bashful.

"There was a lull in the storm this mornin' and they got outta here when they had the chance. Most of 'em were here to see family in town for the holidays so..."

Shit. Shit shit shit.

Joel must see the worry that's begun to creep across your features because then he sighs and shakes his head, and his bashfulness shifts to look a lot more like guilt.

"I'm sorry, I shoulda woke ya," he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Just - let me get you some breakfast and maybe this'll clear up."

He doesn't sound particularly hopeful. But he seems so eager to please that you can't help but give in and accept. You give him a tight-lipped nod and he smiles, excusing himself and disappearing beyond the kitchen door.

The second you're alone, you let your head fall into your hands with a groan. This can't be happening. Your first Christmas back home in years, your first genuine attempt to bridge the gap between you and your mother, to show everyone that you are the bigger person, willing to forgive and make amends and now - what? You're just the daughter who didn't show up, who couldn't even be bothered to call with an explanation. You can practically hear her voice the second she finds out the truth, when she discovers you're stuck just outside of town, in the bed and breakfast you'd willingly chose to stay in -

This never would have happened if you'd just stayed with me instead.

"Um, miss," a small voice calls and you look up at once to find Ellie poking her head out of the kitchen door. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Oh, um," you clear your throat to dislodge the lump there. "Two milk."

"Cool." She shoots you a thumbs up and slips back into the kitchen.

You take a deep breath and try to steady yourself. There's still a chance the storm will clear. You can still make it for Christmas dinner tonight. Maybe the power will come back and you can at least charge your phone.

Another moment passes and then Sarah and Ellie emerge from the kitchen at the same time, Ellie clutching a steaming mug and Sarah with both her hands behind her back.

Ellie carefully places the mug on the placemat before you while Sarah stands across the table with a mischievous smile.

"Pick a hand," she grins.

You sniff a laugh out through your nose and Sarah's smile widens.

"Um, left?" you say warily, playing along.

"Aha, good choice."

She frees her left hand from behind her back to reveal an orange.

"What if I hate oranges?" you ask, but you're already reaching out to take it from her outstretched hand.

"That is unfortunate but we have a strict no take-backs rule around here."

You nod with put-on solemnity. "Of course. I wouldn't want to go breaking any rules."

It elicits a chorus of laughter from both Sarah and Ellie and something warms in you at the sound. You can't help but smile in response.

"Do you need anything else?" Ellie asks from beside you, and her tone lets you know she's hoping the answer is no. You tell her just that, that you're fine for now, and as you'd suspected, she collects the deck of cards off the table and darts into the other room with Sarah in tow.

You set your orange aside for now, much more drawn to the warm mug of coffee that feels like heaven when you take it in your hands. You sip it slowly and let the heat trickle down your throat, let it warm you from the inside out.

A few quiet minutes pass, Ellie and Sarah chatting away in the living room and the wind outside whipping wildly against the glass. It's almost peaceful, watching the storm from inside- if you let yourself forget you're stuck here on Christmas Eve.

"Alright," Joel's voice is suddenly saying, pulling you from your reverie as he comes through the kitchen door with his big hands full. Leaning over you, he sets down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, followed by a small bowl full of various spread packets. With his body so close, you're bombarded by the scent of firewood and pine rolling off him, transfixed by the exposed skin of his arms where he's folded up the sleeves of his cable-knit sweater.

"Scrambled eggs," he says, still leaning in close and pointing with one thick finger at each of the offerings before you. "Bit of local sourdough. And then we got butter, peanut butter, jam, uh...marmalade, I guess."

His delivery wavers on the last one and it makes you both laugh. Marmalade must not be too popular.

"Thanks," you tell him earnestly, reaching for a butter packet. You expect him to leave you then - go join his girls in the living room - but instead, he pulls up a chair at the head of the table. He grunts as he settles in and stretches his arms up over his head. His sweater rides up his belly a bit, and your eyes widen at the hint of skin that pokes out, soft and faintly hairy.

You shift your focus to toast before he notices.

"Sorry about all this," he says, shaking his head as he drops his arms to place his elbow on the tabletop. "S'bad luck."

"I should've checked the weather," you shrug around a bite of your toast. "It's been so long since I've been up this way. I forgot how bad the winters can get."

"Nah, this is somethin' else, though," Joel posits, glancing out the window and the raging storm. "Been a while since I've seen a storm this bad."

"Figures," you grumble, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. Joel seems to notice, his brow furrowing as he searches your face. You burn under that stare, keeping your own eyes fixed on the plate of food in front of you.

You quickly change the subject.

"They're nice girls," you say, nodding in the direction of the living room, where you can still hear Sarah and Ellie giggling away.

Joel's brows even out and he smiles at that, fondness setting in like it always seems to do when you mention them.

"Yeah, they're alright," he agrees.

You tuck into your eggs, falling into comfortable silence. You see Joel open his mouth like he's about to ask a question - the one you're sure he's been dying to ask since he'd heard your name - but you cut in before he gets the chance.

"I don't mean to be presumptuous or anything but Ellie, she's..."

Your voice trails off, not really sure how to finish the sentence.

"Adopted," Joel fills in for you, clearly unoffended. You nod; you'd thought as much. Not that it matters, of course, but something in you wants to understand their family dynamic. Maybe because of how much it differs from yours.

You're not really sure what to say to that and you don't want to pry, so you just keep eating and wait for him to tell you more if he wants to.

And he clearly wants to.

"Her parents were old friends of mine," he explains. "We lost 'em when she was real young. She didn't have no one else. It was either I take her in or she ends up in the foster system. And I wasn't gonna let that happen to her."

"Wow," you whisper, genuinely moved and frustratingly envious. Ellie isn't even Joel's daughter by blood and the two of them seem to share a stronger bond than you and your parents ever did.

"Wasn't always easy, raisin' two girl on my own but...if I could do it all again, I would," he smiles, staring off distantly in the direction of the living room with his big arms crossed over his chest.

Christ.

He's too good, you think. Too kind. Too...annoyingly handsome.

You're staring. Until something outside catches your attention.

For the first time since you'd awoken, the films of white outside have cleared, a break in the constant precipitation finally appearing.

"Oh, shit," you murmur, scarfing down the last of your eggs and hurriedly rising from the table. "I gotta go."

Joel frowns, watching you with concern in his eyes as you quickly shuffle past him.

"Darlin', I don't know if you - "

"It's fine, look, it's clearing up," you insist, gesturing towards the window and the slowly clearing sky.

"For now," he argues. "And the roads - "

"It's Christmas Eve, Joel," you interrupt, your voice oozing finality. "I have to at least try."

He still looks unsure - and maybe a little disappointed - but he doesn't argue it further. Not wanting to waste any time, you race out of the room, flying up the stairs to your bedroom to grab your bag and your boots. You'd been planning to sleep here tonight too but with the weather as bad as it is, you have no idea if your plan to go between your mother's and the inn will even be feasible. You'll just have to cut your time at Miller's Inn shorter than expected.

You leave your key on the front desk and hurry out of the cabin to your car, ignoring the looks of concern that Sarah and Ellie shoot you as you pass them in the living room.

The wind is still blowing hard, the air bitingly cold against your cheeks. You trudge through the dense, wet snow to your rental car, your hope fading fast when you see the windows coated with ice and the roof buried in snow.

Determined, you wipe at the snow with your arms, desperately attempting to clear it off your windshield. You try not to think about the dense snowbank blocking back tires, how there is absolutely no fucking way you're going to be able to back out of here like this.

You have to at least try.

God, and it's always you who has to try, isn't it? Frustration boils over into wet tears that freeze the minute they spill from your eyes, as you fight with the icy handle of your car door, frozen stuck no matter how hard you pull it. God forbid your mother ever put the effort in - when was the last time she came to visit you? When was the last time she called to talk for more than ten minutes? About something other than herself?

Why is it that everyone else got to shut down when dad died and you had to be the one who kept trying?

You stumble backwards when your fruitless tugging suddenly pries the door open and you fall on your ass, right into a snowpile.

"Fuck!" you curse exasperatedly.

Two hands are on your shoulders then, a gentle voice murmuring, "Hey, hey, you're okay, I got you," before you can even start to hoist yourself back up to standing.

"You okay?" Joel's asking, unwitting tears still pouring from your eyes. "You hurt?"

You wipe away the wetness from your cheeks, putting on a brave face while Joel hooks his arms under your armpits and pulls you upright with impressive strength.

"I'm fine," you insist, pulling yourself free from his grasp. He's still got his arms outstretched like he wants to help you further, his cheeks all pink against the bitter air. He's only in his sweater, his jeans haphazardly tucked into his untied boots.

"Darlin' - "

You ignore him, stubbornly getting into your car and slamming the door shut behind you. You can see him in your periphery, watching you worriedly as you jam the key into the ignition and turn.

All it gets you is a metallic, grinding noise.

"Fuck, come on," you whisper to no one, turning the key again and saying a silent prayer under your breath.

That hollow, clanging sound echoes out for the second time, your car still refusing to start.

A quiet sob catches in your throat and your head falls forward into the steering wheel. Defeated, you sigh, long and ragged.

A tap on the glass has your head snapping up. It's Joel, of course, peering at you through the ice-coated window.

"Why don't you come back inside, sweetheart?" he suggests, cocking his chin towards the cabin.

He looks so earnest, his brown eyes all soft and full of concern. He really is so handsome. You sigh again and accept your fate, pulling your key from the ignition and letting Joel guide you back into the inn.

It's quiet at Miller's Inn. Maybe the quietest it's been since you got here.

Your miserable musing is soundtracked only by the crackling fire and the faint sound of Sarah humming away while she decorates cookies at the kitchen table. You, meanwhile, are curled up on the couch in the living room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace while you try not to stare out the window.

You're not doing a very good job of it, you realize, slung over the back of the couch to get a better view of the scene taking place beyond the frosted window.

Just at the edge of the woods, Joel is chopping wood with Ellie. More accurately, Joel is showing Ellie how to chop. Sure and confident when he wields the axe, Joel demonstrates the swinging motion with practiced ease and breathtaking strength. You watch with wonder as he repeats it, over and over, imagining the soft grunting sounds he's making with each downswing, resisting the urge to bite your lip when his face screws up a bit with the effort.

Perhaps even more affecting is the way he watches Ellie when it's her turn, his gaze intent and protective each time she takes the axe in her little hands. There's something so endearing about the competent manner in which he corrects her grip and adjusts her stance, the approving nod he offers her every time she makes a clean split.

You quickly avert your eyes to the fire when you see them start to make their way back towards the cabin, cradling stacks of chopped wood in their arms.

"How's that fire doin'?" Joel calls to you as he steps inside through the back door and kicks off his snowy boots.

"Uh..." You squint into the fireplace just as a big log in the centre collapses into embers and stifles the burning flame.

"Could use some help," you admit.

Joel grins and gives you a nod, crossing the room with an armful of firewood. He sets it down by the hearth and you try not to stare as he shucks off his brown leather coat and tosses it onto the other couch beside him.

Once again, though, you find it's impossible to look away. Not when he crouches and rolls up the sleeves of his sweater, not when he prods at the dying flame with an iron rod, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he does. Certainly not when he expertly places a few fresh logs onto the embers and purses his plush lips to blow into the coals, the dwindling sparks catching new life as a bright, thriving fire begins to spread.

"You see how I did that, kiddo?" he asks over his shoulder, bringing you right back down to Earth as you finally register Ellie standing behind him, watching him work with rapt attention.

"Add some wood, poke it, blow on it - boom, fire," she shrugs. "Looks easy enough."

Joel rolls his eyes as he hoists himself back up to standing with a hand on his knee, grunting a little in the process.

"You say that now," he grumbles. "But if you ain't careful, you'll singe your damn eyebrows off."

"That would look cool," she argues.

You giggle at that and Joel rounds on you. "Don't you go encouragin' her now," he says.

"What? I think she could pull it off."

"She could!" Sarah yells from the kitchen.

Joel raises his eyebrows in mock disbelief, betrayal written all over his face.

"Here I am tryin' to teach my girls fire safety - "

"Which you've taught us a million-billion times," Ellie interjects.

" - and all I'm gettin' is ganged up on."

You laugh at that, a proper throaty laugh, maybe your first real laugh since you'd arrived. Joel glances over at you at the sound, smiling warmly, his sweet eyes crinkled at the edges like he's genuinely pleased to see you enjoying yourself.

You get momentarily lost in that gaze, the way it lingers a little too long, the corners of his lips dissolving into something more pensive. It makes your cheeks warm, the intensity of his stare hitting you in a rush of fluttering butterflies. Suddenly shy, you pointedly avert your eyes.

