#the fluffiest fluff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

uwingdispatch · 7 months

Text

From the Very First Night

Notes: Ezra Bridger/Reader, established relationship, gender neutral reader, post-rebellion/post-war, hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader

CW: light discussion of past traumas/implied PTSD

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

The day you met Ezra Bridger you laughed when he told you his name.

“Forgive me,” you told him, “but you’re not the first man on Lothal to try and pick me up while claiming to be the guy in the mural on the wall outside.”

“Well that’s new,” he said. “I tell you my full government name and you think it’s a ruse. Maybe I should have used one of my old aliases.”

You’d been finishing up some work in what had come to be your favorite caf bar in town, a few blocks from your home on Lothal. And you were thinking about leaving when a man approached with a look in his eyes that, on another day, might have prompted you to pick up your comms and fake an emergency call from a friend.

But now he was reaching for his wallet, pulling out an ID. “You can check my chain code if you want. I didn’t realize I had so many doppelgängers.”

You quirked an eyebrow. None of the other “Ezras” you’d met had offered ID but, as soon as you saw it, you felt heat rush to your cheeks. “Okay,” you said. “This is embarrassing. ”

He smiled warmly as he put his wallet away. “To be fair, most of the stuff in town depicts me as a kid, and I didn’t have this handsome beard back then. But I can appreciate a skeptic.”

You put away your datapad, your instincts still split between staying where you were and running out the side door. Surprising yourself, you say, “But I’m not hearing you say that you're not trying to pick me up.”

“Well…maybe. That depends, I guess, on whether you mind if I join you.”

You nodded, and he sat opposite you, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling when he smiled. Up close, you could almost see the teenage boy from the mural. But his hair was longer, dark curls falling soft around his face, and he had a short beard that he did wear quite well.

You wondered if his nerves had caught up with him as he ran a hand through his hair, the late afternoon light coming in through the window catching a streak of silver at his temple.

“Sometimes it feels like I know everyone in this city. Or at least that everyone in this city feels like they know me.” he said. “But you’re new, aren’t you?”

“What gave me away?” you asked.

“Well, I could never forget such a lovely face.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“I really am.”

There was something sincere about him, despite the flirtations. Something about the way he moved was honest. Welcoming. A server brought him a cup of caf and Ezra exchanged a few words with him in Rodian.

“So how long have you been in town?” He asked.

“About eight months,” you said. “I just hit this point where I felt like a fresh start might be nice. I don’t usually abandon ship when things get rough, but I thought maybe this one time…I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

He winked. “I used a Jedi mind trick.”

“Right,” you said, fairly certain he was kidding.

He shrugged. “And somehow you landed on Lothal.”

“I narrowed it down to the places where I’d be able to have my astromech serviced.”

“Must be a special astromech.”

“She’s a therapy droid.”

“Ah,” he said. “There are several mechanics in Capital City who work with that program.”

You were a bit taken aback at how unfazed he was at the mention of your therapy droid—issued by the New Republic. Similar programs had been available to injured veterans before, but the civilian program was newer. And he not only knew about the program, but didn’t seem bothered by the fact that you had a condition that required this kind of aid.

“We had a lot of options,” you said. “But Ceetoo and I decided Lothal seemed nice. So…I’m here.”

“Glad you are,” he said, both hands cupping his caf mug.

“You just met me and the first thing I did was call you a liar.”

“That’s what I like about you.”

A day would come when you’d realize what he meant then. That when you saw him you weren’t thinking about all the war stories, about the way Lothal had memorialized him when they’d thought he was dead. That he had a chance, at least for a moment, to show someone who he was without the burden of their assumptions and expectations.

You would also come to realize that from the first time Ezra smiled at you, there was no coming back. He had you, melting like chocolate in the palm of his hand. Because he saw you too, like no one else ever had before.

