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#I want it to be the weekend so I have some free time to draw
opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years
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8512121589 · 2 years
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fuck yes now that im done with school i can draw more often
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emptyemptycorners · 9 months
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sometimes i feel like im not allowed to call myself disabled bc im not Really disabled like im not ALWAYS using a mobility aid and just don't think i fit in, and also being autistic but not autistic enough makes me feel bad :(
#i dont feel like i belong here#maybe i wont use it anymore#just chronically ill#and just autistic#to be fair my autism doesn't disable me as bad as for some people#bc it mostly just affects my mental health or my ability to enjoy my hobbies#but it doesnt even affect my ability to do chores. thats all chronic illness's fault#if i wasn't chronically ill rn i'd be doing so much chores. and then in my free time i'd just doom scroll lol#but chronic illness took away my ability to safely do a lot of chores...#so im trying really hard to get back into hobbies i enjoy bc otherwise im just doomscrolling AND unproductive#and blah blah blah capitalism wants you to be productive. im talking about being a good guest for my mother in law#i cleaned the house and then lost control of my body for 3 hours. i havent recovered enough to clean again#and i feel bad. she cleaned this weekend and i couldnt and i feel bad :(#i do most of my dishes and any i cant do my husband does but still#i wish i could just fucking dust and sweep oh my god#but i can draw in bed 😭😭😭 so i guess i have hobbies again#i wish the library wasn't like 45 minutes away thougb UGH i want to read a book#my TBR is like miles long#i used to live within 20 minutes of THREE libraries and they were each way bigger than the one im near now 😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔#i miss libaries#i feel like i cant be autistic AND chronically ill at the same time#and you dont have to tell me 'thats not true' i knoooow but like thats how it feels#it feels like autistic people and disabled people are at war with each other and cant coexist and get alone#*along#much less be the same person#and i KNOW . im not the only one who is autistic and disabled lmao#i know that#im just saying. my feed is kind of full of ' dont talk about autism on my page im physically disabled my posts arent for you'#like ok why am i even following the disabled tag then#like maybe if i was MORE disabled or something i'd still belong but im not. im just weird
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joelscurls · 6 months
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feel it in your bones
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next part
pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
words: 12.5k
summary: Two years ago, you finished your PhD and moved to Vermont. In the time since, you’ve gotten a job as a college professor, had your heart broken, and sworn off relationships entirely. Enter Joel, the father of one of your students, here for Homecoming Weekend – and too attractive to resist.
warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), alcohol consumption, fluff, smut, masturbation (f), mutual pining(?), sexual tension, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cumplay / cum eating, some light biting, use of pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, etc.), reader has an asshole ex, no use of y/n
a/n: my first Joel fic! This is honestly a bit self-indulgent but I love fall and academia and Joel Miller so sue me okay. ty to my bby @caffeinated-validation for reading through this and offering your insight -- get you a partner who will beta your filthy Joel Miller smut for you lmao <3
You’ve gotten used to being alone. 
You don’t mind it as much as you had a few months ago, the breakup still fresh, every touch of your own fingers seering into your skin when you’d remembered the way he’d touched you, the sound of your voice almost unrecognizable as you’d convince yourself each day to get out of bed and go to work, where you’d inevitably run into him. It was painful then, having to come home to the quiet, always far too aware of the sound of your own thoughts drumming against the inside of your skull. 
Now though, you revel in that quiet. Sip your coffee in silence each morning. You’ve learned how to stay lost in your work, bringing home stacks of papers to grade and eating through texts to support your research while your dinner gets cold on the table in front of you. You’re well aware that this isn’t the healthiest way to cope, to just avoid it all, but it’s better than feeling. 
You’ve sworn off relationships entirely. It’s a silent promise to yourself – that you’ll remain married to your work. You will devote all of your energy to making sure your students excel and that your research is strong. That is your life’s purpose, to make use of the PhD you worked so hard to get – not to be someone’s girlfriend or wife. And you’re fine with that, really. You’ve become immune to loneliness – or numb, maybe.
Regardless, you welcome the independence. You don’t have to worry about anyone else’s thoughts or feelings when it comes to the way you spend your own time. You’re free to do whatever you want. You can draw yourself a bath, fill it with bubbles, sit in it while you drain a bottle of wine into your mouth until the water runs cold. You can eat an entire box of dry cereal in one sitting while you re-watch your favorite show for the twentieth time. You can make yourself cum at any hour of the night with your vibrator or your shower head or your hand – and then go to work the next morning without a semblance of guilt.
Really, you like being alone. 
Until you don’t.
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It’s Homecoming Weekend at Sarah’s school. 
She had insisted that Joel didn’t have to come, that it was mostly an opportunity for the college to milk donations out of sentimental alumni. But he’d missed her for the month she’d been gone, the house far too quiet with just him in it. In previous years, Joel had busied himself following Sarah’s departure with home projects. Three years in, though, he’s updated just about every room in the house,  re-done the floors, built a brand new back deck. 
In other words, he’s fresh out of distractions.
So, he’d made the trek to Vermont,  with the excuse that he’d always wanted to experience a New England fall. It’s a lie, one that Sarah can probably read right through, considering he vocalizes his discomfort whenever the temperature drops below 70 degrees in Texas, but she goes along with it. 
Besides, he wants to see what his tuition money is paying for.
In truth, Joel had been nervous when Sarah announced what major she’d decided to pursue. She had just finished her freshman year, prerequisite courses all completed. When she’d said the word – anthropology – Joel hadn’t even been sure what it meant. Since then, she’s explained it to him many times and in truth, he’s still none the wiser. Really, he’s just happy that she’s happy. Her passion for it is evident on her face any time she talks to him about the courses she’s taking, how great her professors are. 
Especially you – she talks about you all the time – her mentor. 
You’re supervising her on her thesis project – a qualitative assessment on students’ views on feminism and gender politics in the classroom. This past summer, Joel swears Sarah had mentioned your name more than her own friends’. She’d told him what courses you teach, what research you’ve conducted, all the countries you’ve traveled to for fieldwork. And she gives the best advice – Sarah had said one night over dinner – she’s like, my lifeline at school. 
Joel doesn’t know you, but he’s thankful for you – for the guidance you so clearly provide Sarah.
There’s an Open House today for the Social Sciences college, which Joel tags along with Sarah to. He’s hopeful that he’ll learn something, come to understand the field and why Sarah loves it. 
A buffet table stocked with refreshments sits on one side of the lecture hall. Sarah grabs them both cups of water infused with cucumber while Joel saves them seats at the back. There’s a slideshow projected onto the white board at the front, the current slide reading: An Introduction to the Social Sciences College & Our Current Research Efforts. A group of professors gathers at the front, name tags stuck to their button-downs and blazers. Sarah spots you as she sits down, pointing you out as she hands Joel his water.
“There – that one’s my mentor – the one in the plaid pants.” 
Joel’s eyes follow her finger to the group at the front,  scanning down the line. There’s a man, short and stocky with noticeably small hands hooked by the thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. Next to him, is a woman, taller than him, wearing a bright turquoise silk shirt, gold bangles decorating both of her wrists. And next to her is you, in the plaid pants.
Sarah had told him a lot of things about you, but she’d never mentioned that you’re fucking gorgeous. You’re smiling at something Turquoise Shirt has just said to you, and it’s like your entire face is glowing. Joel has to take a sip of water to collect himself.
He doesn’t take his eyes off you for the entirety of the presentation. 
The dean of the college starts by briefly covering each department and what research efforts they have planned for the semester. Joel should be listening, he came here to listen – but he can’t get himself to focus on anything other than you.
You’re mostly focused on the presenter. Every so often, though, you distractedly toy with the buttons on your cardigan or twirl a strand of your hair between delicate fingers. And Joel is suddenly realizing how touch-starved he is after years of refusing to date – because just watching you, your hands – is about to send him into orbit.
You’re well-spoken too, he learns, when you take the microphone to discuss your current research project. 
“This semester, I’ll be delving into the presence of food deserts in Vermont, and the effects these are having on the overall health of youth in the state,” you say. “We have received a sizable grant for this research, and I am thrilled to get started in a matter of weeks. This project will span the better part of the academic year as I speak to locals and craft surveys that will provide qualitative data to support my findings from the field.”
You press down on the clicker in your hand. A new slide projects onto the whiteboard. It’s a photo of you against the backdrop of a jungle, lush, green trees stretching past the top of the frame. The wide-brimmed hat you’re wearing covers most of your face – but that damn smile radiates through the makeshift screen.
“This is me last summer, in Peru. My research here was much more self-indulgent – I studied the important role that food plays in the average family there – and ate wayyyy too many sweets.”
The crowd laughs. It’s the first reaction they’ve expressed this entire time. 
It’s entrancing, the way you command the room. You have such a calm confidence about you as you speak, words never once faltering as you stride back and forth across the front of the lecture hall.  Joel isn’t much of a talker – maybe that’s why he feels like he could listen to you for hours on end. He thinks that you could read the damn phone book and his focus would remain unwavering. That your voice, velvet-soft, could spellbind him without much effort.
When your portion of the presentation ends, he’s more than a bit disappointed.
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Students and their families filter out of the lecture hall. You situate yourself in a corner of the room for the actual Open House portion of the event, at the ready to answer any questions or, more likely, offer directions to another part of campus.
You smile as familiar faces and strangers alike pass you, reach for your to-go mug on the table behind you, and take a sip. The coffee is pretty much ice-cold now, but you still gulp it down, only after the caffeine anyway.
You place the mug back down with a light thud against the tabletop. Suddenly, a voice you’ve come to know well rings in your ear. 
“Professor!” 
When you look up, Sarah Miller is bounding down the aisle, signature smile plastered across her face. And there’s a man behind her, you notice, moving much slower. 
He’s tall, broad shoulders pulling taut against the green flannel he’s wearing. He cradles a beige workwear jacket in the crook of his bicep,corded muscle visibly bulging against fabric. His other hand rubs at the scruff along his jaw, pointedly sharp in the patches where hair doesn’t grow.
He has a distinguishable nose, you notice as he gets closer,  strong – large and hooked at the center of his tan face. It’s complemented perfectly by his plush, pink lips that seem to be set in a permanent pout.  
In other words, he’s handsome – almost distractingly so, as he stands next to Sarah in front of you.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she beams – turns to the man next to her.
“Dad, this is my mentor,” She says your name. 
He nods. His eyes meet yours. They’re deep brown, almost black – and undeniably entrancing. 
“‘‘ts nice to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Joel.”
Ma’am.
It’s not like the word is foreign to you, given your profession. There’s something about the way he says it, though, that makes your head spin, his southern drawl dripping in honey-butter and bourbon. 
Joel outstretches a hand. You shake it – try to ignore the way it dwarfs yours.
“Joel,” you repeat, eyes locked firmly on the space between his eyes. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“That was a great presentation you gave up there. You’re a good, uh – talker.” His expression is unreadable. His hands fidget at his sides.
You offer him a smile. “Thank you – I think? My students probably wish I would shut up sometimes. Right, Sarah?”
“Oh please,” she scoffs, “as if you’ve never seen your rating on Rate My Professor.” 
She’s not wrong – you pride yourself on having pretty stellar reviews – but you also try your hardest not to let them get to your head. Sarah isn’t helping that, right now.
“Anyways,” she exaggerates the word, “what are you up to tonight, Professor? They’re holding an exhibition at the art center later, all student work – d’you wanna come with us?” 
Your reflex is to say no. After all, he’ll probably be there. Your ex, Quentin, works in the art history department. And even though you’re over him, you’re not exactly looking for an excuse to be in the same room as him. But you technically don’t have plans tonight, and you can’t even think of a good lie right now with Sarah staring you down. 
And then there’s Joel, standing in front of you, all broad shoulders and chiseled jaw – and you think, what a great opportunity to get to know him, you know, as the parent of your student. Definitely not as anything else, anything more. It is Homecoming, after all.
So, you say yes. 
“Cool!” Sarah smiles, “Meet you there at 7?”
You nod, tell Sarah that sounds perfect, and that you’ll see them tonight. 
Sarah starts toward the door. But Joel stands there for a moment longer. His eyes linger on yours, his wordless stare threatening to burn a hole in your head. You can feel the heat of it, beads of sweat beginning to form at the base of your neck. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying your hardest to conceal them. 
A beat passes. It looks like he might say something, his mouth opening then closing again.
He gives you a courteous nod, turns on his heels, and follows after Sarah.
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Joel hadn’t remembered the food being this bad when he’d visited for orientation. He struggles to keep down a particularly rubbery bite of chicken and reaches for his water bottle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on not vomiting. 
Sarah laughs next to him. “Hey man, at least you don’t have to eat this shit year-round.”
He grunts in agreement. “Gonna cancel your meal plan next semester and jus’ give you the money to buy groceries.” 
She hums. Cocks her head. “That means I’m gonna have to learn how to cook – do you think Student Housing has fire insurance?”
Joel wants to roll his eyes, but it’s definitely his fault – after all, he can barely fry an egg without setting off the fire alarm. Their freezer has always been well-stocked with TV dinners and tater tots. So instead, he just shrugs. 
“So what’s this art thing tonight?” He moves on to the salad on his plate, decidedly much safer. 
“I don’t really know – my roommate asked me to go, she has some pieces in it, I guess.”
He nods. “And your professor – that was nice ‘a you to invite her.”
Sarah nods, smiles. “Yeah – you like her, right? I mean, you’re sure you’re cool with me asking her to come?” She asks, a mouthful of lettuce.
“‘Course,” he says, attempting to keep his voice level, nonchalant.
“I know you’re not really one for meeting new people,” she teases.
He mock-glares at her. It quickly softens into a smile. “Nah – she seems cool.” It’s an understatement, but Sarah doesn’t need to know that.
She doesn’t need to know that her dad is attracted to her professor.
Joel thinks that he might not have been so great at hiding it, though, when a few hours later, in the middle of watching an unarguably bad student production of Macbeth, Sarah turns to him and whispers that she’s not feeling well. 
“Hm, is that right?,” he whispers back, unconvinced. 
“Yeah, must’ve been the food.”
“We ate the same thing, Sarah.”
There’s a shout on stage. The actor’s voice cracks.
“Well I dunno,” she continues, “My stomach just doesn’t feel good.”
“Yeah, and what about that thing with your professor?”
He can see her smirk even in the dim lighting. 
“Shit, you’re right. And I don’t have her phone number, so it’s not like I can text her...” 
She groans. Joel thinks she should be on that stage right now. 
“We can’t just ghost her.” Joel has no idea what that means. He doesn’t bother asking. 
“Sarah-” he starts.
“Please. She’s such a nice lady, she doesn’t deserve to be stood up.”
He could say no. It’s not like he knows you, owes you anything. But in truth, Joel does want to see you again. And he’s well aware that Sarah might be trying to set the two of you up – ever-perceptive and hell-bent on her dad being happy – but he tries not to think about how embarrassing that feels, his daughter playing matchmaker for him. Because he wants to spend more time with you, get to know more about you, if you’ll let him.
He’s barred himself from forming any kind of real relationship with a woman since Sarah’s mother left. Not because she’d broken his heart, but because he’d needed all of his energy to go to Sarah. As a single father, he had always feared that he wouldn’t be enough for his daughter – wouldn’t give enough – that growing up in a broken home would leave her half of a person. That fear had fueled him to be the best dad possible – to work overtime so that he could provide for them, to never miss one of her soccer games or dance recitals. And so, he had never even considered dating, not seriously, anyway. It would take attention away from Sarah, and he couldn’t risk that. 
He’s found it difficult to shake this principle, now that Sarah has grown up. He often grapples with the fact that Sarah doesn’t need him as much anymore – that she’s her own person living her own life. He knows he could date now, could meet someone new, open his heart to them. But he’s so used to fighting that human need for companionship, that it feels almost unnatural to let his guard down.
But now there’s you – your megawatt smile and your impressive intelligence and your care for his daughter – and suddenly he’s forgotten his own rules. 
“Okay; I’ll go.” It comes out entirely too enthusiastic.
He can practically feel Sarah’s accomplished, shit-eating grin burning into the side of his head.
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You leave campus around four pm, once the last of the Open House participants have gone. 
You take a shower when you get home. Then you order sushi – stuff rolls of yellowfin and salmon into your mouth as you sit at the dining table still wrapped up in your towel, trying your best not to spill soy sauce on the half-graded essays that litter the tabletop. When you’re done, you retreat to your closet, treading on damp feet across the waxy hardwood floor.
And you definitely don’t think about Joel – not when you debate what to wear to the art exhibition, not when your fingers accidentally graze one of your nipples as you put your bra on, not when you get distracted while pulling your panties on by the pool of wetness that has formed between your thighs. 
You definitely don’t think about him – because he’s Sarah’s dad, and that would be wrong.
So it’s accidental when his name falls from your mouth, fingers pressed against your clit, visions of large, calloused hands flashing behind your closed eyelids. 
You cover your mouth with the curve of your palm to prevent it from slipping out again. Sink back into the mattress.
Then you press your fingers down harder. 
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Joel feels like a first-year student, wandering aimlessly across campus in search of the art center. Sarah’s directions had been, well, brief. She’d insisted he’d be able to find it no problem. Now though, in the limited light of dusk, all the structures look the same, bleeding together like watercolors against the evening sky. 
He does find it, eventually, a three-story brick building tucked between the library and what looks to be a dormitory. Bright, artificial light seeps through the windows that line the bottom floor. The double doors at the front are propped open, people slipping in and out of them as he approaches. 
He looks for you outside, searching for a familiar head of hair, the brown cardigan you’d been wearing earlier. When he doesn’t see you, he reluctantly makes his way up the stairs and into the building.
He spots you almost immediately affixed in front of a painting, studying it intently.
You’re wearing a different outfit than the one you had on this afternoon – a merlot-colored slip dress and a cropped leather jacket. He struggles to ignore the way the satin clings to you, the curves of your body excruciatingly accentuated. He has to remind himself that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, shouldn't expect you to stick around for long once he lets you know Sarah isn’t coming. You’ll probably make an excuse to leave shortly after, and he’ll be back on Sarah’s couch within the hour. 
After all, why would you stick around just to talk to him?
You don’t see him when he sidles up next to you. He clears his throat and you startle. 
“Sorry,” he brings a hand to the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to spook ya.” 
You take a step back to face him and put a hand to your chest, your breath beginning to even. His eyes wander, for a moment, to where your fingers rest against your collarbone. 
“Shit – it’s okay. Where’s Sarah?”
“She wasn’t feeling well, but she said I should still come. Is that – uh – is that okay?” He’s suddenly worried that this was dumb, that he shouldn’t have come, should’ve just let Sarah explain to you on Monday.
But your features soften then, a small smile forming between rosy cheeks. 
“Joel, it’s fine; I appreciate you not ditching me.”
“‘Course,” he manages. He’s waiting for you to say something else – that you need to leave. But you don’t, and you both stand enveloped in the pregnant pause that lingers, bright overhead lighting and nerves giving Joel the start of a migraine he’ll have to ignore for the rest of the night.
He clears his throat. Turns to the painting in front of you. “So what’s this one, then?”
The painting in question is a mish-mash of shapes and colors. Joel can’t distinguish any one thing on the canvas. It’s all just a lot of…nothing. He knows it’s not for him when he thinks a preschooler with finger paints could’ve done this.
You bring your hand up to cradle your jaw, brows furrowed in contemplation. It looks like you’ll offer an actual, intellectual interpretation. So Joel isn’t prepared when instead, you say: 
“Looks like a bad trip.”
A laugh bubbles out of him, the corners of his eyes creasing. 
“Sorry,” you say, between giggles. “That was stupid.”
“No,” he says, swiping a hand over his jaw, trying to physically rub the embarrassing smile off his face. “You’re funny.” 
He means it. He’s not sure how it’s possible that you’re funny, when you’re also so smart and interesting and gorgeous. It’s almost unfair. He thinks, fleetingly, that you’re way out of his league – a boring, old man like him.
You continue to the next piece, Joel following closely behind. It looks like it must be by the same artist. The same variation of shapes fill the canvas, just in different colors.
“Alright Cowboy, what’s your take on this one?” 
Joel studies it for a moment – tries to find something he can pull out. Something tangible. Something funny, even. 
He comes up empty.
“‘ts interesting f’sure. Lots of…colors,” he tries. He realizes how ridiculous he sounds. Laughs. “Shit…art ain’t really my thing,” he admits, arm stretched behind his head.
“So what is your thing?” Your voice is tinged with something – Joel tries his hardest not to let himself believe that it’s flirtation. 
Your eyes are still fixed on the canvas in front of you. And Joel is thankful, because he thinks if you looked at him, let those eyes meet his, he’d break – tell you that right now, you’re his thing.
He doesn’t get a chance to answer either way, though, because he’s interrupted by a man’s voice behind the two of you. 
“Wow. Didn’t expect to see you here!”
You whip around to face him. Joel turns too. The man is taller than you, but shorter than him. He’s wearing round, wire-frame glasses that sit like a suggestion on his nose, and a full suit, with a tie that has some god-awful, ugly pattern all over it. It looks like the art here, Joel thinks.
Joel’s eyes flit back to you, and he watches as your hackles go up. You back up, bumping into the canvas behind you. You curse under your breath.
“Quentin. Hey.”
“Glad you could make it,” the man, Quentin, says. He swirls a cup of what appears to be red wine in one hand. He leans in closer, brings the other hand up at the side of his mouth to conceal his words. “I know this isn’t really your scene.” 
You shift uncomfortably. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m uh, venturing out, I guess. Trying new things.” 
He laughs. It’s an asshole laugh, Joel notes. Everything about this guy screams asshole. 
“About time!” The asshole puts a hand on your shoulder. You flinch. Joel’s hands instinctively bunch into fists at his side. 
“So proud of you,” Quentin says. “Finally letting yourself be a little cultured.”
This guy can’t be serious.
You scoff. Grab his hand and flick it off your shoulder. He looks wounded. Good, Joel thinks. 
“Yeah, because traveling the world has left me so very uncultured, Quentin.”
“Hey,” he puts his hands up. “Don’t take offense, baby. I know your little field trips are important, too.”
It’s the last straw.
In one movement, you’re pushing off the wall, shoving past Quentin, and making your way to the exit. Joel doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at the asshole, just follows after you out the door. 
It’s gotten colder in the short time he’d been inside, he notices. A gust of wind nips at the exposed skin on his hands. He stuffs them haphazardly in the pockets of his jacket.
He finds you perched on the front steps, arms wrapped around your body protectively. He takes a few cautious strides forward. When you look up at him, you’re visibly distraught. 
You groan as he sits down next to you. “Sorry. That was embarrassing.” 
Joel wants to touch you, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but he knows he probably shouldn’t – not right now. 
“‘ts not embarrassin’,” he says, instead. His warm breath materializes in the cold air. “Not for you, anyway. That guy was clearly an asshole.”
“Yeah,” you nod. “That was my ex-boyfriend.” You’re  both quiet, then. The two of you sit there, side by side on the stairs, in comfortable silence. A few minutes pass. Joel notices you chewing on your bottom lip, like you’re considering something. When you speak again, your voice wavers.
“Would you want to go for a drink or something? It’s just, I really don’t want to be here anymore.” 
For a moment, he can’t believe what he’s hearing – you’re asking him out? He takes a second to respond. You start to backtrack. “It’s okay if you don’t wan-”
“Hey,” he stops you. Makes sure you’re looking at him. 
“I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.”
You breathe out a laugh. “Great.” Your hand drops to your side, brushing against his. He expects you to move it. He’s thankful when you don’t.
“I know a place–” you continue – “one that won’t be full of drunk college kids.”
“Great,” Joel parrots you. He stands, extends a hand to help you up. You take it, letting your palm rest against his for a moment longer than necessary when you’re upright.
“Cool,” you say, clearing your throat. You pull up the Uber app on your phone. Joel watches you book a driver. Then you turn back to him with a smile. It’s different from the one he’s seen before. It’s smaller, shyer.
“Larry will be here in 4 minutes,” you say.
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The bar is a twenty minutes’ drive from campus – fifteen with Larry’s lead foot.
It’s more of a lounge than a bar, really – leather armchairs accompanied by low cocktail tables arranged throughout the single large, open room. A brick fireplace sits on the back wall, currently roaring with warm orange flames. 
On either side of the fireplace are floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with vintage books, their illegible titles etched in gold along weathered spines. You can imagine that their pages are yellowed and dusty, and it’s so tempting to swipe one off the shelf to see, to smell.
The light in here is warm, a stark contrast from the bright white of the art gallery. It’s comforting, and you feel your body immediately relax when you walk through the entrance next to Joel.
The bar at the front is busy (it is Saturday night, after all), so you and Joel stand at the back of the crowd for a few moments, waiting for the people in front of you to get their drinks. When a group of men start forcing their way through right next to you, Joel immediately puts a large hand on your shoulder, turning your body towards his. He’s just being chivalrous, making sure you don’t get shoved, but it still sends a shockwave up your spine.
When a spot clears in front of the bar, Joel steps forward, bringing you with him. He orders a whiskey neat, then turns to you, asking what you want. 
It’s difficult to think with his hand still on you, so you go with the first words that come to mind. 
“Same as you.”
He stares at you for a moment, amused, like he can see right through you and the fact that you’ve never had whiskey in your life. But you hold his gaze, challenging him with your eyes, and he drops it. “Make that two,” he tells the bartender.
Once you have your drinks, Joel slaps a few bills down on the bar. You can tell he won’t let you do so much as offer to pay him back, so you don’t. You lead him through the lounge to a couple of chairs tucked away in the back corner, partially hidden behind an antique wooden partition – far enough from the main seating area, but still close enough to the fireplace that you can feel its warmth.
This is where you always sit when you come, usually with coworkers, once or twice with him. Quentin had been pretty critical of this place, like he is with everything. He’d complained that the wine selection could be larger – that they could have more French options. When you’d explained that most of their wines come from local vineyards, he’d just rolled his eyes.
You’re still reeling a bit from your interaction with him at the gallery, even as you settle into soft leather and feel a burst of warmth against your cheek. He was such an asshole, you think, taking a cautious sip of whiskey. You’re immediately repulsed by the taste of it, and you do a poor job of hiding the grimace that automatically spreads across your face in the crook of your arm.
Joe laughs across from you. “Not your thing? I can go grab ya somethin’ else,” he offers.  
“No,” you insist, “this is fine. Just need to get used to it.” It’s a lie – you both know it – but he doesn’t push it. 
Instead he leans back, swirls his own glass – which looks comically tiny in his grip – and lets out an exaggerated sigh. 
“So, your ex is a real dick, huh?”
“You can say that again,” you mumble. 
He quirks a brow at you. “Why’d you even date him?” 
It’s a fair question. Why had you dated him? Loneliness, maybe? You’d like to blame it on that, but it’s not the truth – not entirely. Quentin had been kind, at first. He had seemed so interested in you and where you came from and what you were passionate about. He was a relatively good boyfriend, all things considered – until he’d grown tired of hiding who he really was.
You’d gotten a substantial pay raise at the end of your second year at the university. When you’d told Quentin, he’d gone quiet – practically gave you the silent treatment for days on end. When you’d finally worn him down, gotten him to talk, the most he could utter was that he was happy for you; he just wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gotten a raise like that yet. 
It’s not like you were in competition – you worked for two entirely different departments, in different colleges. But it had been a constant losing battle nevertheless, to get him to stop comparing your successes. And when he’d found out you actually made more money than him – that had pretty much been the nail in the coffin. 
You tell Joel all of this. You’re not sure why you do – it’s not like you can blame the alcohol after one half-sip of whiskey. You feel comfortable with him though, here, like this. He’s a good listener, too, attentively nodding every so often as you ramble. 
When you’re done, he’s quiet. He stares at his drink, pursing his lips. 
After a beat, he looks up at you. 
“You deserve better than that, darlin’.”
You almost crumble under his gaze. His eyes are at least two shades darker than they had been a moment ago – and there’s something lingering behind them that you can’t quite place. Whatever it is has you feeling weak.
“You barely know me,” you joke. 
“Yeah,” he agrees. “I know enough, though. Could do much better than him, I reckon.”
You want to ask him if he has anyone in mind, if he would be better for you, but you can’t – not yet – not this sober. You take another sip of your drink, breathing through your nose as it burns its way down your throat. 
You talk for hours. He asks about your family; you tell him how you moved out here two years ago on your own after you finished your doctorate program. He’s impressed by that, says you’re brave. You tell him you’ve never felt very brave. 
It’s all so easy, talking to Joel in the dimly-lit bar you’ve been to so many times before. Sipping on whiskey as if you actually enjoy it. It’s never felt so much like home — not the bar, not this town. The thought is dizzying.
He asks about Sarah, too, how she’s doing in school. He insists that she doesn’t tell him much, and if she does, it’s about you and how great your classes are. 
“I had never even heard of anthropology before she decided to study it,” he admits. “But I’m glad she did. It’s her thing, f’sure.” 
You smile, knowingly. “Yeah, it is. She’s a great kid, Joel. You raised her well.”
He shakes his head humbly, but you don’t relent. You want him to hear this, really hear this. Because you get the feeling he hasn’t been told enough. 
“She’s not just smart, Joel. She’s good. She’s a good person. That’s kind of rare nowadays — especially among her generation.” 
Joel chuckles, his head hanging between his shoulders. 
“I mean, shit,” you continue, “she brings me pancakes from the diner just off campus whenever she knows I’m stuck in my office working late. My other students barely even ask how I’m doing most days.”
Joel hums in amusement. His eyes are locked on a wrinkle in the leather of the arm of his chair.
“Joel,” you say, pointedly. You wait for him to look at you. When he does, his gaze is uncertain. “She’s a good person —“ you repeat — “and that’s because you raised her to be.”
“‘ts just southern hospitality, is all,” he mumbles. 
“No Joel – it’s you.”
He stares for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing. His jaw twitches. And then he breaks, finally, a smile pulling at his lips. 
“Thank you.”
His voice is so soft suddenly. It throws you off. It also turns you on – like, a lot, the gravellyness of it scratching your brain and your loins. You dig your nails into leather in an attempt to steady your quickening heart rate.
“No problem,” you mutter sheepishly.
Suddenly, there’s a buzz on the table – Joel’s phone. He picks it up, squinting at the bright screen.
“Sarah?,” you ask.
“Nah, ‘ts just my brother, Tommy.”
He types out a quick response and re-locks the phone, placing it back down on the table.
“Everything alright?” 
“Yeah, jus’ asking if I think hookin’ up with a client is a bad idea,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.
You don’t know Tommy, but you like him already – seems like a fun guy. And clearly values his brother’s opinions. It’s telling, you think.
“That’s right – you’re a contractor. You and your brother work together?”
“Yeah, we got our own business back home.”
“And you like it?,” you ask. 
“Used to,” he laughs, “when I was more limber.”
You laugh too. You can feel the heat of slight intoxication, and something else, in your chest, your inhibitions dissolving in your bloodstream. And suddenly that horrible idea you’d had earlier to flirt with Joel doesn’t seem so bad anymore. 
“Still look plenty limber to me, Mr. Miller.” The words leave you before you have the chance to stop them.
Joel’s hands tense on either arm of his chair. Despite your buzz, you still have half a mind to worry that you’ve fucked up, that there’s a chance you’ve misread this whole thing.
But then he sinks back in the chair, the leather groaning under him. He rakes his dark eyes over you. And the way he’s looking at you is unmistakable. He looks hungry. You feel like your entire body has been set ablaze. 
Without thinking, you stand up, take a couple of steps toward him. Scan the lounge. Most of the remaining patrons are huddled by the bar, talking boisterously among themselves. Tucked in your little corner, the two of you might as well be in a different zip code.