Joel clears his throat.

"How 'bout we get some dinner goin'?" he suggests, tearing his gaze away from you at last. You exhale for what feels like the first time in minutes.

"Hell, yes!" Ellie agrees, already taking off towards the kitchen.

You take it as your cue.

"I'll just leave you to it then," you say to Joel, rising up off the couch. He frowns.

"What're you talkin' about?"

"Well, I - I don't want to intrude on your Christmas dinner. I'll just go hang out in my room."

His confusion only seems to grow the more you go on.

"But it's freezin' up there," he protests.

"I mean, yeah, but - it's Christmas Eve. I can just...let you be with your family."

"Darlin'."

He places two big, warm hands on your shoulders, his gentle touch somehow placating and exhilarating all at once. His eyes all doleful and inviting, he minutely shakes his head, effectively silencing any further arguments.

"You're part of this family tonight. M'not gonna let you spend Christmas Eve all by yourself. Understood?"

It's all you can do just to nod in response.

"You just stay here by the fire," he goes on, rendering you breathless when he moves one hand to loosely cup the side of your face and trace his thumb across your cheekbone. "And keep warm, alright?"

He does it so casually, letting you go so quickly you almost can't believe what's actually just happened.

"Alright," you agree as though you could possibly say anything else at the moment.

He smiles. "Good. I'll take care of ya, alright? No one's gettin' frostbite or goin' hungry under my roof."

"Thank you," you tell him, and there's an unexpected reverence that coats your words, one you hadn't intended.

You realize you can't remember the last time someone took care of you.

As afternoon fades into evening, the storm returns full swing.

Fresh snow begins to fall, squalls of white licking at the window as darkness overtakes the sky outside. You gaze out into the cold and try not to think about your mother's disappointment, all the snide remarks she'll make to the rest of your family when you don't show up tonight, bailing on Christmas dinner with no explanation.

The smell of salt and herbs saturates the cabin and you let the promise of a home-cooked meal distract you. Sarah brings you cookies and lights candles all around you, muttering to you how, "The tree looks kind of sad without all the lights."

But the tinsel there glistens in the glow of the fire, sparkling against all the mismatched ornaments you can only assume were crafted by much younger Sarahs and Ellies. The sight of them makes your heart swell in an unfamiliar way and you think, actually, it might be the most beautiful tree you've ever seen in your whole, entire life.

You eat dinner around a candlelit dining room table, situated between Joel and Sarah, almost like you belong there. Wrapped in the sweater Joel'd loaned you, feasting on the meal he'd cooked up with his daughters, you'd be forgiven for starting to believe it. Outside, the storm rages on, but in here, it is warm - safe.

Joel makes a toast to family and his girls roll their eyes but clink their glasses with his all the same. You do too, internally correcting the sentiment as a toast to this family, this family that seems so happy and comfortable and fond of one another, this family that had so generously let you in on their evening when they could have just as easily turned you away. To Joel, who keeps peeking over at you from the corner of his eye, who smiles softly at you and encourages you to eat seconds, who - every so often - places his massive hand on your upper back soothingly and rubs, a gesture that feels so naturally comforting you're not even sure he's doing it consciously.

Of course, you don't miss the way Sarah and Ellie exchange mischievous little glances across the table each time he touches you. Your skin burns every time you catch them.

Clean-up consists of depositing your dirty dishes into the kitchen sink to become tomorrow's problem, the four of you eventually finding your way back into the living room to cozy up around the fire.

The girls are quick to take the bigger couch, eyeing you and Joel expectantly as you shyly sit side by side on the loveseat, your knees just barely brushing.

Something sparks there, at the place your bodies touch, torrid as the crackling fire.

"I have an idea," Ellie says, sitting up excitedly.

Joel leans back into the couch, fanning his palm out over his full belly and spreading his knees a little wider so his thigh bumps up against yours in the process. "What's'at?" he asks.

"Why don't you play us all a song?" she grins, but she's looking at you.

At that, Joel...blushes? He huffs out a laugh that almost sounds nervous, maybe a little embarrassed.

"Seriously?"

"Come on, it's not like we have anything better to do," Sarah adds.

"Oh, well, now I really want to," he retorts sardonically.

"You know what I mean."

"Please, pops?" Ellie softly pleads. "I'll sing with you."

Joel looks between the two of them doubtfully, but ultimately caves, sighing with a shake of his head as he rises up off the couch to the room behind the front desk.

"Christ..." he's muttering to himself as he disappears from your view.

The girls are sniggering again, watching your confused expression turn to realization as Joel returns with an acoustic guitar in hand.

Oh.

"Can't believe I'm doin' this..." he grumbles as he retakes his place beside you. Your eyes nearly bug out of your skull as you watch him carefully tune the strings by ear before strumming out a simple chord and nodding to himself.

"What do you wanna hear?" he asks the girls.

"The one with the drunk tank!" Sarah suggests.

Joel laughs and shakes his head. "'Fairytale of New York'?"

"Yeah, that one."

Joel sighs resignedly, sitting up a little straighter in his seat and dancing his fingers along the neck of the guitar. You hold your breath as you wait to hear him begin, but before he does, he looks up at Ellie with raised eyebrows.

"You'll sing with me?" he asks her.

She mirrors him, straightening her spine and giving him an encouraging nod.

There's a beat, as Joel once again appears to steady himself, his eyes quickly darting over to you, watching him with curious wonder and then - he starts to play.

It begins with a stirring introduction as his thick fingers press expertly into the strings, already gorgeous enough to make your heart pang. Then he opens his mouth.

It was Christmas Eve, babe...

You practically feel your jaw hit the floor as the dulcet tone of his singing voice rings out through the cabin. Rich and low with just a hint of rasp, he carries the melancholic opening verse beautifully, with all the comfort and familiarity of someone who's sung these words hundreds of times before.

It's like he disappears inside himself as he sings, his eyes slipping shut almost of their own volition. You're instantly transfixed, your gaze flitting between his lips and his fingers, the shadows cast onto his cheeks by his eyelashes, the relaxed set of his features even as his voice effortlessly moulds around the winding melody.

It's so earnest and raw, you're shocked to feel a stream of salt trickle down your cheek when he sings,

I've got a feeling

This year's for me and you

It's only when his eyes snap open and he nods over at Ellie, counting her in as he concludes his verse, that you tear your eyes away from him and yank yourself free from your trance.

The atmosphere shifts then as the tempo increases. Joel taps his foot and Sarah claps along as Ellie's lilting voice melds seamlessly with her father's. It's all smiles and laughter then, for them and for you, as you allow yourself to join in on their fun - even if it still feels sort of wrong. You clap your hands in time with the song and for the first time, you feel less like an audience to their joy and more like a part of it. That feeling only lingers when his duet with Ellie ends and Joel artfully shifts into a chorus of "Jingle Bells" that has the four of you singing along in varying shades of pitch.

Your voice blends in with theirs more fittingly than you would have expected, and even you have to admit that right now, it sure feels a lot like you're part of the family.

Eventually it comes time for the girls to go to bed, their reluctance evident as they bid you both goodnight - hugs for you and Joel - and trudge upstairs to their room. You pretend you don't see it when they flash a pointed look at their father, then you, a look he returns with a bemused frown and a shake of his head.

The moment they're gone, Joel cocks his eyebrows at you and ducks away to the office behind the front desk, returning with a cloth bag full of wrapped gifts.

"Ho, ho, ho," he chuckles and you smile too, thoroughly endeared as he sets them out beneath the tree; a few for Ellie, a few for Sarah, a grocery bag full of stocking stuffers which he splits evenly among all three hanging socks.

"You're a good dad," you find yourself saying as he finishes up.

Joel grins, appearing genuinely affected before he quickly deflects. "That's Santa to you."

"Okay, Santa," you laugh and Joel shoots you a playful wink before disappearing again to chuck his empty Christmas sack back into his office.

"I'll just wait for this fire to die out," Joel says as he retakes his place beside you. "You're welcome to stay." A brief pause. "I'd like you to stay."

"I'd like that too," you reply truthfully.

Joel grins and the fire dances in his sweet, brown eyes.

"You want a drink?" he asks then.

You smile - alcohol and the holidays; now that sounds more like the Christmas you know.

"What are we having?"

"Well - " Joel rises up off the couch with a soft groan, and you ogle at his back as he goes to rummage in a cupboard under the stairs you hadn't noticed before. "Got this nice bourbon a guest left for me or - "

"That."

He twists to smirk at you over his shoulder. "Good choice."

You can't help but return his smirk as he hurries out of the room to the kitchen and returns a moment later with two crystal glasses. He pours you each a generous, neat drink, candlelight glowing in the amber liquid. He leans into the couch beside you and clinks his glass with yours and once you've both taken a long, warming pull, he sighs and stretches an arm out behind you, opening his broad body to yours.

Maybe it's the drink - or maybe it's the way your skin has been prickling from your proximity to Joel all night - but now you're finally alone, you decide to test the waters.

"Why do I feel like you're putting the moves on me?" you tease him, keeping your tone light even though you'd really, really like for him to be putting the moves on you.

"Shit," he laughs, but he doesn't move his arm. "Would you hate if I was?"

"Not at all," you assure him, sipping at more liquid courage while your heart rate increases tenfold. "Please, continue with any and all moves."

He laughs at that. "Let me work up to the next one."

"Aright," you grin, holding up your glass for another cheers. "I will patiently await your next move."

Then you both laugh, eventually falling into comfortable silence backdropped by the raging storm outside and the dwindling fire before you.

"Thank you, by the way," you say after a moment. "For all of this. You've been more generous than I deserve."

Joel tuts. "Don't mention it, darlin'. It's Christmas. Season of givin'."

While he speaks, the arm he has behind you moves and his hand comes down on your thigh, his thumb tracing absent circles over your knee. Tingles shoot up your spine, both at his touch and the double entendre, but you work to stay level.

"Is that your next move?" you ask, glancing down at his fingers spreading wide over your leg.

He chuckles. "How's it workin'?"

"Little cheesy," you admit but your pulse is pounding in your ears as warmth from his palm saturates straight through your leggings and seeps into your skin.

He nods, not bothering to argue it. "That's fair. Can I keep this here?"

He twiddles his fingers around your thigh to punctuate his request and you nod.

Another few moments of quiet sipping pass, charged by his hand taking up your thigh. You lie your head back into the couch and let the warmth of the bourbon drip through your veins, oddly at ease in spite of your circumstances.

"My mom's gonna be so pissed at me," you confess.

Joel frowns. "Pissed?"

You sigh and take another long pull of your drink, more out of necessity now that you're apparently opening up to this man.

"I haven't been home for Christmas in years," you begin. "Honestly, me and my mom barely even talk. But she decided that this year - this year was gonna be the one we spent Christmas together like a family."

You shake your head and down what's left of your drink. Joel doesn't speak, just tops up your glass and waits for you to go on.

"Of course, all that means is that I had to make the trek up here, to this place that makes me...miserable - which she knows. Paid for all of it by myself, by the way. Just so she can look like the big hero who saved Christmas when I come through the door."

You stare into the fire as the admission pours from you but you can feel Joel's eyes boring into your face. His fingers tighten around your thigh and you take a deep breath.

"And then I didn't show," you shrug, the words escaping you in the form of a humourless laugh. "Came all the way up here just to - "

You cut yourself off, not really sure what you'd been about to say next. Just to...what? Spend the night with a loving family? Get cozy on the couch with a handsome bed and breakfast owner? Smile and laugh and sing and feel cared for, for once in your life?

It feels shameful to admit it, but you think part of you might be grateful for the storm after all.

"Anyway," you conclude around another sip of bourbon, the alcohol starting to tickle sweetly at the edges of your brain. "Guess I ruined Christmas."

You tilt your glass towards his with a self-deprecating smirk and Joel clinks it almost reluctantly.

"Well if that's what she thinks, then..." Joel shakes his head like he's searching for the right words. "I'm glad you ended up here with us instead."

Emotion licks at your insides and you smile in spite of yourself. "Me too."

He shifts a bit in his seat to face you full-on. He's smiling too, soft and sweet, as he reaches between your bodies to pick a small piece of fluff off the chest of the sweater you're wearing - his sweater.

The proximity is overwhelming and for a moment it feels like time stops altogether. You watch his eyes as he traces a line down your arm to take your hand in his. You let him turn your palm over in his grasp, feeling the way his calloused thumb catches on your skin when he drags it over the lines in your open hand.

"This alright?" he asks.