***

It’s late afternoon when C2-B35 comes in from the garage bleeping about the line at the pharmacy. She’d gone with Ezra to pick up your medication after getting your doctor to call in something new for your joint pain. Ezra could have gone by himself but, because of an incident early in your dating history when there’d been a mix-up, Ceetoo almost always insists on going with him—and he learned a long time ago not to fight a stubborn astromech.

Ezra finds you on the sofa where you’ve been trying to relax, the pain in your back making it hard to even lie still. He knows better by now than to tell you that you’ve been working too hard, that you should take more breaks. He knows to help you up, taking you gently into his arms and kissing your hair. By the time he hands you the tablets, you’re already feeling a bit of relief.

You take the medicine and let out a heavy sigh, resting your head on Ezra’s chest before whispering a thank you.

“I wish I could heal,” he says.

“We still don’t know if that kind of healing would help me,” you say. “Genetic condition.”

It’s a dance you dance every time you have a flare like this, bad enough that Ceetoo insists on contacting your doctor.

“I met a kid once who could do it. His dad said he could nullify the effects of a neurotoxin. Close a wound like it had never been there at all.”

“What did the kid say about it?”

“The kid doesn’t talk much. Still working through some things, I think.”

He gets quiet, and from the look in his eyes you know that he’s gone somewhere in his mind lost you can’t follow. It’s been 25 years since he last saw his adoptive father, the man who’d trained him in the Force, and there are some wounds that time never quite heals. Ezra is still working through some things, too.

“Hey,” you say. “Come back to me.”

He smiles, his eyes bright as he gently squeezes your arm. “I’m right here, sunshine.”

The medication starts to hit, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You reach for his face, the sharp line of his bearded jaw, the parallel scars on his left cheek. “Just as you are, you’re enough, Ezra. I don’t need a Jedi. I just need you.”

C2-B35 beeps irritably before retiring to her room, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since breakfast.

“Thank you, Ceetoo,” you call, with a promise that you’ll have a proper dinner.

“Is it helping?” Ezra asks. “The medicine?”

“It is,” you say. “Finally.”

“Have you really not eaten all day?”

Your face tells him everything.

“Right,” he says. “Dinner. I could make some quick dumplings? I think I froze some last time to fry later…I’d just have to make the sauce, really.”

He’s up and in the kitchen, pulling jars of spices out of the pantry, and you know he can already taste this comfort dish, and so can you.

So much of his life had been unstable after Ezra’s parents disappeared. He was on his own at such a young age, and then after a few short years in the Rebellion he ended up in exile on Peridea. Now, everything he had felt like a luxury to him: a permanent home, a pair of naughty indoor loth-cats, soft clothes he wore without consideration for armor. He’d told you about learning to cook when he came back to Lothal and, now that he has access to just about any ingredient for any dinner in the galaxy, he has every intention of not only enjoying the luxury of any hot meal he can dream up, but to make sure you enjoy food as well. When Ezra offers to cook, you never say no.

“Ezra?”

“What do you need, love?”

“I need you to kiss me.”

And he does, pulling you up from the sofa, taking your face in his hands as he presses his lips to yours, his neatly trimmed beard soft against your skin. You’re lacing your fingers through his dark curls when he pulls away to look right into your eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you whisper.

And he replies, “I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

***

It was night before you left the caf bar and, at this realization, Ezra insisted on walking you home. “Unless you don’t feel comfortable with that,” he’d said. “I would understand. It’s just dark out and…”

And something about being with Ezra just made you feel safe. Even on that first night. You’d never let a strange man walk you home before—it was on its face a bad idea. But you’d stayed out much later than you normally would, and the idea of being alone felt far more unsafe than being with this charming man.

“I don’t normally do things like this,” you told him, the words coming out way too fast, just a block from your building.

“I figured,” he said. “For what it’s worth…I haven’t done anything like this in quite a while.

This did surprise you. “Walked someone home?”

There was a playful tone to his voice when he replied, “Approached a beautiful stranger in a caf bar.”

“You sure are bold for someone who doesn’t regularly…do whatever this is.”

“I just…” he started and paused, taking a breath. “This is going to sound like a line, but I just felt so drawn to you.”