“Whatcha doin’, darlin’?” Joel smirks up at you as you stand unmoving in front of him. He takes one of your hands in his and traces gentle, reassuring shapes along the back of it with his index finger.
Without a word, you hike your dress up to your thighs and straddle him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his legs. He hums approvingly as you sink onto his lap and cup his face in your hands. He places his own on your lower back, just above your ass. “This okay?,” you ask. It comes out breathy and wrecked.
“C’mere,” he says in that syrupy drawl, and then one of his hands is on the back of your head, pushing you gently against him, your lips slotting to his. 
It’s messy and all-encompassing. He kisses you with a fervency that confirms this hasn’t all been in your head –that he’s been wanting this too. 
The voices of bar-goers and the clinking of glassware are suddenly muted. All you can focus on is Joel — the way he tastes like whiskey and cinnamon gum, the way one of his large hands comes to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers tangled in the hair there while the other remains on your back, steadying you. The way he licks into your mouth after a few seconds with a groan, causing you to reflexively bare down on his lap.
You feel his cock swell underneath you and you grind against it, laughing low and quiet against his lips when his entire body tenses. He pulls back, blinking up at you with glazed-over eyes. Joel, all six feet of him, looks wrecked.
“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants. He looks down at where you’re hovering over his now fully-hard cock. “Gotta stop. Otherwise you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like a damn teenager.”
You pout at him, lifting your lower half off of his. You don’t stand up, though – not immediately, anyway. Instead, you take his head back in both of your hands. He lets you, blinking up at you wordlessly. 
You’d known when you’d first seen him earlier today that he was handsome, but right now, his face so close to yours – you’re seeing all of the little details – the scar indented in his forehead, just above his right eyebrow; the flush that stains his cheeks, which you can guess is partly from the alcohol, but maybe also from you. He’s biblically gorgeous, which makes it difficult to pry yourself off of him.
You do though, after a minute, smoothing down your dress once you’re back on two feet. You feel a bit breathless, suddenly. And exhausted.
What time is it? 
You retrieve your phone from where it’s been lodged in the cushion of your chair. 
You tap on the screen, waking it up. 
12:47?! When had it gotten so late?
Joel stands, adjusting himself in his pants. You can’t help but giggle at him — big, tough man looking positively ruined after just a few minutes of being under you. You feel pretty accomplished. He rolls his eyes at you. 
“Shut up — just get us an Uber.” You don’t miss the smile that sprouts between his cheeks when he thinks you aren’t looking.
You wait outside for your driver — John M.
The cold Vermont air is sobering. You feel almost normal by the time the car pulls up, save for the dull, throbbing ache between your legs. You will it away as you crouch into the back of the silver Nissan behind Joel. The sound of the radio playing soft rock hits is a poor distraction on the drive home.
“Wanna come in?,” you ask Joel when the car comes to a halt in front of your building. You watch him ponder it, eyes glued to the roof of the sedan. But ultimately, he shakes his head. “Can’t,” he says. “Gotta check on Sarah.”
You nod, try to hide your disappointment. “Right.” 
You open the door. Just as you’re about to get out, Joel stops you. 
“Wait,” he says. “Can I see your phone?” You’re confused, but you hand it over. You watch as he pulls up your contacts and clicks the ‘plus’ button in the corner, an understanding smile pulling at your lips. 
When he hands the phone back, his contact now in it, you grab his from off the seat next to him and do the same. 
“I’ll text you,” he promises as you step out. 
You turn back to him. “You better.”
He’s smiling when you shut the door.
You’re smiling when the car pulls away. 
It’s only when you’re tucked into bed, phone charging securely on the nightstand that the thought crosses your mind: you’re catching feelings for someone again. 
And then you feel sick.
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Joel wakes up the next morning feeling giddy. It’s like he’s a teenager all over again – waiting by the phone for a pretty girl to call him back. Only this time, he’s waiting for a text.
He had messaged you almost as soon as he’d gotten back to Sarah’s apartment last night, asking if he could see you again before he goes back to Texas. He has no shame about it, he can’t – not when his entire mind and body are consumed by his overwhelming attraction to you. 
He’d found it difficult to sleep last night, and not because the springs in Sarah’s cheap couch were digging into his already-damaged back. It was thoughts of you, and the borderline-painful erection they caused, that had kept him up.
Now, with the sun seeping through the living room windows directly into his eyes, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to be awake. He checks his phone immediately, and tries to ignore the way his heart sinks when he sees you haven’t responded yet. You’re probably still asleep, he tells himself.
He tosses his phone aimlessly back onto the couch and stands with a groan. His legs feel worse than his back, if that’s even possible. 
Sarah still isn’t awake, so Joel meanders into her kitchen, in search of something to eat for breakfast. It’s pretty much what you would expect from a college student’s kitchen – bare bones. There are a few suspicious containers of leftovers in the fridge along with a Brita water pitcher and a package of cookie dough. In the freezer, several cartons of ice cream (all chocolate) and half a loaf of bread. And finally, in the cabinets, a few boxes of mac & cheese and an unopened jar of peanut butter. 
Toast it is, then.
Sarah appears just as he’s raiding her drawers for a butter knife. “Morning,” she announces sleepily behind him. 
“Hey, Kiddo,” he says, turning to face her. “Hungry?”
“Yeah. There’s a diner down the street. Thought we could get pancakes.” She yawns.
Joel grins. That must be the place you’d told him about – the one Sarah brings you leftovers from when you’re working late. 
“You buyin’?,” he jokes. 
“Only in exchange for the juicy deets from last night.” She pauses. “Okay, maybe not all the deets. There’s some things I don’t need to know – like why you got home so late.” 
“Sarah,” Joel warns, but she’s undeterred, smiling like a Cheshire Cat with every one of her unbrushed teeth on display.
“Just get changed,” she says, and skips out of the room.
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You’ve been staring at the text for twenty minutes now.
Had a lot of fun tonight. Can I see you again before I leave? Let me know if you’re free tomorrow (today I guess). - Joel
You should say yes – you want to say yes – so why can’t you get your fingers to move? 
It’s a stupid question. You know why – it’s Quentin and your inability to shake the fear that someone  else will hurt you like he did. If you keep Joel at arm’s length – continue to ignore his message – he can’t do that. You can just take last night for what it was – a fun time, a hookup – and stop this before it goes too far, before feelings get involved.
Because it never ends well, once they do.
You get out of bed without responding, but you leave the text open on your phone. You attempt to busy yourself with housework and grading. Again and again though, you find your fingers hovering over the screen, your mind wandering to the way Joel’s lips had felt on yours, the way the bulge in his jeans had felt against your clothed heat, the sound of his southern drawl when he’d called you darlin’. 
Then you snap yourself out of it and place the phone face-down on the table.
This goes on for hours, a vicious cycle. You feel your resolve slipping more and more each time you pick the phone up.
The sun is high in the sky by the time you break, light bathing your kitchen and revealing all of the spots you’d missed when you’d dusted earlier. Your phone is heavy in the palm of your hand like a bomb – like if you don’t hit send right now, you’ll lose the motivation and it’ll detonate, taking any chance of you seeing Joel tonight and not self-sabotaging with it. 
You close your eyes when you press the button and toss your phone somewhere across the room.
Well – you think – no going back now.
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Joel is sitting on cold, hard bleachers at the Homecoming football game when he sees you’ve responded, the shouts of people in the stands around him not enough to avert his attention.
Hey, yeah, that would be great! Do you want to come to my apartment later? I have a bottle of wine we can crack into if you’d like. And I can order pizza.
The announcer is saying something about player #72 over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t tune in. 
Joel types his reply and sends it:
Sounds perfect. I’ll come over around 7?
Sarah groans next to him. “You wanted to come to this game, dad. If you’re bored already, can we leave?”
His eyes shoot up. “No, uh – sorry. Just had to answer one text.”
Sarah narrows her eyes at him. They dart to the phone just as another message rolls in, your name flashing across the screen before Joel can hide it.
“Is that my professor?”
Joel doesn’t answer. His silence confirms enough. 
“I knew you guys hit it off last night! See, dad, even though you didn’t wanna tell me at breakfast, I still found out. I always find out. Because Sarah knows all.” She attempts a maniacal, Disney villain-esque laugh. 
Joel raises an eyebrow at her. 
“You done?”
“So you going out again later? Do I need to make your bed on the couch, or should I just not bother?”
He ignores her. Someone gets a touchdown and half the crowd goes wild. He doesn’t bother to check what team scored. 
He opens your latest message, instead.
Perfect. See you then, Cowboy ;)
His breath hitches at the nickname, at the thought of you calling him that again in person. The thought of kissing you again, if you’ll let him.
He doesn’t catch who wins the game.
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Joel arrives at your apartment at seven o’clock on the dot. 
Punctual, you note.
He’s holding a bottle of wine, gripping the neck with long, calloused fingers. 
“Know you said you had some already,” he says as he steps over the threshold. “Just didn’t wanna come empty handed.” 
The sentiment takes you aback. You’re not exactly used to dates bringing you gifts, especially ones this expensive, if the minimalist yet fancy label is any indicator. 
“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, taking the bottle from him. You can’t quite make out the name – something foreign, etched in cursive. 
“‘ts Italian, I think,” he mumbles, as if he can read your mind. 
Your eyes shift from the bottle to Joel, standing in front of you in his Carhartt jacket, brows furrowed, gaze trained on the floor at his feet. 
“Thank you,” you say more genuinely this time. 
Joel smiles appreciatively. You motion to the space behind you.
“Come in.” 
You lead Joel to the kitchen, just off the entranceway, and place the bottle down on the counter, gently. You tuck yourself in the corner, leaning back to rest your arms on cool granite. Joel mirrors you against the adjacent island. 
“How’s Sarah?” you ask. “Feeling any better?”
“Uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing at his scruff. “She was askin’ about you. Saw me textin’ you.”
“Yeah – guess you couldn’t exactly hide this from her, staying at her apartment and all.”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “Guess not.”
You pop open the bottle of wine. Pour glasses for both of you. Then you order pizza: one cheese, one sausage and pepper. The person on the other end of the line tells you it’ll be thirty to forty minutes. 
“Gonna be a bit of a wait,” you tell Joel when you hang up. “Busy night, I guess.” 
He nods, takes a sip of wine, and then places the glass down, his eyes unmoving from yours. 
You realize then that he’d been staring at you the entire time you were on the phone. The way he’s looking at you – gaze the same as the one from the bar last night when you’d straddled him – has you feeling suddenly nervous.
“What?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. 
“Can I kiss you again?” he asks.
Oh.
You breathe out a laugh. It’s not funny – really, the opposite – but you hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. “Joel-” you’re going to say yes – fuck yes – but he interrupts you. 
“Been dyin’ to since last night.” He’s so open, so earnest. It’s fucking hot.
“Joel,” you say again, louder this time. He freezes. His eyes widen, like he’s anticipating your answer. 
“Please.”
It’s all he needs to hear. In an instant, he crosses the distance between you. He places his hands on the counter behind you, framing your body with his. You peer up at him and, fuck – he looks ravenous. 
He kisses you – hard. His teeth crash against yours. It’s messy and hurried, but you don’t care – you want him closer, need him closer. 
Your head swims with memories of the feeling of his bulge against your clothed core. The need to feel it again is all-consuming. You’re greedy for it. And with the time constraint, you don’t want to wait another second. 
You pull back abruptly. Joel furrows his eyebrows where he looms over you, concerned.
“Joel,” you pant,  “I need you.”
It takes him a second to compute what you’re asking. And then he’s nodding furiously.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay, darlin’.”
You pull him back in with a hand at the back of his neck, digging your nails into the skin there. His tongue slips into your mouth with a groan. You’re minutely aware of him shrugging his jacket off, hearing the light thump it makes when it hits the linoleum. And then his hands are on you, wandering up and down your body like he needs to feel every inch of you. He tugs at the base of your t-shirt impatiently. 
“Off,” he mumbles against your lips. You pull back only to do as he’s asked, and then you’re right back on him, sucking a bruise into the skin below his ear, your body claiming him subconsciously. His head falls back momentarily, revealing his bobbing throat. You scrape your teeth lightly along the skin there, eliciting a groan from Joel. 
Your mouth continues exploring his neck as his fingers find the clasps of your bra, unhooking them quickly and tossing it aside. You don’t see where. You don’t really care – you’ll find it later.
He grabs your now-naked sides and steps back, pulling you with him. Then he turns you and pushes you back against the island. 
He slaps the countertop behind you. “Up,” he breathes against your neck. You don’t argue. You don’t want to argue. You’re so used to being the one in charge, the one in control — right now you’re happy to bend to Joel’s will.
You grip the edge of the island with both hands and hoist yourself up so that you’re perched there, legs dangling.
Joel’s fingers immediately go to the button of your jeans, popping it open before moving to tug the zipper down. And then he’s helping you lift your hips so that he can pull them down and off. He adds them to the pile at his feet.
You’re left in nothing but your underwear splayed out on your kitchen counter in front of him. You feel like you should be self conscious, maybe even embarrassed by your depravity. But you can’t find it in you to be either, not when Joel is slotted between your legs, his dark eyes scanning over you hungrily. Showing you he needs you just as bad as you need him.
He rubs his hands over your thighs and up the sides of your body, mapping your curves with great concentration. “God damn,” he whispers, what seems to be, mostly to himself. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”
You whine pathetically. Your patience is growing thin.
He smirks up at you, likely seeing in your face how desperate you are for him right now. 
“‘ts okay baby, I got you,” he coos, suddenly sinking to his knees in front of you. His hands move closer to your clothed pussy, but not quite there, tracing light circles along your inner thighs. Then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, sending your hips bucking off the counter, chasing him.
The coarse hair of his mustache scratches the skin surrounding where he sucks and bites. You don’t care. You just want to feel it lower, against your dripping folds.
“Please,” you breathe, shakily. Through hooded eyes, you catch Joel’s satisfied grin. You realize then that he loves this — making you beg for it, for him. It’s a dizzying contradiction to the way he was practically begging to kiss you just moments ago.
He presses a chaste kiss against your skin, his lips infuriatingly close to where you need them most.
“Whatcha need, darlin’?” he purrs. The vibration of his voice just next to your core has you spiraling. 
“Need your mouth,” you cry. “Please.”
“Where?” He nips at you, half an inch closer to your swollen clit. You can feel his breath. Your cunt reactively clenches around nothing. 
“On my pussy, Joel” you plead. 
He pulls away from you completely, looks up at you with devilish eyes.
“Good girl.”
He dips one finger into the side of your underwear, pulling them aside to reveal your glistening core. “Damn baby, you’re soaked,” he drawls. You catch the hint of pride that tinges his voice. 
“Please,” you beg again, your voice wanton and broken.
Joel gently pets your throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb. The pressure he applies is feather-light, barely there. But still, after all the teasing, you can’t help the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes you.
He chuckles darkly. “Alright sweetheart, I know – enough teasin’.”
He hooks both index fingers in the top of your panties, pulling them down and off in one swift movement. And then his tongue is on you, exactly where you need it. 
He holds you open with fingers digging deliciously into the meat of your thighs as he licks long, languid stripes from your leaking cunt up to your clit, over and over again until you’re a whimpering mess underneath him. You struggle to hold your weight up on your elbows, watching him as he works you with his mouth.
He’s so good at this – too good at this. You tell him as much, between broken moans. 
“Sofuckinggood Joel – holy shit.”
You swear you can feel him smirk against your heat. 
He buries his face into your cunt then, nose pressed against your clit, and swivels his head back and forth, coating his mustache and beard in your arousal. He groans against you, like this is getting him off just as much as you. It’s all so obscene, so filthy.
You’ve never had a man go down on you like this – like they actually enjoy it. But then again, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise, not when it’s Joel. You’ve quickly come to learn that he’s attentive in every sense of the word. Knows just what you want, what you need – evident by the way his lips latch back onto your clit when you keen for him.
He keeps his attention there, switching between suckling on it – which is enough to make you see stars on its own – and lapping at it with short, shallow flicks of his tongue. He experiments with different angles, licking at different spots on the bundle of nerves until he finds the one that makes you cry out, your babbles of there Joel, yes, right fucking there, don’t stop, letting him know exactly where to focus. 
You feel yourself quickly hurtling toward the edge. You just need a little bit more to get you there.
“Fingers,” you pant. “Need your fingers in me.”
Two of his fingers are at your entrance before you can even blink. You’re so wet that he slides them in easily, curling them against your walls. He expertly finds your G-spot, massaging it as his tongue continues to lap at your clit.
You gasp at the combination. It’s so good – so much.  “Oh my god Joel, I’m so close,” you cry.
He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even look at you. His eyes are closed in concentration, fingers and tongue unrelenting. He’s lost in your pussy. You can tell he’s not going to come up for air until he’s given you an orgasm. 
And it doesn’t take much longer – one, two, three more strokes of his fingers and you’re cumming hard.
Your vision blurs and your ears ring in your head. You’re vaguely aware that Joel is pinning one of your thighs down with his free hand to hold you in place as you thrash against the countertop. 
He fucks you through it, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continues to curl them against that spot, your clit throbbing against his tongue. 
It is – without a doubt – the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 
He doesn’t stop when you’ve come down, eager to milk every last drop from your weeping cunt. The overstimulation is too much. Your grip tightens in his hair, weakly attempting to pull him off of you as you whimper nonsense above him. You manage to exhale his name, or something close to it, and he finally lifts his face.  
His eyes meet yours, dark and hooded. He looks absolutely pussydrunk.
The entire lower half of his face is soaked with your slick. His shiny, pink lips pepper kisses along your inner thighs, smoothing over the spots he’d marked with his teeth just minutes ago. You feel so sensitive – you shiver under his touch. 
His smile curves into your skin. He leaves one last light peck and stands up, grunting at the ache in his knees. You laugh, but you can tell by the darkness still looming in his gaze that he’s not done with you yet.
He helps you off the counter, steadying you with hands gripping your sides as you find your footing. Your legs feel like Jell-O, a welcomed side-effect of the earth-shattering orgasm you’ve just had. You lead Joel to your bedroom, leaving your clothes scattered across the kitchen floor.
He backs you toward the bed as soon as you’re in your room, lips latched to the side of your neck. The backs of your legs hit the mattress, and then he’s lowering both of your bodies onto it, cradling your head in his hand as you settle underneath him.
He sits back on his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head to reveal his broad, tan torso. You’re pretty sure you’re salivating, lost in the slope of his shoulders and the wide expanse of his chest. Your eyes trail lower as he undoes his belt, followed by the button of his jeans. He shimmies them off along with his boxers, his large cock springing free, tip shiny with pre-cum, and hovers back over your eager body. 
He dips down and presses his lips to yours, prying your mouth open with his tongue. He’s remarkably patient for how hard he is, his erection pressing into your thigh as he kisses you, slow and wet.
One of his hands grips your jaw, the other pressed firmly against the mattress next to you. Minutes pass like that, you and Joel losing yourselves in each other. Then you remember that you don’t have all the time in the world – that your delivery driver could get here any minute. In truth, you’re not even fucking hungry anymore – not for pizza, anyway.
You snake your hand up to the back of Joel’s head, pulling at his roots lightly. “Joel,” you breathe when he lifts off of you, “please fuck me.”
He doesn’t have to be asked twice.
“How do you want it, baby?” he purrs in your ear, his warm breath skating over your skin. “How do you like it?”
You breathe out a moan. No man has ever asked you how you like it. They usually just give you a few sloppy, ill-timed thrusts, whatever they can muster before cumming and leaving you unsatisfied. 
But Joel isn’t just any man. 
“Hard,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me hard.”
He growls, low and dark. “‘ts right, sweetheart.”
He lines himself up with your entrance, rutting against your folds a few times to gather some of your wetness with the tip of his cock.
Then he sinks into you, slowly, stretching your walls as he notches further and further in. There’s a sweet, stinging pain, one you hope, fleetingly, that you’ll be able to feel tomorrow – like a keepsake from him. 
You sigh when he reaches the hilt, his tip nudging your cervix. He stills, letting you get used to his girth and you have to dig your nails into his back to keep from writhing under him. You don’t mind if it hurts – you just need him to move. 
“Please,” you whine, unable to stop your hips from bucking any longer. “I can take it, Joel.”
“Know you can, baby,” he coos, beginning to rock slowly inside of you. The pleasure is immediate, washing over your body like a warm wave.
He picks up the pace when he’s sure it feels good for you, dragging his cock halfway out of you and thrusting back in, over and over again. 
He grabs both of your legs, bending them so that you’re spread wide open for him, and grips the backs of your knees tightly as he slams into you. He can get so much deeper like this, his cock hitting a spot you didn’t even know you had. You let out a labored moan, fingers anchored into his delts.
“Talk to me darlin — tell me how it feels,” he pants.
“So – fuck, Joel – so fucking good.”
Joel drops his mouth to your shoulder, nips at the skin there. 
His voice is in your ear, a low snarl.
“‘Better than that fuckin ex, I bet.” 
You’d be annoyed by his cockiness – if he wasn’t so right.
But he is, and so you parrot, “So much better.” And then, because it’s the truth, you add, “the best.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, his hips stuttering at your words. “Can’t say that angel, you’ll make me cum.”
He pulls out and slams back into you again, setting a new, devastating pace. He fills you up just to leave you empty, over and over again. You’re a babbling mess underneath him, couldn’t string two more words together if you tried. Luckily, Joel is happy to take over and do the talking. 
“So fuckin’ pretty, babygirl. Make the most gorgeous noises, too.”
You’re so fucking close, you can only whimper in response. You feel your walls tighten around him.
He presses your foreheads together, his sweaty curls sticking to your skin. His eyes bore into yours. 
“C’mon baby, show me – show me how pretty ya are when ya cum on this cock.”
He brings one hand down to your clit, rubbing sloppy circles over it as he continues spearing into you. You hike your newly-freed leg up over his lower back.  A white heat licks at your spine. You barely have time to tell Joel you’re about to cum, your warning coming out a single cry of his name. He gets it, though, bringing you over the edge with his words. 
“I got you, baby, I got you; you can let go.”
Your orgasm barrels through you, from the tips of your toes all the way up to your ears. Joel doesn’t let up his ministrations, talking you through it as you writhe under him. 
“Thaaaats it. Good – ahh – good fuckin’ girl.” 
The only word you can think of in your state of euphoria is his name, chants of Joel, Joel, Joel spilling from the back of your throat as you cum.
You’re squeezing his cock through your aftershocks, and you can tell he’s close by the way his thrusts become more and more uneven. 
“Fuck – where do you want it?” he braces both palms against the mattress on either side of you.
“Inside – please, Joel,” you beg. “I’m on the pill.”
He curses in ecstasy,  cumming seconds later with a series of low grunts. His hips stall as he spills inside of you. There’s so much of it – he’s nearly drowning your cervix, coating your walls with rope after rope of his spend. 
He softens inside you, staying there for a long moment as you both come down from your highs. You’re sweaty, panting messes, and you can’t help but giggle at how spent you both sound. 
“Good?” he asks, nosing at the space just below your jaw. It’s so soft, so gentle. Your stomach does a backflip.
“Yeah,” you say. “Really fucking good.”
He pulls out of you with a low, guttural noise. You sigh at the loss of him, your hand coming down reflexively  to feel where he’s leaking out of you. His fingers graze yours, and he bumps them aside to scoop up some of your combined fluids. 
He brings his wet, sticky fingers to your lips, humming when you immediately take them into your mouth and suck them clean, eyes unmoving from his the entire time. You bat your eyelashes at him, innocently as he pulls them out with a wet pop.
“Fuck,” he curses, “gonna get me hard again, angel.”
He lays down next to you, letting his head thump against the pillow, and flexes his biceps behind his head. You kind of hope he does get hard again, despite the fact that your whole body feels like liquid. Like if you were to try and stand, your legs would most definitely give out on you. They’re trembling right now, where you have them half-bent, heels dug into the mattress.
Your phone rings, then, snapping you out of your post-coital bliss. Fuck – the pizza.
You answer, trying your best to hide the undeniably fucked-out lilt of your voice as you tell the delivery person that someone will be right down.
Joel laughs next to you when you hang up. “I’ll get it – hold on.”
He jumps out of bed and dresses quickly. You’re gawking at him as he does. You can’t help it. This man – probably the hottest man you’ve ever seen – was just inside of you. You want to pat yourself on the back. He notices you staring as he’s zipping up his jeans and shoots you a wink.
Joel deadbolts your front door and disappears into the hallway. He returns moments later, shutting and re-locking the door, and strides back into your bedroom with both boxes. You can see the steam coming off of them through the cardboard. 
He sets them down by your feet.
“In bed?” you ask, sitting up against the headboard. 
“Well I’m not sure you can walk to the kitchen, darlin’.”
Your face heats. He has a point. But he doesn’t have to be so smug about it. You roll your eyes at him and mumble something nonsensical under your breath as you tuck yourself in under your duvet.
“What was that?” He quirks an eyebrow.
Long gone is the shy Joel from earlier this evening. He knows your body now, knows how hard he makes you cum. He’s a whole different man post-coitus – bolder. It makes you damn near melt.
And maybe you’re different now too. Because you’re pretty sure you’d give up your vow of solitude for him, if he asked.
It’s crazy, probably. You’ve only known Joel for two days, after all. But you can’t help the way that he ( and his dick) makes you feel. Like maybe there’s a promise of something down the line, however serious that something may be. You just know you want to give yourself the opportunity to experience it, no matter how it ends.
“Nothing.” You break, grin pulling tight at the corners of your mouth. “Just get me a slice of cheese.”
He lets his gaze linger for a second longer, the faux-threat of it heating you from the inside out. And then he’s vanishing into the kitchen, returning with two plates and a stack of paper towels. 
He dishes up slices for the both of you, climbing into bed next to you and handing over yours. 
He settles in with a content sigh.
You both eat in happy silence for a few minutes, Joel giving you a satisfied nod when he finishes up his first slice. “‘ts good,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food. 
“Right?” you retort. “It’s my favorite pizza around here.”
He hums in agreement. Pulls the box of sausage and pepper onto his lap to grab another slice.
“So,” you start, “you’re heading home tomorrow?” It’s more of a statement than a question. You know he is. But still, part of you wants Joel to say no, tell you that he’s canceled his flight, that he’s decided to stick around for a bit longer. 
“Yeah,” he says. You feel your heart sink. You silently curse yourself for being delusional. 
“Are you excited?” you try. “To be home?”
He doesn’t respond right away – his forehead wrinkling and his lips falling into a small frown. You watch as he thinks on it. 
“Not really,” he admits after a few seconds. 
“I know you’ll miss Sarah,” you say, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. 
He peers down at you with a heavy sigh. “So much…” His voice trails off, like there’s something else he wants to add, but can’t. 
The air feels thick, suddenly – heavy. You try your best to lighten it.
“Can’t stay a bit longer? Let Tommy run things for a while?”
“No,” he laughs. “Pretty sure he’ll just end up screwin’ every client we got.” 
“And you’d end up screwing every one of Sarah’s professors,” you tease. 
His mouth falls open in mock-offense. He grabs at both your sides, suddenly, letting the open box of pizza slide off of his lap and onto the bed. He tickles relentlessly just under your ribs, causing you to squeal and squirm under his grip.
“Joel,” you cry in between fits of laughter. “Stop!” 
“I don’t think so, darlin’,” he tuts. He removes one of hands momentarily, to toss your plate aside, and then he’s hooking one of his legs over your body, straddling you. He looks so big like this, his body hanging over yours. You feel content – safe. His hands release you, finally, coming to settle on either side of your head on your pillow. You blink up at him. He’s staring down at you with narrowed eyes. 
“What?” 
“Nothin,” he mumbles. “‘ts just, I wouldn’t, ya know. Sleep with anyone else, I mean. If you didn’t want me to.”
Your breath catches in your throat. You know that if you respond, it’ll come out way too eager. So you just blink at him again. 
“Would you want to keep talkin’ after I get home?”
Yes, you want to say. Please. I don’t think I could go on without knowing if I’ll get to see you again – fuck you again.
You swallow. Collect yourself. 
“Yeah. I would.”
You shimmy under Joel so that you can sit up. He straightens out, shifting his weight onto his knees. Takes both of your hands in his and pulls you up.
His eyes are still locked on yours. “I know we just met this weekend,” he says. “But I had a lot’a fun with you. I like you.” 
Your cheeks warm. “I like you too, Joel.” 
He smiles. “‘m glad.”
“Doesn’t have to be anythin’ serious,” he continues. Lets his fingers trace aimlessly along the inside of your arm. “We can jus’ see where it goes.”
“Yeah,” you nod, your heart squeezing in your chest. “See where it goes. I like that.” 
And it’s the truth. You do. In the stillness, your legs tucked under the covers, Joel caressing you, you feel, for the first time in a long time, happy to not be alone. And you know you will be again, very soon, when Joel leaves to go back home. But then again, you won’t – not really. His voice will be there, a phone call away, and his body will be there, in the divot he’s left in your mattress. And you’ll have the promise of taking this slow, seeing where it goes. 
You’ve never been so excited for the future. 
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end notes: tysm for reading! I may turn this into a series if people want more of these two <3 lmk hehe
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hysteria-things · 1 month
Note
hi! i recently found your account, and i js wanna say omg ur so talented, like ur fr my new fav writer. could u maybe write something about a virgin reader, whos only ever fingered herself, and so when matt (or chris but im a matt girl and im being self indulgent about this), and she squirts, and is super embarrassed about it and he comforts her about it? u dont have to, but idk i js think u could do this idea rlly well:)
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FIRST TIME
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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: soft dom!matt x virgin!reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and matt have been together for quite sometime, but never had sex. he knows you’re a virgin and he’s so patient with you, but now you think you’re ready
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT but fluff!, making out, mini panic attack, praising, p in v, squirting
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,066
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: for anon and @mattsleftnipple03
these were pretty much the same so i combined them! hope you like :)
thank you and love you guys🫶
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the pen in your hand scribbles on the piece of paper in front of you as you ponder. you’re in art class and your best friend sits across from you at the big table.
art class is basically a free period because let’s face it, you guys don’t do anything except gossip and draw for fun.
you’ve been asking your friend a series of questions about what losing your virginity is like since she has experience. the only experience you’ve ever gotten was your fingers, and to be honest, it gets old after a while.
you’re not embarrassed about being a senior in high school and still a virgin, but your boyfriend who graduated last year lost his with his ex a while back. you guys have talked about having sex for the first time for quite some time, but you were never ready.
no words can describe how grateful you are for matt. he’s been super patient and understanding with you.
but now, you think you’re ready.
“is there a reason you are asking me these questions?” your best friend asks, raising a brow.
you shrug, your hand still having a mind of its own with the pen. “i’m thinking about going all the way with matt.”
she smiles, genuinely looking happy for you. “oh my god! when?”
“i told him i plan on this weekend.”
“that’s so exciting!”
“yeah, but,” you pause to take a deep breath. “i feel nervous.”
she reaches over to stop your drawing hand. “it’s totally normal to feel nervous. matt’s such a sweet guy. i’m sure if you feel the slightest bit of discomfort, he’ll stop immediately.”
you smile at the mention of your boyfriend. she’s not wrong. matt will do anything to make you feel comfortable. he’s not one to force anything on someone. “you’re right.”
she gives your hand a light squeeze. “let me know how it goes.” she winks just as the bell rings for dismissal.
the rain outside is pattering on the window, you and matt cuddling comfortably on his bed. you guys just woke up from the best nap of your life.
you nibble on the inside of your mouth. “matt?”
“hm?” he hums, picking up his head that was resting on your chest.
“i want to do it.”
he beams at you. “positive?”
you bite your lip in excitement and nod. matt lifts himself to get more serious. “don’t be afraid to tell me to stop, okay?”