"Mhm," you assure him, breathless as his delicate touch lulls you into a state of peace, underscored by a sudden, burning twist of desire.

"Hey, uh..." His brows knit together, his smile fading a bit even as he maintains the steady patterns he's drawing over your palm. "Somethin' I've been wantin' to ask you..."

That look from yesterday is back in his eyes, the sympathetic knowing. But it doesn't scare you now. You've already opened your heart to him more than you've opened it to anyone in years.

You wrap your fingers around his, stifling his motions to grip his hand like a lifeline.

"Yes, I'm who you think I am," you tell him.

His eyes remain fixed on the place your bodies are connected.

"I remember you," he whispers. It doesn't surprise you. There are no strangers in Cooperstown. "What happened to your old man...Jesus, what you went through."

He shakes his head and takes a long, ragged breath and you're certain he's thinking about the two girls upstairs, safe and warm in their beds. Doing the math in his head like he's realizing they're about the age you were when you watched your own father die in a boating accident.

"It's okay," you say quietly, squeezing his fingers a little tighter. "It was a long time ago."

"I just can't imagine..." he sighs. "And after all that, for your mama to still treat you like that..."

You shrug dismissively, bringing the rim of your glass up to your lips. "Yeah, well, we all process that shit differently, I guess."

It comes out sounding more bitter than you mean it to and you sip your drink to dull the pang of deep-seated anger in your guts.

Joel just shakes his head again, stealing your breath when he lifts your conjoined hands up to his mouth and lightly kisses the back of your knuckles. There's something so reassuring about the gesture, something so genuine in the way he whispers, "I'm sorry," into your skin.

But something else is clawing its way up your neck, something screaming at you to steer this conversation away from dead parents so you can keep feeling his lips on your skin.

"Is that your next move?" you ask him, your voice shaking just the tiniest bit as his mouth hovers hotly over your hand.

He grins against you. "Why? S'it workin'?"

You take a deep breath, and then you take a chance.

"You could...kiss me somewhere else," you suggest.

His eyes flash up to meet yours from beneath his long, dark lashes, the same thing burning bright in your core reflected back at you in his gaze. You watch with bated breath as he slowly lets your hand fall, collecting your glass and placing it on the coffee table along with his own.

He moves at a careful pace as he turns back to face you, his eyes trained on your already parted lips. His tan skin glows in the orange firelight and you want to taste him.

Unconsciously, you lean in closer as he takes your face in both his hands, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones as his gaze darts from your lips to your eyes, searching.

"Yeah?" he checks in, like he's asking permission.

"Yeah," you nod, eagerness bordering on desperation as he finally closes the space between you to press his lips over yours.

You can't remember the last time someone kissed you like Joel does. Soft and patient, his chapped lips fit perfectly against yours like puzzle pieces. You let him take the lead, let his tongue pour into your mouth and sigh when it does. Bourbon lingers on his tongue, but there's something else there too - a scent and taste that's distinctly Joel, woodsy and warm and male.

Neither of you in any rush, your lips move in a tender dance as your hands loop around his neck and your fingers find purchase in the curls at the back of his neck. A low sound rumbles in his chest in response and ignites a pang of arousal in your core.

And yet...you almost think you'd be content to just keep kissing him forever. One of his massive hands moves to cradle the back of your neck and tilt your head back so he can kiss you deeper and you press your body impossibly closer to his, until you're sure he can feel your heart beating in your chest.

He kisses you until you're breathless and dizzy, finally pulling away to meet your faraway gaze with a sweet little smile.

"How was that?" he asks.

You try to think of a smart response but all your brain can conjure up is, "Good."

"Fire's out," Joel breathes, nodding behind you.

Still entwined in his embrace, you twist to see what he's seeing; the remaining logs burnt away to black, the flue now shrouded in darkness. You shiver, but you don't feel cold.

"I guess that means it's time for bed," you say, refocusing on him, his face only inches from yours.

"C'mon," he hums, unraveling your bodies to help you to your feet. Together, you blow out the candles, sheathing the cabin in near-total darkness. You wait at the foot of the stairs while Joel checks the locks on the front door and closes all the curtains, shielding you from the storm outside for the last time tonight.

He finds you there, and in the black of the night, he guides you up the stairs, sure of his footing in spite of the darkness. He leads you down the hallway, past his room to yours, unlocking it for you with his master key.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispers and your heart falls a bit - you don't want to leave him yet.

"Oh. Goodnight, Joel," you respond reluctantly, reaching out blindly to cradle his face in your hands. Scruff scratches at your palms and you can't help yourself; you crane your neck to kiss him again, quick and chaste. "Merry Christmas."

He hums lowly and presses his lips to your forehead.

"You need somethin', you just knock on my door, okay?"

He pulls back just in time for you to tell him, okay, and then he's turning away, his form lost to the darkness the moment he's out of arm's reach.

Longing overcomes you the moment you close the door behind you.

In spite of everything, Joel had somehow managed to give you the happiest Christmas of your life. Just by opening his home to you, offering you a seat at his family's table, making you feel something close to loved; you're not sure he'll ever know how much it had meant to you.

Warmth emanates from the top of your head to the tip of your toes, curling incessantly in your tummy. It keeps you standing firmly in place, refusing to accept that the night is truly over.

As your eyes adjust to the blackness, something comes into view, something left on your dresser by Sarah or Ellie or Joel - and it shatters what's left of your resolve.

You snatch up the flashlight in a giddy haze and hurry out of your room before you change your mind.

Your feet carry you down the hall to the door marked Owner and then Joel is throwing his door open before you've even had the chance to knock. His eyes rake over you, hungry and curious.

"I need something, Joel," you tell him.

Without a word, he smiles, holding a hand out to you to pull you into his chest.

He's less patient here, in the dimly lit safety of his room, the flashlight falling to the floor as he snakes his arms around your back and crushes his mouth against yours. The moment the door closes behind you, he's crowding you towards his bed as his lips traverse your neck and his hands peel at layers of clothing.

It's all hushed and heady as you let him strip you bare and lay you out beneath him, melting at the way he gazes down at you in wonder, his palms trailing over your skin and leaving traces of heat in their wake, warm enough to combat the whipping winds of cold licking at his windows.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers, shaking his head like he can hardly believe it.

"Joel," you softly plead, your fingers clawing at the edges of his sweater. "Let me see you."

He nods, a low growl echoing in his chest as he quickly obeys and lifts away his top layers.

"Oh," you sigh at the sight of him, unconsciously sitting up to run your hands over his belly, dotted with a light smattering of hair leading downward, invitingly soft beneath your touch.

Joel chuckles at your reverence, watching you as you glide your palms up and over his chest while he undoes his jeans and lets them fall away with his boxers.

And his cock might be only the thing perfect enough to draw your gaze away from his belly, thick and hard and right at your eye line. You don't wait - can't wait - just take him in your hand and stroke, peering up at him when he gently cups the side of your face. Something about his soft, lustful stare makes you smile.

His own parted lips twitch up at the corners, and it spurs you on; you lightly pull back his foreskin and sink the tip of his cock between your lips, swirling your tongue around his slit and tasting salt. Joel curses above you and you take him deeper, his musky scent all-encompassing, intoxicating. His hand moves to cradle the back of your head and tangles in your hair just as you begin to bob on him, your eyelids fluttering closed as you sigh around him.

But Joel has other plans. He pulls you off his length with gentle but insistent force, dropping to his knees and pressing you down into the mattress with his hands splayed across your stomach.

"Can I kiss you here?" he murmurs gruffly, spreading your thighs apart to make a home between them, his scruff already dragging across your skin as he nears your wet centre.

"Oh, god, yeah - yes," you nod fervently, breathless just at the offer. Merry fucking Christmas to you.

Joel groans, licking his lips before diving forward to close his mouth around your heat and lap hotly at your core.

He's fucking greedy with it, devouring you like you're his favourite meal in the world, as meticulous and patient as he'd been when he'd kissed your lips by the fire. It doesn't take him long to bring you to the edge, not with the way his tongue easily finds your clit and massages it with such caring intent you swear you feel a tear well in your eye when you come, when firelight burns behind your eyes and Joel holds you flush against his mouth with two arms hooked under your thighs.

It's all a blur after that, Joel repositioning you so he's hovering over you on the bed, hooking one of your legs up over his hip, some exchanged words about protection and not needing it and Joel's grateful groan in response. His skin is soft beneath your fingernails as he sinks inside you, your body making space for him with ease, slotting into the warmth of your cunt like he was made to be there.

He fucks you slow and urgent all at once, his whispered ramblings about how perfect and beautiful and good you are lost to the wind outside. Below the cover of his body, his strong arms braced on either side of your head, you feel perfectly protected, shielded from the storm in every way - shielded from anything bad at all - and as he crashes onto his elbows to connect his mouth with yours, you think that maybe this was always where you were supposed to end up this Christmas Eve, that maybe all the stars had aligned to bring you this; Joel grunting softly against your lips, your bodies and breaths becoming one until he's hastily pulling out to come steaks of white across your stomach.

"You okay, sweet girl?" he asks when it ends, when he's finished wiping you clean with an old t-shirt and pulled you into the solid warmth of his embrace.

"Mhm," you smile into his chest, kissing the skin there and committing the taste of him to memory. "Can I stay here with you?"

Joel strokes your hair, tugging his blankets up over your naked bodies before kissing the top of your head.

"'Course, baby," he whispers. "'Course you can."

dec. 25 - the goodbye

You're awoken by the bright light of day and the sound of knocking at Joel's door.

"Wake up!" a voice is yelling from the hallway. "Joel, wake up! It's present time!"

You blink against the daylight and exchange a sleepy smile with Joel, his soft eyes all bleary with sleep and only half-open when he calls back, "Alright, meet ya down there!"

You laugh as your head falls forward into his chest, feeling his lips press into your hair. You linger in the cover of his body and his blankets for perhaps a little too long before you finally roll out of bed.

It doesn't feel strange to be here anymore, sipping coffee around the Millers' fireplace, slotting into their Christmas morning as if it were yours too. You rejoice right along with the girls when they open their presents, soften when the two of them surprise Joel with a gift of their own - a songbook full of Hank Williams songs and a framed photo of Joel and his brother from when they were kids.

The power returns and Ellie calls it a Christmas miracle, the lights on the tree coming to life as the electric heaters whir all around. The storm has passed, and reality is quickly settling in, that as much as you'd like to stay, you have a flight to catch tonight and a family of your own you should make one last attempt to see before you leave New York.

Joel's hand on your knee beneath the dining room table as you share your last breakfast together only makes it harder to imagine leaving.

But leave, you must.

The sky outside has cleared to blue, the snow having finally stopped falling some time in the night. Sarah and Ellie shovel away heaps of snow and with some careful coaxing from Joel, you're finally able to start your car.

You never could have imagined when you'd pulled into this place two days ago what a lasting impact it would have on your heart. You'd been dreading coming here, and now you can hardly stand to go.

"Thank you," you say to the Millers, your temporary family, who'd given you so much in so little time and asked for little in return. "For everything."

"Come back soon," Sarah pleads, throwing her arms around you in a tight hug. Ellie joins it, pressing herself into your side and muttering a simple, "Merry Christmas."

Joel watches on till the girls untangle themselves from you to glance between you and their dad.

"We'll just, uh, leave you guys alone for a sec," Sarah says, making Ellie giggle as the two of them hurriedly make their way back into the cabin.

Alone in the driveway, Joel saunters closer to you with a small half-smile.

"Little matchmakers, huh?" you joke.

Joel shakes his head, but his smile widens. "Yeah, they like to think so."

"With them on your side plus those moves of yours..." You whistle softly. "Good luck to the next helpless young woman who gets snowed in here."

He laughs. "I don't exactly make a habit of this kinda thing, sweetheart."

"So what, I'm just that special?"

You mean it like a joke but Joel's smile fades, his tone deadly serious when he says,

"You are."

You swallow hard against the sudden lump in your throat, overcome with emotion as you throw your arms around his middle to bury your face into his chest. You breathe in the scent of his leather jacket while his own arms encircle you and squeeze.

"What'll you do now?" he asks when he pulls back to hold you by the shoulders.

You take a deep breath, a sigh that turns to vapour between your bodies.

"I'm gonna go spend what's left of this Christmas with my mom," you decide. "And I'm gonna tell her I'm sorry. Then I'm gonna get on a plane, and I'm gonna go home."

Joel smiles, something like pride in his eyes as he leans forward to press his lips to your forehead.

"You're always welcome here," he says.

"Thank you," you sigh. "Thank you, Joel."