“In the Force?”

“Maybe.”

“It does sound like a line,” you said. “But somehow I believe you. Jedi mind trick?”

“I’d never actually—”

“I know.”

You were both standing outside your door, a cool evening breeze in the air. You took all of him in—his firm chest beneath the deep v of his tunic, his dark hair catching on the wind, those blue eyes that seemed to see right past all of your walls. You’d met this man just a few hours ago but, beyond all reason, you so wanted to—

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, the words falling from his lips as if he hadn’t considered the consequences.

You nodded and he took a step closer, cupping your face in his hands, his nose brushing yours as he leaned in to press the most delicate kiss to your lips. And you felt his smile just as you felt that joy in yourself—a spark of something unlike anything you’d felt before. Maybe it was the Force, but every inch of your being wanted to be close to this man as you reached for his face, drawing him nearer, slipping a hand into his hair as the kiss deepened.

“I should go,” Ezra said, breathless into your ear.

“Why?” you asked.

“I have an appointment.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Then stay.”

Nervously you fumbled with your keys, dropping them not once but twice as you tried to open your door, Ezra eventually placing them steadily into your hand, and just the touch of his fingertips against your palm sent a pleasant shiver through you. Quickly you shooed an alarmed Ceetoo away as you entered. Unlike you, her memories included files from the war, and she recognized Ezra as soon as she saw him. Beeped out something along the lines of this one’s mostly trustworthy and I’m going to charge.

“Mostly?” Ezra said, almost in a whisper. “I wonder what she’s heard.”

You bite back a laugh. “I just need you to know I don’t normally do this either.”

“Okay.”

“I could make some tea.”

“Sure.”

But his arms were around you again and you both stumbled toward the sofa, falling into the cushions wrapped in each other like teenagers, wholly unworried about anything else in the galaxy.

That tea didn’t get made for hours. And it was nearly dawn when you retired to your bedroom and Ezra fell asleep on your sofa, your loth-cat sitting at his feet. When you woke, he was gone, a note left on your kitchen counter: Had to work this morning, but I hope you’ll call me. You traced your finger over the comms code left in scratchy handwriting below, wondering for a split second if this could be real. But if you closed your eyes you could still feel the sensation of his fingertips ghosting over your cheek when you’d handed him a blanket the night before. His voice when he’d whispered in your ear, “Sleep well, sunshine.”

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! They really gave us Hot!Ezra in the Ahsoka series and I'm just here to be a gremlin about it. I hope this fic made you feel seen and loved.

I have a taglist now! Sign up here if you want to be tagged in future fics. (And choose if you only want to be tagged for certain characters.) In the meantime, I’m tagging my taglist as well as some folks who have been reblogging my fics. Love y’all!

@writingbylee @waterpancakeao3 @princessxkenobi @zinzinina @aerynwrites @belfry-bat@phoenixhalliwell @r1-sw-lover @laserbrains @darthanakn @lovedbyth3sun @usernamesarebitches @maul-ologue @operation-spot @writeforfandoms @akgracemk @littlemousedroid @strwrs @saveatruckrideoptimusprime @galaxtic-writings @mintpurplemnm @againstacecilia @elasticreality @zombiedixon89 @forresway @sith-as-heck @alistocats @favficss @themandadolorian @ginger-swag-rapunzel @iamsuchanasshat @vvpoisonous @saradika @islandfrogeery @boba-brasso-bee @groguspawbeans @fluffyprettykitty @mischiefqueer @wretchedmo @wyn-n-tonic @dystopicjumpsuit

#middle-aged ezra bridger #ezra bridger #ezra bridger x reader #ezra bridger x gn reader #ezrabridger x gn!reader #adult ezra bridger #ahsoka series #ahsoka series fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars rebels #and a loth-cat because I can #disabled reader #chronic illness #hurt/comfort #just a little domestic fluff #and a first meeting #comfort reads #the fluffiest fluff

133 notes · View notes

rainystressed247 · 1 year

Text

Me to myself: I should transfer some AUs

Also me: the babies >.<

#dream fanart #technoblade fanart #rivalsduo #rivalstwt #kindergartenrivalsau #or as I like to call it #the fluffiest fluff #rainystressedart

176 notes · View notes

sidraofthewildflowers · 7 months

Text

Renaissance meets Bear

Alicent Brown: Alicent’s favorite place (other than the kitchen where she can usually be found baking up all kinds of new creations) is the oddball shop she works at just around the corner from their home, where she works alongside the shops aged and equally eccentric owner, Mr. Gruber.