“i know,” you reply. he leans in and kisses you passionately with a hint of hunger. he breaks the kiss to take off his and your shirt but goes back at it to unclip your bra.
the skin-to-skin contact felt warm and comforting, but your anxiety is starting to take over.
you try to brush it off until matt reaches for your pants. yanking his hands away, you cover your top half with the comforter as you feel tears start to form.
matt freezes, a hint of guilt on his face. you try your best to take as many deep breaths as possible. “i’m so sorry, y/n.”
he carefully places his hand on your arm and rubs soothingly to calm you down. “n-no it’s not you.” you take three deep breaths before continuing. “it’s silly. the thought of a penis about to be inside of me freaks me out.”
you chuckle along with him, the humor helping you relax. “we don’t have—”
“i want to.” you say truthfully. “i just need a second.”
he goes through different breathing techniques with you until you calm down from your mini panic attack. he asks if you're okay at least a hundred times before you shut him up by kissing him again.
he hesitates with your pants not wanting to trigger you again, but after a beat, he pulls them down with your underwear.
his pajama pants soon end up on the floor with the rest of your clothes. he comes under the blanket with you and pecks you on the temple, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. “so proud of you.” he starts, making you blush. “you ready?”
you give him the okay, and he slowly starts pushing into you. the stretch makes you cringe and hiss, causing him to halt. “hurts?”
you shake your head. “pressure… keep going.”
dampening your lips by licking them, he continues to move. his eyes are dead set on your face to sense any discomfort. you let out a ‘mmph’ when he’s all the way in.
when he doesn’t see any bad signs, he starts moving his hips. you moan softly, the pain turning into pleasure.
“you can go faster,” you whisper, and he does. your nails leave crescent marks on his shoulders as he peppers kisses on your chest, neck, and face.
you squeeze your eyes closed, the softest of sounds leaving your lips. then, your legs twitch, and a watery liquid squirts out of you. your eyes widen, and matt stops the second he notices. “what’s wrong? need me to stop?”
“no. i think i…” your cheeks burn, too embarrassed to admit what you’re thinking.
“that’s okay. it’s completely natural.” he reassures, grabbing one of your hands to interlock with his above your head. “you’re doing so well, y/n. so fucking proud of you.”
he continues to rock his hips, this time pulling out more and thrusting back in a smidge harder. “oh.” you moan, arching your back when he starts hitting a certain spot. “oh shit, matt. just like that.”
he tries his best not to pick up speed to scare you, so instead he keeps the rhythm you’re comfortable with. he grunts, taking the hand that’s not holding yours and placing it on your hip.
the grip you have on his hand tightens, indicating that you’re close when his tip keeps abusing your g-spot.
you whimper, your legs starting to quiver from pleasure. “i’m close.”
“cum, baby. you’re doing such a good job.”
you sigh of relief when your cum slowly starts to ooze around him. matt’s right there with you with just a few more thrusts before spilling into the condom.
the feeling of him pulling out of you makes you wince, but then you two giggle. “i did it!” you say proudly, holding up your hand to give him a high five.
he laughs. “damn right you did.” he takes your high five, followed by a handhold.
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𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!
@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72
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sports-on-sundays · 4 months
Text
people change / CL16 / Part 1
Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - You wish you could just forget about the relationship. It's hard when you had a son together.
Warnings: 'Y/s/n' means 'your son's name', you are free to imagine the son as whatever age he acts because I leave that unspecified, mention of breaking up/divorce, broken family, censored cussing, getting drunk, toxic relationship, me sucking at writing kids (how do they even act???)
Requested?: No.
Author's Note: This was heavily inspired by the song People Change by for KING & COUNTRY at the end there especially. I listened to it while writing. So you're free to look that up and have a listen.
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"Hey, sweetie," you say as you buckle your son into the car. "How was your day at school?"
"Fun... But Mama, I didn't know what to do."
"Hm? When didn't you know what to, love?" you ask, concerned.
"Well, we did papers and pictures about our mommies and daddies and our houses and stuff and I didn't know, Mama..."
You stop after he says this, pulling your hands away as they tremble. Your heart, at those words from your son, feels like it's being wrenched out of your chest, and you cough into your arm. "O- Oh, sweetheart..." you clear your throat. "Well, why don't you first draw pictures and write about me and my house, and then you write and draw about your daddy and his house..."
Your son does a pouting face at this. "Mama..." he complains. "Why can't you and Daddy be like other kids' mommies and daddies?"
"Love, I don't think this is the time to be talking about this. Let's just get driving home now." You hate to shut him down, but he's asking too many questions that you just can't answer.
He's asking too many questions that are making you feel too confused and guilty.
"Hey, buddy. What's up?" you smile as you get out of the car to help your son pack his bags into the trunk, and then get in the backseat. You're doing this right outside Charles' house. You're picking him up from his weekend with his dad.
The little boy shrugs as you buckle him in. "I want my grey bag, Mama! Daddy gave me some food for the ride."
"What do you say?"
"Please!" he pouts.
You nod, and give him his bag. Charles is always sure to equip Y/s/n with a bagful of healthy snacks for the hour and forty-five minute drive back home.
The whole ride, Y/s/n is unusually quiet. Even when you try talking to him, he gives short answers and makes no effort to continue the conversation. Which is very unusual from the usually frisky and excitable little boy.
When you get home and go inside, he immediately goes to his room, still not saying anything.
You sigh, feeling worried.
Did...
Did Charles do something?
Even though the two of you separated for big reasons, you've never felt too worried about Y/s/n going to see him every other weekend, except for maybe at the beginning. Over the years, you're pretty sure that Charles has gotten more responsible than how he once was.
"Dinnertime, love!"
Silence.
"Love?"
"I'm not hungry!"
You sigh, the worry sinking deeper. "You should have saved some of your dad's snack for later, then! I made dinner for you!"
Silence. Again.
You walk down the hall and knock on his bedroom door, before gently pushing it open. The little boy is sitting on his red bed. In his hand is his Ferrari hat. He's blankly staring at it.
Oh God no. What did Charles do? What did Charles say? Doesn't he understand the unspoken boundaries about this?
"Y/s/n?" you say gently, sitting down next to him. "What's wrong, sweetie? You know you can tell me. I'm listening."
The boy looks older than he is right now. You feel a sharp pang in your chest as he murmurs, "Why do you and daddy live in different countries? How come I have two houses, two bedrooms... two everything? How come, Mama?"
It takes all you have to not tear up. You wrap your arms tightly around him at this. He leans against you, hugging you back.
"Andre and Alex have a mommy and daddy who live in the same house. How come you and Daddy don't?"
"Y/s/n, it's really complicated, love. But, can I ask... What has got you thinking of all of this, love? What has got this on your mind?" You speak in a very gentle tone, rubbing his back. Obviously, this is upsetting him. Really, though, what kid wouldn't be upset?
Your son looks at you in hesitation. "I'm not allowed to say..."
You feel another pang of worry. "Love, it's okay. You can tell your mama anything."
"But Daddy told me not to."
You swallow nervously. "You're not doing anything wrong by telling me. I'm giving you permission. I can't have you feeling this upset, love. You can tell me anything that's bothering you, even if your father told you not to." Y/s/n is too much of a good kid. You don't know where he gets it from.
You wipe your son's watering eyes, trying to reassure him. He sniffs, before saying, "You won't tell Daddy?"
"Tell Daddy what?"
"What I'm gonna tell you."
You bite your lip. "Of course not, love. I won't tell your daddy."
He nods, before saying, as he starts to really cry, "Daddy cried, Mommy... I wasn't allowed to know but I couldn't sleep because Daddy forgot to read me my story. So I was going in to tell him to snuggle me... because I couldn't sleep. But Daddy was crying..." Y/s/n sniffs, and continues blubbering, "Daddy was talking to someone on the phone and he was really sad... I don't know why Daddy was crying, Mama. He said he was sad because he missed you and me to the person on the phone. Daddy was so sad so I don't know why we don't make Daddy happy and why can't my mommy and daddy be like my friends' mommies and daddies?" He lets out a sob, snuggling into you. You're speechless as your son continues, "I went and gave Daddy a hug because he was sad. He said he missed you. He asked me why I was up and said I was in trouble and said I wasn't allowed to tell you he was sad and crying. He said even daddies cry sometimes," he sniffs and lets out another sob. You hold him tight, eyes wide. "I asked him how come he was sad and he said he didn't know and he loved me and then we went to bed. I don't get it, Mama."
You try not to tremble.
Fighting off tears, because the last thing Y/s/n needs is to see his mom cry on top of it all. Not sad tears, though. Angry tears.
Why can't Charles just let go? He's so possessive and obsessive. F*ck him and his Monaco flat and his boat and his Ferrari and everything f*cking else. Why would he let his son see him so vulnerable. Doesn't he care? F*ck him.
Why can't he just let go?
You walk down the hall of the mall, your son's little hand in yours, heading to the food court because eventually, Y/s/n's complaining about how 'I'm hungryyyyy!' got too annoying, and you gave in.
Suddenly, though, his little hand slips out of yours. You look down at him in confusion, starting to say his name. He starts running away. You're about to go after him, but suddenly freeze when the little boy shouts, "Look, Mama, look! It's Daddy! Daddy! Hi, Daddy! Hiiiii!"
And sure enough, Charles Leclerc stops as soon as he sees his son, a grin spreading across his face. He adjusted his cap to be lower on his forehead, clearly trying to go incognito here. But he bends down, and the moment little Y/s/n reaches Charles, his father scoops him up into his arms, standing up with an, "Auwgh," noise, as if it were really hard for the strong man to pick up his light son. Charles holds him tight, in an embrace, before saying, "What's up, buddy? Where's your mama?" Y/s/n points, and Charles looks up.
Your eyes meet. And everything stops. The voices, the music, the whir of the escalators, the lights, heating, and air conditioning all making their own sounds, the people walking past- everyone else living their own lives disappear.
And it's just you and Charles, eyes locked, staring at each other.
Heartbeats or seconds or minutes, you don't know. You feel a certain electricity that hurts. Shocks you. Maybe Charles likes how it feels though. Maybe he loves that, with his adrenaline seeking lifestyle. Because, after all, he doesn't look away.
But in the same way, you don't either.
Finally, it's your son that breaks the trance you seemed to go into with your ex-husband, by saying suddenly words that stress you out and tear you apart at the same time: "See, Daddy?" He pats his father's cheek, which has a little bit of facial hair. "You don't have to cry anymore... You don't..." Suddenly, he looks a little scared, realizing he wasn't supposed to say that, but finishes softly with, "You don't have to miss Mama anymore, Daddy, because she's right here..."
There's almost a pleading in your son's eyes. A longing. You feel yourself start to tear up, but you strive to hold them back. Y/s/n. He loves us. He loves his parents so much. He just wishes they would love each other.
Charles shakes his head in surprise, stroking Y/s/n's hair, "Buddy, it's okay. Don't worry. I'm okay. I don't-" he falters for just a moment before finishing quickly, glancing to you nervously, "I don't miss Mama anymore. Don't worry."
"But I miss Mama." At this, both of you look at your son in confusion.
"But Y/s/n, Mama is right here," Charles says carefully, taking more steps closer to you. "See? Do you want to go with M-"
"No!" your son suddenly snaps, and says as if it is the most obviously thing on earth, "When I'm with Daddy, I miss Mama. When I'm with Mama, I miss Daddy. I don't wanna miss you guys!"
All the sudden, it's too much for you. All of it. Before Charles can do anything else you say quickly, your voice obviously cracking and your breath shaky, "Charles, can you take him home today? I'm sorry-"
"Of course, Y/n. I-"
You turns, jogging away. You need to get out of there.
But as you run out, you hear Charles call after you, "Y/n! Y/n, wait! Y/n, we're going to talk on the phone tonight, okay? There's things we still need to go over!"
At around 3:00 A.M., Charles calls. While you're worried to answer, you're also relieved. The fact that you're still awake at 3:00 A.M. shows how much anxiety you've been feeling about getting this call from Charles.
When you pick up, you murmur softly, "Hey, Charles."
"Sorry I'm calling at this hour. God. I just had to make sure Y/s/n was sound asleep. I'm, uhm," he pauses to clear his throat awkwardly, and continues in a softer, more delicate voice, "I'm sure Y/s/n told you about the phone call the other weekend..."
"Y- Yeah, he did. What did you do? Did you scare him into not telling me? He was crying," you say, your voice becoming harder and harder as you speak.
"What?! No! I just asked him please not to tell you. That was it. Maybe he was crying because..." Charles trails off.
"Because why?" you snap, although the sinking feeling within tells you exactly why.
"Y/n..." he sighs loudly. "Because our son loves us and doesn't get why... w- we... don't- don't, uhm.... love each other." The facts that he falters so much on that last phrase, that it's so hard for him to get out, sends a pit in your stomach. Of dread, and anger.
And without another hesitation, you just say it. "Charles... you still love me, don't you?"
There's silence over the phone. Sickly, disgusting, terrible silence. The anger rises up in you higher and higher, like a pressure, trying to push you on your tipping point. So finally you snap, probably way too loud, "Charles, what the hell! F*ck you. I hate you, you f*cking asshole. You're too much of a f*cking coward to even say it! Just like you've always been!" Your voice gets louder and louder. "Just like you've always been! Too much of a f*cking coward to admit anything! You tricked me! You had me thinking everything was peaches and cream, but it wasn't! You were being a terrible person and played innocent, and whenever I asked you anything, you did the same exact thing you still do. You just keep silent. Charles, I know you'll never grow, I hate that my son has to see your sorry ass every other weekend, and if I knew it wouldn't break his sweet little heart, I would wish your pathetic silent self would just fall off the face of the earth so I didn't have to ever have to listen to your stupid, pathetic silence ever again."
"Y/n, I-" You hang up. Charles doesn't try to call back.
Years ago.
Charles came in and stumbled into your arms, as if you were the one that needed to take care of him. You were tired, having stayed up with your fussy baby boy nearly all night, with no help, and you wanted to cry. You didn't want Charles to stumble in, drunk, right into your arms, as if he was the one who needed help. No. He was the one causing the problem. He had reeked of alcohol. He didn't get drunk this often, and you knew exactly why he was doing it now, although he'd been too scared while sober to admit it to you. It was the argument you'd had, and his way of coping was going out, getting drunk, and coming home to his wife and baby at three in the morning, wasted. Now, while drunk out of his mind, he was able to murmur, his words slurred tremendously, "Y/n... I'm sorry, love... You should've come with me tonight. I had fun... We could... make up for that argument..." He had a sickly seductive tone in his voice.
You felt rage fill up in you. Did you forget about your son? The son that you and I created together? Did you forget about that? Instead of letting any of that rage escape you, you just brought him to the bedroom and helped him into bed. You left him, walked to the living room, sat down on the couch, and held your aching, tired head, pulling at your hair, as tears escaped your closed eyelids.
Your world was spinning. Everything was wrong.
The argument. You had started it. And yelled at him. About how he was a coward and never told the truth. Even though you loved him. You thought. You must've. You... You had a son together. You yelled at him for telling you he was working when he wasn't. You yelled at him that he wasn't helping you at all and that you were going out of your mind. You said you felt like a single mom because he was never around, never helped, and never tried to. He lied and told you that an event he had mentioned that you were excited for was cancelled because he had found out more things about the event that he didn't want to deal with himself. He was becoming more and more selfish, showing who he really was more and more every single day. It just made you think- what is he doing when he gets drunk? What else is he being dishonest about?
Eventually you stopped loving him. You loved your son much more, so you broke it off. The final tipping point was when you suspected he had cheated, although nothing had ever proved that. But that was when you finally broke it off.
He was heartbroken. He held onto you. No, Y/n, please don't do this. I'll try better. I'll try better. You had told him that he had been saying he'd try better for the past year.
He had cried. Maybe even sobbed. You only saw him sob twice. Once was one time when he was drunk out of his mind, and the other one was that night when you told him you were breaking it off. I guess Y/s/n has seen him sob a third time, though.
He had said to you that he still loved you. You had said if you loved me, you wouldn't have done this. And that was the end of it.
Or so you thought.
You can't believe you're here. You can't believe he convinced you. You set up for your mother to watch Y/s/n while you drive into Monaco and.
Well, yeah. Go to Charles' God-forsaken house. To meet with him. 'Have a talk' as he put it. 'In real life.' So he can 'see your face and expressions.' And 'understand better.'
Charles opens the door. He's wearing a black t-shirt, grey jeans, and has his usual assortment of different bracelets on his wrists. And a disgustingly expensive watch. As you walk into his (beautiful) flat, you see that it hasn't changed much since you left and moved a couple hours closer to home, back in France. Just a little cleaner. But just like how it was when you lived here, there's still a stray toy on the floor here and there. As if reading your mind, he bends down, picking up a few of them, before putting them in a basket in the corner of the room. He runs his hand through his messy, wavy brown hair, looking a little awkward. "Why don't you sit down?" he asks softly, gesturing to the couch by a nod of his head. "Make yourself... comfortable... Uh... I made some cookies. Consider it a peace offering. And I... I really tried to make them good, too. I'm just going to go grab them." And before you can think or react, he's walking out of the room to grab them.
When he returns with the cookies, he sits down next to you, holding the little plate out to you. You hesitantly take one, nibbling off a little bite, nervously glancing to Charles. "It's fine..." you say. In your taste, too sweet (and slightly gooey) but besides that, alright. "But I just want to get this over with, okay? Charles can we just... have this talk? So I can go?"
Your ex husband stared down, before nodding slowly. "Yeah... Of course." He falters, before murmuring, "I love our son just as much as you do. And it hurts me to see him-"
"My God, Charles, shut up. I know what this is about. It's about you being selfish," the bitterness in your voice surprised even yourself, "You're being selfish because for some twisted reason, you still want to be with me, and you're using my son's pain as an excuse. You're just as you've always been- selfish, lying, and making excuses."
"Y/n, no it's not!" he snaps, his eyes pleading. "I- I- I want the best for our son."
"Charles, do you still love me?"
He stares at you. Hesitates. Falters. He inhales a shaky breath, before looking down at his hands in his lap. "All these years I've never dated another woman. All these years the guilt has crushed me."
"Shut up!" you spit. "It's not guilt, Charles, of hurting me your or son. It's guilt because you wouldn't wanted to be with me longer. It's selfish. You're f*cking selfish!"
He practically begs, "Please, babe, just listen-"
"What did you just call me?"
He stares in surprise at what he just said. He swallows. "I'm sorry- It- It just came out..."
You glare, and shout, "You still love me, you dick! I hate you! You- You cheated on me!"
He cuts you off by grabbing your arm suddenly. There's a desperate look in his eyes. "Y/n... No, I didn't... I swear it on my life.. On my job, on everything I love... I would..." You're shocked to watch as a singular tear gently rolls down one of his cheeks. He's holding back more. The salty, warm tear drops right onto your palm. You wipe it off. Charles eyes plead with you as he murmurs, his voice cracking, "I would never cheat on you..."
You stare, trying to form more words, not knowing what to say.
But Charles continues, "I don't know where you got the idea I cheated on you... I know it was hard and I was being..." Suddenly there is guilt and grief openly painted all across his face. "I was being a terrible person... Giving up the most lovely, sweet wife and baby I could've ever asked for... I was young and stupid, Y/n...Y/n... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I swear I mean it...
"I would do anything for this to work."
Another tear falls.
"Y/n... just listen... I need you to hear me out..."
He sniffs. He seems so broken. Vulnerable. Honest.
"It's all my fault, Y/n. I know. I know. I'm sorry. And I get if you're afraid... I would be, too... but, Y/n... I wish you could just understand that... that...
"Y/n, people change."
Author's Note- Just wanted to say if you guys liked this and want a part two, I'm totally open to writing that! Let me know if you want a part two, and if you have any ideas, shoot! Like should I end this happy? Or not...? And in what way? If no one gives me ideas, I'll just come up with it, but you guys are extremely welcome to let me know!!! Thank you! <3
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roosterforme · 3 months
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Always Ever Only You Part 25 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: A long weekend with your parents is exactly what you needed. But when they keep asking what happened to your car and inadvertently force you to tone things down in the bedroom, you and Bradley realize you have more to discuss than just a replacement for your totaled pride and joy.
Warnings: Swearing, drinking, fluff, smut, loud sex in public, spanking
Length: 3800 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32
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As soon as you and Bradley unloaded the Bronco and had your parents settled inside the Craftsman, you had the uncontrollable urge to fuck your husband. You were trying your best to listen to your mom as she opened up a bottle of wine from your refrigerator, but Bradley was standing on the other side of the island, nodding as he answered one of your dad's questions. Your husband looked hot, and it was then that you realized you hadn't had sex with him since Sunday night. Since before you found out your car was totaled. And something about the impromptu funeral he just threw for your car was making you needy.
Well. You fucked up.
"Bradley didn't have any more hotel points?" your mom asked, finally drawing your attention her way. It was almost laughable now. Bradley had made up the entire thing about the points that were about to expire last year. It was all a ploy to get them to stay at a hotel so you and he could do whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted to do it, in your own home. You nearly moaned just thinking about it. 
"Nope," you replied softly, reaching down some wine glasses. "No more hotel points, sorry."
"Nonsense," your mom said, waving you off. "Your house is beautiful, but you're still newlyweds. We get it."
You snorted as you sipped your wine. "Mom, it's July. We got married in November. I don't think we're considered newlyweds any longer."
"Hmm," she hummed as she drank from her glass. "Don't tell Bradley that."
When you glanced over at him, he was already looking at you, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. He looked so damn good, shaking his head slightly like he was annoyed you weren't alone, but still smiling like he couldn't believe you were his. 
"That man adores you," your mom added, inspecting the label on the bottle of wine. "Make sure you let him know you adore him, too."
An hour later, after your parents had retired to the spare bedroom, you had Bradley's cock buried deep inside you with his hand covering your mouth and his voice in your ear. "Do you regret it yet?" came his harsh whisper.
Your legs were already shaking as he fucked you from behind, standing up just inside your bedroom with the door closed. You tried to nod as you grasped the dresser and the wall for support. Neither of you had even been able to take the time to get undressed; you just needed it that badly. 
"Yeah, well you should, Baby Girl. Oughta be filled with nothing but regret and my cum."
You tried to moan his name against his hand, but it came out soft and muffled just like he intended as he slammed into you. He knew better than to trust you if he removed his hand, so he kept it right there, pressed tight to your mouth to the point it was almost painful. 
"Next time they visit, they stay at a hotel unless we finish the attic," he grunted as his free hand found your clit. "You look fucking perfect in this little dress, and I'd have had you in the kitchen if they weren't here."
Then his lips found your neck, sucking hard as he fucked you until his thrusts became even more demanding. Your fingers quivered as you held onto the dresser for dear life as he managed to hit just the right spot inside at the same time his rough fingers pinched your clit.
Your orgasm left you shaking as you bit Bradley's palm so hard, he shoved two fingers in your mouth instead. "Fuck," he growled quietly. "Oh, fuck." Then his steady tempo gave way to short strokes and his lips came softly to your ear. "I love you."
He filled you up so well, your dress and thighs were a mess afterwards, and you had to waddle into the bathroom so you didn't drip onto the floor. "Oh my god, Roo," you gasped as you finally took the time to pull your dress off to get yourself cleaned up. He walked in to turn the shower on with his shirt balled up in one hand, and then he smirked as his cum dripped down your legs. 
"Just to be clear, I love your parents. I love when we get to visit with them. I love having them here. But I also love fucking you, and you and I both know you can't keep quiet."
You slipped past him and into the shower. "I know what you want me to say."
"Then just say it, Sweetheart."
You rolled your eyes. "You were right about the hotel. But I was trying to save money for the car."
He wrenched his jeans and underwear off as he joined you in the shower immediately backing you up against the tile wall making you thrum with need all over again. With his left forearm leaning against the wall, he tipped your chin up with his right hand and pressed his body against yours. He could have been intimidating if you weren't so in love with him and also outrageously turned on. 
"Money is not an issue, okay?" he asked, his voice nothing but a deep rumble. "It's never going to be an issue. Pick out the car of your dreams, and it's yours. We will figure out the rest as we go."
You whimpered, "Okay, Daddy." Then you were moaning into his mouth.
-------------------------
The next morning, Bradley felt a little bad about leaving you without a car, but Nat offered to stop by and pick you and your mom up for brunch. He also felt a little bad about how Bob got booted out of the golf foursome so your dad could join in.
Your dad was sipping a travel mug of coffee on the way to the golf course when he suddenly asked, "How did her car get totaled anyway?"
Bradley almost swerved off the road as he scrambled to point out the window at essentially nothing special as he said, "Did you see that?!"
"What?!" he asked in response, turning to look back.
Bradley swallowed hard and said, "Oh, nevermind. So, uh, how often have you been golfing this summer? Because I'm anticipating being pretty terrible myself. I haven't been out in months."
"Oh, well I told you about Jerry, right?" he asked in response, and Bradley knew he had your father safely distracted as he talked about his golf buddy that he'd known since college for the rest of the drive.
But the next issue arose when they actually made it to the golf cart and Jake started liberally handing out hard seltzers. "Oh, I've never had one of these," your dad told him. 
"They're great," Javy promised, patting him on the back with a grin. 
Bradley already had to share his clubs with your dad, but when he was tipsy by the ninth hole, Bradley had become his glorified caddy. When he looked at one of the cans, he realized why the three of them were laughing so much. These things had 12% alcohol by volume. 
"Jesus Christ," Bradley muttered, considering texting you for help, but you were probably out with your mom and Nat right now. And he was supposed to have your dad home by four for a beach cookout and fourth of July fireworks. 
"So why don't you tell us what you really think of your son-in-law, sir?" Jake drawled obnoxiously as he grinned back at Bradley. It was a shame Bob got the boot instead of Jake or Javy who currently couldn't find his golf ball even though it was on the green right in front of him. 
"Bradley?" your dad asked as if Bradley wasn't standing ten feet behind him. "He's great! Love the guy! Although I have the sneaking suspicion that he was the one who totaled my little girl's car. She just loved that ugly thing, you know?"
"Oh yes, sir," Jake replied. "I've seen that car many times, and it truly was nothing to look at. But what would you say if I told you I know exactly what happened to it?"
"Hangman," Bradley barked. "Tee off. Let's get a move on."
You dad didn't even seem to notice anything was off as he cracked open another seltzer and said, "Oh, there you are, Bradley. Have you tried one of these drinks? They are absolutely delicious."
-------------------------
You and your mom stood side by side on the front porch after lunch when Bradley got back home with your dad. He'd texted you to give you a heads up about the hard seltzers, but you were still surprised when he had to help your father out of the Bronco. He was completely drunk and wearing Javy's New Orleans Saints hat while he laughed hysterically. 
"Oh... shit," your mom said, and she started laughing, too. "Bradley must have had a fun time today."
You had to hold your own giggles at bay as you watched your husband try to wrangle your dad who was now walking to check if there was anything in your mailbox. 
"Mom, he's a mess!"
"Just think, if we move to San Diego, your dad can ruin Bradley's golf outings all the time."
You snorted. There had been some discussion earlier about your parents potentially selling the house in Maryland and making the move to be closer to you. It was all still hypothetical, but you loved the idea of having them nearby. However now you weren't so sure Bradley would share your sentiment. 
"No, no, this way, Dad," he was saying, trying to coax your father up to the porch. 
"How many did he drink?" you asked as your dad awkwardly patted your mom on the head before walking inside and collapsing onto the couch with Tramp licking his face. 
"Not that many?" Bradley replied, running his hands over his face. "I'm sorry, but Jake and Javy were a nightmare, too. I had to drop them both off, because there was no way they could drive. And now we'll be late for this neighborhood beach cookout."
"It's okay," you told him, wrapping your arms around his waist while your mom went to get your dad some water. "You got everyone home safely. It's so fucking hot when you're responsible." You kissed the scars on his neck and added, "We could always just make dinner here and watch the fireworks from the back patio?"
The way he sighed in relief let you know that he thought that sounded like a better idea. "Only if that's what you want to do."
"That's exactly what I want to do," you promised him. 
When you turned to walk away, he caught your hand and asked, "Did you give any more thought to what kind of car you want? I didn't like leaving you without one today."
You just shrugged; it still made you completely and utterly sad inside to think about it. You couldn't even imagine anything else parked in the driveway next to the Bronco. "No," you whispered. "Let's talk about it more next week? After they go back to Maryland?"
He nodded. "Serious conversations will include your car and some home renovations."
You looked from him to the couch where your dad was currently snoring and then back to him again. There was no escaping your parents at the moment. "Add San Diego real estate to the list, Roo," you told him with a peck on his cheek as you went in search of what you could make for dinner. 
----------------------------
Sunday afternoon was bright and gorgeously sunny. It was the perfect day for a baseball game. Bradley was nursing a beer at Petco Park while he held your hand, occasionally leaning closer to you so he could converse with your parents who were sitting on your other side. But every time he did so, it got a little harder for him to sit there and behave; you smelled so sweet, and you looked sinful in that shirt. Bradley could only think about the second date he took you on where you and he ended up on the Kiss Cam.
"I was wondering," your mom mused between innings, "how the car got totaled. Who was driving it?"
Bradley shook his mostly empty beer can and jumped to his feet, absolutely unwilling yet again to discuss the truth with your parents. "I am so thirsty," he announced, pretending he hadn't even heard her as you looked up at him with panic in your eyes. "Anyone else need a drink?" 
"I'll take a beer," your dad said, eyes glued to the game as the bottom of the inning started. 
"Absolutely," Bradley replied, silently shocked the man was still drinking today after his hard seltzer incident the day before. There was a beer vendor down at the bottom of the stairs, and Bradley hightailed it in his direction. 
He bought two and turned to look back at you. Christ almighty, he was so fucking horny right now. He'd been in the mood for bed rattling sex, the kind where your voice was hoarse from screaming his name. Last night you fell asleep before he even finished cleaning the kitchen and joined you in bed, and he didn't want to wake you just to clamp his hand over your mouth again. 
"Sir?" the beer vendor asked, trying to hand him the cans. 
"Thanks," Bradley grunted, taking two steps at a time to get back to his seat. He could wait for the loud stuff since your parents would only be here for a little while longer. As he settled in next to you, he passed one beer to your dad and pecked you on the cheek. "Dad, you're supposed to be on a diet," you reminded your father while he ordered two more hot dogs from a different vendor.
"Aww, let him have some fun," Bradley said. "He's on vacation."
You rolled your eyes at him, probably annoyed that he ditched you to answer your parents' never ending attempts at learning exactly what became of your little shit mobile. "You're not helping, Roo."
Your mom just shook her head. "Your father has no self discipline. I'm referring to the junk food as well as yesterday's seltzers."
Bradley leaned in close to your ear and kissed you before whispering. "Is that where you get it from, Baby Girl?"
You quickly turned toward his smirking face. "I have plenty of self discipline," you told him defiantly. "Except when it comes to one thing." You let your hand drift up his thigh slowly as you turned toward the baseball game, feigning interest in the player up to bat. And then you gently palmed Bradley's cock through his jeans and squeezed.
He grunted, but he didn't move your hand away. Rather, he said probably loud enough for your parents to hear, "Do I need to discipline you right now?" It was honestly a wonder they hadn't pieced together what really happened to your car.
Bradley bit back a moan as your lips connected with his earlobe, and you whispered, "I need it." That's exactly how the two of you ended up in the family bathroom, with your jeans and panties pushed down around your thighs and your hands planted on your knees.
"You can't keep your hands to yourself in public, can you?" Bradley asked, rubbing his large palm along your ass and down to tease your pussy with his fingers before spanking you hard.
"No, Daddy," you whined, wiggling your butt back toward him for some more.
He spanked you again. "What's your punishment for grabbing my cock in front of your parents?"