He finally lets you go, his hand trailing down your arm as you turn away. You look over your shoulder with one hand on your car door, the two of you exchanging one last fleeting smile.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he says.

"Merry Christmas, Joel."

Guided by muscle memory and sheer will, you drive towards your mother's house, your nerves mounting with each passing mile. Your dread reaches a fever pitch when you pull into the driveway and your mother comes bursting through the front door, her face all screwed up with some emotion you can't place.

You take a deep breath and prepare to face the music, bracing yourself for the wrath as you reluctantly climb out of your car and meet your mom halfway through the driveway.

"Mom, I'm sorry - " you begin but you're cut off when she throws her arms around you in a suffocating hug and it's only then you realize she's crying, wet sobs catching on your jacket as she all but squeezes the life out of you.

"Oh, sweetie," she cries and she doesn't sound angry at all. Not snide or cruel or cutting. Over her shoulder, you can see the rest of your family gathering on the front porch, varying shades of relief on their faces.

"Mom - " you mutter confusedly, too stunned to even hug her back. "It's okay, mom, I'm okay."

She releases you at last, patting at your arms and your shoulders and your head like she's checking you to be sure. You frown at her tear-streaked face, not finding any trace of malice there.

"Oh, honey, I'm so glad you're here," she says hoarsely and your heart swells at how much it sounds like she means it. "We were so worried."

"You were?"

Fresh tears well in her eyes, another ragged sob getting stuck in her throat.

"The storm was all over the news - I thought - " She shakes her head stubbornly trying to dispel whatever horrible scenario she'd imagined you in. "I'm just so relieved you're safe."

"Oh," you mutter. "I thought...I thought you'd be mad."

The suggestion seems to genuinely pain her, more hot tears pouring over her cheeks as she cups your face between her hands.

"I'm so sorry," she croaks.

You're not sure either of you know what for exactly, but you let the words wash over you all the same.

"It's okay, mom," you assure her, and least for now, you choose to let it be true.

"Can you stay? For a little while?"

"Yeah, mom. I can stay."

And you do, spending your final few hours in Cooperstown in your childhood home, allowing yourself to feel at peace there. Surrounded by your blood family, you carry with you the memory of the Millers in your heart, all their unconditional love for each other and the unwavering kindness they'd shown you when you'd needed it most.

You think, probably, you'll carry them with you forever.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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irregulardongyoung · 4 months

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We Need You Back

TW : none.

What if you left the military because of health issue and decided to sign yourself back to college. Maybe you used to go to college but stop because of financial problem.

Working in the SAS for so many years means big paycheck and you’re barely having time to indulge yourself in luxury because of missions. It has made your bank account fat with money that you barely touch over the years. You don’t have to do any work or part time, just focus on studying.

One day, while you’re in class, suddenly all the window got shatter and door got forced open by bunch of men in military gear. Your professor look around in panic and anxiousness. On instinct, you reach for your knife that you hide in your boots but stop your movement when your eyes catches the familiar faces.

A bearded man with bucket hat approach you carefully, face stern but eyes soften as he took your form. “Sergeant Y/L/N,” Captain Price, your idol and the one who has help you many times, greeted you.

“Captain. I would say it’s good to see you but the circumstances seems to not be looking good...” you eyed the busted door on the corner of your eyes and also saw your former lieutenant, Ghost, standing there with your favorite mohawk guy, Soap and your bestie bug boy, Roach.

“Yeah... Sorry about the commotion, but we need you back.” Price said while Garrick hand you a bulletproof vest with a ‘sorry’ smile. At least he’s guilty, somewhat.

You heard whispers and looks from your new friends and the other students but all you can see/feel is the silent hopeful gazes of your old comrades.

You sighed out loud before grabbing the vest and putting it on, effortlessly. “Who’s the target?”

Ghost smirk under his mask, not worried at all since he knew you’ll be back. (Lies. He was worried you’ll decline and has loss sleep over it.)

Price smile knowingly and hand you a handgun while Soap goes to the professor to give them Laswell’s number for repairment.

Note : i do want to write this, but feel free to add your blurb too!

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harrysfolklore · 2 months

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hi bestie,, idk if u take requests buttt have u seen kieran culkin speech after he won his emmy & then him asking his wife for another baby on stage 😁🤭🤭 idk i thought that would a cute h blurb

that kieran speech was SO CUTE i just had to take this request !!! happy one year of grammy winner Harry for those who celebrate! i hope you like this as much as I do

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The night had been one for the books.

Harry became a Grammy winner for the second time within the first 30 minutes of the ceremony, getting the award for Best Pop Vocal Album, and your heart bursted with joy and pride and you watched him collect it.

He also delivered an amazing performance even though he had a stage malfunction that was out of his control, and after a few minutes of pep talk backstage, you convinced him that he should be proud of what he did no matter what.

Nights like tonight made you look back at your journey with Harry, from getting frustrated each year when the Grammys refused to give One Direction a nomination, to consoling him when his debut single Sign of the Times got overlooked and celebrating when they finally ave him his long overdue nomination for Fine Line. And now, being one of the most nominated artists of the night and a winner already.

Harry was not an artist that let awards or numbers define his career at all, but you knew that deep down he appreciated getting a nod and recognition for the hard work he puts into his music.

"What's on your mind, honey?" Harry asked and he noticed that you had been quiet for a few minutes, the show was on a commercial break so you could talk freely.

"Just thinking about how am I getting a picture with Beyoncé before the night ends," you joked, making him laugh along, "I'm also thinking about the bub, do you think she's okay?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at the mention of your daughter. Little baby Styles had been welcomed into the world a year and a half ago, looking like an exact carbon copy of Harry with curls, dimples and charming green eyes.

It's safe to say that she became Harry's entire world from the moment he saw her for the first time.

"I bet she's fast asleep by now after snuggling with mum for hours," you smiled at the thought, "You know she's obsessed with mum."

"She just loves her nana," you almost cooed, "And her Grammy winner daddy, even tho she doesn't have any idea what that means."

"You know," Harry began, and by the look on his face you knew he was up to no good, "She could become obsessed with her bay brother or sister too, if we decided to give her one."

The smirk on Harry's face after his statement was almost devilish, making you look him with wide eyes and a grin on your own.

"Are you asking me for another baby in the middle of the Grammys?" Harry shrugged, the smirk not leaving his face, "You're a menace. But, maybe if you win, I'll think about it."

Before Harry could reply, the lights dimmed signaling that commercial break was over and it was time for more awards, more specifically, the most important award of the night: Album of the Year.

Trevor Noah, the host, talked about the importance and meaning of the award, the fans the production had invited to support the nominees stood beside him in a line.

You could barely focus on what was being said because your eyes were fixed on Harry's hand gripping yours tightly, and you felt like throwing up from nerves if you looked at the stage.

And the Grammy goes to…” Trevor spoke into the mic, making a dramatic pause that felt way too long and made you finally look up no the stage, noticing that he was standing in front of Reina, Harry's fan.

And that was the moment you knew, the Album of the Year was Harry's House.

“It’s you!” both you ans Jeff whisper-yelled in unison, looking at each other with shocked faces and making Harry give you a confused look.

“What do you-” and before he could even finish his sentence his name was being called out and the trumpets from Music for a Sushi Restaurant filled the place.

Harry immediately covered his face in disbelief, shaking his head and taking in in the moment. You couldn't help but stand up and jump in your place, adrenaline and excitement, but mostly pride, running through your veins.

"My love, you won! Harry's House won!" you said into his ear when he finally wrapped his arms around you, pecking the side of yiur head repeatedly before kissing your lips quickly.

"I love you," was all he said before getting rushed into the stage along with his collaborators and friends.

"Shit!" was the first thing that came out of his mouth once he had his Grammy in hand, making everyone laugh, “I mean,shit! I’ve been so, so inspired by every artist in this category with me. At a lot of different times in my life I listen to everyone in this category when I’m alone,” he took a breath,"I think on nights like tonight, it’s obviously so important for us to remember that there is no such thing as best in music. I don’t think any of us sit in the studio thinking, making decisions based on what is gonna get us one of these.”

You stood with your hands clutched to your chest, your eyes filled with happy tears and nothing but love and admiration for him.

"I'd like to thank my mom and my sister for being my biggest supporters and giving me a great childhood, I would be nowhere without you," he paused to look directly at you from the stage, his eyes immediately watering again, "And of course my beautiful wife, YN. Thank you for sharing your beautiful life with me and giving me an amazing daughter who is the reason I do what I do everyday,"

You were unaware of the camera focusing on your and catching the moment you mouthed an 'I love you' to him from your place.

"I love you both so much, you mean the world to me. And YN," he paused, the devilish look from earlier making his way to his face again, along with a teasing raised eyebrow that told you that he was about to do something major, "I want another one."

The entire arena erupted into laughs and cheers, Jeff clapped and whistled from beside you and you couldn't help but cover your face in shock and embarrassment, astonished by Harry's anctics.

"You said, maybe if I won, and I did!" the crowd laughed even more, "I love you, so much. Thank you for this, I'll never forget it."

Harry got off the stage and you met him backstage to congratulate him properly, after a final performance the night came to an end and everyone headed outside the arena to celebrate.

"Do you feel like partying tonight? The label is throwing a celebration but if you feel tired we can skip it," Harry said as you both sat on the back of his Range Rover.

"Honestly, I just want to go home, kiss our baby goodnight and celebrate with my Grammy winner husband in private," you smiled at him teasingly, "Maybe get started on that second baby making."

The smile that appeared on Harry's face after hearing your words was bigger than the one from winning a Grammy.

"Home it is, then."

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles fake social media #harry styles story #harrysfolklore #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles grammy #1k

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astrolovecosmos · 3 months

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5th House + Romance

The 7th House tends to get all of the attention when it comes to couples, relationships, and romance. But the 5th House rules over our love affairs, flings, close encounters, dating life, and romance overall. Below are blurbs about the signs in this House:

Aries in the 5th House: Can't resist an instant connection or chemistry. Falls for love at first sight stories. May be attracted to passionate ideas or people. Interested in stories or themes that involve the lover and the fighter. May be highly independent in their love life and embrace being single or at least being more separate from a partner or crush somehow. Can easily get bored in their dating life or burn through relationships. Having a partner who recognizes and appreciates their individuality is important for keeping the flame alive. At times they may be a selfish lover or demanding. They could have high standards or not, but what matters the most is someone who can keep up with their energy. May be an impatient, lively, youthful, daring, flirty, and physical date. For them dating should be fun, maybe a little competitive or a challenge, creative, and exciting. They get turned off by those who threaten their independence, anyone that attempts to boss them around, the overly cautious or practical in love, and an embarrassing date. Some can get competitive in their love life while others prefer to be the prize.

Taurus in the 5th House: Sensual, physical, and visual things is what grabs their attention. This may mean a large focus on looks, may be all about smell, needs someone who is good with their hands, loves gifts or being spoiled, and needs plenty of time and comfort. Is all about sweet, traditional, and/or giving romance. Is attracted to ideas about loyalty. Their romance is all about chocolates, silk, champagne, candlelight, massage oil, beautiful settings. Will be turned away by those who pressure them, rush them, and/or are unreliable or too unpredictable. This placement needs to feel safe in their dating life and among love interests. They can also be unforgiving in their love life, finding it hard to get over a bad impression or big mistakes. There might be a focus on money or materialism in their dating life somehow. Can crush hard but always plays cool about it. They aren't one to rush into commitment quickly. Their love life may seem slow or predictable, but this is due to their caution, standards, and strong heart.

Gemini in the 5th House: Gemini and the Air element is famous for needing strong mental connections in their relationships and being attracted to witty, social, clever, talkative, and/or intelligent people. Their romance is all about the mind and conversing but also spontaneity, trying new things, having fun, flirting and teasing, sharing and listening, and low-key lewdness. They are excitable in love or lust. They can also easily get bored and restless in their dating life. They usually make for a funny, charming, easygoing, and playful date. They may approach dating in a mischievous, shallow, and/or careless way. They may love their space and independence. But the desire to connect and learn from others is strong. They may highly value friendship or find that their dating life heavily involves them somehow. This person's date better get along with their pals or be as social or anti-social as them. They need someone who is on their wavelength socially and mentally. Is associated with having a very active and busy love life filled with stories. But the observant and detached side of this sign may love from afar or romanticize ideas and people more than interacting with them.