Life recently took an exciting turn when, on the way home, Alicent and her family spotted a little brown bear at the train station. It didn’t take much convincing to take him back home. Paddington was his name. He loves to eat her various kitchen creations, and has made a wonderful addition to the family.

Criston Brown: Criston never expected to have his life spun around when a little bear entered his family’s home. Though, with his wife Alicent, he should have learned that anything was possible. Life as a banker should have been a simple one, but with four children, a bear, and his colorful wife, life was never simple.

He has always tried to be the parent that kept the havoc of the house in order, but his family was far too exciting for such a thing. And that’s something he’s just fine with.

Aegon Brown: Aegon loved nothing more than building rockets. Well, that and his family. He wants to go to space and see what the world looks like from way up above. Ignoring his father’s loving advice of “thinking safe”, Aegon likes to set his handmade rockets off outside, which then usually means that he will loose rocket making privileges for a little.

It’s an often sight to find Aegon and Paddington tinkering away at a rocket in the middle of the kitchen while Alicent bakes and the rest of the kids take part in their own hobbies.

Helaena Brown: Helaena likes to call herself an explorer. Well, if going out to explore the city makes someone an explorer, than she is one. She likes to bring home pastries from the cafe she works at. She always makes sure to bring marmalade muffins for Paddington to eat. He adores them.

Paddington likes to join her on adventures and the two like to take breaks by eating at little hole-in-the-wall restaurants where they serve the best English food.

Aemond Brown: Aemond loves to take pictures of just about anything. At the moment, he’s been making his family dress in odd costumes for a theme he likes to call “Renaissance meets Bear”. Alicent loves it, and Paddington does too because he gets to eat the little marmalade sandwiches she makes while they work.

The movie theater that he works at allows him to watch all of the films he loves. On special days, when Aegon and Paddington beg, he’ll play a movie of his family’s choice.

Daeron Brown: Daeron, the youngest of the rowdy bunch, loves history and everything to do with it. He can usually be spotted hand in hand with Paddington as they walk around the large museums of London. His room is full of books that are stacked on top of one another. Don’t tell his dad that another stack fell down and broke his lamp.

He enjoys spending his time in the kitchen where most of his family is, and telling his family a new history fact that he and Paddington recently learned.

Requested by and with help from @fatherforgivethem ✨🐻🐻🐻✨✨ tyyyy!!!

32 notes · View notes

questioningwriter · 9 months

Text

(Y'all remember when I said I'd have second parts out to stories... yeah, then this happened.)

(I typed this in a hurry to get something out, so it's relatively unedited. I skimmed it once, so I may have missed something.)

Boredom

TW: suggestive @ the end

"I'm booooooored." Villain flopped over the side of the sofa in the shared apartment. "Come sit with me?"

From the desk, Hero snorted. "You're such a crybaby." They teased their partner. "Come on, can you wait? I'm working."

Villain pouted. "No." They walked over to see what their partner was working on. "What'chya doin'?"

"You're not the only villain out there, you know." Hero said. "I have to find counter strategies for every possible plan that Supervillain or the others could come up with. Superhero wants them by the end of the day."

Villain sighed. "Fine, I'll go." They walked away, leaving hero to their work.

A few hours later, Hero gets a call from the Hero Agency. More specifically, Superhero.

"Come and get your partner." Superhero snapped before Hero could say anything. "They're glaring a hole through me because I gave you work on your day off."