You moaned so loudly, the sound echoed off the tiled walls. "Spanking," you answered, but it really wasn't a punishment at all. He knew it. You knew it, too.
As his palm connected with your gorgeous ass over and over, you didn't even try to keep quiet. Bradley let you be as loud as you wanted here since you couldn't scream his name at the house with your parents there.
"You are doing so well, Baby Girl. You ready for me to fuck you now?"
"Pease, Daddy!" you nearly shouted, and then he was inside you.
He wasn't going slow or trying to make you feel good, he was just fucking you hard and fast. Which was definitely working for you, based on the sounds you were making.
"You're always so fucking wet for me," he growled, hands wrapped tight around your hips. The slapping sounds of skin on skin filled the small space, along with his panting and your whimpers.
"I need it, Daddy," you gasped, voice getting higher as he felt the first squeeze of your pussy around his cock.
He grabbed your waist tighter to keep you steady as he said, "I'm going to fill you up. Fuck you full of my cum. And you'll keep it inside you for the rest of the day." His palm landed on your ass one more time, and then you were spiraling into your own orgasm as he came in your pussy.
A moment later, he watched his semen soak through your lace panties and drip down to the inside of your jeans as you pulled them up. "Oh my god, I love you," Bradley groaned as you opened the door. The line of unamused people waiting for the restroom had you and Bradley laughing as he wrapped his arm around you.
"That was fun, Roo," you said with a grin, placing a kiss on his neck. "I really learned my lesson, too."
"No, you didn't," he whispered, squeezing your waist and making you giggle as he led you back to the seats. "You're a brat, Sweetheart." 
But now he was thinking about how badly he wanted this to be the one that took. He'd spend the rest of his life talking about how he knocked up his wife at a Padres game, but he knew it probably wasn't possible. While he tried his best not to think about it too much, he knew vaguely when your cycle would be starting. 
He pulled you a little closer to his side and kissed your forehead. It didn't matter though. He wouldn't trade this feeling or his smiling wife for anything else in the world. 
------------------------
You were always in tears when it was time to say goodbye to your parents. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted them to sell your childhood home and move to California, but you thought you'd better wait a few days before really discussing it more with Bradley. 
Before you met him, he'd been on his own for so long, you were beginning to think he struggled a bit with sharing his space, which was kind of a revelation since he had never been that way with you. He had welcomed you to move into his home with him almost as soon as he purchased it, and you only saw a few glimpses of frustration from him in those early days. Bradley had an ease about him that made you feel comfortable, but you still knew he'd never truly opened himself up to a woman before you, and that included his living space. The fact that he loved and accomodated your parents as much as they did for him was important to you.
He unloaded the luggage from the back of the Bronco while you hugged your dad and then your mom on the sidewalk outside of the departures door for the airline. "I'll let you know if I'm coming to Annapolis for work in a few weeks," you whispered as your mom kissed your cheek.
"We can try to have dinner together one night," she replied. You watched your dad shaking hands with your husband before he pulled your dad in for a hug. 
"That sounds nice," you told her as tears blurred your vision. You'd been crying so much recently, feeling overly emotional about your car and spending a ton of money on something that you didn't deem necessary. But these tears were the welcome kind. Your heart felt full of love instead of disappointment. 
As your parents disappeared through the sliding doors, Bradley wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. "It's kind of late, but when we get back to our quiet house, we should talk about a new car, renovations to our house, and the San Diego real estate market. Me and you and a bottle of wine." Your eyes fluttered closed as one big hand slid down over your belly before settling on your jeans zipper while he kissed your neck. "Just as soon as I fuck you so hard in our bed that you're screaming my name with tears in your eyes."
You moaned as your parents waved through the window, and you and Bradley waved back before you spun in his arms and looked up at his warm eyes. "Take me home right now."
--------------------------
Bradley was a sweaty mess underneath you as your head came to rest on his shoulder. His heart was still pounding, and his cum was slick and sticky between your pussy and his abs. The sound of your voice, soft and hoarse in his ear, gave him goosebumps as your fingers ran up and down his bicep, slowly tracing his tattoo. 
"I love you."
He turned his head to kiss your cheek and rub his mustache along your ear until you laughed. 
"You were loud as hell, Baby Girl," he rasped, knowing full well that he'd been vocal, too. 
"Yeah, well, it's nice to have the house to ourselves again," you responded as you yawned.
"I knew you'd see things my way." Very gently, Bradley asked, "Do you want to talk about new cars?"
Another drawn out yawn escaped you as you rolled off of him. "No, I'm too tired, and I don't really feel like it."
Bradley kissed your shoulder as you burrowed under the blankets. Getting you to focus on this task was clearly going to take as much stamina as he'd just given you in bed. "Fine. We'll do it later."
"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I love you."
"I love you, too." 
But Bradley wasn't ready for bed yet, and he knew that the next time your mom and dad were here, he'd need the physical separation. After he got himself cleaned up in the bathroom, he pulled on his boxer briefs, and Tramp followed him upstairs to the huge open space that the two of you only used for storage. It would be a project, but it would be worth it.
---------------------------
If any of this sounded familiar, it's because we have reached this exciting point in the story of Roo and BG. Thank you for being here! Thanks for reading and reblogging and putting a smile on my face. Big thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 26
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onsomenewsht · 28 days
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》 Alexia Putellas x Reader, Barcelona Femeni x Reader
》 words count: +2.8k
》 I don't know if you see us how I do in my head
Four years of studying all the finest details of the ways she acts and moves
“She does it on purpose”
Ingrid smiles at your whining, enjoying the easy banter growing day by day between you and her girlfriend. 
But yes, she’s doing it on purpose. All the girls know, and the ones currently in the parking lot with the three of you aren’t even trying to hide their laughs. You recognise Alexia’s soft one without taking your eyes off the defender.
María is going on a rant about all the places you need to see in Madrid since the team is going to play Atlético on the weekend. As if you’re not gonna be free there for a couple of hours and you still understand close to nothing of what she’s saying in the first place.
You have no doubt she insists on speaking exclusively in Spanish just to annoy you, she’s perfectly aware you can’t even order a coffee without the barista trying to hide a giggle at your scrambled words.
“You have to practise, she’s helping”, it’s cute she’s trying to defend her girlfriend.
“She’s a broken record”
As a matter of fact, or just to prove her point, the Spaniard’s voice is a constant background noise - from the walk toward the training centre, all the way through the changing room, and till the first stretching exercises.
You will never accept a ride from the couple, ever again.
“Mapi, give the girl a break! I’m exhausted and I’m not even listening”
You like Keira, Keira is funny in a comfortable way. Ingrid and her are the only ones able to buffer María’s enthusiasm when they notice you get overwhelmed by the language or you’re just too tired to deal with her energy.
“¡Y ni te entiende!” (And she doesn’t even understand you)
“Necesita practicar su Español” (She needs to practise her Spanish)
“She’s still here”, you try to calm your teammates’ excitement as soon as you notice more girls are gathering around you.
They planned a movie night at your place anyway, they will have time and space to bother you all they want later. 
You need to focus on your exercises right now, despite the elegant and defined movements that keep catching your attention on the small training area.
Alexia is stretching just a couple of metres away from you, talking with Marta and Irene while casually controlling a ball with her foot. Somehow, there’s always a football around her.
The punch Mapi directs at your ribcage - powerful, and quite frankly uncalled for - manages to knock the wind out of you, drawing attention and a laugh from your teammates, but a glare from Jonatan. 
The red all over your face is surely due to the blonde’s hit, nothing else.
“Just hit her back”
“And add fuel to the fire?”
“¿Qué?”, Alexia’s eyebrow rises. 
She’s closer to you now, you both like to be at your manager’s left side when he’s explaining the tactics he wants to review as his hands’ gestures are clearer.
You’re going to start the next game, he made an all scene the previous day to let you know that, so you should listen to what he’s saying.
“Nothing. I tried, she gets more annoying”
“María Leon masterclass”
She’s distracting, her smile is lighting up the whole training centre. You definitely have to listen to your manager.
You’re slowly but securely finding your place in this new club. The press is still talking about the fact you came out of nowhere, and the online comments are still questioning if you deserve to be here in the first place.
Your last season in Italy was fun to say the least, managing to stand up against the big ones and earning with your team a place for the Champions League group stage. You were a little disappointed when a loan was hanging over your head once again, but when Barcelona knocks at your door you open the windows too. 
Games spent warming the bench, minutes after minutes, your confidence grows. Your positioning around some of the best players in the world is getting better and easier, the balls you play moving faster and flawlessly. 
You’re finding your place, both on and off the field.
“¿Estás en la luna?”
“Eh?”
The Catalan has to fake a cough to hide her laugh at your confused face, immediately fixing her stoic one and nodding at what Jonatan is saying as if nothing happened.
No need to say you’re matching the red training top, her smile is contagious.
The rest of the session goes on without any more accidents, you need to avoid Mapi and pair with Ingrid or Irene to survive but you manage. Even if most of your passes somehow end up finding a certain blonde in the final scrimmage.
The field is now free of all equipment, your teammates heading toward the changing room. 
All but one.
Alexia’s hanging back, not leaving the training ground with the excuse to collect some of the balls left behind. She doesn’t need to do that, obviously. But she does. She takes the time with each ball, feeling it around her feet and controlling them as second nature. 
You know because you leave the balls around for her.
As the one and only newcomer, you take upon yourself the task of helping the trainers to put the equipment away after each session. You’re happy to do that, it’s a way to become familiar with the place and the people working here. 
You noticed her habit of looking around for some balls before leaving the field so you started to hide a few for her to find.
If she knows, she doesn’t say anything or care.
~
Three years of falling asleep with your hand on her chest, her heartbeat as the only lullaby that can make you rest
Your house is filled with loud Spanish girls, gathered around the living room and screaming at the TV like the people inside the box can actually hear their strong opinions.
This particular dating show is getting largely famous among your teammates, some of them organising watching parties to live comment together. 
It’s Alexia’s turn to host and, surprisingly to no one, she’s actually hosting at your house. 
You’re not even into this show in the first place, they talk too fast for you to understand and you don’t really get who is actually flirting with who. But the relationship with the Catalan is growing so naturally and strongly, also around funny misinterpretation in Spanish and tender touches that linger a bit too long and a bit too frequently to be just friendly, so it feels meant to be. 
“¡No me lo creo, cuando le dio un beso?!” (You’re kidding, when did they kiss?!)
You offered the place without really thinking about it, she’s supposed to spend the night here anyway. How bad could it be to have half a dozen of your friends around for a bit?
“¡Joder, qué cabrón!” (What a fucking asshole!)
“Tiene más cuernos que un rebaño”
“¡Llepaculs!”
Really bad, apparently. 
Jana and Ona are literally jumping on your sofa over something a broad guy just said, definitely the wrong thing given their reaction. Claudia is muttering under her breath all night, you have no idea what she’s actually on about but Patri, sitting on the floor next to her, sometimes bursts out laughing so you let them be. Mapi is on the far side of the sofa, a frown between her eyebrows when she’s not making her opinion loud and clear - Ingrid is out with Frido tonight, that must be it. Even Marta is getting more and more involved in the shenanigans. 
It must be a great episode.
Alexia, on the other hand, is paying no attention to the screen.
You try to let the girls be, entertaining yourself in the kitchen making snacks for them, but every time you excuse yourself the blonde is ready to drag you back, fitting your body between her legs. 
All things considerate, you’re enjoying the show your friends are putting on in your living room. They’re loud and funny and passionate, but they’re also loyal and warm.
Your girlfriend’s hands are warm too, finding their place under the royal blue hoodie you are wearing. Her fingers are drawing patterns on your ribcage, sometimes letters and sometimes abstract figures. She’s not even watching the TV, she’s smiling at the way you’re taking the scenes around you in, and how your body reacts when she’s caressing a particular spot.
Hosting this watching party was such a bad idea.
When another yawn catches you unprepared, you hide your face in the hollow of her neck, a grin spreading on Alexia’s face. You can feel her lighting up.
“Cansada?” (Tired?)
“Too late for Spanish”
“Nunca es un buen momento para ti” (It’s never a good time for you)
“Watch your silly little soap opera and let me sleep, Putellas”
Alexia has to suppress her laugh, catching on to the stress in the room since the episode is coming to an end and no one is happy with the outcome.
She turns your body closer against hers, your friends too distracted to realise you now take most of the couch and you’re practically lying on top of her. The blonde doesn’t mind though, holding you firmly.
When she feels your hand grips her shirt’s front, she knows you’re gone for tonight.
You don’t hear your teammates leaving your house, their disappointment about the episode is easily replaced by teasing of the lovely scene. The Catalan doesn’t need words to scold them, not moving from her position but promising revenge in the next training session. 
Mapi is the last one to leave, taking her time to tease her friend and silently admire how happy and comfortable the two of you look.
“¡Vete María!” (Leave!)
“Estás actuando como el dueño de la casa, ¿lo sabes?” (You’re acting a lot like the owner of the house, you know?)
The red on Alexia’s face is starting to spread and her friend needs to leave before she says something that’s gonna be stuck in the captain’s head.
“Un mal dueño también, no acompañar tu invitados a la puerta” (A bad host too, not even walking your guests out)
It’s a pillow that escorts the defender out, hitting the closing door all the way through your living room.
~
Two years of heading to a future that appallingly looks a lot like the same for the both of you
“¿Quieres un bebé?” (Do you want a kid?)
At Alexia’s question, you almost choke on the glass of wine you’re drinking. 
It’s the off-season, it’s such a beautiful sunny day, it’s a dreamy vacation you gifted each other with. Why is she trying to kill you?
“Right now?”, you manage to find your words, red wine now spread all over your linen shirt. 
She better buy you a new one.
“No, mi amor, not right now”, she hands you her jacket, failing to hide her amusement and her blush.
Her smile is soft and full of affection, and you never loved someone like you love her - even if she almost killed you.
“¿Sólo por curiosidad?” (Are you asking just out of curiosity?)
“You were cute with those girls at the beach”
“I’m always cute with kids”
“Sí, tienes razón” (Yeah, you’re right)
“But?”, you’re getting nervous about where this conversation’s heading.
You just wanted to enjoy a nice date out with your beautiful girlfriend in a fancy restaurant on the other side of the world.
You both deserve some time for each other, last season was exhausting and you both played more minutes than you were supposed to due to her bothering knee and your extra hours both for club and country.
You didn’t see such a conversation coming, you still feel sand on your skin and the sun sparkling in Alexia’s eyes.
“I’m not asking to make a kid tonight”
“We could definitely try though”
“I’m asking if you want kids in the future”, she smiles and she’s playing with her hands like she just confessed stealing candies from said kids.
“Quiero un bebé un día, ya lo sabes” (You know I want a kid one day)
“¿Conmigo?” (With me?)
You reach for her across the table, holding her hand between yours like your entire existence depends on it, on letting her understand how important she is in your life and how much your life together meant for you. 
Alexia looks so insecure you’re almost scared of what’s happening in her mind, she knows you want kids once your career comes to an end and she knows you are in for the long run with her.
“Mírame, mi corazón” (Look at me)
“Mamá y Alba made jokes y noー”
“Quiero un bebé contigo, Alexia” (I want a kid with you)
“Sì?”
“To be honest, I dreamed about a little you running around and kicking a ball barefoot, but then the ball was your Ballon d’Or, and turned into a rocket destroying the entire house, so I didn’t feel like mentioning it”
The waitress interrupting you must sense there’s an important conversation happening, the blonde is giggling with tears in her eyes and you are barely sitting on your chair. He clears the table and nicely suggests the house’s dessert, you nod but ask for a couple of minutes.
“We can start trying tonight”
You love her open laugh.
~
One year of trying to tell yourself that nothing changed about the way you feel of your life here, of your life here with her
Every time you close your eyes you see the ring Alexia’s hiding in a fucking shoe box. 
One time, when she’s away for a photoshoot with a magazine you don’t even remember the name of, you find yourself digging into the closet for the velvet box, unsure of everything.
It fits perfectly, it’s the perfect ring.
You take it off so fast you’re scared you ripped your own finger too.
It’s getting all too much.
You’re sleeping less and when you do, you’re restless and anxious. It doesn’t matter what you cook, it all tastes wrong in your mouth. You’re ignoring your friends and finding lame excuses to avoid nights out that don’t involve all the team.
The only thing you’re able to focus on is football. 
You’re training harder, playing faster and decisively, spending more and more time on the pitch and in the gym, picking up extra training sessions.
You can ignore your mind if your body is louder.
But you love Alexia too much to ignore her.
When she speaks about a contract extension, about how happy she’s to captain the team for another three years and to be recognized for her pivotal role, you listen and match her enthusiasm. You’re so proud of her. You’re proud of what she achieved in Barcelona, what she means for the club and for the city and for the future of the game. 
Even if you’re thinking your time wearing the Blaugrana colours is fading, seeking a new challenge elsewhere to prove you learned from the best ones and you can now play against them.
You’re extending your stay in Barcelona just to be close to Alexia.
When she points out you need to start practising your Catalan too, because she wants your kids to speak her first language and understand her culture, you think it is admirable how strong she feels about her home and her roots. You want that for your kids too.
Even if you miss your home country and sometimes you have to remember you have your own roots and culture and memories, ending up speaking to yourself in the bathroom mirror just to make sure you didn’t forget your own language.
You’re ignoring your homesickness just to be where Alexia’s heart is.
When she shows you how much she loves you and the life you’re living and the future you’re building together, you take all the affection and support and care because you’re so happy you’re still able to give her it all.
Even if you know you’re loving her more than you’re loving your life.
You’re hating yourself just to be in love with Alexia.
There’s not a single doubt about your love for Alexia. You love her the way writers seek the right words for their poems, and sailors fight the worst storms just to get back home, and kids pick the brightest colours for their drawings.
You love her so much that there’s no way you can leave her. 
However, you can’t pretend anymore that Barcelona is your future, this city is not your home and this culture is not yours to feel.
That’s how you find yourself with a one-way flight ticket, running away from the only place you can leave without guilt.
You leave Barcelona because that’s how you’ll find yourself again - how you’ll love yourself again.
You don’t regret leaving Barcelona, you regret losing Alexia in the process.
295 notes · View notes
steddieas-shegoes · 1 year
Text
Steve was doing this for Robin.
He had to keep telling himself this. He could get through the day, the weekend, life, if he just kept repeating this to himself.
But an hour into their day, his pants ripped.
Not in a place it can be hidden, not a small one.
Right along his ass.
And because Robin insisted he’d be fine, he didn’t bring a bag with a change of clothes.
He could buy some, sure, if he wanted to spend $60 on special convention sweatpants that would be entirely too hot, unflattering, and ruin the costume Robin insisted he wear to match hers.
He was hiding in the bathroom currently, furiously texting Robin to let her know he was just going to stay there until it was time to leave.
She’d be mad at him, but she’d be more mad at herself for not letting him bring a change of clothes.
His pants weren’t even tight. Luke Skywalker doesn’t exactly wear tight clothes. He had no reason behind the rip other than the universe just hating him as much as possible.
Robin told him she would find someone to help, whatever that means, but he didn’t think that was possible without just buying new pants.
He stood in the corner of the continuously crowded bathroom, trying not to draw attention, but knowing it was incredibly odd to just stand in the corner of a public bathroom.
Ten minutes passed and a guy walked in with a backpack and a sign that says “Free Cosplay Repair” and Steve knew what Robin had done.
The man was pretty, and not dressed up, but seemed like he wished he was. Maybe it was difficult to repair if he was wearing some elaborate costume.
Steve didn’t know how this worked.
“Are you Steve?”
Steve nodded.
His voice was calming, and Steve instantly trusted him to fix the problem.
“Heard you’ve got a bit of a problem with the costume. Big or small?”
“Uh. Pretty big, man.”
“Ah. Tear along the ass, then. Happens all the time.”
He set his backpack down and started rummaging through the front pocket. When he pulled out a sewing kit, Steve realized he was going to have to get this fixed in a public bathroom with this very attractive man staring at and touching his ass for who knows how long.
“Um.”
“It’ll be better if you can take them off. I’ll be able to sew it much faster.”
Steve couldn’t just stand around in his boxers. That was not part of the plan or the agreement with Robin. People were coming and going from the bathroom at a rapid rate.
“Is there somewhere private we can go?”
“Awww, Stevie, feeling shy?”
Steve’s face was beet red. He was feeling a little shy, and being called out on it by a hot guy kind of made him think about being called out on other things in other ways and his brain was not doing well.
“My name’s Eddie. I come with my friend Chrissy to a bunch of these every year. We have a tent set up on the show floor for privacy, but you’d have to walk to it. I could walk behind you if you want?”
“Oh. Okay. Um. Sure.”
It was better than standing half naked in this bathroom.
So they left, and Eddie stayed right behind him, covering him from possible exposure to the growing crowd.
He would lean forward and direct him to the tent every few seconds, leaving goosebumps behind from how close he got to his ear to be heard.
When they arrived, Chrissy was finishing up with supergluing something to a mask. Eddie touched her shoulder and whispered something to her. She rolled her eyes and smiled at him before turning back to the person she was helping.
Eddie nudged Steve into their tent.
“Alright, shouldn’t take too long. Take them off, Luke.”
Steve rolled his eyes but followed directions. The faster this was done, the faster he could get back to Robin, who was probably so deep into the crowd by now that he’d never find her anyways.
Maybe he should just stay here. Learn to sew. Become a part of their traveling repair team.
They seemed nice enough.
Eddie got started immediately, and Steve was grateful for the privacy the tent provided. He sat down on a stool they had set up in the corner and put his hands in his lap, covering as much of himself as he could. He was definitely not confident in this place.
He’d embraced that he liked some nerdy things. He was fine with it.
But he was way out of his element here.
“You come to these a lot?”
“No. Just supporting my friend.”
“Explains not being as prepared as the pros.”
“I did try to be. My friend said I’d be fine. Don’t know why I listened to her.”
Eddie snorted. “She a friend or a…friend?”
Steve laughed so loudly, Eddie jumped. “Sorry. She’s very much not straight and I am very much not interested.”
“Is she Leia?”
“Yeah.”
“Everyone will assume you’re together, you know?”
“Yeah, well. She said I had to and I owed her.”
“Must’ve done you a big favor.”
“You could say that.”
Eddie’s hands were moving quickly, and Steve couldn’t help watching in amazement.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“What? Sewing? Or conventions?”
“Both.”
Eddie smiled while he worked.
“Sewing since I was 11. I was in charge of fixing my and my uncle’s clothes since we couldn’t really afford new ones unless I outgrew them. Then in high school I did costumes for drama and cheerleaders. That’s how I met Chrissy. She was a secret nerd so she took me to a convention and I saw too many people crying over broken and torn cosplays so I started doing this.”
“For free?”
“Yeah. I already had most of the supplies on hand and I’m not using them all so why not?”
“That’s really…kind.”
He saw Eddie’s cheeks blush, but he didn’t comment.
Maybe he’d gain some upper hand here despite being half naked in a tent with a stranger.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It kind of is, man. Just take the compliment. It’s really selfless.”
“Okay. Yeah. I guess. Thanks.”
They settled into a comfortable silence and Steve really took in the tent. There were things hanging up that he vaguely recognized as D&D monsters from Dustin’s room.
“Hey, the kid I babysit is into that.”
“What?”
“The dungeons game.”
“Really?”
“Yeah! I think he even has that exact print in his room.”
“No shit? I made these. I have an Etsy shop.”
“You’re kidding. He’s gonna freak out that I met you.”
“Well, shit. Take one for him.”
“Oh, I couldn’t do that.”
“Yeah you could. I’m not letting you leave until you do.”
Steve felt his heart flutter.
Dustin was like his little brother and he loved him so much. Any time someone did something kind for him, it melted his heart.
He didn’t have time for feelings for a stranger.
Not at a convention where he was the outcast.
“I guess if you insist.”
“I do.”
Steve was a fucking mess. Emotionally, he was the type to get really attached really quickly. It’s why all of his relationships ended within weeks. He was ready to be completely committed and they never were. He fell hard and fast for anyone who showed him even a tiny bit of interest.
He had to get out of this tent.
“I’m not rushing you, but how much longer?”
“I’m almost done. Few more minutes. Doing okay?”
“Yeah. Just wanna find Robin.”
“Text her to meet you here. She knows where it is.”
“How would she know that?”
“I’ve met her a few times at other conventions and she always stops by to say hello.”
Robin knew this guy?
Suddenly, he realized what was going on.
She was setting him up.
“Take your time. She can wait.”
Eddie slowed his hands and looked up at Steve.
“Uh. Okay.”
“She’s a traitor who did this to me on purpose.”
“Ripped your pants?”
“Yes.”
Eddie stopped what he was doing completely.
“She ripped your pants on purpose? How would she have done that?”
“She pulled a seam out or something.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s trying to set us up.”
“Us?!”
“Yep. Sorry. I promise I don’t expect anything. She just does this sometimes. Thinks I’m lonely or whatever.”
Eddie searched his face for a minute, then looked back down at his work.
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Lonely.”
Well, yeah. Robin didn’t get the assumption from nowhere. But he didn’t really want to admit that to a stranger.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Apparently, he was going to anyways.
“Hm.”
“Hm?”
“Mhm.”
Steve huffed out a breath.
Eddie stood suddenly and came over to Steve, pushing his shoulder back and his legs apart so he could fit between them.
Eddie’s hand cupped his chin, pulling it up so he could look at him.
Steve gulped.
He was feeling more than vulnerable at this point and wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“Your friend must really love you to want to make sure you aren’t lonely.”
“Um. Yeah.”
“You know, I’m taking a lunch break in about an hour if you wanna hang around. I could use some company.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. One condition though.”
“What’s that?”
“You take the pants off again.”
Steve laughed and Eddie couldn’t help the smile he aimed down at him.
“You want me to eat in just my boxers?”
“Well, not just your boxers. That’ll be later at the hotel.”
God, this guy was good. Smoother than Steve’s ever been and he was known for his charming nature for years.
“You think I’ll come back to your hotel?”
“I know you will.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I only temporarily fixed these pants. The stuff you need is back at my room.”
“What if I don’t care about the pants?”
“All the more reason to leave them off when you come to my room.”
They smiled at each other.
Steve felt brave. He felt a little ridiculous. Most of all, he felt like he couldn’t pass up the opportunity literally staring him in the face.
He leaned up a bit more and waited for Eddie to lean down.
When their lips met, Steve knew he was completely fucked.
Robin had fucked him over and he’d never been so grateful.
2K notes · View notes
diddiqueen · 19 days
Text
Message in a bottle (part ten)
Tumblr media
Ellie texts the wrong number, which happens to be yours. Friendship, too many bad jokes, flirting, and maybe something more ensues… (Ellie Williams x girl reader) -> Part nine
Series masterlist
BEFORE YOU READ: masterpost on how you can educate yourself on and help Palestine
(12.44) you like me? (12.44) i knew you liked me
(12.44) Where did u hear that?
(12.44) you just said it?
(12.45) I think u have start seeing things (12.45) Do u have a fever?
(12.45) why are you trying to gaslight me again?
(12.45) Me? Never
(12.46) whatever you say, y/n
(12.46) Hey that’s my frase
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── (22.34) soo when are we meeting? (22.34) U still want to? (22.34) of course i want (22.35) why else would i ask (22.35) Idk (22.35) Sorry i just have a hard time accepting people like me or doesnt think im annoying (22.35) i don't think you’re annoying (22.35) i like talking to you (22.36) why else would I continue to text you? (22.36) Yeah of course (22.36) Im just being stupid (22.36) its not stupid (22.36) i want to meet you (22.37) okay? (22.37) Okay (22.37) I only expect expensive shit though (22.37) on it (im broke) (22.38) Perfect (22.38) When do u want to meet? (22.38) this weekend? (22.38) saturday? (22.39) Wow, ur forward (22.39) is it too early? (22.39) No, saturday is great (22.39) Where are we going? (22.39) its gonna be a surprise (22.40) Can't wait Day 44 (09.01) I’m in math class right now (09.01) I’m soo bored (09.01) This feels like child labour 
(09.02) and I’m the dramatic one?
(09.02) I need to think about something else (09.02) And I don't think I've ever asked (09.02) What do u like to do in your free time? (09.02) doing your homework for the meeting? (09.03) Obviously (09.03) well (09.03) don't make fun of me (09.03) drawing
(09.03) Aw that’s cute (09.04) Can I see?
(09.04) absolutely not
(09.04) Why?
(09.04) it’s idk embarrassing
(09.04) Are you any good at it?
(09.04) i guess
(09.05) Then why would it be embarrassing (09.05) U painting urself naked or what?
(09.05) wouldn’t you like to see that?
(09.05) I mean u have already seen me (09.06) Not that I wasn’t embarrassed as hell
(09.06) don’t be (09.06) people make mistakes (09.06) and as I said (09.06) i’m not complaining (09.06) Anywaysss (09.06) What do u like to draw then? (09.07) is this an interrogation or what? (09.07) No, i'm just curious (09.07) mostly people, faces and stuff (09.07) some animals, nature shit kinda (09.07) U have to show me someday (09.07) Maybe u can draw me? (09.08) you wanna be my muse;)? (09.08) Sure (09.08) I’ve never been drawn before
(09.08) thats a shame (09.09) U still don't know how i look (09.09) i can feel it (09.09) That does not sound creepy at all (09.09) i know right? ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
(18.29) nice to meet you (18.30) U haven’t met me? (18.30) where you been? (18.30) At school? (18.31) i could show you incredible things (18.31) Like what? (18.31) My face? (18.31) magic
(18.31) Huh?
(18.32) madness
(18.32) I’m confused
(18.32) heaven (18.32) sin (18.32) Ohhhh (18.32) I get it (18.33) saw you there and I though t(18.33) “omg look at that face” (18.33) U look like my next mistake (18.33) Shut up, I was trying to prank you!!! (18.33) Prank me? (18.33) I thought u were just being high or sum (18.34) oh shit (18.34) Just kidding (18.34) What is this? (18.34) A 2016 YouTube video?
(18.34) omg 2016 (18.34) remember those days?
(18.34) Yeah like 2016-17 was the best years of my life (18.35) everything was so easy back then (18.35) no homework and friends having sex in my dorm (18.35) They are doing it right now? (18.35) yeah i think so (18.35) i have escaped to the library (18.35) im too scared to go back (18.36) what if i see them? (18.36) Damn, that's though
(18.36) welcome to my life (18.36) Feels great, thanks for inviting me (18.36) anyday (18.37) U listen to Taylor?
(18.37) i said I would
(18.37) Okay (18.37) Didn’t expect that ms cool and alternative music (18.37) wanted to broaden my taste a little (18.37) I feel like you are one of those people who think its a flex to listen to someone with 200 listernes a month (18.38) Like they have so many listeners a month for a reason, it can’t be that good
(18.38) rude? (18.38) but nah (18.38) i'm not that kind of music snob (18.38) Well finally u listen to some music of quality (18.38) Sure great quality (18.39) What do u think about her music then? (18.39) it's good (18.39) not what i expected (18.39) i haven't listen to much but i like her brown and gray album in the woods (18.39) Evermore and folklore? (18.40) idk maybe (18.40) Yeah, they are great (18.40) Still falling into the lesbian stereotype I see? (18.40) always (18.40) it's kind of my duty
(18.41) Well, my fave album is red (18.41) then i'll make sure to listen to it (18.41) Simp Day 45 (14.45) astronauts are the only people who keep their jobs after they get fired. (14.45) And we're back at it again (14.46)  orion’s Belt is a huge waist of space. (14.46) True (14.46) last week I attended a lecture on Halley’s Comet it went completely over my head (14.46) I would like to ride a comet around space
(14.47) actually a comet is made of dust, rocks and ices so you can’t really ride it
(14.47) Actually☝️🤓 (14.47) What's with the space themed puns today? (14.47) i found a new pun book in the library with only space jokes (14.48) Lord have mercy
(14.48) you say all that but i know you secretly think they are hilarious
(14.48) If only (14.48) My life would be so much easier then (14.49) yeah sure (14.49) what is money called in space? (14.49) star bucks
(14.49) That one was almost okay
(14.50) you’re saying I’m funny?