Cancer in the 5th House: This placement is likely attracted to those who need their help or care, the few they can make a deep connection with, the caring, the vulnerable or sensitive, and/or the mysterious as long as the individual isn't as private as them. Romance to them is about affection, sharing, melding, emotional reactions and expression, feeling needed and wanted, the ocean and moonlight. They may take their time to open up to someone and may not have an overly active love life. But this placement can certainly be romantic, a daydreamer, an admirer, and potentially possessive and smothering but with lots of passion. Despite Cancer's guarded nature it wouldn't surprise me if this placement was at least vocal and active in the dating world somehow, even if indirectly. Will be turned off by those who are flaky or unpredictable, the cold or detached, anyone that makes them feel too misunderstood, and the insensitive. They are highly sentimental in their love life. They usually make for a thoughtful, understanding, welcoming, and memorable date. Doesn't take rejection or breakups well but is good at hiding their distress or obsession. Might not be comfortable being single but also their protective side won't let them settle or rush into anything. Also, family may be a distraction from their love life or take priority over it.

Leo in the 5th House: Romance to them needs to be loud, warm or hot, passionate, lively, and has plenty adoration. They want a love life that is filled with activity, potentially drama, celebration, affection, and physical intimacy. They want to date those who make them feel special and give plenty of attention and praise. Leo in the 5th House makes for a playful, confident, dazzling, fun, brave, potentially chivalrous, generous, and sometimes impressive date. They have a love for the chase but also a greater love for admirers. Their ego may also be addicted to making a good impression on their crushes and dates. Some can be quite melodramatic in their love life, making mountains out of molehills or getting into the most scandalous happenings. Dating may be a game, performance, or work of art for them. Because of the fire element and Leo's strong connection to the self and ego, it is worth notating that this placement can be selfish, demanding, and arrogant at times in their love life. But there is also a part of them that may heavily focus on integrity, respect, being good-hearted, and doing right by people they're courting. Leo is a sign of nobility and honor after all. This placement likely has high standards and rightfully so as they believe they will bring a whole lot to the table.

Virgo in the 5th House: Their romance can have unexpected spice and bitterness. Virgo in the 5th House will certainly have a practical, high-standard, and intellectual approach to their love life. But they are sensual, curious, eager, and expressive in the bedroom or in romance. They can be perfectionist in their romance and love affairs somehow. This could manifest in their appearance, the planning of their dates, or general expectations. Makes for a polite, dependable, clever, attentive, knowledgeable, and potentially talkative date. Will want to learn everything about their date or crush right away. Can seem cautious, reserved, prude, or fickle at times but their head is likely noisy with thoughts and daydreams about their object of affection. Romance for them needs to be tempting, clean or messy or both somehow, filled with a lover's praise, trusting, maybe involve acts of service, relaxing, maybe an escape. Winning over someone, impressing someone, and spying on their crush are all activities they may enjoy, but nothing compares to "saving" or "fixing" their love interest. Won't stand for an overly vulgar, rude, disorderly, or uncultured date. May be turned off by those who love the spotlight, are cocky, or are reckless. Can have a flexible and self-reliant side in their love life but ultimately is after a long-lasting relationship.

Libra in the 5th House: Romance for this placement needs to be intoxicating, dreamy, sweet, maybe a little edgy, harmonious, pleasurable, and beautiful. May easily fall in and out of infatuation. Libra is famous for their indecision, and they may struggle to take action and make decisions in their love life. This placement at times prefers it when others make the first moves but at the same time, they are likely to entice their crush or manipulate events so that it seems like others are making all the big moves when in reality they've been scheming. Can be quite a flirt or charmer. May get a thrill out of getting others to like them but not actually be interested themselves. They could also be shallow in this area of life at times. When dating they try to be accommodating, understanding, accepting, supportive, and romantic. While they may love a game of cat and mouse, they won't hesitate to initiate bouts of romantic gestures, words, and ideas. They have a great desire to make their lovers happy and to keep the peace among their dating life. They can be determined to end on "good terms" or "mutually" with exes. Mutual sharing, compliments, sophistication, lovey dovey things, long conversations, and fairness are all things this placement values in romance. Can have a surprising competitive, jealous, or critical streak in their love life. May seem like their dating experiences are ideal but know that loneliness and self-doubt may be an element that holds them back in romance. Other placements in the chart such as Venus and Mars can shed more light on things like commitment, intimacy, and relationship dynamics but those with this placement are likely to have a very romantic, active, or appealing love life.

Scorpio in the 5th House: This individual may be hard to get to know romantically. They can be secretive and/or mysterious in the dating world. Scorpio is associated with depth and intimacy and in the dating world they may feel as if sometimes they are too much or that others are too little. Their style of romance is intense, passionate, magical feeling, may involve power dynamics, dark, filled with sex-appeal, acts of devotion, affection, potentially pain, and secrets. This placement can be attracted to forbidden love, love stories that involve taboo subjects, or ideas and themes filled with betrayal, sacrifice, death, rebirth, empowerment, and rawness. They can be a jealous and controlling lover or date. They will take faithfulness and promises seriously. They rely on their magnetism, intuition, and bravery in the dating world. They get turned off by a controlling partner, the shallow, vain, or fake, and unreliability. Takes breakups hard and isn't good with change in this area of life. Can be unforgiving in love and isn't known for smooth or peaceful breakups. Their love life can be turbulent, dramatic, unknown, or even dry many times. It depends on what stage of fascination, obsession, and heartbreak they are in. Can be attracted to vulnerability and sensitivity but also toughness, competitiveness, and confidence, especially physical confidence. Keeps love and lust very separated which can make them seem misleading or manipulative... and sometimes they may be manipulative. Anyone with good or bad character can have this placement, but being the other man or having a mistress certainly can thrive here. Someone with this placement can also be a compassionate, giving, trustworthy, protective, and stable partner.

Sagittarius in the 5th House: The hunter in the dating world. They can be determined to obtain their love interests and may be attracted to those who are hard to win over. Romanticizing people, places, or ideas based on their rarity, exoticness, or newness may happen here. Romance to them needs to be thrilling, insightful, maybe challenging or like a game, exploratory, a journey. Turn offs include smothering, their date not getting along with their friends, coldness, secrets or deceptive behavior, and an overly sensitive date. They may be tempted by risky situations, ideas, or people. Loves the idea of a little bit of danger or the strange. Has no problem rushing into things or making the big moves. May be a lover who over-promises, exaggerates, or is impatient. Is honest, flirty, possibly crude, and passionate with some swagger or smoulder. Can be attracted to adventurous types, intellectuals, and "the enlightened". Can be free spirited and good-natured but also reckless and selfish in their love life. Sharing ideas, keeping things straightforward, some humor or playfulness, and respecting each other's space is how you can win their heart.

Capricorn in the 5th House: Romance for this placement is a soft spot for them. A part of them dreams about the sentimental, roses, tender touch, messy passion, and vulnerability. But another part of them is very practical, rigid, and cautious in the dating world. They are likely private or quiet about their love life. Capricorn in the 5th's style of romance may be surprising to some, here they may indulge in themes of powerful attraction, high libidos, a little bit of wealth, luxury, or authority and power, earthy themes, erotic ideas, encouraging vibes and dynamics. This person may be hesitant to commit but they are known for their loyalty, dependability, and integrity. They will work hard to maintain their relationships, even the shallower ones. They fear having a bad reputation in the dating world. Likely to always be on time for a date. They can take love and dating very seriously, possibly rejecting or scaring away suitors frequently, especially when younger. They may feel stressed easily in this area of life, maybe feeling pressured by family, friends, or society to date or settle. They can be hard on themselves in the dating world. They strive for approval from their love interests. They may desire sanctuary, reward, and/or control from their love life somehow, and appreciates lovers who help them to relax or try hard to understand them and reassure them.

Aquarius in the 5th House: When you hear about this person's love life you would "have never guessed", and neither could they... which they probably love! This placement is associated with having an unpredictable, chaotic, potentially detached or dispassionate, or conflicting love life. Their style of romance can be "different" somehow, they may embrace the weird, loves an irresistible force or may be one sometimes, adores those who fight for what they believe in, wants romance to shake things up, can involve a melding of minds, involves late night walks and talks, abstract ideas and debates, experimentation, and psychedelic or spiritual vibes. This placement falls for individualists and conversationalists. They have heart-eyes for those who are comfortable in their own skin or embrace their strangeness. Also loves a nerd, a dork, a geek, an intellectual. They can be quite sincere and loyal in their love life but a shallow and even egotistical side of theirs may give them the urge to show off their shiny, new, unique girlfriend/boyfriend who isn't like anyone else's. This placement may get easily distracted in love, value friends over lovers, is hard to get to know, may be overly independent for some, and struggle with rebellion vs. pressure dynamics in the dating world. They hate to be judged in this area of life and may have deep fears of rejection. This placement is associated with dating friends or somehow being highly involved in their friend's love life. Maybe they play matchmaker, help couples get back together, or play messenger. Their dates MUST get along with their friends and get their pals' stamp of approval. Some with this placement may also live through their friends' love lives vs. nurturing their own. This sign can struggle with emotional attachment and closeness, intimacy, and emotional expression in their dating life. Unless personal planets indicate otherwise, this person likely won't open up emotionally until years after dating. Can feel conflicted about their need for stability and need for change and newness in love. Embraces the extremes and unknown as long as they can do things on their own terms. Is turned off by rules or bossiness, staleness, the overly judgmental, and clinginess. Can appreciate beauty, loves quirkiness, but is mesmerized by a crazy mind.

Pisces in the 5th House: Romance is their middle name. If their real love life isn't active then their fictional one certainly is. Despite other chart placements this person's love life doesn't leave out the fantastical, magical, ardent, sensitive, and spiritual. This person is a secret or vocal hopeless romantic. Their style of romance is rom-com, fairytale, messy, sparkly, dramatic, grand, sentimental, sweet, mystical, intuitive, eternal and changing. They have an active imagination and may get as much of a thrill from writing love songs and reading romance as going out on dates. When on a date they need an emotional connection or something that feeds their imagination. They can also easily fall for sob stories or playing the hero. They may also get addicted to infatuation or the way someone makes them feel. They need to be careful of being taken advantage of in the dating world. They may also easily lose themselves in their partners. They put their crushes on a pedestal and sometimes needs a reality check in their love life. They can be a sensitive, moody, alluring, empathetic, and easygoing date. They win you over by getting to know you emotionally and intimately. They won't settle for a boring, aloof, or stale relationship. The romance always needs to be alive.

#5th house #natal chart #zodiac #astrology #romance #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces

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2hightocare · 4 months

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SNOW IMPRINTS ✷

“I’m grown, I’m not dipping my dick in the snow to compare dick sizes.”

Synopsis: What was supposed to be a family reunion, ends in comparing dick sizes.

Genre: established relationship! married au!

Pairings: DILF!Jungkook x fem!reader

Warnings: Jungkook being whipped as fuck, Jungkook being a girl dad! (Cute.) a lot of cussing, mentions of sex, mentions of consumption of alcohol, found family.. Jungkook is just such a cutesy dramatic baby!

a/n: hai… I disappeared for a bit but happy new year!! I read “unravel me” and it inspired me to write this super short blurb so enjoy Jungkook being a golden retriever husband. (Ignore all mistakes, wrote this while high) 🤍 Word count: 1.4k

“I’m literally the biggest DILF,” your husband starts again. Jungkook points to himself while Iseul giggles in his arms.

“If you don’t shut the fuc—“ Yoongi irks.

“No cussing!” You and all the wives jump in. A heavy sigh leaves your mouth because this is like the hundredth time you have told all the boys not to cuss when the kids are around. Not since what happened when you decided to babysit Ye joon.

“Jeon, get your ass in here!” You shout from the kitchen, hoping your husband can hear you from upstairs. You stare at the empty cookie jar you had refilled yesterday, and there was only one reason why they were gone.

“What, baby?! What’s wrong?” Jungkook runs down the stairs with Iseul in one hand and Ye joon in the other. The two babies laugh at the bouncing. “Did you eat all the cookies!?” You glare at Jungkook, your hands on your hips as your husband looks everywhere but your eyes.

“Actually… Taehyung stole some when he left Ye joon.” He explains as if that would change anything. Knowing Jungkook for ten years, you know damn well Taehyung maybe took three cookies and the other fifty Jungkook ate them.

“No more cookies.” You announce with a shrug not wasting any time and move closer to your daughter who’s in your husband's arms, who stands there with mouth agape.

“No mowe cookies dada!” Iseul giggles as she makes grabby hands for you to pick her up, wiggling out of Jungkook's arms as you grab her.