Well, shit. "I'm on my way." Hero grabbed their go-bag, and threw their uniform on over their clothes. "Sorry about this."

"No, I'm sorry." Superhero said as Hero got on his motorcycle drove out for the Agency. "I never should have given you work on your day off. I'll never do it again."

Hero sighed. "Villains holding a knife to your throat, aren't they?"

"Is it that obvious?" Superhero tried to joke as Hero pulled up to the tall building the agency was in.

"I know Villain." Hero answered. "So yeah, it is."

Hero made their way to Superhero's office, thinking every curse word in the book. When they got there, they saw Superhero sitting in their chair, with Villain standing behind them in their villain getup, pressing a knife to their throat.

"Hey, baby!" Villain said cheerily, as if they were just happy to see them come home.

Hero sighed. "Sweetheart, baby, love of my life, I love you with every fibre of my being. Please let my boss go."

Villain pouted, but removed the knife from Superhero's neck. "Come on, baby." They muttered. "You have to see where I'm coming from here. You were ignoring me."

"As if I'm not allowed to work from home." Hero grumbled, but they were smiling.

"Nope!" Villain danced over to their partner, throwing their arms around them and mashing their bodies together. "When you're at home, you're mine!"

Hero winked. "Than why don't we go home and you can make me yours all over again?"

Villain smirked. "Yes, lets."

#hero x villain community #hero x villain #hero #villain #possesive villain #fluff #The Fluffiest Fluff #This is literally the fluffiest shit I've ever written #Superhero #writing #creative writing

36 notes · View notes

strawberrywinter4 · 4 months

Text

Fandom: Sherlock (TV)

Rated: Teen and Up

Relationship: Sherlock/John

Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Philip Anderson, Original Female Character

Notable Tags: Jealous Sherlock Holmes, Fluff and Humor, Insecure Sherlock Holmes, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Christmas Fluff, Cuddles

Summary:

Sherlock Holmes has never had such a relationship in which his significant other treats him like John does. John treats him like he's the most precious thing in the world. Sherlock can't lose that, he can't lose him.

When a new recruit of Scotland Yard seems to take a liking to John, Sherlock does everything in his power to keep John from leaving him when his insecurities get the best of him.

Chapter one up on Ao3

#johnlock #sherlock #writerscommunity #ao3 writer #johnlock fanfiction #ao3 #sherlock fandom #ao3 fanfic #jealous Sherlock Holmes #reassurances #christmas #christmas fluff #christmas fic #kisses #snuggles #sherlock needs john #sherlock fluff #the fluffiest fluff #mistletoe

13 notes · View notes

wtfuckevenknows · 10 months

Note

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” for tarlos <333

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii :)

I am soooooooo fucking sorry this took so long 😅 and it honestly isn't my best work but I'm just so fucking happy I finished it after not writing a single word for two months.

Hope you like it anyways 🙃

16 “It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

Carlos steps into the dark loft, only the street lights casting a sliver of light, and slowly and as quietly as he can slides the door closed behind him before locking it.

The clock reads nearly 2am and Carlos is sure TK is fast asleep, even though they both have the day off tomorrow. He was supposed to be home hours ago but his shift ran long and he has missed date night.

TK tried to sound upbeat when Carlos called earlier to let him know, but Carlos wasn’t fooled. TK only tried to make Carlos feel less guilty about having to cancel their date – as he always does when Carlos has to work overtime – but Carlos knows TK was disappointed and he felt guilty anyway.

Keep reading on ao3

#One Hundred Ways to Say 'I Love You'#thanks for the prompt #me? writing? what a concept #tarlos fic #911 ls fic #the fluffiest fluff #as always

34 notes · View notes

roosterbox · 7 months

Text

October Almost-Drabbles 10/4: Pumpkin

Pairing: Steddie

Word Count: 621

Additional tags: FLUFF, pumpkin carving, transfemme!Steve

Side note: was initially going to be t4t, but I didn’t end up getting around to Eddie’s characterization. I think it’s already too long as it is, lol. I don’t mind it if you think of him that way though.