(14.50) Hmmm (14.50) A little maybe?
(14.50) yeah?
(14.51) A teeny weeny mini bit
(14.52) omg (14.52) stop flirting it’s working
(14.52) God, your impossible
(14.53) *you’re 
(14.53) Oh my god?
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
(19.54) still up for tomorrow?
(19.54) Yeah of course (19.54) Ur still not gonna tell me where we’re going?
(19.55) nope it’s a surpriseeeee
(19.55) It better be good
(19.55) or what?
(19.55) I might go home
(19.55) oh?(19.56) after all we’ve been through? (19.56) everything I’ve done (19.56) it can’t be for nothing, right?
(19.56) U have really earned the drama queen title (19.57) Ever thought about going into theater?
(19.57) yes actually (19.57) i was a drama kid when I was 11
(19.57) Aww that’s so cute (19.58) What did you play?
(19.58) i was a tree once (19.58) probably my biggest role 
(19.58) Well that’s not nothing
(19.58) true that
(19.59) Anyways when are we meeting?
(19.59) wow, you're really looking forward to it?
(19.59) Shut up (20.00) U are too
(20.00) yeah (20.00) i am:) (20.00) does 19 work for you?
(20.01) Yup
(20.01) can we met at the bus stop next to the town library?
(20.01) Yeah that’s great (20.01) See ya tomorrow
(20.01) See ya too
(20.01) 🙄 (20.08) Wait, how will i know who’s u? (20.08) I don't know how u look and i don't want to ask some stranger if they are u (20.08) well just look for the hottest woman alive and you will find me (20.08) Yeah that helped a lot (20.09) Seriously (20.09) well i’ll ask the strangers if they are you then (20.09) also i have a red flannel jacket (20.09) i think you will see me clearly (20.10) If u say so (20.10) i do (20.10) Perfect (20.11) See u again then (20.11) see ya:)
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── PART ELEVEN ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── A/N: Wrote parts of this bored in math class, I hate math. This was a little shorter than usual, but the next chapter is gonna be very long because they are meetinggggg!!!!!!! I’m so excited to publish that part (I’m almost finished with it)💗💗 Thanks for reading as usual!!!!
DONT FORGET YOUR DAILY CLICK
Taglist: @gato-chino @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliescunt222 @elsbabyxx @onlinelesbo @slut4mascss @elliessweetheart @fullmachinegirl @mikellie @kitkatkittycat111 @yumimak @ellieschair @deliriousrn @scarletchase1989 @readbydayana @jokerpokimoon @seraphicsentences @w1ll1amz @strap-me-down-please @isitadinosaur @elliesactualgirlfriend @radioheadfan699 @zoehxnji @4ftergloww @macaroni676 @harrysslutsstuff @sc0ttstre3ted @rxreaqia @elliewilliamsblunt @emst4rr @jairaanderson @marrycv
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ladyrowrites · 1 month
Text
SPENDING VALENTINE’S DAY WITH JJK MEN ♡
A/N: I was supposed to post this on the weekend but I got sick. Anyway, all better now so enjoy reading :)
Warning: Implied smut, MDNI!!!!!
Contents: SO MUCH FLUFF! Valentine's day with Gojo, Geto, Nanami, and Toji
♡Gojo
This man will spoil you to death so of course he surprises you with SPA DAY! After brunch, he takes you to the luxurious Four Seasons hotel and you both go up to the 20th floor. 
You look up at him, “Babe, where are you taking me? You already gave me flowers, chocolate and took me to brunch.” 
He grins and winks at you, “Why are you still surprised babe? I am THE Gojo Satoru, ya know I’ll give you the world if you want to right?” While kissing your left hand. 
You just rolled your eyes at him – arrogant as ever. He just weakly laughs, “Don’t worry about it, princess.”
The elevator opens and as you are stepping out, you can hear the serene music and see the waterfalls by the entrance. The spa receptionist bows and both greets you softly, “Good Afternoon, welcome to Four Seasons Spa.” 
You squeeze his hands and he massages your back as a reply and says, “What? You need some pampering. You’ve been working too hard.”
The spa attendant leads you to change rooms and once you are in a comfortable robe, all your stress from work is instantly gone. You met him outside the change room and he was smiling so handsomely to you. You can hear all the spa attendants' squeal and side comments on how lucky you are. 
Oh, he is loving this attention so you pinch him lightly on his left arm. He pretended to be hurt and laughed, “Let’s get this straight tho, Y/N, I am the lucky one.” Then he lifts up your chin and kisses you tenderly on your lips. You felt your heart exhilarate for a moment - Satoru really makes you feel emotions you haven’t experienced before.
“You ready?” While presenting you his manly hands for you to hold. You nodded and took his hands. You both did so much pampering with the couple's facial followed by the couple's massages and of course mani and pedi after. 
After all the relaxation you did today, you feel like you’re ready to go home and sleep for atleast 12 hours, “Thank you Satoru for today. This was the best Valentine’s treat ever!” It was your turn to kiss him passionately. He sweetly smiles at you and tickles you on your sides then leaned in and whispers, “Anything for my princess… Now, it’s dessert time.” 
“Dessert? I’m still so full from brunch!”
He has the biggest smirk plastered on his face, “Heh. You’re my dessert.” He seductively says to you.” While sliding his hands on your thighs.
♡ Geto
He took you to the restaurant you’ve been wanting to try. You can see the customers and waitresses looking at him with hearts in their eyes and for some reason you just want to grab and put your lips in his and proclaim to everyone that HE IS TAKEN! He read your mind though because he knows you too well. 
He half stands up from his seat in front of you and pecks your lips. He sits down again and gently says, “Baby, you have nothing to worry about. I’m yours.” While stroking his thumb on your hands and staring at you like you’re the only person in the room. You love it when he reassures you like this. 
Before leaving the restaurant, he says that he has a surprise for you. You are now walking towards his tattoo shop and so you looked at him suspiciously, “Hmm? Do you have a tattoo session today?” He said his day is free for you so it’s just odd that he’s taking you to his shop right now.
“Shhh, just follow me.” He opens the lock and leads you inside his studio. He then sits you on the black leather couch and gets his ipad to show you something, “Here, look at this stencil.” Then sits beside you.
You saw the drawing in his ipad and you were stunned, “Suguru? Wait, no… is this?” He nods at you, “Yes, that’s the tattoo you’ve been asking me to make and yes my surprise is to tattoo you today if you still want it.” You latch on his arms and excitedly respond yes!
He wraps his left arm in your waist, “Are you sure? Cause’ once I—”
“Yes, please! I’ve been wanting this piece! I’ve made up my mind and I promise, I won’t complain.” You give him the beautiful eyes, “Okay, but no whining, beautiful.” Then he stands up, puts his gloves on, and prints the stencil. The piece that you want is a polydamas swallowtail butterfly with a dagger in the center of it. The dagger was the same one from Mortal Kombat’s Skarlet because it’s both of your favourite video game to play even though he secretly always lets you win.
You want it in your sternum so you lifted your shirt halfway but he lifted it more and you caught his wrist, “Suguru!” He laughs, “Oh, but princess I have to put alcohol a little bit higher than that.” Higher means your boobs basically. You rolled your eyes and just said, “Ahuh.” 
The tattoo lasted 3 excruciatingly painful hours. You wished that he actually told you that you were getting it today because you needed a numbing cream on your sternum. And even though Suguru was gentle, it still hurt, especially the shading portion but Suguru talked you through it and it was worth it in the end. 
You thought that that’s it for the surprise but when you went home there’s petal red roses on the floor and a bouquet of peonies in your living room table with your favourite chocolates beside it. You hugged him and said thank you for being the sweetest man ever. You ate one of the chocolates right away because you can definitely have some sweets right now after all the pain you went through. 
You offered him some and then he back hugs you while he speaks with a low guttural tone, “Hm, I’d rather have you tho.” And then softly places his lips on your neck.
♡ Nanami
You are of course a spoiled princess when it comes to Nanami. You are the love of his life and you are the one who taught him that there was more to life than just working away. You told him you don’t need any gifts for Valentines’ as he always treats you anyway. But he just nonchalantly says, “Love, don’t worry about it, it’s already handled.” 
You wake up first to ensure you give him your gift first. You made sure he is still asleep so you tiptoed your way in the kitchen and grabbed the small box of cookies you made for him. You went to your bedroom again and you can’t help falling in love all over again - on how he was peacefully sleeping with his blonde hair touching his eyes and his chiseled face relaxed.
You sit by the floor next to his side of the bed and slowly comb his hair that was in his eyes. He steadily opens his eyes and smiles at you when he sees how close you are on his face, “Hi, gorgeous.” He says while pinching your nose playfully. “I have a small surprise for you my love.” Then you give him the neatly gift wrapped box. 
He kisses you sweetly on your lips and sits upright by the headboard so you move to sit in the bed and wait patiently for him to open your gift. “You know my love, you didn’t have to, right?” He says while unwrapping it. Now, it was your turn to pinch his nose, “No! I have to. You’ve been really great to me, it’s only fair I give you one.” 
He sees the cookies and he laughs, “Oh my, I didn’t know I looked this good.” The cookie you baked was his different expressions and that was not a lot but you tried your hardest imitating it in your cookies. “What? My favourite one is this one – the one where your eyebrows meet and I can already tell you’re about to lecture me face. Come on, eat one. Let me know how I did.”
“Hmmm, not bad at all. White chocolate, my favourite.” He says approvingly, “But you know what’s sweeter than this?” He puts your gift to the bedside table then grabs you by your waist and starts tickling you.
“Hey! Nanamin! Stop!” You said laughing. He then hugs you tightly and whispers in your ear, “Hmm, you know what the pottery class I booked isn’t until 3pm anyway… So we have lots of time.” He booked the pottery class because you love that pottery scene from Ghost and of course he wanted to be Patrick Swayze for you.
“Time to do what?” You innocently batted your eyelashes at him. He then goes on top of you and with his oh so low sexy voice says, “I think I’ll just show you gorgeous.” You giggled and slapped his biceps playfully, “NANAMIN!!!!”
♡ Toji
Toji isn’t really a romantic type so when you asked him what he wanted to do for Valentines, he just gave you a “What the fuck is that? Why is that a holiday? Look” You just rolled your eyes, not expecting anything anymore. You figure since you don’t think he’ll give you something, you decide maybe you'll just spend your time with your friends.
Valentines’ day comes and you are going out to lunch with your girlfriends Shoko and Utahime – they both called it “‘Galentine's” day since they don't have dates either. You do have a man tho, but he doesn’t celebrate it so it’s whatever. Just one day, you thought. You kiss Toji goodbye and you want to be irritated at him but he hugs and whispers to you, “I’ll be waiting for you to get home.” Then winks at you.  He also tapped your ass while you walked away. You just rolled your eyes. He's such an ass man.
You were having lunch at the Italian place Utahime suggested and even though the cream gnocchi is really good, it’s been leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. “Girl, come on, don’t be so upset. You know Toji’s personality. He still loves you, he’s just not the celebrating type of guy.” Shoko comforts you.
“Yeah, you kinda signed up for this ‘ya know?” Utahime comments, “I knooooow. But still, even a box of chocolates or just a single stemmed flower, can he just do that?” You frustratingly reply.
“Tss. Valentines’ day is such a scam. You know that girlie!” Shoko says, “Yeah you’re right! Anyway, it’s Galentines’ day today so what’s next on our agenda ladies?” You tried to suppress all your irritation because whatever!  Valentines’ is a scam for capitalism but it would not hurt him to just atleast give you something? Anything? Even a love letter. Again, whatever. You shake your thoughts.
“Oh yeah, how about bowling? Sounds good?” Utahime answers. 
After losing to Shoko in bowling, they suggested another activity – archery.
“What? Can’t we just go to some bracelet making shit? I don’t know how to play that.” You whine. “Noooo, come on, this will make you forget your irritation at him. Just think of the target as Toji’s face.” Utahime drags you to the class which is conveniently near the bowling alley. 
“Fine. I mean it’s too early to come home anyway.” 
“Atta girl!” Shoko replies enthusiastically, “Don’t lose again to me, losers.” While making an L hand gesture.
Utahime and you both rolled your eyes at her, “Ugh, the attitude!” She jokingly replies.
When you cross over the street, you see a tall and buff man wearing black jeans and a tight black shirt. You know that built everywhere but you’re not sure at the same time because his face is covered with a bouquet of blue roses with tiny little teddy bears attached to it. Whoever is that girl, lucky, you thought. 
You are distracted when Utahime leads you inside the Archery entrance, “Uhm so? Y/N, this is where Shoko and I leave you. We had a great Galentines’ day thanks to him.” You look so confused looking between Shoko and Utahime but they are giggling and pointing behind you. When you turned around you saw your tough looking boyfriend holding a bouquet of flowers. You are about to speak when they immediately say goodbye to you and wink, then mouthed, “Have fun.”
You now turn to your doting boyfriend - shocked. He playfully laughs and says, “You think I won’t do anything for my girl?” Then kisses you passionately and your heart begins to flutter and dance. He gives you the bouquet and you are just so stunned because you were not expecting anything from him, “You can close your mouth now babe. Haha, Come on, I’m not that heartless.” He then leads you to your archery lane.
He spends his time carefully teaching you how to angle the arrow right and where your shoulder should be. It was a bliss spending archery class with him even though he was praising himself more. Typical, Toji *eye roll*
Little did you know, there is more surprise because when you went home, there were white petal roses on the floor and a candlelit dinner ready, “You prepared all of this? And you cooked my favourite food too?” You shockingly asked him. He just smirks at you and says nonchalantly, “Well, I am the best boyfriend.” 
He won’t admit it but Toji has some romantic traits under that tough exterior. Also, he asked your friends to take you out to distract you while he cleans the house, cook dinner and prepare all this – even giving Shoko the money to pay for lunch and a bowling outing for the three of you. 
You move forward to Toji to hug him and he catches you by your waist so you wrap your legs around his torso and began kissing his whole face for being the most loving boyfriend and promised him that he’ll have the best dessert right after. *WINK WINK*
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peyiswriting · 8 months
Text
ONE SHOT : YOU ARE MY NEW DREAM
PAIRING : Lewis Hamilton x Black reader
SUMMARY : Reader and Lewis formed the perfect family with their daughter Luna. However, Lewis' old demons might destabilise the little family. Will they be able to overcome it?
WARNINGS (+18) : Angst, heartbreak, mention of divorce, Mild smut, pregnancy and dad Lewis! - A LOT OF WORDS : 17k
(English is not my first language so feel free me to correct me so I can improve it next time).
I wanted to write something different so let me know what you think about it. I would love to have your opinions and thoughts on this one. Remember writing takes a lot of time, if you enjoyed, please reblog, comment and interact.
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Tiredness and frustration slowly increased as you looked at your four-year-old daughter, Luna, crying in the middle of the night while she should have been asleep. At midnight, the little girl decided that she had enough of staying here and wanted to see her father, probably the person she loved the most on earth. 
Luna crossed her arms as she leaned against the wall. At first, she was simply angry, but sadness slowly grew in her. "I miss daddy."
"I know, babygirl, but we've already talked about this. You can't be with him all the time. He's a very busy man."
"I want Daddy." She repeated in the same sad whisper, you heard plenty of time. The same one that often broke your heart. Sometimes you were mad at yourself for ruining her balance, but choices needed to be made. You could not stay in a situation that impacted your mental health that heavily.
"Luna, listen, princess. How about we call him tomorrow? We can't call him now because he needs to sleep for tomorrow’s race." She looked down while moving her toes. By the way she was pinching her lips, you knew it was just a matter of time before she started crying. You let out a loud sigh while trying to keep your balance in the crouching position you were in.
As predicted, you heard sobs coming from your daughter. The crying sessions and the tantrums in the middle of the night became more frequent as time passed. Contrary to what you thought, the situation was getting worse each month. Luna missed her dad every single day. She would talk about him every day, call him every chance she got, or even draw and paint for him. Luna would do anything to see a smile on her dad's face or to get his attention. The bond and love they had for one another were unbreakable, and the distance couldn’t change anything.
You took her tiny hands before taking her chin and forcing her to look at you. "Luna, I know it's hard for you, but things have changed. You can't see dad like you used to."
"Why? Why has it changed?"
”Because, as you know, mom and dad are divorced. That’s why we don’t live together anymore."
The sobs intensified as she listened to you. "Why divorce? I want to be with daddy and you. Not only you." Hearing those words felt like a punch in the face. Of course, she would never be okay with the idea of living with you 90% of the time without seeing her dad. Due to Lewis tight schedule, Luna could rarely see him or spend time with him. Unless you sacrificed your job and weekends to attend half of the Grand Prix. If his schedule only relied on the Grand Prix, your life would have been easier. However, between Fashion Week, private events, ads, interviews, shooting, and Mission44, Lewis had little to no time. Therefore, every time Lewis had some free time, he would always prioritise Luna over any friend or family member. He always tried his best to see his daughter at least twice a month. 
"I want daddy back with us. It's not fair." She whispered while brushing off the curls on her forehead.
"I know, baby, I know." You murmured as you tightly hugged her, trying to give her all the love she needed. "It's hard for mommy too. She misses dad too." You explain while slowly carrying her back into her bedroom. 
Once she was in bed, she immediately grabbed the Mercedes plushy Lewis gifted her when she was two. Since that day, Lewis bear has been an official member of the Hamilton family. She could not sleep, eat, play, or go out without him. The plushy was her best partner, even more so after your divorce. One night, as you were about to check on her as you always do when she falls asleep, you heard murmurs.
"Lewis bear, we need to pray really hard so dad can come back home. Mommy is mad at him, but if we pray hard enough, she will forgive him. I want daddy and mommy at home, just like my friends. I'm sad." Your heart shattered into pieces when you heard those words. One of your worst fears became true, and you blamed yourself for it. Your mother warned you about that decision, but the good, stubborn head you were didn't listen. "Think about Luna, she’s still four years old. A divorce can really mess her up." 
Luna held her bear tightly as she looked at the ceiling. You caressed her curly hair, which reminded you of Lewis' hair. She looked everything like him, except for the skin tone. Genetics did its magic, giving you a beautiful brown-skinned baby who looked like a girl's version of her dad. A little girl you could die for. "Mommy?"
"Yes, baby."
”Why do you not love daddy anymore?" Your eyes widened, you were surprised to see how smart and observant she was at her age. You took a deep breath before replying. 
"I love your dad. I always will. What is happening between dad and me has nothing to do with you. We love each other, but we can't live together anymore."
"Why? I want daddy to be with us."
"Hum. It's complicated, baby, okay?" She looked at the ceiling again, always rubbing her Lewis bear. "Can I have a little brother or sister?"
"Luna! Mommy is not with dad anymore."
"Yeah, but he can still give you the potion to have a baby." Interiorly, you wanted to burst out laughing, but you kept your composure. 
"You should sleep, baby. We will call daddy tomorrow, okay? Mommy loves you, never forget that." She nodded with the little smile you loved so much.
"Good night, mommy. Luh, you too." You kissed her cheek and forehead before disappearing into your own room. 
Since the divorce, you've lost count of the sad nights where you spent hours crying on your bed. Sometimes, you missed him to the point of wishing to get back with him, but most times, you hated him for putting you in that situation and for giving up on your marriage. You stared at a picture of the three of you in front of the Giza Pyramids in Egypt. It was probably one of the best vacations you had with your family. As you studied every detail of the pictures, memories flowed back into your mind.
*****
Before marrying Lewis, you knew how demanding his career could be. How many sacrifices, dedication, and time it required to be THE GOAT of the sport. However, something changed after that night in Abu Dhabi. The most competitive side of him took over, making him forget about his vows to you. Winning an eighth title quickly became his main and only concern. According to him, the rest was just a mere distraction. When the season 2022 started, your marriage slowly started to crumble.
His eighth title ambition would have to wait because the car was underperforming. However, Lewis, being Lewis, decided that he would do everything in his power to help the team. Which meant collecting data, spending more time at the factory, and also spending more time in meetings to discuss the car. As a result, he had little time for his daughter and no room left for you or your marriage.
After waiting for him for three hours, you decided that it would be better to go to bed. Lewis promised to be home at 9:00 p.m. so he could spend some time with Luna before she went to bed at 9:30 p.m. The same text message you have been reading plenty of times per month appeared on your screen: "Hey sweetie, I won't be able to make it on time. Kiss Luna for me. 😘" Once again, he would not keep his promise. In that situation, you didn’t care about yourself anymore. What mattered the most was Luna. You already knew that your case was a lost cause.
After staring at your screen for five minutes, you decided not to reply. Not when you knew what would happen next. The little girl would cry in your arms and express how much she wanted her dad to be here. "I want daddy."
"Daddy won't be able to come, and you need to rest. You’ll see him tomorrow."
"No!" She yelled and crossed her arms.
"Luna, if you don't go to sleep, you're going to lose a behaviour star on the board." 
"I want to wait for daddy."
"You know it’s not possible, babygirl. It’s already late."
She pouted before entering her room. Instead of punishing her all the time, you opted for a star system. Every time she was misbehaving, you would remove one star from the board until she reached one. A punishment would occur only if she had one star left on the board.
Fortunately, Luna had the same character traits as her father, which included loving a challenge. As a consequence, she always made sure to keep the maximum number of stars for the longest time. Contrary to you, Lewis rarely removed any stars, even if his daughter was in the wrong. Something you complained about more than once. "Lewis, I understand that you love her with your entire soul, but being a father includes educating her. You can't keep forgetting to remove the stars. She needs to understand that she cannot do whatever she wants."
”Yeah, baby, I know. I'd make an effort." However, the second he saw the mini version of him with longer curls, he would forget whatever promises he made earlier on. 
When she fell asleep, you waited for hours before giving up. As you were about to lie, you heard the keys in the door. Instead of rushing, you would let him have his dinner. Once he finished, you joined him in the kitchen. "Hey sweetie. I thought you were asleep already."
"No, I was waiting for you because we need to talk." Lewis poured some fresh water into his glass as he stared curiously at you. "What's going on?"
"A lot." Lewis looked away. He already knew why you were coming for him.
"Lewis, I'm tired of this situation. I've been telling you for months and months. I'm just tired of feeling lonely as a married woman. I know how much F1 matters to you, and I understand the desire for an eighth tittle, but it's becoming a problem. It's at the expense of our family."
"Sweetie, I know that I'm asking a lot, but I promise to retire after that title."
"What if it takes 5 years? Are we going to continue like that? Lewis, I can't do it anymore. I'm drained. Tonight, she cried again. Is that what you want for her?"
"Luna is my everything, and you know that. She's the most precious thing to me."
"Then act like it." Lewis rubbed his face as he sat down in front of you. "I really want that 8th tittle. You need to understand me." You shook your head at Lewis’ statement. The audacity of him to ask you to endure as if you had not done it for years. "Is the title more important than Luna and I?"
"I've never said that. You mean the world to me, and you know it."
"I don't believe you anymore, Lewis. That's the problem." A silence settled in as the two of you stared at one another. "I can't even remember the last time we shared family time or even mom and dad time. It's all about you and your career." 
"You knew it before marrying me. What has changed ever since?"
”Oh, let me think, maybe the fact that you're not even trying to spend time with us. That eighth title is polluting your mind, and Luna is the collateral damage of your choices. I won’t accept that."
"We're making progress in the car data for next year. I know it's not going to be this year, but I don't want to give up."
"I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall. Lewis, I'm not even having this conversation for us. I'm thinking about her. Spending one hour per week with her surrounded by the Mercedes staff is not what I would call quality time."
"She's happy to come to the paddock with me, and you know it."
”Still, that's not enough. It's easy to have your point of view when you're not the one who has to sit there and listen to her cry. Each time, I need to find new words, new excuses, new ways of comforting her because of your mess. I’m tired, Lewis." You explained, concluding with a louder tone than intended. "Calm down, sweetie." This time, you had enough. He had no right to ask you to calm down, not after what he was putting you through.
"I’m not calming down. Today, I will speak. I’m mentally drained because of you. Shit, do you realise that you keep asking me to make sacrifices year after year without ever giving anything in return? The era where you were the F1 playboy is over, you’re a family man now. Think about it." You finally shouted, way too angry to control the tone of your voice. Usually, you never raise your voice, but tonight, you just had enough. 
You shook your head as tears rolled down your face. "When I was pregnant, you promised to not be that work-alcoholic man again. Yet, here we are. F1 before anything and everything, including your wife and daughter." Lewis clenched his jaw, he hated when you compared his love for F1 with the love he had for his daughter, the most precious thing life could have given him. The most beautiful thing you gave him. "I’m going to stop you there. Luna is the most important thing in my life. My career will never be more important than her." 
"Bullshit. If that’s the case, why don’t you spend more time with her? Why are you missing so many milestones in her life? Lewis, you literally missed her end-of-year show. I will never forget how she performed with tears in her eyes as she looked at the audience, looking for her dad. At the end of the show, she ran to me and cried for an hour. Every time she looked around and saw other kids with their dads, she sobbed even more. Do you realise that she even asked if you still loved her? Lewis, you need to understand that your choices are impacting our family. It's not just about you anymore."
"I’m sorry. I had plenty of things to do that day. I promised it wouldn’t happen again. Why are you bringing it back?"
"Because unfortunately, your promises don’t mean shit these days." The tone you used was harsher, colder, and more aggressive. As if the love and affection you had for him had just vanished. "Okay, say what you want to say. I know you’re holding back. After seven years of relationship, I can tell." He replied in a calm tone. At first, you admired how relaxed the man was, but after many years, it started to bother you, especially during fights. How could he be so calm when he was the one to cause that much damage? "Yes, I was not done. Don’t worry. Lewis, what do you think about our marriage?" 
"Hum. I know I’m lucky to have you. Thank you for holding our family together, for all the sacrifices, the love, and everything you do for me." You almost rolled your eyes at his stupid declaration. "I hope you’re joking, Lewis." You spat between your teeth. Once again, you lost control of the tone of your voice.
"Lucky to have me while you don’t even appreciate me. I don’t feel loved or supported. You prioritised your career so much that you completely forgot about me. I can’t even remember the last time we went on a date or the last time we made love. Shit, even a simple conversation or some quality time, I can’t remember because you gave up on us." You yelled one more time as tears kept rolling down your face. 
As Lewis was about to reply, a voice interrupted the two of you. "Mommy, daddy." Luna looked at you in confusion as she held her Lewis bear tighter. Luna intensely stared at you while you stared back at her. It would not be the first time she would hear you fight, but you could not allow her to see you cry. In a matter of seconds, you dried your tears. To your surprise, the little girl understood that you were crying. Within seconds, she came to you, and handed you a tissue. "It’s okay, mommy. I’m here for you." She whispered before using her small thumbs to dry the tears left under your eyes. The small attention made you smile as you tenderly played with her hair. "Why are you crying, mommy?" She asked in a worried tone. 
After being confronted with silence, Luna pursued, "If mommy is sad, Luna is sad too." Her innocent voice almost made you cry again. She was the reason you held on to this marriage to this day, she was the reason you woke up in the morning; she was the reason you wanted to become the best version of yourself. She was your everything, and you felt very blessed to have her at this particular moment. Lewis approached the two of you before he gently rubbed your shoulders.
"Mommy is sad about something, and she was telling dad about it." The innocent girl in front of you looked at her dad. "So you’re not fighting?" Lewis shook his head while he lovingly kissed the top of her head. "We were just discussing, baby. We still love each other. Don’t worry." 
As per usual, her intelligence and liveliness surprised you. ”Why was mommy screaming if you’re just discussing?" You cleared your throat, taking your small hands in yours. "Mommy felt very strong emotions, that’s why. We are fine, babygirl. I promise." You reassured the toddler, whose face illuminated when she heard those words. Your daughter took the opportunity to hug the two of you at the same time. The action made Lewis and you stare at one another out of guilt. You needed to do better because Luna deserved better. To relax the atmosphere, Lewis suddenly took Luna in his arms before kissing her entire face. The laughs she let out every time her dad kissed her always made you smile, even if at the moment all you wanted to do was cry. 
After Lewis put Luna in bed, you joined your shared bedroom. Once he closed the door, you prepared to go to bed. Now is the perfect time to finish the conversation you didn't have the time to conclude earlier. Your husband was comfortable in bed when you arrived.
"Lewis, I wanted to remind you that you’re the first man in her life. You’re setting the standard for her future and the future men in her life. I don’t want her to think that it’s normal for a man or a person in general to not hold to their promises. Do better. Also, if you don’t make a significant effort for our family, I will have to make some decisions. I can’t stay in a situation that mentally drains me. I’m giving my all for our family, but it takes two to make it work. I can’t be the one to do all the work. This is your last chance, and I hope you will take it seriously. Good night." Obviously, you did not have a good night. Your mind and heart would not let you rest. 
***** 
The day you feared the most has finally arrived. At the beginning of your relationship or marriage, you would never have thought about ending up in such a situation. Yet, decisions had to be made for your own good. It broke your heart to initiate that process, but you had to. You did not sign up to feel lonely in marriage. That day, you were waiting for him in the kitchen, where he often ate his dinner. As per usual, he came home late due to a meeting with the team. It was not even racing week, yet the man still privileged his career above you.
Sure, he made efforts when it came to Luna, but those efforts did not exist for you. Lewis smiled at your presence in the kitchen before kissing your cheek. "Hey, sweetie. How are you?" Not him, trying to make an effort the day you already started the process. Lewis calmly ate his dinner as he spoke to you about his day and goals for the next day. When Lewis was about to sit down next to you, an envelope on the table caught his attention. 
"Is that for you?" You shook your head, making a hand sign to encourage him to open it. The more he read, the more his face changed. He gulped, his eyes glistened, and his mouth was slightly open. All the signs were reunited, Lewis was sad, you hurt his feelings. The word divorce felt like a punch in the guts for him. "I tried. Believe me, I did, I just can’t anymore. I’m mentally exhausted."
"Sweetie, please. We can figure it out. We can't divorce, you’re the love of my life. Don’t do that to me, please." The way he was pleading almost made you reconsider your decision. "I need my family near me. My wife and my daughter. Don’t do that to me."
"That’s the problem, Lewis, it’s always about you." Lewis rubbed his face, hoping that he was just having a nightmare. "I’d do whatever it takes to avoid a divorce. I know I’ve been a neglectful husband, I know it. Now, I can promise that I’m going to do better if it means that I keep my family by my side. You can’t separate me from Luna." Hearing him whisper from a place of despair was too much for you. To avoid feeling your heart shatter into pieces, you got up and left him in the kitchen. Seeing the person you love hurt is never a pleasure. Since that night, you have started to sleep in the guest room in the most discreet manner possible. The last thing you wanted was for Luna to notice something.
**** 
Until you pass away, you will probably remember that day. The day you officially divorced from the person you thought was the love of your life, your soulmate, Lewis. Instead of feeling a kind of relief, you felt an extreme pain in your chest. Since the divorce announcement, Lewis has become another man. He was still performing on the grid, but outside of it, he was lost. Lewis was shocked and sad about the situation. Despite all the efforts in the world, it did not change your mind. The damage was already done.