“Now what do you mean no more cookies?” Jungkook switches Ye joon to his other arm, mouth hanging open dramatically. “There were like three packs in there, and you ate them in a few hours, so no more cookies.” You dance around the kitchen with Iseul in your arms, her chubby arms wrap around your neck as she laughs non-stop. Contrast from Jungkook on the other side of the white counter.

“What the fuck, baby?” Jungkook literally whines as Ye joon giggles, his little hands in his mouth, drool dripping down his chubby cheeks. “Come here, baby, come with your aunt.” You make your way to Ye joon only to stop in your tracks.

“Fuck!” Ye joon beams, clapping his hands, smiling up at you with all his baby teeth showing, as you stare at him dumbfounded.

“No, no, no, don’t say that.” You quickly interfere as Jungkook is staring at you with wide eyes. “Fuck! Fuck!” Ye joon laughs as Iseul joins in.

“Fuck!” Another giggle.

“This is so your fault!” You point to your husband who is trying so hard not to laugh. “Don’t laugh!” You put a hand over your mouth, trying to hide your amusement.

“I’m not— fuck!” Jungkook slaps a hand over his mouth.

“How the fuck are we going to explain this to Taehyung and Ari?” you sigh with a slight laughter in your tone.

“Fuck!”

“We couldn’t get Ye joon to stop saying the f word for like two weeks straight; daycare was seriously about to kick him out,” Taehyung sighs dramatically as Yoongi stares at Eunbi, his wife who stares down at her tiny belly. Wondering if that’s going to be his case in the future.

“Let’s pray for the new baby to not come out like this little beast,” Jimin squeezes Ye joon’s cheeks, making him squirm in Taehyung’s arms.

Ye joon, three years old, Taehyung and Ari’s child, the second-born from the group and the most mischievous, he really doesn’t listen to anyone but his parents, besides Jungkook and you. His godparents. Jiho, first-born, Seokjin’s and Lora’s child. He’s about to turn ten in January. Iseul, third-born, Jungkook's and your child, two years old and the only girl at the moment.

Besides Eunbi, who’s three months pregnant, no one else is going to have kids anytime soon, well, that’s what they say.

“It’s cold; let's go inside, girls.” You suggest as you pick up Iseul from her dad's arms, as the girls stand up following your movements inside the house through the glass door.

“Give Ye joon to Ari!” Hoseok hushes as he swats Taehyung on the shoulder. “Babe! Take Ye joon!” Taehyung shouts. Ari laughs at how her husband has Ye joon up in the air like the Lion King waiting to be taken.

“Come with mama.” Ari picks up the boy in a puffer jacket, making him look like a big marshmallow before skipping inside, joining all the girls inside.

“So sad Seokjin and Namjoon couldn’t come... they really decided on that cabin instead of us, crazy.” Jimin whines as he takes a sip of his beer before placing it in the hole he made in the snow before snuggling into his sweater.

“Honestly, I would take being in a cabin with my wife a hundred times more than being here,” Jungkook playfully jokes, “imagine the bomb-ass sex in the woods,” He smirks with the rim of his bottle on his lips, making the rest of the boys roll their eyes.

“Crazy how y/n has you wrapped around her finger,” Yoongi chimes in, blowing into his hands as if it would make them non-cold.

“Not even.” Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes.

“Dude, you’re so whipped, like it’s so fucking crazy,” Taehyung joins in, as he laughs when the boys hum in agreement.

“Dude, you tried to wrap her in bubble wrap when she was pregnant because you swore she would fall and hurt herself,” Hoseok recalls two years ago. “She could’ve fallen down the stairs; I needed to take precautions,” Jungkook tries to defend himself but fails miserably.

“What the fuck is that for?” You question your husband who enters the main door with a giant bubble wrap roll.

“This is for your safety, baby, can’t have you falling and hurting yourself, so I’m wrapping the whole house like it’s a Christmas present.”

You stare at your husband who is speaking literally, “Jeon, you are not wrapping anything,” you warn him.

“It’s either wrapping this house up or I’m wrapping you in bubble wrap for nine months... your choice baby,” Jungkook shrugs, looking down at your laying body on the couch, hands rubbing down your two-month pregnant belly.

“Be extremely for real.” Your mouth drops open dramatically.

“Even Iseul in her two years of life has you pining after her; imagine when she gets a boyfriend.” Jimin brings up, almost sending Jungkook into a cardiac attack right there and there.

“Fuck no! No boys till she’s forty!” Jungkook points his finger to Jimin. “Or girls either!” He finishes with a pout, making the boys howl in laughter.

“Excuse the fuck outta me!” Jungkook shoots up from his chair.

Somehow the conversation steered with a lighthearted joke about who was the biggest, and suddenly everyone ganged up on Jungkook, talking about he had the smallest dick of all of them.

“We all know that Taehyung has the biggest dick here, let's be honest,” Jimin shrugs, which only makes Jungkook's jaw drop lower.

“Say less, only one way to find out.” Jungkook reaches for his zipper.

“Ayo, what the fuck! There are children here,” Hoseok rushes out, “we are not about to whip our dicks out to compare sizes,” he finishes.

“Of course not.” Jungkook makes his way to the snow, his back facing the boys as his zipper gets pulled down, and before everyone knows it, he spreads his arms wide, face planting in the white snow.

“Shit, fuck, cold!” He scrambles to his feet, tucking himself in as he shivers from the cold. Then, he chuckles with a grin plastered on his face as he points to the snow angel on the snow… and a perfectly shaped imprint of his cock.

“So who’s next?” Jungkook asks.

“I’m grown, I’m not dipping my dick in the snow to compare dick sizes.” Yoongi shakes his head, crossing his arms.

They all dipped their dicks in the snow to compare dick sizes.

“What the fuck! I swear it shrunk cause it’s cold, I swear,” Taehyung begs to the boys who stare at all the lined imprints.

“Motherfuckers, I told y'all I was the biggest,” Jungkook smiles proudly as he sees he is the biggest out of all of them.

“I can’t believe this, we just boosted his ego more,” Jimin sighs as he stares at his own imprint and then to Jungkook's.

The glass door slides open, making the five men abruptly turn around. Five women come marching towards them, “what are you guys doing?” Ari asks, with a big smile on her face.

“Nothing,” Taehyung answers a little too fast.

You stare at your husband, raising your eyebrow at him, and that makes him fold like a lawn chair. “We were comparing dick sizes in the snow,” Jungkook blurts out, “I won though!” He cheers, pointing to his snow angel happily.

“Fucking shit, y/n how are you upright?” Eunbi gasps as she stares at Jungkook's imprint. “Now we know why you are always so damn happy,” Yoongi chimes in with a grin.

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mimixmunson · 12 days

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Boyfriend!Eddie finds your porn history. Eddie Munson x female reader. Smut. Blurb🍆

Word count- 1.2k

🍆 “Hey baby.. umm I don’t wanna embarrass you..”Eddie was sprawled across the couch, his limbs representing an octopus whilst his curls fell down the arm of the couch. You had let him borrow your laptop, Dustin had split soda over Eddie’s during their latest dnd campaign. He smiles as he notices your wall-paper is a picture of the pair of you, that trip to the forest was one of your favourites.

“Huh?” You spoke, confusion filling the air. You were easily embarrassed so just the thought of being embarrassed made your face flush. “It’s just, I lost my page I was working on so- so I went on the history page to find it again. But I didn’t just find my campaign document, I saw your umm history. Baby I, I don’t want you to be embarrassed I mean we all do it right?” Your face burns under his words, you know exactly what he’s stumbled across.

“Seriously doll, your choices here.. My innocent little girl, isn’t so innocent huh?”He smirks, eyes gazing over your flushed face. You feel stuck to the floor, like any moment now the ground is going to open up and swallow you whole. “Eddie-“ You finally manage to muster up the courage to speak, your words causing your stomach to churn in shyness. “It’s okay. It’s all okay princess. I’m impressed, I mean let’s see here. ‘Blonde babe worships her step-father’s sweaty balls’ Well that’s filthy isn’t it? ‘Anal training’ Oh? You want me to take that other little hole for a test drive? ‘Double penetration mmf threesome.’ Sweet girl I had no idea you could be so kinky! Look at this here. ‘Submissive girl has play time with Daddy.’ Is that me? I’m your daddy?” He teases, his smirk practically audible in his voice as he teases. Your embarrassed self can’t handle much more. He was never meant to see this, these searches they were just late night curiosity. Late night self pleasure when Eddie couldn’t be there with you.

You nod, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Your hands need to be doing something as the anxiety reaches your throat. You swallow it down and gulp in nervousness as Eddie walks towards you. He takes his hand and caresses your face softly. His touch both exhilarating and comforting under the current circumstances. “You weren’t meant to see that.” You swallow the saliva collected in your mouth. “It’s just… porn. For when you’re not here and I- well you know the rest.” You speak so quietly that you could hear a pin drop in the room, the atmosphere was tense but he couldn’t seem more relaxed. Eddie’s smile beams, under the knowledge they were really your searches and you didn’t try and lie your way out of it.

“And are those the sorts of desires my princess has been having on those oh-so-lonely nights where she’s banished to stay in her castle?” He speaks in his dungeon master voice, running his index finger down your throat, smirking as he watches your throat gulp and the goosebumps appearing down your neck and arms. Your feet feel superglued to the floor, stuck in confrontation you can do nothing but stare at the carpet, looking your boyfriend in the eye seems alien in this moment.

“Yes. But don’t think you have to indulge me! If you’re not comfortable we never have to do any of that. I’ll never force you Eds.” You babble, worrying about every word in your speech sounding patronising or rude. You look up to him, doe-eyed with a hint of regret. He smiles, holding the back of your head softly. Cupping your chin with his finger he raises your head to meet him at eye level.

“Oh darling girl. How naive. I would move the heavens and earth for you. You’re asking me to fill both of your holes, let you call me daddy and worship my balls while they’re sweaty? It’s filthy. It’s a little taboo. Perverse maybe. Letting my girl worship me and being able to spoil both of her holes with pleasure? It’s a mere inconvenience, I mean you’re really gonna have to pay me back for this sweetheart you know.” Eddie jokes, speaking in his dungeon master voice again. Knowing that voice always flusters you, as if you needed to be any more flustered.

Staring at the floor, “So you’re okay with it?” You ask earnestly. “More than okay. In fact, come to think of it.. I haven’t showered yet today. Definitely haven’t shaved my balls in ummmm ever? How about you take that pretty face of yours down there and make your daddy feel good?” You needed no further encouragement, you’d already been hiding your arousal from the embarrassment of being found out about your kinks, humiliation being another one.

You unbuckled and shimmied off Eddie’s jeans, palming him through his boxers as he grunts your name and several curse words. He was hard as a rock already, and a small wet patch over his boxers where he’d begun to leak a bead of pre-cum. Instincts took after and you licked up the wet stripe of his underwear, vaguely tasting his salty fluid. With your face so close to his underwear clad genitals, you couldn’t help but breathe in his scent. The odour of sweat and pre-cum mixed together was your perfect aphrodisiac. Nestling your face into his hard on, you inhale all you can of him. Eddie slides off his boxers and takes his cock into his hand, jerking it slowly whilst looking down at you. You look up with ‘fuck me’ eyes and a cheeky smile, removing his hand from his length.

You lean upwards, placing your nose under his cock. His pubes tickle your nose as you lick circles over his fuzzy balls, swallowing the loose hairs that collect on your tongue. “Dirty fucking girl aren’t you? So gross.” Eddie mutters through his teeth biting down on his bottom lip. You smirk, all innocence leaving your body. You steady your hand on the tip of his cock as it begins to leak again, taking one of his balls into your mouth and suckling as if it was a pacifier. You speak as best as you can whilst sucking onto him. The noises you make aren’t translate-able, they’re more-so moans and groans. “Don’t speak with your mouthful angel.” Eddie coos, taking your hair into a ponytail and holding it behind your head. He forces his ball out of your mouth and guides your mouth onto his cock. “M’so close.” He grunts as he fucks your mouth, pulling you backwards and forwards onto his dick so far down your throat that you’re gagging. You slurp up the salvia that begins to dangle from his length. He comes undone in your mouth, emptying the fuzzing balls that were once in your mouth and you taste the liquid that you’ve had a hunger for. A rope of cum hangs from your lip and he wipes it up with his finger, before helping you swallow the last drop from sucking it up off of his finger.