Side note #2: new headcanon unlocked - Eddie is awesome at pumpkin carving artwork.

———

“Is it ready yet?”

Stevie was almost bouncing in her chair. Her own pumpkin was finished - triangle cut out eyes and a big toothy smile - so now all that was left was Eddie’s. But the big jerk wouldn’t let her see. ‘Not until it’s done,’ he’d said.

Stevie Harrington wasn’t known for her patience.

“Almost,” Eddie said, not looking at her. He was surprisingly focused. For him, at least. His hair was tied back, though some thin wisps managed to settle against his forehead, and his tongue was pressed anxiously to the corner of his mouth. He wore a similar look when he was working hard on his campaigns. It seemed like an awful lot of concentration and trouble for a pumpkin carving, Stevie thought. But that only made her want to see even more.

“How much longer?”

Eddie sighed, more out of fondness than exasperation. “In a minute, baby.” He looked up and winked at her. “Can’t rush art.”

Right. Pumpkin art. She rolled her eyes a little. Never saw much need for any fanciness. Everybody loves the simple designs, right? Besides, there’s only so much a person can do with a pumpkin.

After a few moments, with one final flourish of the carving knife, Eddie turned to her, smiling.

“All done! Wanna see my masterpiece?”

She rolled her eyes again, but she was smiling too. “Damn right I do. Make some room.”

He scooted his chair out from the table a bit so she could plop down on his lap. Eddie coughed out a mild ‘gentle on the goods there, darlin’’ before wrapping his arms around her. She made herself quite comfortable before actually looking at the…

…pumpkin?

“Oh shit,” she breathed.

It was the moon. A carving of a full moon. With craters and everything, though they probably weren’t scientifically accurate if she’d had to guess. But damn, it looked good. The way he’d carved into the flesh of the pumpkin, not all the way through but thin enough for the light to pass through, was incredible. There were cut-outs along the side, a few in the moon shape itself. It took her a minute to realize they were bats. Just like one ones on Eddie’s arm.

“Like it? I was gonna try to do a howling werewolf or something. Felt too cliché.”

“It’s amazing, Eds.” She kissed his cheek, leaving a tiny smudge of her dark red lipstick. Neither moved to wipe it away. “Have you always carved pumpkins like this?”

He shrugged, and held her closer. “Not really. Got tired of the typical shit a few years ago, figured I could stand to get more creative.” At her withering look, he sputtered, “N-not that yours is uncreative or anything! I mean, that design is a classic for a reason, and-“

She silenced him with a kiss. Slow and deep, leaving his lips stained red. But before she could grab a tissue or a towel, he licked them clean. This earned him another fond eyeroll.

“How’s my lipstick taste?”

Another lick. He grinned. “Perfect. Just like my Stevie.”

“Dork,” she said, and settled further in his lap.

“You love me though.” He nuzzled at her neck, kissing a bit at the freckles and beauty marks there.

“Yeah, I do. God help me, but I do.”

Another time, he might have feigned offense. Maybe even whined about his cruel, cruel girlfriend, how could she say such mean things to him? But tonight? Tonight he just sighed, and squeezed her tight.

“Wanna help me set ‘em up outside?”

“In a minute,” her voice was muffled from where her face was pressed in his hair. “I’m comfy here.”

He chuckled, careful not to jostle her too much. “Dork.”

#October drabbles #pumpkin #Steddie #trans!steve harrington #pumpkin carving #the fluffiest fluff #these two are everything #❤️❤️❤️

13 notes · View notes

spurious · 8 months

Note

🌹🌹🌹🌹

(Send a 🌹, get a WIP line!)

From 20 more Questions:

Rodney's looking down at John's dick like it's a tricky engineering problem, and it bowls John over with a wave of amused fondness that makes him want to laugh, or cry, or maybe both.