The strong-headed woman you were refused to change her mind about the painful decision you made. Unfortunately, he realised that his obsession with his career led him to break the most precious thing he had on this earth, his family. Now, he is condemned to see his daughter a few times per month instead of seeing her several times per week when his career allowed him to. It was only now that he truly realised the consequences of his actions. The little attention, encouragement, and love he was getting from you are all gone. Now, he would have to go back to an empty and silent house with Roscoe as his only company. 
Sadness gained him every second as he thought about the small privileges he just lost: coming home to a family, hearing his wife’s voice, discussing with her, laughing with her, sometimes playing with her, having her unconditional support, having someone who understood him. The probability of finding another woman like you was slim to none. You were his soulmate, he knew it the second you went on your first date.
To everyone’s surprise, it took him only two years to marry you. Lewis the bachelor, the man who ran from commitment and only focused on F1, decided to give love a try when he met you. One of the best decisions he ever made. At that thought, his heart ached even more. He could not hold you accountable for what happened, you warned him too many times. He could only blame himself for not listening and making significant efforts. Regrettably, he let the old Lewis take over, and it cost him his actual family and the one he imagined in the future. In his head, he would have all his children with you—the three he wanted so badly. 
The two of you intensely stared at each other while the lawyers concluded the last terms of the divorce. Lewis had his eyes closed for almost the entire audience. As if thinking about his mistakes was too painful. If he could go back in time, he would have made better choices. It was too late now to realise how much he loved and valued his family, especially you, his soon-to-be ex-wife.
After seven years together, you could read him like an open book. He hated himself for losing control, for failing you and your daughter. During the entire process, you insisted on not wanting anything from his fortune. "This is not what I married him for in the first place." The child support he had to pay would be more than enough. "Yeah, but I still want you to keep the house we bought in London."
"Thank you." You whispered while avoiding his gaze. The lawyers stopped talking for a moment before asking the final question, "Are you sure that it is truly what you want?" Lewis jumped on the occasion to try to convince you.
"This is not what I want. I never wanted to divorce you, sweetie. If I’m signing those papers, it’s only because you want to be free, and I don’t want to be the one to hold you back. If it only deepened on me, I would die by your side. You’re one of the most precious things in my life, and I don’t want to lose you." At the sight of your lack of reaction, Lewis pursed, "Sweetie, I learned my lesson. We have the power to stop it if we want to. I’m begging you to think about us, our family, the sacrifices, our vows, everything. I love you. I always will, and I always did the second I laid eyes on you in that elevator. I’m sorry for the pain I caused, for my selfishness, and for my lack of empathy. You’ve been holding our family back for years, and I should have been more understanding and grateful."
Memories flowed inside your head as you remembered your very first meeting with Lewis. How he had to chase you, how he proved himself throughout the years, how he contributed to your happiness, how he supported you, how he encouraged you. The partner you always dreamed of until he lost himself again in his career. "Lewis, if you had remembered your vows, we wouldn’t be here." You whispered, trying your best not to burst into tears. "I’m sorry, but I don’t believe anything you say anymore. I don’t want to give you another chance just to end up hurt and disappointed again. I don't have that kind of strength within me anymore." You dried the tears that tried to roll down your cheeks. After looking at him one more time, you took a deep breath and signed the final paper. The one that officially terminated your marriage. 
If someone had told him that a more painful moment than Abu Dhabi would happen, he would never have believed them. Here he was, feeling the heaviness, regret, and sadness of the consequences of his actions. Lewis slightly sank into the leather chair as his finger played on his beard. Now that you had signed it, he had no choice but to sign it as well. He couldn’t believe that he was leaving seven years of relationship behind him, five years of marriage, and an uneven family balance. It was all his fault, you warned him multiple times. His hand shook while he signed the paper—one of the hardest things he ever had to do. Whatever the lawyers last words were, Lewis did not hear them. He was in his own world and bubble, too lost and hurt to connect again with the real world. The final straw was when they tore the marriage certificate apart right in front of you. This time, it was too much. He got up, thanked every single person before storming out of the room.
"Lewis, Lewis, Lewis, wait." You screamed at him when he was about to hop in his car. "Don’t think that this is what I wanted."
"It doesn’t matter. I’m not mad at you." He approached you before resting his forehead against yours. "I will never forgive myself for that. Of course, you’re an amazing woman, so I can only wish you the best for the rest of your life. I love you and always will." He tenderly kissed your forehead for many seconds. The tears fell down your cheeks this time, it was the most painful moment of your life. "Take care of yourself. I see you later." He concluded while jumping in his car and vanishing in the middle of London.
****
When you got back home to the home Lewis kindly gave you during the divorce, you closed the door and threw your bag on the floor. The pain you tried to hold back earlier came back in full force. As it slowly invaded every part of your body, you leaned against the wall before sliding down the floor and shedding all the tears your body could offer. Thankfully, Luna was with her grandmother, so you could grieve in peace. Why did it have to happen to you? Why, why, why? You loved Lewis with your entire soul, but you could not love him more than you loved yourself.
The situation was too draining for you to keep enduring it. Not when you've already endured for two years. Now, you would have to start all over again. Sure, you failed in many areas of life and in many projects, but your marriage was never something you thought about failing in. Your father warned you multiple times before you married Lewis.
"You will never truly be a priority. He might try for a few years, but as we say, the leopard doesn't change its spots, the leopard can't change its spots. Lewis is an elite athlete, a competitor, F1 will always come first. Are you sure you can handle it?" Your father has always been opposed to that union. He thought that you deserved a man who had more time on his hands to truly take care of you. Of course, you always defended Lewis and stood by his side.
"He’s been making efforts since the beginning. Look, I know that you are worried about me, but I want to give us a chance. If it ever failed, at least I would have tried."
One thing you could be proud of was that you tried your best and gave everything to make it work. However, you can’t be the only one to work your ass off to make the marriage last. A partnership could not rely on one person, not when you both agreed on the terms and conditions of this commitment.
A few days later, the moments you feared the most happened. The public announcement of your divorce was a shock to many people. Since Lewis and you were pretty private, people never knew that much about your couple. What they were seeing from time to time and on the paddock made them believe that you were the perfect couple. At the beginning, you would have agreed, but the last two years were far from perfection. Apart from the public announcement, the hardest part was explaining to Luna that her dad would no longer live with you.
That day, Lewis arrived before Luna came back home to collect some of his stuff. "You don’t have to take everything. Your daughter still lives here. So it makes sense if you spend the night occasionally. You should leave some clothes."
"I’d rather not sleep here. It’s too hard for me. Do you know why I bought this house?" You shook your head, waiting for his reply. "I imagined it as our final home for when I retire. Perfect for a family with multiple kids. Anyway…" The silence that settled in was the most uncomfortable one you've ever experienced. Thankfully, Luna’s screams interrupted the awkward moment. 
"DADDY! Where are you?" He smiled at the sound of her looking for him. The second she saw him, she ran into his arms and hugged him tightly. "I missed you, daddy."
"I missed even more, babygirl." He replied with a weak smile as he rubbed her back. Instead of brutally introducing her to her new reality, you let her spend time with him as you prepared her snacks. Once she enjoyed her food with her dad, you asked her to sit on the couch. "Luna, mommy and daddy need to talk to you." She sat down with a big grin on her face. The sight of that smile almost made you give up on the idea of being openly honest about the situation. 
Lewis squatted down and rested his hands on her knees. He looked at her tenderly as she tightly held her Lewis bear. "Babygirl, we have something to tell you. It’s not easy for us, but we can’t lie to you. Lying is not a good thing, you can’t do it, but we also can’t do it." Luna intensely stared at Lewis then at you, wondering what you were going to say to her. "Before I start, I will say that whatever happens, nothing will ever change. Mommy and daddy love you, we will always be a family, okay?" She nodded. "Daddy loves mommy, and..." He paused to take a deep breath. 
"Mommy loves daddy too, but they have decided not to live together anymore." Luna stayed still, probably too shocked to react. "What do you mean, daddy?" You sat by her side as you explained, "Sometimes when two people love each other deeply, they don’t want to hurt the other one. It’s better if they separate. Since I don’t want to hurt dad, and he doesn’t want to hurt me. We have to take some distance." Lewis discreetly nodded to say thank you. He hurt you, but you lied to protect his image in his daughter’s eyes.
"Where will you go, daddy?" Lewis smiled as he played with his beautiful, light brown curls. "Hum. As you know, daddy travels all the time. So I’ll be in hotels a lot of the time, but sometimes I will be in Monaco or London. It depends."
"Are you abandoning us?" She whispered with teary eyes. "No,no,no, babygirl. Daddy could never abandon you. He loves you too much for that. You’re just going to see him less than before." Luna rubbed her eyes to dry her tears. Lewis closed his eyes while you tried your best to control your pain. "I don’t want that. I want my daddy with me."
"You can call me whenever you want, okay? I’ll always be there, okay?" Luna sobbed even harder, holding her teddy bear stronger than before. Lewis took her in his arms as he tried to comfort her. You wish you could find the right words, but you can’t. "Don’t go, daddy. Stay with us." You looked down, trying with all your will to control the sobs that wanted to escape. Lewis tried to calm his daughter by promising to come back soon. "Daddy needs to leave. The plane is waiting for him."
Lewis kissed his little princess forehead before storming out of the house. It was too hard for him, he couldn’t stand the situation. He was responsible for the situation and hated himself for it. Luna surprised you by getting out of the house and running after her father. "Luna! Come back here!" You immediately ran after her. 
When you arrived outside, Lewis stared at you with sadness in his eyes. He was ready to jump in his car, but he stopped when he saw Luna running towards him. He took her in his arms one more time, murmuring words of positivity, love and promising that he would be back soon. "I don’t want to wait." She screamed between sobs. The most heartbreaking scene was yet to come. After Lewis tried to comfort her, he handed Luna to you. The little girl hid her face in the crook of your neck, crying all the tears she had.
Luna then left your arms to stare at the car in front of her. When her father waved to her and started the engine, she ran after the car, screaming to Lewis, "Daddy, stay, please. Daddy, please." You ran after her to catch her, a little girl running in the middle of the road was too dangerous. After catching her, you took her in your arms and let her cry as long as she needed.
On the other side, Lewis hoped in his private jet with a clouded mind. Those images of his daughter crying and running after his car would stay in his mind forever. Lewis rarely cried in his life, but this time he had valid reasons to. He just shattered his family and hurt his daughter and wife. The next few months promised to be the toughest of his life.
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London, England
"DADDY!" Seeing her face light up when she sees her dad always warms your heart. Hey, my little princess, I missed you so much."
"Me too, Daddy." She said this while kissing his cheek and hugging him tightly. Lewis then turned around to greet you with a kiss on both cheeks. "Tell dad what you've done for two weeks." Luna immediately started to speak for long periods of time, giving a lot of details about her days and activities. "Also, I helped mommy dress up to go out."
No, no, no, she wasn't supposed to spill the tea about your date night. Lewis cleared his throat. Even if he was jealous, you knew he would never show it. "Oh, I hope mommy had fun." He replied nonchalantly. The atmosphere between you has always been cordial, and the main subject has always been Luna. From time to time, Lewis tried to deviate, but you would always cut that dynamic straight. You refuse for your coparenting relationship to be mixed with old feelings or sexual tension. "Daddy?"
"Yes, babygirl?"
"Can I have a brother or sister? I'm bored. You can still give the potion to mommy, right?" Lewis tenderly smiled at his daughter's innocence. "No, he can't, baby. Sorry." Luna let out a despairing sigh as she looked at you. "Why don't you love mommy anymore, daddy? I want to live with you both. Like other kids at school." 
Lewis looked at you with sadness in his eyes before replying to his daughter. "I love mommy. I always will, but we need some distance to not kill our love." Luna pouted, unconvinced by his reply. "Even if mom and dad don't live together anymore, it doesn't mean that they love you less. We still love you from the bottom of our hearts. Okay, princess?"
She nodded, despite her sad eyes. "Is your bag ready?" She nodded again with excitement in her eyes. Seeing her leave the house to spend days with Lewis always hurts. Not because you didn't want her to spend time with him. You were just used to having her by your side all the time." Enjoy Monaco, princess." Luna thanked you as she hugged you with all the strength she had. "Goodbye mommy!" 
"Be nice with daddy, okay?" Lewis caressed the top of her head as he replied, "She’s always nice to me. Anyway, take care of yourself, swet- Y/N." He still struggled to simply call you by your name. You nodded before accompanying them to the door. Three days without Luna would be very long.
**** 
3 days later…
The sound of knocks on the door already made you smile. Three days without your baby were long, it didn’t matter how hard you tried to keep yourself busy, your mind would always bring you back to her. By the way she widely smiled, you could tell that she had a great weekend. Luna ran to you and jumped in your arms the second she saw you.
"Mommy! I missed you. I wish you were with us." Lewis tenderly smiled at his daughter, who wasted no time and told you every single detail about her weekend. "Wow, you played tennis with daddy and grandpa? That’s amazing!"
"Yes, grandpa was better than daddy." Lewis rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Next time, I’m taking my revenge." The three of you shared more conversation around the weekend your daughter just spent. After an hour, Lewis checked his watch and got up, which made you furrow your brows. 
"Where are you going?"
"Home. It’s getting late. I don’t want to bother." You rolled your eyes at him. "You’re not a stranger, stop it. Stay with us for dinner." Luna turned to you with a surprised face. "Yes! Daddy, please stay for dinner."
"Unless daddy has other plans?" You teasingly asked, hoping that the response would be negative. Even if it has been six months since the divorce, you still have feelings for him. Lewis made a grimace before sitting back down. "Of course I’m staying." Luna jumped and screamed in excitement before running into her dad's arms. "Yeeeesss!!!" The happiness on her face made you smile like you had not for a long period of time. 
The family moment brought you back to the era when you were still married. The lightness, the laughs, the flowing conversations, the relaxed atmosphere—everything almost made you regret your decision. After dinner, you decided to do some playdough with Luna to extend her feeling of joy. The moment would stay on your mind for a long time. "What have you created, daddy?"
"A helmet and a F1 car." Luna giggled while you rolled your eyes at him. "Also, I created a small moon for you." He whispered, handing the grey playdough ball to Luna, who grinned. "Moon like Luna." Lewis nodded while caressing her curls. "Yes, just for my princess."
The way his eyes glistened when he spoke to his daughter—even the soft tone he used—almost made you melt on the spot. Even if Lewis has not been the best husband, you did not have that much to say about his dad's skills. He loved Luna with his entire soul, and you could tell. Lewis turned to you with his usual gentle grin. "How about you, mommy? What have you done?"
"Well, I’ve made a flower for Luna." The little girl giggled at the sight of the flower. "Thank mommy." You smiled at her before caressing her arm. "Not to be that person, but it’s bedtime, babygirl."
Luna pouted while snuggling against her father. "Five more minutes, please, mommy. I want to stay with Daddy more."
"How about Daddy get you to bed? I can read you a story." Luna screamed again out of excitement, probably because it reminded her of the moment you were still living under the same roof. As they left the living room, you exceptionally decided to clean up the mess and tidy everything. Once you were done, you went to Luna’s bedroom and checked if she had fallen asleep. Instead, you were met with the sight of Luna nestled against her father while he read one of her favourite stories, Moana. When Lewis ended the story, he kissed his daughter’s forehead.
"Daddy! When I will grow up. I like to explore the sea, just like Moana." Lewis giggled at Luna’s words. He knew that Luna was courageous, ambitious, and an adventurer like her mother. Remember, Luna, you can do whatever you put your mind to. "Never forget that, but if you want to navigate through the seas, you need to know your geography."
"Yes daddy! I will learn everything I can. I will make you and mommy proud." Lewis grinned so hard that the crinkles around his eyes appeared. He wished he could stay with Luna longer, but it was getting late. You probably wanted to go to sleep peacefully. "I’m already proud of you, babygirl. Okay, time to sleep now."
"Can you tell me another story, please, daddy." Lewis was incapable of saying no to his precious little daughter, so he started to tell her how the two of you met. "Well, I stayed at the Mandarin hotel in Barcelona for the Grand Prix. One night after I came back late to my hotel room, there was this beautiful and confident woman who entered the elevator, saying words you should not say. She was very angry, but I ignored her. I know why." You smiled as you remembered your first meeting with Lewis. The poor man saw the worst version of you from day one. 
****
"Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t even know why I’m trying at this point since it’s never enough. Fucking pieces of shit." Lewis eyes were glued. For once in a long time, he was drawn by energy. A spark lit up within him, he could not explain why. Once you realised that you weren’t alone, you shook your head.
"Oh shit, my bad. Good evening, Sir." You said without even bothering to turn around. Lewis lightly chuckled at your indifference. "It’s okay as long as you don’t turn into the Hulk."
Despite your anger, you laughed at his joke. "Oh, sometimes I wish I could. It would certainly calm certain people down." The two of you shared another laugh. "On a more serious note, whatever you’re trying and feeling like you’re not enough, please do me a favour. Don’t give up. If people can’t see your value, it’s on them. Always believe in yourself."
The ding of the elevator made you jump as you turned around to look at the stranger. Your breath almost stopped when you realised how beautiful he was. However, your brain did not make the link, in your eyes, he was just a random guy who was making enough money to afford a room in this expensive hotel. "Thank you, Sir. What’s your name?"
"I’m Lewis." 
"Well, thank you, Sir Lewis. Have a good night." The second you exited the elevator, Lewis already had a plan in mind to get at least your number before leaving the hotel. The warmth, peace, and lightness he felt while talking to you intrigued him. He wanted to dig, he needed to dig. When you came back to your hotel room that night, you thought about him for thirty minutes before refocusing on your work. After all, he was just a random man you met in an elevator. What could possibly happen after that. You don’t even have his full name. Little did he know that his last name would become yours two years later.
****
Lewis smiled when he looked at Luna’s sleepy face. She looked like an angel fallen from the sky in his eyes. He kissed her forehead tenderly for multiple seconds before whispering, "I love you, princess. I’ll do my best to see you very soon. Good night, my little moon." As Lewis was about to head out of Luna’s room, you ran into the living room. He did not need to know that you stared at him for more than half an hour. When he appeared in the living room. You pretended to read while sipping on red wine. Hearing the story about your first meeting recreated a new wave of feelings and the desire to spend more time with him. It’s not because you were divorced that you only had to stick to co-parenting. You could be friends, right? "Want me to pour a glass for you?"
"I can’t, I’m racing in two weeks." You shook your head. "Which means, you have two weeks to burn the calories." Lewis smiled, that type of reply reminded him why he fell for you in the first place. However, he did not feel comfortable because he had no control over the situation. One of the things he hated the most was losing control. "I see that you’re hesitating. Look, it’s not because we’re divorced that we can discuss things like adults. I don’t hate you."
"I thought. The way you pushed me back these last months…"
"I could never hate you, even if I tried. You know it. I just wanted to make sure that we were building a solid co-parenting relationship. So are you staying? Unless one of your girls is waiting for you, of course."
Lewis shook his head while he sat down by your side. "I’m a free man. One glass only." You smirked as you poured the red liquid into his glass. "When did you start randomly drinking wine?"
"Hum. Since I have been gifted a bottle." You shrugged with a smile. Lewis giggled before taking a sip. "Hmm. This one is pretty good."
"Yeah, a client’s gift. Another advantage of working in finance as a freelancer.” Lewis grinned before asking, "Is everything okay with Luna?"
"She’s an adorable, smart, and empathetic girl. A little bit stubborn and competitive too, but she got it from her dad." Lewis laughed at the mention of his daughter’s character traits. "A mini-me."
"Thank you for reminding me that my contribution is almost nonexistent." He lightly chuckled again. "I wouldn’t call myself a smart guy, that trait is yours." She also has a little attitude, just like her mother." The two of you shared a smile before you teasingly pulled on his beard.
Lewis laughed while trying his best not to imagine your beautiful manicured hand caressing his back and torso. However, the sight of your beautiful legs, a body part he always loved, made it harder for him to not spark a sexual desire. He cleaned his throat, trying his best to brush off any sexual thoughts from his mind. Of course, he still loved you and would do anything to get you back.
The idea of getting back together was still on his mind, he refused to give up. Maybe you needed more time, but until you get into another relationship, he believed in a future reconciliation. Talking about relationships, he needed to know why you dressed up last time. Obviously, he hoped that you just went out with the girls. 
"Luna told me that she helped you dress up to go out. Is the party girl back?" 
"Absolutely not. I’m a mother. Clubbing is complicated when your daughter wakes you up at 7 or 8a.m."
"What about you, playboy?"
"Don’t call me like that." He snorted, giving you a teasing stare. 
"Why not? Sir Lewis Hamilton is single again. All those thirsty girls who wanted you as a married man can jump on the occasion." Lewis chuckled, remembering how some women did not care about his marital status. Thankfully, it never started a fight. Instead, the two of you always laughed off the very innovative techniques some would find to take your husband away from you. Whatever they tried never worked, Lewis never felt the need to see if the grass was greener elsewhere. He was happy in his marriage and would not trade that for a meaningless sex night. 
”They can still try, but that doesn’t mean I will respond." He replied in a confident tone. The type that always turned you on. "What’s stopping you?" Lewis rubbed his lower lips with his thumb, something he often did when he tried to hide his feelings. "You’re still a very hot 38 years old." He shook his head while laughing.
"Thanks for the compliment. Let’s say that my mind is focused on something else." You nodded, waiting for him to develop his answer. Lewis snorted when he noticed how you were intensely staring at him. "I’m waiting, Lewis. What’s your mind focused on?" Of course, you would not let him slip. "Focused on my career, my daughter, and my mental health." 
"So there’s no one? Not even a bootycall?" Lewis furrowed his brows, surprised by your boldness. Even after seven years of knowing each other, you always find new ways to surprise him. Lewis chuckled before shaking his head. "No. Not for now. What about you?" Lewis was thankful for the door you opened. It was really important for him to know if you were seeing someone or not. A silence settled in as you stared at him sipping. The way his short-sleeved shirt displayed his biceps sparked a certain fire within you. The wine was definitely a bad idea for someone who was horny and still loved her ex-husband. 
"I went on one date, and it was because my friends set me up. I don’t care about that man." You whispered, carefully avoiding his gaze. After another moment of silence, Lewis decided to speak his mind. "I’m also focusing on getting my wife back." You stopped sipping your wine to stare at him. "Lewis! We already had this conversation, please."
"Let me finish. We’re both unhappy in this situation, Luna is unhappy. Why are we still pretending? I know you’re scared to live the same things that led us to a divorce, but I promise this time to be a better man, a better husband."
"Lewis. It’s not against you. I just can’t suffer again. The situation we’re in is already hard. Also, what if we fail again? What about Luna? It will break her."
"Luna should be the reason why we’re trying even harder. Look at how happy she was tonight. Also, look at how relaxed we are."
"Lewis, we had wine. It’s normal to be relaxed. Look, we can be friends, but I can’t do more."
"Well, I’ll take it." He concluded as you both shook hands. Something within Lewis told him that he could have you back. He knew that the process would be long, but he would not give up until he tried everything in his power to get his family back. The eighth title was no longer important, you were his new dream. Whatever it takes, he will fight to make his new dream come true. To avoid a weird situation, you changed the subject. "Well, as a friend, I have something to confess to you. I don’t know if I’m doing enough for Luna. Ever since we divorced, I feel like no matter what I do, it’s not enough."
Lewis got closer to you to rub your back. "Why do you feel like that? You’re the best mom Luna could have had. You should see how she always talks about you when you’re not around. Luna loves you from the bottom of her heart, trust me." Lewis got closer to comfort you and rub your back. "I don’t know, I feel like it’s my fault, Lewis. Every time I see her cry or ask for her daddy, it breaks my heart. Maybe I’ve been selfish by destroying our family. I don’t know." Your eyes were glistening with tears while you played with your hands. Lewis grabbed your hands and intertwined them with his warm palms.
"Sweetie, I’m the only one responsible for what happened. I should have been a better husband and not prioritised my career after I promised not to. I should have been more present for Luna and you. Instead, I let that eighth title obsession blind me. There’s not a second of my life that I don’t regret. If I could go back in time, I would have changed my behaviour. You’re not selfish, you never have been. With all the sacrifices you've made for me, I could never tell that you’re selfish." Without thinking, you lay your head on his shoulders as the two of you enjoyed the contact of your hands. "Thank you, Lewis. You always find the right words." He tenderly smiled before kissing the bridge of your nose, like he always did to comfort or reassure you. 
"As I said, I’ll always be there for you." What you didn’t expect was to make intense eye contact with him. His words warmed your entire being like they used to when you were still married to him. To avoid giving in to temptation, you cleared your throat and redirected the conversation. "Women who wanted you so bad when you were married are probably thriving." You joked, waiting for his reaction. "The new situation won’t change a damn thing. My heart still belongs to you."
"Lewis, please. I had wine, stop tempting me." He giggled. "Alright, it was fun, but I feel like I should leave." The last thing he wanted was to sleep with you because of wine. As he was about to get up, you pulled on his hand. "What if I don’t want you to leave?"
"Sweetie, you had wine. I don’t think that’s a good idea."
"Come on, you’ve been knowing me for seven years. It’s not three glasses of wine that can knock me down. I’m sure of what I want." Lewis hesitated before sitting down again. "I like talking to you, Lewis." 
"I know, I’m the shit." You chuckled playfully, smacking his bicep. ”Oh, there we go." The giggles turned into louder ones as you remembered old memories together. The evening was going better than you expected. 
**** 
If someone asked you to explain how you ended up in that position, you would not be able to reply. All you remembered was that you shared precious moments together before his tongue ended up down your throat. "Lewis!" Feeling the warmness of his tongue against your clit after multiple months without sex reactivated new sensations. Sensations you thought you would never feel again. One thing you definitely missed about Lewis was his great bed skills.
You tried to fill the void with self-gratification sessions that clearly could never replace the pleasure Lewis gave you. The thoughts you had were cut short when you felt Lewis sucking on your clit. "Oh God! Just like that, babe." Lewis smirked when he saw your face distorted by the pleasure he was offering you with his skillful mouth. The little hmms he made added vibrations that intensified the pleasure. "Please, Lewis." His face was wet, covered with your arousal. "Should we continue?"
You nodded, opening your legs wider to give him better access to your core. Lewis smirked before using his thumb to rub on your swollen bud. "I missed that taste." He whispered while parting your lips with his fingers. The licks on your lips, and caresses on your clit caused you to arch your back. "Lewis! Oh fuck! Yes!" After plenty of months without any sexual activity except self-gratification, you felt your body coming back to life. When Lewis added his fingers to the mix, the euphoria of the moment increased. 
The moment of bliss you waited for arrived, making you curl your toes, throw your head back, and moan his name even louder. As your heartbeat decreased and your core’s contractions slowed down, Lewis brushed his lips against yours. "I can never get enough of your taste." Your hands landed on his muscular back while you sealed lips with him. The sensation felt similar, just like it did in the past, when Lewis was still your husband. Despite the divorce, you could confirm that Lewis still feels like home. The tender kiss quickly became heated and sloppy—a good combo to fuel your very excited body. Lewis pulled back to stare at your eyes and kiss the bridge of your nose. In the meantime, your hands gently rubbed his arms and back. The suggestive position you were in already predicted the next step of the night.
After a moment of hesitation, there you were scratching his back as he passionately made love to you. The stretch, the fullness, and the familiarity caused your back to arch. Suddenly, you remembered why the old you was kind of addicted to the man. His sex skills are unmatched to this day. The kisses, the moans, the whimpers, the touches every single thing contributed to another moment of ecstasy.
Lewis would probably have scratches all over his back and arms, but he could not care less. It came from the woman he loved. "I love you, sweetie." He whispered while accelerating his strokes, and the rhythm of his thumb played with your swollen bud. "You’re the only one who can make me feel this good, sweetie. He moaned before capturing your lips and finishing inside of you. Those words sent you over the edge, making you moan louder than intended for the second time of the night. Lewis immediately captured your lips with a smile to silence you. 
Once the post-nut clarity hit you, your eyes widened at what just happened. "Fuck!" You groaned as you realised that you just slept with your ex-husband. Lewis looked at you with a grin on his face as he tenderly rubbed your arm. "How do you feel, sweetie? Be honest."
"Hum, I don’t know how to feel. Obviously, having great sex again after ten months felt amazing, but I also don’t want you to think that there’s a chance between us." Lewis heart slightly jumped in his chest, sad at the thought that his ex-wife might have used him to warm her empty bed. "Okay, I understand." He murmured, gently rubbing your cheek with his thumb. "I’m not going to lie, I don’t think we should ever reproduce what happened tonight." Lewis’ thumbs left your cheek when you finished your sentence. "Okay, maybe I should leave then."
"That would be great." You whispered in the softest tone. Even Lewis showed no signs, he was heartbroken. He could not believe that he had got his hopes up only for them to be shattered all over again in a matter of seconds. Maybe he should have driven home earlier and kept it moving. Once he was fully dressed, you threw a robe on to accompany him to the door. "Can we hug?" You nodded while opening your arms. Contrary to what you thought, the hug felt good, just like a good source of comfort would. "Thank you for tonight. I had a great time, Lewis."
Six months after the divorce, you imagined that your feelings for Lewis would have toned down, that he would stop feeling like home, and that the lack of companionship would shrink. None of that happened. Quite the opposite was actually happening. You missed him more than six months ago, you spied on some gossip website to see if he had already moved on; you thought about him every night before going to sleep, you prayed for him before every grand prix; and your body craved him more than ever. Sharing intimate moments like you did tonight will definitely cause you more problems in the future. 
You were the one to pull away to stare at Lewis’ face. It broke your heart to notice that he still had the same sad eyes he had the day you divorced. "Lewis, it’s not easy for me either."
"Yeah, but you don’t have the burden of responsibility for our marriage failure." You let out a loud sigh while you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. "You should forgive yourself. Honestly, we’re just human beings who are going to make mistakes at some point. Personally, I forgave you."
"Thank you, sweetie." He smiled, hoping that you could do more than forgive him one day. 
As the two of you were about to lean in for a goodbye kiss, a small voice made you jump. "Daddy, mommy?" Luna entered the room, rubbing her eyes with her plushy in her arms. A brighter smile illuminated her face as she asked, "Are you back together? Are we going to live together again?" Seeing the hope on her face made you regret those hours of pleasure. You immediately released Lewis to kneel in front of your daughter.
"Hum. Mom and dad are just good friends. They’re not getting back together, babygirl." Luna looked down with glistening eyes. The sourness of regret hit you as you looked at her. It was stupid of you to not think about the consequences. Of course, your four-year-old daughter would assume that you were back with her dad. "Why is daddy sleeping here then?" Lewis decided to intervene to help you. "Hum. Daddy was just about to leave, babygirl. As good friends, daddy just needed a hug from mommy."
Luna nodded, the disappointment in her eyes was obvious. "How about daddy get you back in bed before he leaves?" Luna rubbed her eyes before jumping into her daddy’s arms and tightly wrapping her own arms around his shoulders. 
When the two of them left your bedroom, tears fell down your face. You really needed to do better to stop hurting your daughter, she deserved better. In less than ten minutes, Lewis was back in the bedroom to collect his stuff and leave.
As you accompanied him to the door, you felt the need to clarify things. "Lewis, we can’t slip like that anymore. From now on, we’re just going to be parents, okay? I don’t ever want to see the disappointment I saw on her face earlier on. She deserves better. Text me when you make it home, please." Lewis gave you a weak smile before turning around and leaving. A part of you wanted to run to him and confess that you wanted to try again. Yet, the other was mature enough to know that your daughter's well-being came first.
With a broken heart and tame horniness, you returned to your cold and empty bed, thinking about Lewis. "I’m home. I agree with you, let’s keep it to co-parenting."