“Thank you daddy.” You look up at Eddie with a shit-eating grin like butter wouldn’t melt. “My good little girl.” He responds, you mentally thank yourself for never clearing your search history. 🍆

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loaksky · 11 months

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— 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 & 𝒊 | 𝒆. 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔

mean neighbor!ellie x sunshine fem!reader, angst / fluff / hurt + comfort, modern!au warnings: language / 18+ content (mdni!), wc: 5k

you have a hot new neighbor…too bad she doesn’t want a thing to do with you!

tagging those who commented / liked my previous interest post!: @loversreligion , @tahni-04 , @parrotpeggy , @acnologiasgf , @maybe-cece (happy birthday gemini queen ! <3)

an — first time writing for ellie ! content warnings include oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving). not my first time writing 18+ content, but my first time posting eeek. i apologize for the person ellie has turned me into lmaooo. feel free to send me more ideas, blurbs, hcs, etc.

neighbor!ellie who moves in on a hot sticky july day.

ac’s busted in the common areas, elevator hasn’t worked in weeks, and she’s moved into a unit on the fifth floor.

neighbor!ellie who’s admittedly too far gone and incredibly irritated because jesse keeps fucking around and they almost drop her flat screen on the third flight of steps.

neighbor!ellie who finally gets most of the boxes and furniture settled and doesn’t even get to collapse on the couch for .2 seconds before someone’s knocking on the door.

yanks the knob so hard, the door rattles on its hinges.

eyes narrow when she sees you, all neat, not sweaty, dressed in an outfit definitely not indicative of a night in. only makes her even more annoyed because she just wants two seconds of peace.

“yes?” her tone is sharp, gaze bored because your lips part thrice before the words are spilling out.

“i know it’s miserable out, and this building can be a piece of shit, so i made some blackberry tea!”

neighbor!ellie who gives the glass, beaded with condensation, a brief glance before crossing her arms over her chest.

“i’m allergic to blackberries,” ellie says flatly.

your round eyes widen impossibly before tucking the glass behind your back.

“oh fuck, i’m so sorry,” you babble. “i have peach! or maybe mint? i—”

“i’ll pass.”

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t beat around the bush and makes a move to close the door because she hadn’t even checked into the conversation.

“if you ever need anything, i’m right next door!” you chirp. “i’m-”

“yup, yeah, got it. good night.”

and the door is shutting in your face.

neighbor!ellie who’s trying to sleep in because she stayed up all night playing tekken 4 with jesse jolting awake when she hears three soft raps against the front door.

has an inkling of who it could be so she’s only mildly surprised when she sees you standing on the welcome mat that says ‘no weenies allowed’ because jesse thought it was the funniest thing (ellie’d been only slightly amused).

“morning,” you smile.

you have a plate covered in foil in your hands and ellie gives you a brief onceover to find that you’re dressed to the nines again (admittedly it’s just a simple sundress, but the red and white ginham cuts at the meatiest part of your thighs and she has to remind herself to keep her eyes up).

“it’s…” ellie trails off, glances at the clock on the oven to find that it’s not even 9am. “…8:52am on a saturday morning.”

“it is,” you agree, extending the plate to her. “i, uh, hope you’re not allergic to pancakes?”

“…i’m not.”

you beam.

“great!”

you’re shoving the food in her hands before she can decline and ellie finds that the ceramic is still warm.

neighbor!ellie who awkwardly holds the plate up to you as a silent thanks and shuts the door in your hopeful face.

“i gotta give it to you williams, didn’t think you’d pull within 24 hours,” jesse mutters groggily from the couch he’d helped her lug up the stairs yesterday afternoon.

“oh fuck off,” she huffs, tearing the foil from the plate to find a five-stack of fluffy pancakes with two cute little strawberry-shaped containers that has butter and syrup respectively.

“who’s it from?” jesse asks, even though he knows the answer.

“girl in 5a.”

first bite in and ellie’s eyebrows raise because wow, that’s damn good.

jesse swipes a bite despite ellie’s protests and they polish off the matching plate that she puffs a laugh at because there’s a strawberry bandit painted in the center and in shoddy lettering says, “this is a strobbery”

neighbor!ellie who surprises you by washing and returning the plate later that evening, muttering out a quick thanks before ducking back into her apartment without another word.

she leaves you blinking, staring at the space she was previously standing in a moment prior before you smile and shut the door because god ellie is so hot.

neighbor!ellie doesn’t expect it to become a routine, but more often than not, you’re knocking on her door at any given hour with snacks and she’s surprised when, a week and a half in, she’s had to do minimal grocery shopping because you’re always feeding her.

little does she know it’s because you’re looking forward to the brief moments that she’s unintentionally banging on your door to return your plates and dinnerware.

neighbor!ellie who’s a mechanic and brings your goodies to work sometimes and gets teased by the other mechanics because they think she has a girlfriend.

neighbor!ellie who after revealing she works in a garage starts opening up her front door to little reusable bags with cute notes and food puns if your schedule’s don’t line up.

neighbor!ellie whose schedule does end up frequently aligning with yours and you end up taking the same elevator down.

“morning, ellie,” you greet, smiling softly at her despite being up at the asscrack of dawn.

neighbor!ellie who yawns, takes the lunch you made for her gratefully and walks with you to the elevator.

“morning, 5a.”

neighbor!ellie who could get used to only seeing you in the fifth floor halls, however, after a few weeks, you stumble upon her in different circumstances.

you’re usually out on your balcony in the early mornings to water your plants and drink your tea or coffee, but today’s been exceptionally rough at work (you’re, surprise, a café owner) so you step out to take a deep breath late in the evening after your shift.

you definitely don’t expect to find ellie perched on a stool flicking the ash from a blunt over the railing.

“‘sup,” she hums, taking a long pull.

“hey,” you sigh.

“long day?” she humors you.

the two of you don’t really have much conversation because ellie’s always finding ways to cut interactions with you short.

and it’s not particularly because she doesn’t like you, but she’s caught the vibe you’re giving off and she doesn’t want to give you any unnecessary hope, especially after such a messy break up with the last girl.

(it’s definitely not because something about you makes her nervous).

so she doesn’t really expect you to spill, but one moment you’re debating whether or not you should divulge and the next you’re talking a mile a minute about how draining the job can be especially when employees end up being unreliable and the customers are impatient.

ellie’s gone through the entire joint and you still haven’t stopped talking and she doesn’t want to be mean, especially because you’ve been so nice to her since she’s moved in, but the high is wearing off because she’s too focused on finding an out of the one-sided conversation.

“you should come by,” you say, once you’re done babbling. “to the café, i mean. bring your friends, i’ll stay open a little later for you guys.”

that catches ellie’s attention after she’d zoned out.

“i— you don’t have to do that,” she says. “and i mean, we’re all pretty busy and—”

“no, no!” you say sweetly. “i insist! i wanna test out a few new seasonal recipes and i’d love some opinions!”

ellie’s wracking her brain, but you’re looking at her so hopefully and you look too cute with a few strands of hair falling from your updo. she really doesn’t want to give in, so she gives a lukewarm response instead.

“i’ll, uh, get back to you, i guess.”

you’re grinning.

“try to clear saturday night!” you tell her. “sometime around 9:30!”

ellie opens her mouth to give one last protest, but you’re standing from where you’d been leaning against the railing.

“it’ll be fun!” you tell her. “night, ellie!”

neighbor!ellie who really doesn’t want to go because she feels like it’ll only add fuel to the fire.

the beginning of the week rolls around and you decide that this’ll be the week you’ll finally ask ellie out.

you figure that ellie’s just really quiet, isn’t the one to really put herself out there, so you wanna take initiative.

you’re thinking of all the different recipes you could try because you really wanna wow her and her friends.

little does ellie know that you’re lowkey agonizing over saturday and it’s all you can think about: what you’ll wear, what pairings you want to present, how you’ll decorate the cafe.

meanwhile, ellie’s trying to find a way out of it and jesse’s not any help because he keeps teasing her about how she must be broken for not wanting her hot neighbor who has a glaringly obvious crush on her.

everyone on the whole floor, possibly even the whole building knows. hell, even the doorman knows (and it’s definitely not because you stop to chat with him frequently when you walk your little beagle, apple, and ellie becomes a frequent topic of conversation).

neighbor!ellie who starts avoiding you because she fears that her being receptive to your kindness is giving you the wrong idea (definitely not because you’re growing on her and you’re becoming a part of her daily routine).

neighbor!ellie who sees you twice the entire week, doesn’t answer the door when you knock, stuffs your cute little post-its about saturday somewhere in the back of her junk drawer, smokes her blunts on the roof to avoid running into on the balcony.

neighbor!ellie who spends most of her time at the garage with jesse and her coworkers in efforts to get home after you do.

you figure that maybe she is really busy and you shouldn’t have been so pushy about the tasting, but you’ve grown to really like her and you can’t give this up without officially giving it a shot.

neighbor!ellie who ducks out of her apartment when she knows you’re out on saturday and leaves her lights off, so you’ll know she isn’t home.

neighbor!ellie who spends the day with jesse and his girl and gets invited to a kickback on the otherside of town.

neighbor!ellie who’s about two joints in and a couple shots out, so she’s crossed by nine and you completely slip her mind.

you’re on the other side of town, about a block from your apartment, waiting in the cafe for ellie.

you made such a pretty spread of lavender matcha cookies and lemon muffins. used your special espresso roast to brew a delicious batch of coffee to make a few lattes.

you’d even bought flowers from next door, decorated the table and light a few candles.

it’s 9:45 and you think that she’s gonna be late, but time’s passing and the pastries are going stale, the coffee going lukewarm.

it’s 10:30 when you start losing hope.

probably 11:30 when you blow out the candles, box up the treats and throw the espresso in the cooler for some iced coffee tomorrow morning.

you should’ve seen it coming, really. she did say that her and her friends were typically busy. and she hadn’t officially confirmed it with you either so you were being rather presumptuous anyways.

you decide that maybe you’ll just drop them by her place tomorrow and ask her to lunch!

it’s about midnight when you walk up the sidewalk and see that her LEDs are on in her room. it vaguely smells like weed so you figure she’d been smoking a little.

you don’t wanna bother her so late at night so you enter your own apartment, set the box on the kitchen island before padding into your room to get ready for bed.

you should’ve seen it coming, ellie standing you up, but what you don’t see coming, or hear, for that matter, are the muffled moans through the paper thin walls.

you’d been used to hearing ellie cuss at her video games, heard her getting better at playing the guitar, bickering with jesse over who got to be who during smash bros, but this was new.

you’d never heard the voice before, pitched and whiny.

your cheeks warm because whatever ellie’s doing must be good. you can’t even find it in yourself to be relieved that ellie was interested in girls. you’d initially been scared that maybe you were reading into it all wrong.

regardless, obviously you’d read everything way way wrong because ellie’s mouth is filthy and there’s no misconstruing the fact that she’s fucking someone six ways to sunday and you can hear every gory detail.

your stomach is churning because it’s been weeks and you couldn’t even get ellie outside the fifth floor’s hallway.

it’s obvious they’re thoroughly enjoying themselves and the hurt and envy that kindles is an ugly sight to see.

you end up sleeping in the living room that night.

neighbor!ellie who chases the girl out the following morning after a nasty hangover and finally coming to terms with the fact that she’d brought someone home last night.

neighbor!ellie whose stomach drops to her ass when someone knocks on the door a few minutes later and she thinks it’s you, but it ends up being jesse.

“jesus, did 5a do that?” he asks, referring to your apartment number in regards to the fresh hickies blooming up the column of ellie’s throat.

“god no,” ellie says. “how many times do i have to tell you, that’s never happening.”

neighbor!ellie who would never tell a soul that she’d been imagining a certain someone the night prior.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t want to think of anything more than being your neighbor because she’s locked in this lease for the next two years and she’d prefer to not shit where she sleeps.

(yeah, that’s totally it).

“dude why not? she’s obviously so down bad for you,” jesse chuckles, pushing past ellie.

she huffs a breath, defensive.

“god, i don’t know how she isn’t embarrassed, it’s fuckin’ pathetic.”

oh—

you’d heard jesse’s voice, then ellie’s, and figured you could give her the pastries you worked so hard on last night.

you’d always thought that ellie was just naturally aloof, kept to herself often, but last night was the coffin and this morning was the nail.

in the stillness of your apartment, jesse and ellie’s voice carries through the thin walls.

“i mean, you could just fuck her a couple of times, get it out of your system?”

“god, look at her, there’s not a casual bone in her body.”