#fic rambles #this one is just.#the fluffiest fluff #(I say now but John cannot be trusted tbh)

9 notes · View notes

alltheirdamn · 12 days

Text

Killing Me Softly | (Joel x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 4: Lost In Moonlight

Chp. 4 Summary: You couldn't deny Joel any longer. You needed him. Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI Word Count: 7.8k Warnings: SMUT (finally), unprotected piv sex, nipple play, cock riding, cum eating, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names (baby, good girl), aftercare, heavy kissing, mentions of past emotional abuse, soft!joel, so much FLUFF!!! A/N: I know this is what y'all have been waiting for, so I hope I did this moment justice :') I'm putting together a lil playlist for this fic, so please lmk if you're interested in seeing it! xoxo <3

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Flower petals were strewn across the entryway as you and Joel staggered through the dark house. You couldn’t find the time—or care—to flick on the lights, too busy finding Joel’s mouth in the darkness. His hands caressed every curve of your body, fingers reaching under the seam of your sweatshirt to press against your warm skin. You tried blindly guiding him toward your room, only to awkwardly bump into corners and walls in the search, leaving you giggling and Joel cursing. You were nearly at the door when he stopped short, pinning you to the wall of the hallway so that he could devour your mouth once more. Helpless moans left your lips as he coaxed your mouth open wider, his hands roaming down your lower back. You pressed yourself closer to his chest, the outline of his hardened cock rubbing against your upper thigh. Joel pulled away from your mouth, his breath ragged as he palmed your ass with his large hands.

“I don’t want you regrettin’ this in the mornin’ if it’s not what you want,” he panted.

“Don’t try and tell me what I want, Joel,” you whispered, kissing down the base of his neck.

He let out a shaky breath, his hands squeezing you harder. By the night's end, not a single inch of you would be left untouched. You raised your mouth to his ear, grazing over the shell of it with the tip of your tongue.

“I’m sick of pretending like I don’t want you.”

“You’re killin’ me, baby,” he groaned.

You searched for his hand through the blanket of darkness around you, guiding him to your bedroom. You counted the steps in your head until the back of your knees hit the mattress, and you were falling back. Joel tumbled over you, one knee propped up beside your waist while his other leg was wedged between your thighs. His hands pulled at the hem of your sweatshirt, tugging it up your body until you took control and stripped it off in one fluid motion. It barely hit the ground before his hands were all over you, the touch of his skin on yours electrifying you beyond words. Every touch was soft…so fucking soft. It was dizzying to be handled so gently and with such determined intensity. Where you struggled for words, Joel responded with another caress, another kiss, another praise of adoration.

The pads of his fingers began tracing down your sternum, working at the material of your bra.

“Can I?” he asked, reaching behind your back.

“Yes,” you exhaled.

His fingers made easy work of the clasp, freeing you of your bra in record time. Even if you were drenched in shadows, you knew Joel’s eyes were washing over your body with rapt attention.

“Jesus Christ, you’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he muttered as he leaned back over you.

His mouth was hot against your collarbone as he worked his way down your chest. Peppered kisses trailed over the swell of your breasts, and you arched into his gentle touch as he swirled his tongue around your hardened nipples. His tongue flicked at the sensitive skin, forcing a breathy whine to escape your lips. Joel’s teeth grazed over the soft skin of your breast before dipping his head lower and scattering your navel with soft kisses.

“Joel,” you whimpered, carding your hands through his hair.

A thin sheen of sweat hung on the curls, forcing them to stick against his temples and forehead. You raked your nails over his scalp, earning a deep groan that rumbled through his chest. He pulled himself up so that he stood over you, and as your vision adjusted to the darkness, you watched as his hands worked at tugging his shirt over his neck and shoulders. Fuck, you wished the lights were on so you could catalog every part of his body. You sat up on the bed, craning your neck back as you traced your fingers over the soft skin of his stomach and up his chest. The hair spattering his chest tickled your fingertips as you crept higher, your hands caressing the thick muscles on his shoulders. Joel’s hands reached to cover yours, halting your blind exploration of his body.

“We should stop,” he said, strained.