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Monte Carlo, Monaco
Three months later…
Nausea, changing mood, vomiting, dizziness—if you were honest with yourself, it could only mean one thing. You had the exact same symptoms as Luna. Since that heated night with Lewis, the two of you have kept your relationship pretty cordial. Refusing to create any kind of friendship since both of you knew how things could quickly escalate. 
To be precise, you were the one to keep the distance. If it only depended on Lewis, you probably would have remarried. Luna was extremely needy these days, which made things more complicated for you and your symptoms. No, it couldn't be real. Not when you took the emergency pill the next morning. Sure, the pill was not 100% effective, but you still had hope that you were just sick, lacking in vitamins, or whatever, as long as you were not pregnant. 
”Pregnant," the test clearly ended any kind of hope you had. After checking the second one just in case, there were no doubts left. You were pregnant with Lewis second child. One of your worst fears would become true, being a divorced mother of two children was not something you never thought about. How are you going to announce it to him? How will Luna react?
So many questions popped into your head. A part of you suggests getting back with him so you can form the perfect little family again. The other part was scared of feeling that same pain again, scared of feeling lonely and heartbroken again. Announcing that news on the phone was not the best idea, not in the situation you were in. Therefore, you decided to spend the weekend in Monaco so you could peacefully find a solution to your pregnancy. 
After dressing, you decided to surprise him at his apartment. You were already three months pregnant, so there was no need to wait to tell him the news. A gasp of surprise escaped your mouth when you saw Fencer opening the door. After an awkward moment of silence, he greeted you in a manner that alerted you. Perhaps you were inside your head. Also, it would make sense for his friends, or brothers, as he likes to call them, to hate you. Witnessing their friend suffer, going through a heartbreak of such intensity was not the best way to gain sympathy.
On the other hand, you could not care less about their opinions of you. It’s not like they were inside your marriage. The only version they had was Lewis’ one, and you were completely okay with that. The more you walked inside his Monaco apartment, the more you could feel the heavy atmosphere. Travelling all the way to Monte Carlo was the only way to address the issue. If you were still husband and wife, or even boyfriend and girlfriend, you would never have bothered to go to such extremes. However, as ex-wife and ex-husband, you needed to speak face-to-face to find the quickest and most convenient solution for everybody. 
Fencer offered to sit down before bringing you some drinks. The awkwardness he displayed at the beginning morphed into some kindness and attention. He asked about you, Luna, and your new life as a divorced mother. "It’s not easy, but we’re doing our best, right?" After talking to Fencer for ten minutes, you started to wonder where Lewis was and why he had not mentioned him since you arrived.
"Where is Lewis? I came all the way to talk to him. It’s very important." Fencer cleared his throat before replying, "He’s out. Probably went running or something." His answer surprised you: There is no way in the world that Fencer is with Lewis, and they are not working out together. Something was not clicking. "Oh, why didn’t you go with him?"
"I need to rest my muscles today." You nodded, feeling the lie all over his breath. What in the universe were they hiding from you? "I’ll wait for him then." Fencer put on another uncomfortable smile before suggesting you come back later. "No, I can’t miss him today. Sorry. Are you waiting for someone special? If that’s the case, just be honest enough. You’re too grown to pull up lies." 
Fencer should have known better than to lie to you. Of course, you would figure it out very quickly and call him out on his bullshit. As Fencer was about to add another word, Lewis’ voice interrupted your conversation. "Bro, thank you for inviting Lindsay. You’re the best." Fencer rubbed his face out of embarrassment, it was only a matter of seconds before you understood. Lewis’ jaw almost fell on the floor when his eyes landed on you.
"Y/N? What is going on? Is everything alright? What about Luna? Is she fine?" You gave him a death glare as you stared at his half-naked body. "If Luna had a problem, don’t you think that I’d rather be by her side?" Another voice stopped the conversation, this time it was a woman’s voice. "Lewis, daddy. Come back to bed. I need you." The blonde girl’s blue eyes widened at the sight of Lewis’ ex-wife in the apartment.
You let out a nervous laugh before turning to Fencer. "Is that why you lied to me?" Fencer looked away, incapable of providing a substantial reply. "Whatever. Lewis, I didn’t come to spy on your sexual life. I came because I need to talk to you."
"Hum. Okay, let’s go to the balcony. I’ll be right back, Lindsay." Imagining them having sex in the bedroom you once shared with him disgusted you. Sure, you have been divorced for nine months, but you thought that he would truly fight for you. Instead, he went back to his old ways, which consisted of fucking models. The exact playboy you knew before he made the decision to commit to you.
Lewis sat on the sofa while you stayed up, leaning against the balcony rampart. "I’m worried. Why didn’t you call?"
"Because I feel like it’s not the type of news you give on the phone." You replied coldly, not bothering to look at him. Your heart had a hard time processing that he had already moved on without even trying to win your heart again. "I’m listening." 
"Before I start, next time when you’re having random hookups, tell your friends not to lie. It’s completely unnecessary. After all, you’re a nine-month-divorced man, right?" Lewis furrowed his brows at your sudden switch and coldness. "His reaction is normal. We didn’t expect you here."
"I didn’t want to come, believe me. I just don’t have the choice." Lewis intensely stared at you, as if he tried to second-guess the news. 
You looked at the sea before pronouncing the sentence, "I’m pregnant, Lewis." His eyes widened while he let out a shocked scream, "Huh?" In his head, it felt like treason. How did you move on so fast? How were you ready to have a kid with another man when you planned on extending the family with him? If he could scream out of rage, he would have. As if the news was not painful enough, you had to travel all the way to kill him from the inside. "Lewis, say something."
"I’m disappointed, but congrats to you and your new buddy." You furrowed your brows before shaking your head. The audacity of him to think that you could let any random man get you pregnant. "Lewis, are you serious? Wait, what the fuck? Do you really think that I would easily throw seven years of my life behind me with the first incomer? I suggest you get your shit together." Lewis looked surprised at your reaction and confused. "May I remind you that we had sex three months ago? When did you drop Luna home from your weekend in Monaco? You’re the father, Lewis."
"Wait, I thought you took an emergency pill."
"I did, but they’re not 100% effective. Proof is that I’m three months pregnant." Lewis rubbed his face. He hated to lose control. First, he lost control of his marriage and relationship, and now he would have to welcome a baby with his ex-wife. Out of panic and frustration, Lewis asked, "Are you sure that I’m the father?"
The fear you previously had was replaced by anger. How dare he? "Excuse me? Do you really think I’m that kind of person? What would I even gain from lying? You’re my ex-husband. There’s literally nothing for me to gain by lying about this. Anyway, you know what? Fuck you, Lewis. I’ve had enough. Go back, fucking Lindsay, while I figure out how I’m going to take care of my kids." Lewis immediately got up when he saw the disgust and anger on your face. Why did he have to make things even more complicated? 
"Wait, sweetie. This is not what I meant. I’m sorry." Lewis ran after you, trying to catch your hand. The second his hand touched your arm, you stopped in your tracks. "Let it go." You spat in the firmest tone he had ever heard. "Sweetie, don’t do it. We need to talk." 
"I said, fuck you, Lewis." You replied back in an aggressive tone before brushing his hand against your body. He quickly realised how stupid he was for insinuating that you were a liar. In seven years of relationship, he should know that you don’t lie. Only the truth comes out of your mouth, you were honest—brutally honest sometimes, if he had to describe it precisely. Now, he needed to think about how he was going to fix his mess before you leave the country.
****
Out of anger, you aggressively threw your belongings in the small suitcase you prepared for the weekend. The hopes for reconciliation, harmony, and friendship vanished in a matter of seconds, just because of his stupid words. Your puffy and red eyes revealed how bad the cut was. Before meeting him, you still had hope for reconciliation. However, your mind changed when you saw the blonde girl appear in the living room. At that moment, you realised that you might have lost him for good. Yet the final straw was still coming. In a million years, you could never have thought that Lewis could think such a thing about you. Not when he knew like no one else did. Once you were done packing your stuff, you sat down on the bed.
"Looks like it’s just going to be the three of us, babe." You whispered while tenderly rubbing your stomach. Since you were starving, you opted to try one of the many great restaurants in town. After all, you were in Monaco without Luna. Mommy times were pretty rare, so you needed to enjoy them.
As you were about to put your shoes on, the phone in your hotel room rang, which did nothing but intensify your anger. "Mrs. YLN? Mr. Lewis Hamilton would like to see you, should we allow him to?" Of course, he would find out about your hotel. The man knew exactly which hotel was your favourite in Monaco. After years of trying them all, your heart finally chose Monte Carlo Bay. You let out a groan before agreeing. 
If it only depended on your feelings, you would never have allowed him in. Nevertheless, you could not be selfish because Lewis was still the father of your daughter and future child. There was no way you could fully turn your back on him. The knocks on the door brought you back to reality, to a conversation you would have preferred to never have. 
"Sweetie, I’m sorry." He whispered, almost out of breath.
"Stop calling me sweetie. You can be sure now more than ever that the only type of relationship we will have is coparenting." Lewis let out a loud sigh, fully aware that he had only worsened the situation with his reaction.
"Listen, I know you’re pissed, but we shouldn’t make any decisions when we’re angry. Especially not about our kids." You crossed your arms, attentively listening to him. "Our kids? You mean our kid since the second one isn’t yours, right? Damn, Lewis, you’re back on your playboy life, and suddenly you can’t think anymore."
"I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. Guess I just panicked because I hate losing control." You looked down, wondering how you would be able to manage it. "I came all the way so we could find a solution. Before we start thinking, I’m letting you know that abortion is off the table."
Lewis titled his head to the side. "I would never have asked you to do that. You know me, I’m not that man."
"With what you said to me earlier, I’m staying on my guard." Lewis sat down on the sofa, right next to you. "Sweetie, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you."
"Whatever, what are we doing? Can you think quickly? I would like to go to dinner."
"I could go with you."
"Absolutely not. Also, don’t you have a woman waiting for you at home?" Lewis threw his head back while rubbing his face. You started to mimic his voice: "Yeah, my focus is on getting my ex-wife back. You’re so full of shit. No, you’re busy banging insta models."
"Oh no, we’re not playing this game right now. I’ve tried non-stop for nine months, you never gave me the opportunity to prove myself. You literally blocked every single attempt. You always co-parented zoned me. You can’t complain. Yeah, I’m fucking because I need to. Nobody is holding you back from doing the same." You crossed your arms, avoiding looking at him. If not, you were scared to lose your temper and say or do things you might regret. Even if, deep inside, you knew he was telling the truth, you wouldn’t admit it. "I don’t give a fuck about your sex life. Find a solution about the baby in my uterus, Lewis."
"We should have this conversation tomorrow around brunch. What do you think? I feel like we’re both tensed, so we won’t make the best decisions."
"Why are you even tensed for, uh? Yeah, let’s talk tomorrow. So you can peacefully fuck your blonde girl. You know what? I’m going to repeat what I said earlier, Lewis: Fuck you. Now get out of my room real quick." Lewis stood up, looking down at you while you rolled your eyes.
"I’m not going anywhere because we have a problem to solve. It’s a serious issue, we’re talking about my kids. Even if you decide to go to that restaurant, I’m going to follow you anyway. I don’t play around when it comes to my kids." You let out a loud sigh, knowing that the man wouldn’t back up. Starting a fight would not pay off. 
"Fine. We have an hour ahead of us, I’m going to call to delay. Sorry, but I really need this time on my own." Lewis nodded as he sat closer to you. "How do you feel?"
"I have the same symptoms I had for Luna. Talking about her, I don’t know if she feels that I’m pregnant because she’s more demanding than usual." Lewis tenderly rubbed your back as you looked down. "I have a solution, but you won’t like it."
"Say it." Lewis tried to take your hand, but you moved it. "Maybe I should come back to live with you." A small giggle escaped your lips while you shook your head. "Man, you’re never home. What is it supposed to do for us?"
"It’s true, but I can try to spend more time home. Look, you’re going to need help and a presence at home. Luna will need more attention, and you will get more tired. Do you have a better idea?"
"I thought about a nanny or my mother. She could live with us for a year." 
"I refuse. I’m the dad, it’s my role to be there for my family. It’s not your mother’s role." You let out an annoyed sigh before thinking about that option. After all, Luna would be happy to have her dad at home and spend more time with him. "What about Luna? What if she thinks that we’re getting back together?"
"We’ll explain it to her before I move in. She’s smart enough to get it." You nodded, not imagining a better option. It would be cruel of you not to give your second child the opportunity to have his dad by his side like Luna did. "Alright, but it doesn’t mean that we’re back together. You’re a roommate. Oh, we’re also not sleeping in the same room. And your hookups aren’t allowed in the familial home."
"Who the fuck do you think I am? Seriously? Do you really think I’d bring random people around my kids? Respect me, please."
"Whatever, Lewis. Now that we have found common ground, let me go enjoy my dinner."
"Wait. I’m thankful for the new one on the way. I’ve always wanted a second child. Just not in those conditions. I’m still on the grid, and to top it all off, I’m divorced." 
"Well, we’re going to make it work. This isn’t what we wanted or imagined, but it’s our reality."
"I promise to not let you down this time." He whispered, directly looking into your eyes. "You mean, let your kids down, right?" Lewis grinned while nodding. "Yeah."
"Hum. Good night, Lewis. Lindsay is probably waiting for you." 
"If I didn’t know you, I would have thought that you were jealous." 
"I’m not. The sex we had, I know you can’t find anywhere. You can try as much as you want to reproduce it, we both know you can’t. Enjoy, just make sure she’s not getting pregnant too." You sent him a kiss before disappearing in a taxi. Lewis had a huge grin on his face. The Gods finally heard his prayers. It was his chance to get his family back, and he would not let it go to waste. "Thank God. I’m getting my wife back."
****
Lewis meticulously established a plan to get you back the second he entered the house. He truly wanted to prove to you that he was a changed man—the one you needed him to be and the only one you should be with. 
You announced the news to your daughter Luna, who was extremely happy to know that she was going to live with her two parents. To top it all off, she is going to be a big sister. Her light brown curls bounced while she jumped in front of the door, waiting for her father and Roscoe in excitement. The second the door opened, she ran towards Lewis. "Daddy!" The two of them hugged tightly while whispering how much they missed one another. Once he put Luna down, she got to her knees to play with one of her best friends, Roscoe. 
Lewis approached you and kissed both of your cheeks. "Hey future mama! How are you today?" Having his smell in the house again did not feel weird, contrary to what you thought. It just feels like he never left in the first place. "Thankful because I don’t feel nauseous." If you were honest, the first few weeks felt weird. Having your ex-husband live with you is not a common thing.
However, the feeling quickly dissipated when you realised that Lewis made all the efforts to not invade your personal space. Quickly, he became more than a roommate, he became a friend again. You sometimes shared dinner together, spent the evening playing video games or board games, and even watched series or movies together. A company that brought you a sort of peace and protection. 
*****
After two months, Lewis decided that the time had come to speed things up. Since the next race was in two weeks, he had more time to spend at home with his loved ones. That night, he knew you would come home late, due to your meeting with a very demanding client. The idea was not to scare you or put any kind of pressure on you. He wanted things to happen naturally. You let out a gasp when you entered the living room. Lewis prepared a food board with a mocktail. Some candles lit the dark room.
"Hey, I know you had a long day. I hope it helps." The attention warmed your heart, it reminded you of the man you married years ago. "Oh yeah, it will. Thank you so much. Too bad I can’t have wine." Lewis smiled, taking your bag and coat. "Lewis, I know you too well. Don’t you think that it's a date, tho." Lewis giggled, he didn’t care about your suspicion. He would still go with his plan. "Come on, it’s a friend's attention." The night resulted in one of the best chill nights you've had. The two of you spoke about deep subjects until you fell asleep on the couch. 
****
As the months passed by, you were getting closer to Lewis without truly realising it. Your old feelings and desires resurfaced, making it hard for you to not open your mind about a potential second chance. Thus far, he has proved that he is a changed man. Still, you needed to be careful not to fall into something you would have a hard time handling later on. He was probably the best friend a girl could have, he was caring even when he was not home. He made sure that you rested as much as you could during the pregnancy, that your cravings were taken care of, and that you were mentally doing well. The caring, empathetic, and protective sides of him did nothing but fuel your old feelings. It was good to feel like family again. 
Lewis’ interpretation of Usher is probably going to be a lifetime memory. When he took his shirt off, you laughed even louder, almost peeing in your pants. "Lewis! Stop! I'm going to piss in my pants." The laughter was interrupted when your baby kicked your stomach. "Ouch!" Lewis immediately stopped and kneeled in front of you. "Is everything alright?"
"Just our baby complaining about the noises by kicking my stomach." The two of you giggled before you took his hand and placed it on your rounded belly. Lewis tenderly caressed your stomach while speaking to the baby. "Hey little one. Sorry for bothering your sleep and making mommy laugh that hard." You smiled at the cute interaction before a yawn escaped your mouth. "Thank you for the laughs, daddy Lewis, but the time has come for us to go to sleep." You blew him a kiss before leaving the room. The reason you escaped was not only sleep, you also wanted to tame the ragging sexual desire that grew day by day, along with your feelings for him. 
****
That night, you finally gave in. The horniness became unbearable, and unfortunately, your sex toys and fingers could not do that much anymore. Your heart raced while you knocked on the door. The sight of Lewis torso made you salivate and worsen your raging hormones. "Hey, is everything alright? Do you need something?" You looked down and played with your fingers, too embarrassed to speak. "I know I said we’re friends, but I can't help anymore, I need your dick. Of course, if you feel too uncomfortable about the situation, I will understand. Also, what can happen? I’m already pregnant, right?" Lewis replied to your offer by giggling and eagerly capturing your lips. "I’d be glad to help a horny mom out."
"Don’t make me change my mind." You laughed as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. 
****
The friendship turned into a friendship with benefits. Of course, you tried your best to hide that slight change in the relationship. First, protect your daughter Luna and do not give her fake hopes. Second, your parents and friends were not comfortable with the idea of Lewis and you living together. If they knew that you were also having sex, they would probably persuade you to suggest that he go live elsewhere. Something you refused to hear because you were more than happy with the current situation. Delighted to see how much progress Lewis has made, he was the same man who basically had significant growth. However, one question kept wandering in your mind. Was he messing around with other girls? Since you weren’t in a relationship, those types of questions were borderline. At the dinner table, the atmosphere was always as light as possible. It was important for Luna to be able to enjoy those moments that were not that common due to her father’s career. Lewis stared at you while he cleaned his hand with a napkin. "I’m attending the Versace show in Cannes next week."
”Oh, that’s cool. The F1 star near a fashion podium, who would have thought?" Your sarcasm was one of the traits that made him fall in love with you. "Do you want to come with me?"
You almost spat your water at his offer. With his straight face, you knew he was serious. "I’m pregnant, Lewis. I don’t think that’s a good idea." At the sight of the smirk on his face, you knew that he understood that you were lying. "You still can travel. It’s not because you’re pregnant that you’re forced to stay home." Luna looked at you with a grin. "You should go with daddy, mama."
"I don’t want people to know that I’m pregnant. Also, let’s be real. My presence will spark public scrutiny because we’re supposed to be a divorce couple."
"Sweetie, by now you should know that I don’t care about people’s opinions. They can think whatever, we’re the ones to know the truth."
"Mommy, please. Go, so you have cool stories to tell me." Seeing your daughter's little face trying to convince you didn’t help. 
"I have nothing to wear." Lewis laughed while shaking his head. "It’s not a problem, and you know it, come on."
"Please, mommy. You said daddy is your friend, so you should go with him." After rolling your eyes, you agreed to go with him. "One thing, I want us to be the most discreet possible." Lewis nodded with a wide smile. "Thank you, sweetie. I appreciate."
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Cannes, France
The control freak Lewis planned everything for your arrival in Cannes. When you landed, you split into two different cars in case the paparazzi were following you. Once you arrived at the hotel, a glam team was waiting for you in the suite. "Here is the queen of the day, please take good care of her." Lewis explained to the team before kissing your cheek. ” I'll see you later, I need to get ready. I’ll send a different car for you." 
"Thank you, Lewis." You rubbed his forearm while you sat down to get ready for the Versace show. 
The small attentions Lewis has implemented to make you feel like a queen did not go unnoticed. Without realising it, you were falling in love again. The problem is that you cannot help, but think about other girls. What if he truly considered your relationship a friendship with benefits? It would break your heart, even if you refused to admit it. The second you arrived at the show, his eyes could not stop looking at you. To make it seem as if you were not together, they placed you at different tables. Since the nature of your relationship was blurry, you’d rather keep things low-key.
Lewis discreetly turned his head plenty of times to ask if you were okay, smile at you, or even wink at you. The questions in your head increased when you saw how women were looking at him and how some were flirting with him. Jealousy is a feeling you hate. If you were still his wife, you would not have given in to that feeling easily. After all, Lewis was a beautiful, single man, what did you expect? The evening ended with a very private dinner organised by Donatella herself. 
During the dinner, Lewis openly wrapped his arm around your shoulder and caressed your stomach, making everybody in the room understand that you held his heart. Once you went back to the hotel, Lewis hugged you from behind. "Hey, pretty little thing. You look gorgeous. The styling team did a great job." You smiled when he kissed your neck. "Thanks, mate." Lewis furrowed his brows.
"Don’t call me mate." The two of you laughed before abandoning yourselves to the undeniable sexual chemistry between you. 
Lewis could read the worries on your face at the end of your passionate lovemaking session. 
"What’s going on? Tell me everything."
"Be honest. Are you seeing other girls?"
"Someone is curious, I see." He smirked, which made your heart jump. 
"I was, but I stopped when we started to sleep together. Since you’re pregnant, I don’t want to take any risks." Instead of feeling relief, you felt down. Basically, if you were not pregnant, he would still pursue other women. "Why are you asking that all of a sudden?" He murmured as his fingers caressed your palm and wrist. "I feel like our relationship has evolved to more than friendship."
"Sweetie, you know where I stand. If it only depends on me, know that I don't want to be your friend. Or just the baby daddy. I want us back, I want what we had back."
You slightly moved to find a more comfortable position. "I know, but what if you mess up again? I wouldn’t be able to take it."
"I won't. Just focus on my actions. Give me a chance, and you’ll see. I made that stupid mistake once. I’m not taking that risk twice. You’re the only woman I want to spend the rest of my days with. You know I don’t do commitment, but I’d do that for you, for us. Our kids deserve to grow up surrounded by our love." You took a deep breath before holding his hand. "Don’t mess it up, Lewis Hamilton." He laughed while hugging you tightly. "You won’t have to worry about me. I promise. Thank you so much for trusting me again." Lewis was more than happy, but not surprised. He knew that one day or another, he would get his wife back.
****
Never in your life would you have thought about getting married for the second time. Yet there you were with your very close friends and family members. "I do again." You whispered with your eyes glued on Lewis. A second after you both started to laugh uncontrollably. Only the two of you could truly understand it again. You've never seen Lewis grinning so hard for the longest time. 
Family and friends did not necessarily understand your choice, but they respected it anyway. No one or nothing could have made you change your mind, not when Lewis was pouring his entire soul into the relationship. The new version of Lewis was even better than the first you married. This one understood that life was more than F1. This one knew how to be more vulnerable, how to make efforts, how to be consistent, and simply how to love you and make you feel loved and cherished. "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." A few tears rolled down your face as you tenderly kissed your husband. 
****
Six months later…
Holding your little boy in your arms was probably one of the best feelings in the world. The new Hamilton member, who exactly looked like his sister, Luna, peacefully slept in your arms. Lewis tenderly smiled as he rubbed the one-month-old baby. "Look at what we created. He’s so beautiful."
"Beautiful like our princess Luna." The two of you grinned at the thought of your children. "Thank you for giving me a second chance, sweetie. I’ll always be thankful for that. There’s nothing more important in this world than my family." You lightly chuckled at how Lewis made all the effort in the world for you to give him a second chance.
A few months before you gave birth, a few months after the wedding, Lewis decided that the time had come for him to retire. "Lewis, it’s not because you want your family back that you have to abandon your career and goals. I don’t want to be that kind of wife." That day, Lewis lovingly caressed your cheek as he sat by your side. "It’s not about you. I just don’t want to miss more milestones. I want to spend more time with my kids, see them grow up, and be more present in their lives. They’re more important than any title. You’re the most beautiful accomplishment of my life, my family."
Contrary to the first time, Lewis held to his promises. He did everything he could to be as present as possible and to be the best partner possible. Lewis was your soulmate, he was the love of your life, and no one could replace him. The two of you were trending in the media for the longest time, but you didn’t care. No one could understand you or put themselves in your shoes.
As you were about to put your son, Apollo, to bed, he started to cry. Long story short, the name Apollo was out of the equation for a long time. Unfortunately, Luna and her dad loved this name because it would stay in the space theme. When Lewis pulled out this argument, you gave him a death glare. "I wasn’t aware, we were trying to form another galaxy." He chuckled before kissing the bridge of your nose. "Now, you know."
"My son will not be named Apollo. I don’t give a fuck, Lewis." The narrative changed when Luna begged you to call him like that. "Fine, but his second name will be Hayden. " Lewis and you shook hands. "Fine." 
The second you, Apollo, or Hayden, as you preferred to call him, felt like he was no longer in his mother's arms, he started to cry. For now, he was not really okay with Lewis holding him. "Hayden, come on. Try daddy’s arms. He won’t bite." Lewis tried to rock him while humming Calm Down by Rema. "Do you want him to turn up or sleep?" The two of you giggled, which caused your little boy to smile. "Look at him—a future troublemaker like your dad."
"Crap! Your mom is the one who cursed in front of him without even knowing me. She’s trouble." 
"If you didn’t hold my son, I would have pinched your arms." Apollo fell back asleep in his father’s arms after he hummed for a few minutes. "You’re so cute, buddy." Lewis whispered, kissing his son's forehead.
Your daughter’s radar must have activated when her dad's attention focused on Apollo. Luna took the opportunity to sneak into your king-sized bed. "Can I sleep with you, please? I want to be with my little brother." Of course, you agreed. Luna could not spend many hours without seeing her younger brother. She loved him from the bottom of her heart. You could tell by the way she gently caressed the top of his head or just kept an eye on him in general. The three of you talked about Apollo’s habits while he was deeply asleep. "Time to sleep, guys. I need to wake up in four hours to feed Mr. Apollo Hayden Hamilton. I still can’t believe I agreed to the name Apollo." 
Luna and Lewis giggled as they shared an accomplice's stare. The type that made you melt on the spot. After less than ten minutes, everybody was asleep, except you. The sight of your little family was too beautiful for you to miss out. Luna and Lewis held hands while his free arm tightly secured Apollo, who peacefully slept on his chest. The perfect image of what you exactly imagined.
An image you would not trade for anything in this world. With all the obstacles and bumps on the road, you could tell that the final result was all worth it. The man has promised to get you back, get his family back, and be a better man, and this is exactly what he did. You considered yourself lucky to fall in love with him a second time.
Lewis was right. It’s never about how you fall, it’s always about how you get up. "I love you, babies." You whispered while turning the lights off. Lewis whispered, "I hope babies include me." You laughed discreetly before pulling on his beard. "Shut your mouth and go back to sleep." The two of you giggled again. "We love you more, sweetie." Despite Luna sleeping in the middle, you find a way to peck his lips before peacefully resting your head on the pillow for a restful night of sleep. This is what you thought until Apollo started to cry in the middle of the night.
Don't forget to share your opinions and thoughts !
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gracieheartspedro · 9 months
Text
I Can See You
fem!reader x dbf!joel miller
Hi friends! It's been awhile (:
I am back to writing! This time, I'm planning on having many parts to this story. It's a DBF Joel Miller story, which I love to read, which means I had to write it, right?
I wrote this with no Y/N, instead each character gives her a nickname/pet name.
So here's Part 1, I really hope you enjoy!
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings: DBF! Joel, age gap-ish (reader is 25, Joel is 39), eventual smut, joel being a little bit of a perv, reader not having a filter, alcohol consumption
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“Mornin’,” His Southern accent was even deeper than usual. My head peaks up from behind my computer, noticing his very tired eyes. The bags under his eyes still somehow did him justice. 
“Mornin’ Joel,” I mutter before taking a sip of my coffee. I watch as he finds his way towards my bosses office. He was only my boss at work, but at home he was just Dad. 
I watch his ass move in his jeans, shamelessly. 
Finding your coworker hot is one thing, it’s another when it’s also your dad’s friend and he was about 20 years older than you. 
I’ve thought Joel Miller was quite the looker since I was about 18. I had just started working for my dad. I was mainly just scheduling and doing work orders. Joel took me out to a work site one day, on my father’s request. He wanted me to get know some of the people who would be scheduling work from us. I got to sit around with the property manager of an apartment complex in a tight black dress in the dead of summer, watching guys replace windows. While outside that day, Joel worked alongside some of the laborers, his tanned skin and shaggy dark hair glistening with sweat. Something about him doing manual labor turned me on. Something awoke in me that day, and ever since then, I thirst over him in silence. 
I catch myself looking a bit too long, quickly averting my eyes to my computer screen. I act like I am typing something, glancing over to Joel and my dad walking out of his office together. They are discussing another project that Joel was overseeing that would keep him very busy in the upcoming months. 
“My girl here will be starting back at college in the fall, so she will only be part time for awhile,” My dad says, drawing attention to me. 
“Oh really, where ya going?” 
I blank out completely for a moment.
“UT Austin,” I finally answer.
“Smart girl, you living on campus?”
“Nope, just getting my master’s in Engineering so living from home makes the most sense.”
Joel shakes his head, “Master’s. Didn’t you just graduate high school?”
“I’m 25, Joel.”
His eyes scan me for a moment, realizing I’m much older than he remembers. 
“Ha,” He grumbles, “Time flies huh, Steve?”
“Sure does, you just wait for that Sarah of yours is off to college,” My dad laughs, slapping Joel’s shoulder. I wince, realizing again he has a young daughter. It wasn’t ideal, to say the least. 
“We got about 5 years on that,” Joel says, his eyes returning to mine, “Well it’ll be nice havin’ you around during our busy season.”
“Happy to help,” I reply, not really meaning it. 
“Hey, Joel, you and Sarah making an appearance at our BBQ this weekend? We invited the whole neighborhood and I can’t remember if you told me you’d be there.”
His eyes are still on me, “Yeah, I’ll be there,” his eyes return to my dad’s, “Just me and Tommy though, Sarah is goin’ over to a friend’s house.”
“Can’t wait!” My dad cheers, “Baby girl, can you make sure my schedule is cleared Friday evening so I don’t have to worry about when I can get the meat?”
“Of course, dad,” I grit my teeth, “I’m on it.”
-
“Hey baby girl, can you go grab me some extra plates?” 
My dad was over the top with his BBQs to say the very least. The whole neighborhood was in on it. Steaks, burgers, hot dogs, chicken, the whole thing. I spent all morning getting the huge backyard and cabana ready for all our visitors. We usually had someone come over to do all the setting up, but Dad made sure to remind me that I was living rent free and being paid on his payroll, so setting up was the least I could do. 
People littered the pool and backyard. I weave between people, giving smiles and welcomes where I could.
I walk in to the kitchen, the cold AC air hitting my bare arms. Luckily, I was wearing shorts over my bikini shorts, or else the goose bumps would be up and down my legs, too. I begin searching the cabinets for the large serving plates you always used for big gatherings. Leaning down, my triangle bikini top almost lets my boobs loose. I sit up straight, messing with the knots on my back. I knew tightening it could only help so much.
“Need help?” I almost jump out of my skin. I turn quickly, spotting Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with me.
“Shit, you fucking scared me,” I breathe loudly, patting my chest to make my heart stop racing, “I think I can get it.”
“Mhm,” He sticks a tooth pick between his teeth, “Lemme help, girl.”