“you can’t run away from her forever, yknow?”

neighbor!ellie who thinks to herself that she’ll try anyways.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t have to try, because you become an enigma after that.

it’s the middle of the week and she hasn’t had to even try avoiding you once.

you haven’t knocked on her door since the week prior and it makes her brows furrow.

neighbor!ellie who starts feeling bad for standing you up, but feels infinitely worse when she goes to dump some of her trash and finds the carton of pastries you’d baked.

they have your café’s name emblazoned on the logo and she vaguely remembers you chattering about trying lavender in one of your recipes.

she sees the purple food coloring and her heart sinks because why are they in the trash? :(

realizes that she’s fucked up and that maybe she should just be completely transparent with you.

neighbor!ellie who hesitantly knocks on your door and waits patiently for you to answer.

hears shuffling on the other side, but you don’t open up.

neighbor!ellie who tries to convince herself that you’re just busy! work is stressful right now and you’re keeping to yourself.

but you two end up bumping into each other on the elevator (she’d been lurking), and you give her a curt greeting because you’re polite and you realize that ellie doesn’t owe you anything.

“apple’s got a haircut,” she observes, leaning down to pet the pup.

“yeah,” you hum.

“she looks cute,” ellie compliments.

“thanks.”

neighbor!ellie who’s not used to you icing her out, so she takes the leap.

“hey, i wanted to apologize…” she trails off. “about saturday. i shouldn’t have flaked.”

“s’okay,” you say simply, watching as the numbers painfully descend. “you were busy.”

a blanket of silence.

“i’m sure the pastries were great,” ellie tries again. “we could always—”

the elevator dings and the doors part.

“have a good day, ellie,” you say softly, tugging apple by the leash to leave the lift.

neighbor!ellie who swears she hears you sniffling on the other side of the wall later that night, but tries to convince herself that you’ve just got allergies.

neighbor!ellie who thinks of every excuse in the book to try and talk to you, but she ends up freezing because fuck, have you always been this pretty?

neighbor!ellie who buys a succulent and puts it on her balcony. she tries to catch you in the mornings when you’re watering your plants, but it seems like your schedules just don’t align anymore.

neighbor!ellie is frustrated as fuck because she’d been avoiding getting attached, but you don’t knock on her door to deliver snacks or talk her ear off anymore and it drives her absolutely nuts.

neighbor!ellie who gets teased infinitely more at work because her coworkers are now convinced that there’s ‘trouble in paradise’.

“jesus christ, you’re actually pathetic,” jesse rolls his eyes over breakfast one weekend.

“dude, she just…” ellie lets out a frustrated sigh. “i just—”

“you miss her,” he fills in.

ellie turns red.

“fuck you, i don’t—”

“it’s okay to admit it, yknow?” he says. “she’s a lot different from your exes. she’s genuinely sweet, in it because she really likes you.”

ellie swallows, lips pursing.

“you’re soft around her,” jesse observes. “you think that if you give in, she’s gonna uncover parts of you you don’t even let me or joel see.”

“fuck you—”

“for someone who likes bitches you—”

ellie groans.

neighbor!ellie who goes home and rolls a joint because this limbo is stressing her out.

and FINALLY! you’re watering your plants on your balcony when she slides the patio door open and slinks outside.

you don’t say anything to her, just continue watering.

she slumps in her folding lawn chair, kicking her feet up on the railing to feign nonchalance, but you haven’t blinked an eye at her and she’s annoyed.

“been doing alright?” she asks finally.

you freeze for the briefest of moments before glancing at her.

you’ve got bags under your eyes and your lips are pursed and ellie’s heart squeezes.

“yeah,” you answer simply. “fine.”

ellie hums.

“how’s work?”

“same old,” you say, turning your back to her to tend to the plants housed on the other side.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t know what to say. who’s so used to trying to break conversation, not make them.

neighbor!ellie who fidgets because you’re making her nervous. you’re usually so sweet and smiley, but this side of you makes her gut churn.

neighbor!ellie who bites the bullet.

“i’m…i’m off on sunday…” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “if you wanted to— i dunno.”

your back straightens and she thinks you’re gonna bite, but you glance at the sidewalk below and shake your head.

“you don’t have to pretend, you know?” you say softly.

it’s like a punch in the chest and ellie’s scrambling.

“no! it’s—” she realizes she’s shouting. “it’s not like that, i—”

“i’m a big girl, ellie,” you tell her, that stupid little strawberry-shaped spray bottle squeezed tight in your hand. “if i was annoying, you could have just said that.”

and god she feels so fucking awful because this entire time, you’d just been trying to be nice to her. it was a harmless crush and—

“i don’t think you’re annoying,” she argues weakly. “can you…can you look at me, please?”

your head tilts up and ellie realizes that you’re trying to stop yourself from crying.

“god, i really am pathetic,” is your watery whisper.

ellie’s crossing the balcony, fully ready to climb over the railing onto your patio, but you’re quickly dashing away the tears and throwing the sliding door open.

“goodnight,” you tell her, and you’re sealing her out in the humid air.

neighbor!ellie who’s in knots because living next to someone she used to see everyday fucking sucks now that all the two of you are reduced to is straining extra hard to hear your shuffling from the other side of the walls.

neighbor!ellie who stands in front of your door sometimes, wanting to knock, but feeling like she doesn’t deserve closure with you because it’s all her fault.

neighbor!ellie who realizes that the very awkwardness and discomfort she was avoiding to begin with could’ve been avoidable had she just been up front with you.

you were sweet and you were understanding…mature. you would’ve probably taken better to honesty than ellie blowing you off and lowkey being an ass to you.

neighbor!ellie being scolded by jesse after a couple of days pass because he’s beating her ass at smash bros without even trying and it’s hurting his ego.

“are you seriously gonna keep moping over 5a?” he asks after the fourth round won.

“i’m not moping,” ellie grumbles.

“oh c’mon dude,” jesse moans in annoyance. “you and 5a have this dad with four kids who doesn’t want a puppy but ends up loving the shit out of the—”

“i do not love her,” ellie barks.

jesse smirks.

“that’s all you took from that, ellie, seriously?” jesse scoffs.

“i mean, it’s not like there’s much that can be done, anyways,” ellie grunts, tossing the video game controller onto the coffee table’s surface. “she fuckin’ hates me and i don’t blame her.”

“5a does not hate you,” jesse sighs. “her feelings are just hurt, but you can fix it.”

“and how’s that?” ellie crosses her arms over her chest.

“you’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out.” jesse grabs the discarded controller from the coffee table and shoves it into ellie’s chest. “now put your all into this next round, i’m still gonna beat your ass.”

neighbor!ellie who’s never felt more nervous in her life.

who’s standing a block away from the café you own with a little gift bag and a bouquet of flowers.

neighbor!ellie who’s used to effortless relationships and casual situationships.

neighbor!ellie who’s scared shitless that she’s making the wrong decision giving in like this, but maybe jesse’s right and you’re just what she needs.

neighbor!ellie whose hands shake the entire walk up to the café.

she sees you with your back turned towards the door, probably doing closing inventory or something of the like with the way you scribble quickly against a clipboard.

you look so in your element with your apron tied tight around the narrow of your waist and perhaps now’s not the appropriate time, but your work pants look exceptionally great spread over the—

“i’m sorry, but we’re closed for the evening,” your voice sounds when ellie opens the front door and the chime tinkles against the glass.

“i’ll make it quick,” ellie says quietly, paper wrap around the flowers crinkling as she shifts on her feet.

you whirl around with wide eyes, almost dropping the clipboard when you find your neighbor standing in the middle of your café.

she looks so good in a fitted brown button up rolled to the elbow to reveal the whorls of ink decorating her forearms and skinny jeans that are way too good at highlighting the muscles of her thighs.

“ellie, what are you doing here?” you ask, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“i was, er, in the area?”

one of your eyebrows raise.

“well, is there something i can help you with?” you ask, eyeing the flowers and the giftbag in what ellie can only read as disdain.

it’s like the day you two first met all over again but the roles are reversed. her lips gape once, twice, then three times as she tries to find the words. but ellie’s never been good at talking about how she feels, at being vulnerable.

“i have to close up,” you prod, tone tired. “and whoever you’re visiting after this is probably waiting.”

the words after are a silent insinuation.

god knows i did.

you’re turning on your heel and ellie knows she’s losing you.

“i like you.” she says suddenly.

you freeze, fist tightening mercilessly around your clipboard.

“that’s not funny,” you say stonily. “you don’t have to make an ass out of me for having feelings for you, ellie. i get it, it’s hilarious that your dorky neighbor has a crush on you, but you don’t have to drag it. i’m—”

neighbor!ellie who’s always thought that you talk a tad too much and sets the gifts on the nearest table before crossing the distance between the two of you.

she’s towering over you and you’re looking up at her with furrowed brows as she pries the clipboard from your fingers and kisses you without another word.

“wait, wait,” you whisper, pulling away from her momentarily.

her lips chase yours, one hand splaying over the small of your back as the other cradles your chin.

“i’m sorry,” she says quietly. “i didn’t—”

“i don’t understand,” you admit. “you…you and your friend were—”

ellie shakes her head vehemently.

“i was being stupid,” she says quickly. “it’s—” she sighs. “it’s a long story.”

“but the night of the tasting,” you start. “you brought someone home…i heard you.”

ellie closes her eyes in defeat, rolls her lips as she presses her forehead against yours.

“it was a mistake, you have to believe me,” she pleads softly. “i was drunk out of my mind and high as hell and—”

she stops talking when she sees the expression on your face, notices the way your fingers hover.

“you have every right not to entertain this,” ellie swallows. “and i know i’ve been awful to you, but i…i really like you 5a.”

your head tilts down and ellie’s leaning forward in an effort to keep the eye contact.

“i’m not good at stuff like this,” she confesses. “obviously.”

you breathe out an involuntary laugh.

“but you’re different, really different,” ellie says. “and you make me feel so fuckin’ weird—”

you flinch.

“a good weird!” she assuages. “it’s good. and i really wanna try things with you if you’ll let me.”

you look hesitant, but ellie’s hopeful and you’ve always been a sucker for green eyes.

18+ BONUS

neighbor!ellie really wanted to take things slow with you after officially winning you over, but she can’t really help herself.

she takes you out a week after your heart-to-heart in your café, a nice restaurant you’d chattered about during your elevator rides to the lobby, and she’d been so close to making it through dinner and keeping it appropriate, but the dessert the two of you ordered had strawberries.

needless to say, when you’d taken a bite into the candied fruit and the juice curved down your jaw and slithered between your cleavage, ellie threw a wad of bills onto the table top and dragged you out of the restaurant.

didn’t make it far, ended up at the edge of the parking lot in the back seat of her car with two of her fingers knuckles deep in your heat while she swallowed your moans whole.

neighbor!ellie who takes you to hers after you cum twice and she tastes you for the first time.

“fuck, angel,” she whispers against your clit. “pussy’s too good.”

the sight is a devastating one, your skirt bunched around your waist and your top discarded somewhere on her bedroom floor.

one of your hands bunches her sheets in your fist, the other threaded through her brown hair as she eats you out like she’s absolutely starved.

“that’s it, princess,” she eggs you on, stuffing her fingers and curling against the walls of your spongy cunt. her tongue is sloppy against your little bud and your dulcet moans are buttery soft, absolute music to her ears.

that night seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back because she can’t get enough of you.

especially not when you wear that red and white gingham sundress you’d worn the second time the two of you met.

neighbor!ellie who spends so much time in your apartment now, likes to especially when you’re baking because you wear that stupidly tiny dress in your stupidly tiny kitchen and it takes every ounce of self control to keep her kisses on your exposed shoulders appropriate.

you start kneading the dough and she can’t keep her hands to herself, hooking her jaw into the crook of your neck as her fingers dance under the hem of your dress and ghosts the seam of your thighs.

“y’look so pretty,” ellie hums, tongue darting to lave at the juncture of your jaw and your neck.

“wait, ah!” fingertips trace over your mound and a semi-giddy, semi-disbelieving laugh rumbles from ellie’s chest when she finds you aren’t wearing any panties.

“you’re a dirty girl, angel,” she bites, one arm securing around your waist, the other toying with the slick coating your inner thighs. “what happened to getting work done?”

all you manage is a breathy cry when ellie skips the formalities and taps your clit roughly.

“el—ellie!” you whimper, one of your flour dusted hands wrapping around her wrist as your back arches and your ass presses into her hips.

your body stutters when you feel something nestle between the pert cheeks of your ass.

you throw a surprised look over your shoulder and ellie’s already grinning lazily at you as she continues kissing all over you.

“surprise,” she whispers.

neighbor!ellie who’s so gone. who still constantly gets teased by jesse and her coworkers. who wasn’t willing to admit it at first, but wants absolutely everything to do with you.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie tlou

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