God he was so fine. I hated myself for having a crush on him. But the domestic and simple gray t-shirt that hugged his arms so well and the blue jeans? I simply could not resist staring. 
No chance in hell. But I got to look at him every day and imagine it. 
I turn on my heels, holding the ties out to him so he could tie them. 
“I need them tighter,” I mutter, “Don’t want these puppies falling out in front of the Adlers.”
“Don’t want to excite Mr. Adler too much, he may have himself a heart attack.”
I smile to myself, biting my lip. He ties it, his fingers grazing my bare back slightly. 
“All good now, girl,” I turn to face him, looking up at him through my eyelashes, “Now what were you lookin’ for?”
“Serving plates,” I explain, “Dad is finishing up those steaks, needs more space.”
“Well let’s get ‘em and head out to all the fun,” He says, ducking down to the cabinet I was looking in originally. He finds them, handing them up to me. He looks so good looking up at me from this angle. 
“You want to grab us some beers,” I suggest, “I’ll meet you out there?”
“Your dad runnin’ low?”
“Probably, so grab three.”
“So, you going to be here all summer?”
I had no interest in talking to Tommy, but he was keeping me from toeing the line with Joel in my drunken state, so here I am. I sit in my lounger chair, wanting so bad to take off my jean shorts. I knew if I did, Tommy would take it as I’m making a pass, so I sweat extra. 
“I’m starting college in August, so yeah I’ll be around the office and staying home.”
He smiles, “Good to hear, love seeing you around.”
I smile back faking a cheery laugh, “Thanks, Tommy… care to grab me another beer?”
“No problem, sweetheart.”
I watch him walk away before searching the crowd for Joel. I spot him across the yard, talking to one of the newer neighbors. A single mom who moved in two months ago. My dad kept joking the other night that he’d be making her my stepmom, which only made me gag. She was beautiful, younger than my dad, but just about Joel’s age. 
A pang of jealousy rises within me. 
Joel finally catches my wandering eyes. He smiles gently, giving me a nod.
“Here, darling,” Tommy says sweetly, “Need anything else?”
“Yeah, actually,” Your brother, “Can you help me with something?”
“Sure, ‘s up?”
I sit up, leaning over making my boobs hang right in his eye line. 
If I couldn’t keep one Miller’s attention, maybe I could snag second best. My beer filled brain thinks about how they are cut from the same cloth, so they both are probably good at this. 
“Do you want to help me change a lightbulb?”
He raises his eyebrows, “I guess, where at?”
I smirk, “My bedroom.”
We sneak away, my eyes scanning the area. It didn’t appear as anyone was following us. My room was the last room on the left upstairs, so the anticipation as I guided him down the hallway was killing me.
Ever since Joel grazed my back earlier, I’ve been ready. So fucking ready. 
“Are we actually changing a lightbulb?”
I open my door for him, gesturing to him to follow me in.
In the dim light, Tommy was very cute. He was a sweet guy and I knew he’d be the first to jump on my idea. 
“You tell me,” I say, starting to untie the knot Joel tied. In my moment of trying to be sexy, I realize Joel tied the stupidest and hardest knot ever. Tommy notices my struggle, reaching around me, frantically trying to get the top off.
As it gets loose, I reach up to grab his neck.
“What the fuck is going on ‘ere?” 
His voice freezes me. Tommy looks towards the door in horror.
“Joel-“
“Tommy, you fucking know better,” His voice is so intimidating and scary, I cant even muster the courage to turn around, “Git.”
Tommy gives me eyes saying I’m so sorry, and I just stare blankly at my wall. I hear Tommy’s foot steps run down the stairs. I realize how drunk I am because my wall paper begins to move on it’s own. It doesn’t usually do that. 
“Now you,” His stride towards me is quick, “I’m not your Dad, but don’t think he’d like you fucking his employees.”
Maybe it was the liquid courage, “Who said I was trying to fuck him?”
I snap my head towards his stern and impossible to read face.
“Bullshit,” He spits, “He got through my knot, he assumed somethin’ was about to happen.”
“Well, even if that’s where it went, why are you putting your nose in our business?”
He chuckles darkly, “So now it’s ours, huh? I have you know, girl, Tommy’s business is my business. And you’re just makin’ my job hard.”
I tiptoe closer to him, “And what’s your job, again, Mr. Miller?”
“Make sure people are behavin’ themselves.”
I realize what he’s doing. My tipsy mind took a second to search his face for more, but I can't read him at all. 
“I’m behaving, Mr. Miller. I promise,” I reach up, touching his jaw, “No more funny business.”
It was the closest I had ever got to him. I felt a rush just touching him.
“Good, get your top back on and come down to the party. Your dad is looking for you.”
I look down at myself as he leaves the room. My fucking tits are out, and he didn’t even look down.
The game he was playing was not the same one I was playing.
The next morning, I have a pounding headache and no drive to leave my room. I was embarrassed and horrified. I knew I would have to face Joel and Tommy on Monday morning, so I had to make amends beforehand. I really didn’t want them to tell my dad and I was pretty out of line for trying to fuck Tommy when Joel wasn't giving me the attention my drunk ass thought I deserved.
After spending hours in bed, rolling back and forth thinking of a script to say, I figured that honesty is the best policy. 
Well, honesty with a little bend in the truth. 
I get showered and dressed. My usual summer time outfit was a crop top and short shorts, but today I needed to be more… conservative. 
I find a nice summery dress, that went to midthigh. It was yellow, not a lot cleavage, floral. Innocent. 
When I get downstairs, my dad sits in the living room, his feet propped up watching the news. 
“Where ya going, baby girl?” 
“I’m going for a walk,” I lie. 
“Wearing that?”
“Yes,” I nod quickly, “Do you need anything while I’m out?”
He shakes his head, “No, have fun, I guess.”
I could tell he was suspicious, but he wasn’t one to pester me too much. He had high expectations for me, but I always exceeded them. He never questioned me too much, unless it was about school. He didn’t even really care about my love life. He always got excited when I told him I was going on dates in college. I mean, I rather him be excited than bother me about the guys I was seeing.
I start my journey to Joel’s. I didn’t even know if he was home or not, I was going on blind faith.
It was hot as shit and I was not fully prepared to walk to his house in a dress and sandals. 
I could’ve just driven there and back. But no, I decided to roast in the hot summer sun.
When I arrive to his house, I just kind of stand in his driveway, catching my breath. He was home, his truck was here. 
I walk to the front door, knocking first then ringing the door bell. 
It takes about minute, but he gets the door. 
And he’s shirtless. 
It was the worst and best moment of my entire life. 
“What are you doing here?”
And it’s not quite the response I was anticipating when I arrived at his door. 
“I uh-,” I hear some stirring inside the house, which causes me to peak my head past Joel’s shoulder. 
I see movement, but my eyes find Joel’s again before I could focus in on it. He pushes me back a bit, coming outside and shutting the door behind him. 
“I came to apologize, but you seem busy.”
He shakes his head, “Not busy, just woke up.”
“With someone?”
What the fuck? Why can’t I shut my mouth?
“Pardon me?”
“Well I walked this whole way to apologize about my inappropriate behavior yesterday,” I explain, “But yeah, that’s it.”
The door creaks open and I am wholeheartedly anticipating a hot MILF or something. But instead, it’s a little girl. 
“Sarah, get inside!”
“Oh hi, I know you!”
I smile at the girl. She was cute, I had to admit. She looked a bit like Joel, mainly the smile. A smile I wasn’t too familiar with, because he wasn’t too keen on my jokes. Ever.
“Yeah, I work with your dad,” I explain, “Nice to see you, Sarah.”
“You too, do you want to have lunch with us?”
“Sarah she can’t st-” 
“I’d love to, only if your dad says it’s okay.”
He got himself in a pickle, but I was aching to have a conversation that didn’t involve me putting my foot in my mouth like I almost did again. Plus, some food and water would help the heatstroke I felt coming on.
He stares at me, almost like he wished I’d disappear, “Of course, come in. Sarah is making sandwiches.”
“I hope you like turkey and cheese!”
“Thanks for the sandwich, Sarah,” I say, wiping my face making sure I didn’t have mustard left over.
She smiles with her mouth full, “You’re welcome!”
“Hey Sarah, why don’t you go get ready for swim practice,” He suggests, “Me and your new best friend need to have an adult conversation.”
She looks up at him annoyed, “I guess, but don’t scare her away. She has a cool pool I want to swim in.”
I laugh out loud, “Yeah, don’t scare me away, Joel.”
He doesn’t laugh, he just looks at me with his lazer eyes. I just wish Sarah a farewell and shut my mouth, waiting for the storm. He stirs, eating another bite of his sandwich. 
“So you came to apologize, huh?”
I swallow, “Uh, yeah. I’m sorry for my inappropriate behavior. I had one too many yesterday.”
He nods, “Yeah you were practically falling out of that top of yours before you took Tommy upstairs. Surprised you didn’t have it off before then.”
My eyes widen, “Well that’s humiliating.”
“Don’t think anyone was particularly mad about it,” He says, “Maybe one of those neighborhood watch moms, but who cares about ‘em?”
I can’t help but smirk. Was he insinuating that he wasn’t mad about almost seeing my boobs?
“Yeah, they always give me the most disgusted looks when I’m out jogging.”
“Cause’ they miss bein’ young and beautiful,” He explains, “All their husbands stare, too.”
I can’t believe he’s talking to me like this, I find myself leaning in a bit to try to talk quieter. It seems like this is conversation we should be whispering to each other.
“Do you stare?”
Foot. In. Mouth. 
He smirks, giggling a bit. I finally got to see him smile.
“Of course, I do.”
----
Hehehehe tell me what you think! I'll be back with part 2 soon!
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sunny-speaks · 9 months
Text
Hacker! Ren Headcanons
Basically just hc’s abt what ren does in his free time watching u, yk, normal stuff
Character(s): Ren/[REDACTED] from @14dayswithyou and mild mention of Harper from @/campwillowpeak
A/N: Definitely check out Camp Willowpeak if you have the time! Great VN in progress!
Trigger warnings: Minor panic attack after ‘And it is the worst feeling in all of Corland Bay.’
Um, mention of NSFW and kinks etc. Minors DNI !
Ren spends every waking hour of the day trying to be as close to you as he can possibly muster.
He just wants to be there with you in some shape or form!
The best days for him are the weekends, you don’t have to work and you can stay home all day if you choose to!
Some of his favorite things to watch you do is watch your anime, read fanfiction and a bunch of other things that help with his research.
When you indulge in your fixations, it helps Ren change himself accordingly to whatever you like at the moment!
You like science-y guys? Luckily for you, he took Biology and Chemistry in high school!
Totally not to figure out how to kill people effectively or clean up bloodstains, what???
You like artsy guys? He makes these amazing collages and collections of photography! Also took painting and art in high school!
Once again, totally not because he wanted the best drawings/paintings of you or the best high quality photos for his shrine, whaaat???
But having you read fanfiction is much more interesting to him.
He can see the types of characters you like to read about, your favorite genre, your favorite pairings, your favorite character dynamics…
Whether you prefer sunshine characters with a dark side, characters who look like they could kill you but are actually cinnamon rolls, two idiots + one brain cell, it’d all help him further his agenda of manipulating you to love him making him perfect for you!
And if you go into the NSFW section? He is frothing at the mouth.
This is his chance!! He can figure out what you prefer in the bedroom and win you over with his seduction skills! (not that he needs any ofc… have u seen him??? His dick is like 10 inches, that's a seduction skill on its own…)
(and maybe sometimes he takes advantage of the cameras around your place to listen in and watch you do some… intimate activities)
Whether you like submissive guys or dominant guys or service tops or brats, Ren is all for it! If you’re into some kinky shit, he might not be too into it, but he’ll give it a try for you!!
But if you share one of his massive kinks (ex. Breeding, marking) dude, you are so fucked.
Ren is straight up praying to his shrine that he can be the only one to fulfill your desires because, whoa, he would be soo good to you if you gave him a chance. He would literally cry if you wanted him to do whatever he liked to you.
Also you both like the same shit??? You were clearly meant to be!!
He sees you scrolling on social media and calling yourself delulu? (just like him ong) Don’t worry, he’ll be there so you can fufill your delusions!!
You’ll never have to be delusional again now that you have him!!
Ren saw you scroll through your Tumblr feed, seemingly spending hours lurking on this one account of… Camp Treepeak, or something. It irked him when he saw you focusing on this one character who had you swooning.
So what if that dumb brunette was 6’9’’??? So what if he was a pyromaniac??? He was just a dumb game character, Ren was real! Besides, Ren was more than sure that those missing 4 inches of height between and that fictional guy went somewhere… else.
You didn’t know what you were missing out on!! Ren was right there, always waiting for you to notice him! If you gave him even the smallest chance, he’d swoop in and make your life a living romance visual novel if you wanted!
He could be anyone you wanted him to be! At all! If that’s what it takes for him to be yours, he’d do it in a heartbeat!
(I have brought this up before lmao) Would absolutely be down to try and cosplay any character you aggressively rave about to Moth.
While he absolutely detests Moth for being the one that you go to with this stuff, he can’t deny that it's useful for him to tap into the call, mute Moth on his own end and listen to you go on and on about whatever you’re rambling about at the moment.
Your voice is so pretty, like a canary… Birds remind him of freedom in some way, some days Ren would like to keep you captive, hide you away from the world.
But then he looks at himself in the mirror and he sees his father stare back.
And it is the worst feeling in all of Corland Bay.
He hums to himself, listening to you talk on and on to Moth but can’t help and think, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if I was the only one they ever sang to?’ and it sends Ren into a spiral of dark thoughts he immediately dry heaves at.
He’s trying so hard to focus on your melodic tone before he pants over the sink, body shaking. No, no, no, no.
No. He is not psychopathic. You are not something he can own. You are not his. That is not his decision. You have your voice. You are your own person.
“Hey, you alright?” Your calming voice shakes him out of his stupor. Of course, it did. It helped him get through nightmares, through hungover evenings where he just wanted to be with you, past his job when he felt demotivated.
Subconsciously, he knew you were just talking to Moth, but he couldn’t help but respond. “Y-yeah. I think so.”
“Mm, I feel that.”
Wow, maybe if he squinted, the two of you could be having a conversation! If it wasn’t for that lingering thought of his bastard dad, he would’ve been giggling on the couch, kicking his feet and twirling his hair.
…He was really getting into his Ren persona, wasn’t he…?
“Look, cheer up, things get better. I mean, my job’s no walk in the park, but it’s about the small wins!” He could hear the grin in your voice, you always managed to bring your emotions through audio, “Like, like! The other day, some guy on the street saw my subtle Attack on Giants jacket and stopped to me and said―”
“ ‘Yoo, is that AOG?’ “ Ren repeated the same words with a small smile on his face. He remembered how you reined in your expression before your face lit up as soon as you were by yourself.
You sighed and chuckled at whatever Moth had replied. “No, I am not a huge nerd. I simply have good taste. Oh yeah, remember how I told you about that one skater boy–” and your voice faded to background noise again.
Ren took a couple deep breaths to calm himself. He wasn’t his sperm donor, he’d be better. For you.
And the rest of his nights would be spent, adoringly adding to your shrine and his collection of your items.
Then he would lay in bed, clutching a pillow, wishing it were you he had to cuddle with but could settle for the plush, soft object until he finally won you over.
(personal headcanon that ren has one of those like, duck filled pillows he hugs instead of his stuffed toys which he leaves on display. Sometimes all the body parts just get in the way and he just wants to hug something soft… :(( like you :(( )
Which he would… one day.
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multidxni · 1 year
Text
but "just friends" don't look at each other like that
pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader
genre: fluff, friends to lovers
warnings: none, just a lot of kissing, kinda making out in the end
summary: Hyunjin comes over to help you with your homework, but you end up completely forgetting about it
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Hyunjin is a very good friend. An amazing one, something which makes this so much more difficult for you to shut down or ignore your feelings for him.
How can you possibly not fall for him when he's always. Always there for you, with you.
How can you stop thinking about him after he leaves, when he lets you cry on your favorite shirt of his, completely ruining it, telling you it's going to be just fine with that soft, calming voice.
How can you not imagine how it would be like to be more than just friends when he's so, so perfect.
Even his imperfections seem to be perfect and he makes everything look so easy.
You can't help but miss him when he's gone, you can't even stand a day without him being around.
Sighing, you finish your cup of tea, placing it down, when your phone vibrates on the mini table of your living room.
"Hello?" You pick up, not looking at the display.
"Y/n, hey! Are you busy?" Hyunjin asks enthusiastically.
"Hyunjin, hi." You smile. "No, not at all, what's up?"
"Guess what?" He also smiles.
"What?" You bite your lip, a habit you picked up while talking to him.
You love it when he calls you randomly, just when you don't expect it.
"I got some yummy, fancy food. And your favorite wine. Are you free?" He says full of hope to see you again, the last time he saw you last weekend feeling so far away.
You want to scream "yes" in happiness, but then remember you have a homework you still haven't finished and got to study for the next exam too.
"That sounds amazing Hyunjin. But I have so much to study, I don't know how I'll make it to be honest." Your voice breaking, your disappointment and discouragement are obvious to him.
"Hey...it's okay." He knows you're about to cry. He knows you so well even through a call.
"I'll help you study. Then we eat together, what do you say? Hmm?" He suggests.
"Okay but...it's a lot Hyunnie, you better hurry." You let out a small chuckle, wanting to hug him so tight.
"I'm on my way cutie." He laughs silently hanging up.
You smile, spreading your books and highlight pens on the table, as you wait for him.
He always knows what to say or do to make you feel better. To make you feel special.
-
After a few minutes you hear a knock on the door. You rush to open it and reveal a tall, black hoodie dressed Hyunjin, with boxes of food in his hands, along with your favorite Rosé wine.
Your eyes soften at the sight of him, smiling so brightly at you.
You take one of his boxes from his hands and bury your face in his chest, hugging him tight, arms wrapping around his neck.
He chuckles in your hair, breathing in.
You can't help but stand up on your feet and press a light kiss on his cold cheek.
"Thank you Hyunjinnie." You say, stepping aside to let him walk inside your apartment.
"Something is different in here." He notices looking around.
"Yeah...can you guess what?" You smile walking into the kitchen with the food, sitting down on your bar chairs.
"Y/n..." He says in a serious tone as you look at his face.
His eyes light up with a new, completely unknown emotion to you.
"You hung up my drawings...even framed them, really?" The look on his face is so soft, you think you're going to start crying.
"Yeah...I just love your drawings. Also I painted the walls a different color and..." You shrug. "I don't know, I just felt that it really matches it and the atmosphere."
He stays quiet, starring at you for a couple of seconds, but then comes closer to you.
And man, your heart is skipping so many beats at once, is this even possible?
"Hyunjin...if you don't want it I'll put them awa-"
And then, he kisses you.
Places his lips on yours, not even moving them. Just holding them there. When he pulls away, way too quickly by the way, your legs suddenly become like jelly. Heart beating so fast, you fear he can hear it too.
It happened so fast, it was almost like just two seconds.
Your mouth hangs open now, the feeling of his lips still on yours.
When you don't have the power or idea to say something, he apologizes, looking away in shame, his ears and cheeks turning pink.
You think you're going to throw up eventually, the emotions overwhelming you.
"Don't. Don't apologize." You simply say, embarrassment making your cheeks become a bright shade of red.
"I just kissed you, oh God, it's not okay." He panics and you pray he doesn't regret it.
"But Hyunjin. I liked it..." You let out, now looking at the ground. Playing with the rings on your fingers, the long shirt you're wearing, anything.
When you say that he looks at you in surprise almost, exhaling.
"I just...I'm sorry it was so sudden." He pauses. "I'm such an idiot."
"You're my favorite idiot then." You hear yourself say, locking eyes with him for what feels like the first time after the kiss.
He's so pretty, all blushy like that, his lips swollen.
"It means a lot to me." He chuckles. "Also the way you hung up my drawings...thank you." He says looking you in the eyes.
"You're so passionate about the things you do...so delicate. I just find you really..." You can't find the right words to tell him.
"Perfect." You look up and feel your cheek burn like they never did before. Are you having a fever?
His eyebrows furrow together in a soft 'aww' way.
"I find you really perfect too." He smiles, finding your hands, holding them into his big ones.
He smells so good and you suddenly want him close. Need to feel him close.
"Hug me." You whisper looking at the way he holds your hands, brushing over your fingers with his thumb.
"Anything for you." He whispers back and it's so romantic that you can't help but melt into his large arms, and oversized, good smelling hoodie.
You're addicted to him, the way he looks, behaves, the way he is with you, how he smells...you're in love with everything he is.
"I love you." You let out, not caring about anything anymore, because you never needed anyone more than you need him right now.
"I love you too." He places kisses on your head and forehead and you think if you could die from feeling so full of love for someone, you would definitely die on the spot.
Still holding him in your arms, caressing his back, you look up to see him already looking at you.
"Can I kiss you? Just making sure I won't scare you away this time." He laughs, now holding your chin.
You nod, smiling.
Everything seems to be so easy with Hyunjin. It's like you're made for each other.
"The food is cold now." You say sadly after the kiss.
"Really? That's all you care about right now?" He looks at you with one of his judging faces.
"Hyunjinnnn, we have so much to do." You say, fake crying.
"We have timeee." He assures you, sitting down to open the boxes.
You sit down next to him, admiring his side profile.
"I have an idea." You suddenly say, standing up.
You bring some good smelling candles lighting them up, placing two big glasses for the wine on the table too.
"This is so romantic." He compliments, loving every second of it.
You look satisfied with your work and as you see the tteokbokki with extra cheese, your mouth waters.
"Oh God." You groan just looking at it.
"Indeed." He agrees. "Bon Appétit, mon amour." He says in a fake french accent and you laugh it off, saying the same.
You eat in silence, a few things such as "it's so good" and "thank you hyunjin", the only sentences spoken.
When you finish eating he opens the bottle of wine, with a bow.
"For you madame." He pours into the glass with so much elegance you can't help but think again, he really is perfect.
"For the lucky boyfriend." He pretends to talk to someone, bowing again. "Oh wait that's me." He quickly moves on the chair pretending to thank the waiter (who is also him).
You laugh so much your tummy hurts.
He loves to make you laugh, loves to hear your laugh.
"Are you my boyfriend?" You ask as he puts the bottle away.
"Well...are you my girlfriend?" He asks instead, smirking.
"Hyunjin-ah!~" You say tired of the playing.
"Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Yes or yes? There's only one correct answer." He smiles like he said the most logical thing on earth.
You raise an eyebrow smirking. "Are you proposing to me, or asking me to be your girlfriend, Mr. Hwang?" You joke back.
"Both." He says with an eye smile.
"Anyways, yes." You shrug, ignoring his comment, drinking your wine unbothered.
He laughs again, and you want to learn lots of jokes to hear that sound again and again.
"Yes to what?" He raises his eyebrows like he's in shock. "Just kidding."
You push his shoulder and smile, while once again admiring his handsome face.
Taking your hand while holding his glass of wine in the other, he leads you to the balcony.
You didn't realize it already got late, but you're glad it did, because you hope he'll want to spend the night with you.
Looking at the night sky full of stars, you decide Hyunjin is still your favorite thing to look at.
Taking the almost finished drink from your hands, he sets it down on a small table next to him, along with his.
He holds your waist closer, pulling you into his chest, holding you close again.
"Don't ask me anymore if you want to kiss me again." You say when he stares at your lips.
He nods, kissing you for the 3rd time tonight, but this is the first time he holds your face, waist, and kisses you so deeply, full of passion.
"You're my favorite person." He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair away from your face.
The wind is blowing, and it's really cold, but he makes you feel so warm, it's insane.
"You're mine too." You say finding yourself holding his face close, putting your lips on his again.
His kisses are like drugs and you end up wanting more of them. More of him. All of him.
You end up kissing on your way out of the balcony. Then on the way to your room and finally on your bed, where it gets more intense.
He kisses you like he never gets enough, just like you.
"You're so beautiful." He says when kissing your shoulders and collarbones, neck and jaw, then lips again.
"Hyunjin." You sigh, throwing your head back, when he sucks on a certain spot on your neck.
"Hmmm." He says satisfied when he hears you squirm under him.
"Oh God, Hyunjin." You exhale, as he presses his knee between your legs.
Pulling his hair, you can't get enough of the feeling of his lips on you.
"What do you want me to do?" He asks, still kissing your neck.
"A lot of things... But for now just please... kiss me more." You tell him, holding his face in your hands.
"Where do you want me to kiss you, my princess?" He seductively looks at you.
"Anywhere, everywhere." You let out, pulling his face closer to yours.
Kissing him, you know that is a thing you'll certainly miss when he's not gonna be around.
"We have time the whole night, love." He whispers.
❤️
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strbry-shortcakes · 6 months
Text
taking some extra anatomy classes this year, here are some of my notes in case they could help someone. should be updated every weekend (aside from october 28th and november 4th which are free days) with the following lesson's notes. (further explanations at the end)
anyway. here goes:
SCENE 0-1: LEARNING HOW TO LOOK/OBSERVE
when drawing, we each more or less have our own methods when approaching certain subjects, with multiple tools at our disposal in order to achieve the desired results. 
but generally, when drawing a model (or most things from life, actually) we can in some sort of way define a general order as to when to draw what: 
Looking / Observing
Blocking In
Correcting
Details
for today i’ll focus on the first one of the list, looking / observing.
the existing nuance between “seeing” and “looking” exists in the sense that “seeing” is more passive than “looking”. when you say “i can see a cat”, you aren’t paying too much attention to the cat. but when you say “i am looking at a cat’, you are actively paying attention to the cat and what they’re doing. 
(given the class is in French, the nuance was similar, using the words “voir” and “regarder”. but due to French not having a close equivalent to “watch” i cannot make more parallels about this, as my knowledge of English and French-to-English translation is still fairly limited)
when looking at a subject, the primary objective should be to understand what you’re looking at. you can look at a subject (or the world as a whole) under multiple filters: values, hues, proportions, in 2D or 3D, and so on. you need to define how you want to look at a subject following these filters of vision. what do you want to look at first? what do you want the viewer to look at first? this is important to define before you put your tool to your support. 
generally when drawing from life, it’s a bit reckless to rush to draw the model without actually observing them a minimum. you should take the time to observe, you are allowed to take your time to observe. no amount of limited time should paralyze you from examining the model the best you can before you put your tool to use. 
getting this more precise vision of your model can give you a better vision of their body, which is often hidden under detail. when drawing them, you should ask yourself “how is the model posing?” 
why look/observe? (probably like the most given piece of advice by pros and art youtubers who aren’t pros but still get called pros cause they have 1 million subscribers on youtube) 
this question is very easily asked but also very easily answered: 
to know how and what you’re going to draw 
to time yourself correctly and have a good time management (drawing a pose in 2 minutes is completely different to drawing a 10 minutes one), thus,
to avoid rushing to draw the subject. as said previously, take your time. start slow, but stay accurate to the model. (teacher compared it to a musician rehearsing a piece, first slowly, then speeding it up progressively as he gets to know the piece itself better and better. unfortunately as someone who is as farthest from a musician as can be, i cannot honestly attest to if this is accurate). 
but really, there is actually no such thing as a “finished” drawing. a graphite drawing could always have color added afterwards, a painting could always get more and more detailed. a piece is “finished” only when you deem it is finished. the French Académie des Beaux Arts didn’t like the Impressionists because to them, what the impressionists were doing were half assed jobs, since the idea of “transmitting a vague feeling, or an emotion through a specific style of very visible strokes” was absolute fuckery to them. speaking of, 
to transmit an emotion, or a feeling through the posing of the model. the more technical and controlled the strokes will be, the finer the wanted sensation will be felt by the viewer. this also ties in the physical aspect of the model. ideally, in order to achieve this, you can try posing the same way the model does. it may be a bit awkward but it works (depending on your learning type, of course.) 
to understand how the whole “body system” works. “i know the rules of the human body, therefore i make little to no mistakes.” 
adding a whole context to the pose helps: adding a situation in which the pose could work in gives some meaning to your drawing, as well as helping you remember it better. it also adds a narrative element to your drawing(s), which are absolutely always a plus. (memorization is also an important tool!)
now let me play devil’s advocate and ask: why not look/observe?
well, uh, there are two reasons my teach told us: 
to let your instinct and imagination go wild and free, trust your gut and have fun!! 
and, tying back, 
to let yourself be surprised by what you’ve done.
form synthesis (or just different types of approaches to draw form)
when drawing a model, there’s a few things that can be mentioned: 
multiple types of lines exist with different purposes within the drawing: the action line(s), structural lines, and contour lines. 
action lines define the overall movement of the pose. the principal one is the one you see when giving a better look at how dynamic the pose is. the secondary ones are the ones you can find in secondary rhythms when examining the pose a little longer. 
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(here's a better example, actually:)
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structural lines are pretty much the “stickman skeleton” you sometimes see in certain how to draw books (specifically the more advanced manga themed ones).
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contour lines surround the form in a way as to draw all of the outer body without using inside shapes or lines. (it is also the basis for the Bargue method which will be slightly discussed below. there unfortunately won’t be any talk about cross-contour lines, as it hasn’t been talked about in class (yet?)) 
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generally, lines take either an I shape, a C shape or an S shape. (teach said it’s preferable to mostly use I and C type lines when drawing live models. probably due to the fact that S shapes are much trickier to use “effectively” within a piece (effectively not meaning much in this context, if nothing at all. again, have fun.)). using these lines tell a lot about the model and the pose, telling a sort of dynamic storytelling which varies depending on what type of line you choose to represent your model. 
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we can mostly talk about 2D shapes when three or more points have been linked by lines. sometimes, lines can skip articulations for the sake of dynamism. shapes should be thought about in their entirety, the difficulty that can be encountered usually being remaining vague but accurate with your form. 
now, a quick word about: 
the Bargue method (or, the fuck do you mean the Americans used it in art schools before us, Bargue was literally born in Paris, i fucking hate the Académie des Beaux-Arts)
the Bargue method is probably fairly well known among certain art schools or artistic communities. if i do recall correctly; it originated with Bargue noticing the low level of the students of the Académie des Beaux-Arts de Paris (or some other place basing itself solely on academic style art and paintings located in the city of Paris in the country of France on the continent of Europe) and devising a simple way to learn how to draw accurately from life (or plaster casts, depending on what you prefer). it solely based itself on straight, contour lines, forming a base around which to slowly add details to. apparently, a lot of art schools in america base their teaching of life drawing on this method, but given i do not feel like getting over $200k in debt without even mentioning living and travel costs, i cannot say if that is actually true. 
here's an example of it:
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it’s pretty much basing yourself on simplifications of the form to attain absolute accuracy. no curves here to distract you, only straights. somehow, when pulled off correctly, it gives a very neat impression of realism.
anyway, that’s all i wrote down. hope teach won’t see this anytime soon, and hope this kinda helped a little bit. next week’s notes should be about blocking in shapes, so we’re starting to be a little more concrete with the actual drawing process. 
these classes were taught by Mr Francis Buchet at a class given at the Académie de la Grande Chaumière, so most of the things i’m saying here are taken from him and his class. if you live in/close to Paris and are interested in learning artistic anatomy, i suggest you look up where he is giving public classes, since they’re infinitely more engaging than these notes. his instagram is be linked below. (hoping he doesn’t get mad at me for sharing these notes… in any case i will use my own example sheets to avoid getting in any more trouble.)
and, may i remind you: these notes are only here to showcase one approach among many others, so they don’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. i myself am in absolutely no way a professional, so please, take all of this with a grain of salt (or a spoonful, even). draw how you enjoy drawing, and find happiness in the way you want to draw. 
Francis Buchet's instagram: x
so, seeyou next weekend! (or earlier, if i draw something i want to show here.)
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