You cringed as he said those three words, letting your hands drop and wrap around your bare chest. You knew it was too good to be true; he didn’t want you. Even if every atom of his being called out to yours, like some prayer for divinity, he wanted to stop.

“I—I understand,” you hesitated.

You didn’t know where to go, with him still looming over you, so you shuffled your body up the bed, trying to find the edge of your comforter so you could bury yourself in the deepest part of your mattress and disappear entirely. Joel’s hand shot out to grab your ankle, tugging you back to the edge of the bed, and you raised yourself on your forearms, staring at him confused.

“We should stop,” he started. “Because I don’t have a condom.”

“I haven’t been with anyone in two years,” you confessed, adding, “I’m on birth control, too.”

“Are y’sure?”

You hooked a leg around his waist, tugging him closer until he was falling forward and caging you between his arms. You craned your head to capture his lips in a hungry kiss, holding him firm against you.

“I want this, Joel. I’m sure.”

That was all Joel needed to hear before he lost all semblance of control. His restraint was replaced with this frantic urgency as his fingers worked at the button and zipper of your jeans, yanking them down your thighs and leaving you exposed to the cool air circling your room. His pants were shed less than a minute later, and now you were both only separated by thin pieces of fabric that covered your lower halves. The press of Joel’s hardened cock against your thigh ignited a fire within your stomach, and your underwear dampened through at the thought of what he could do with it. Having sex with Bennett always felt like an obligation—a chore. But with Joel, you craved it beyond understanding. You needed to put emotions into action and feel how he thought about you. Every ounce of your resolve and control were far gone now, left somewhere between the front door and the bed beneath you. The second Joel had kissed you, you knew you’d never say ‘no’ to him again. He was a weakness you couldn’t control, and you were so tired of trying to keep him at a distance.

Joel’s hands worked at your underwear, and you let out a giggle when he tossed them carelessly across the room along with his own. Your heart pounded in your chest as he lifted your leg by the back of your knee, propping it over his broad shoulder. He angled the head of his cock against your slick entrance, coating it in your wetness before pushing in slowly. Your head fell back against the bed as he broke you open inch by inch. The agonizing stretch to adjust to him faded away, and you both moaned in unison as he bottomed out, filling you completely.

“S’fuckin’ tight, baby,” Joel cursed. “Feels fuckin’ amazing.”

He started moving, his hips rocking against you at a tender pace as you squirmed under his body. Each thrust amplified the coiling warmth, creating an unbearable furnace inside you. You needed more; you needed to feel everything and forget every lingering emotion crawling through your mind.

“Harder,” you begged.

“Yeah?” Joel panted, driving into you with such force your body shoved up the bed. “Like that, baby?”

Your only response was a vigorous nod of your head and an outward cry as he plunged deeper with each snap of his hips. Sounds of your bodies slapping together, your endless cries of pleasure, and his ragged breath became a cacophony floating through the air around you.

A car drove past your house, the headlights streaming through the blinds, drenching Joel’s silhouette for a fleeting moment. At that moment, you could see the flex of his arms, the pinch of his brows, and the slight tug of his lips upwards as he continued wrecking into you. Rewashed in darkness, you ached to see how his pupils blew wide as he gazed down on you.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ perfect,” Joel muttered, squeezing your hips to anchor you against his body. Perfect. There was that word again, sounding so simple when he said it like it wasn’t a lie. Like he meant it. And every action he showed you proved he not only meant it but believed it.

You chased the warmth that unfurled through your muscles, the pleasure building higher and higher until you could barely contain it. Joel must have felt it, too, because as your eyes scrunched tight, Joel’s fingers found the sensitive bud at the apex of your sex and drew long, tantalizing circles. That touch was all you needed to come undone completely; your body was paralyzed as the orgasm wracked through you with such intensity you lost all breath inside your lungs.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Joel hummed. “Let go, baby. Gimmie more.”

Bennett had never spoken to you this way, nor did he praise you when you came—which was rare with him. He barely did anything but grunt once in a while, but this? Hearing Joel talk you through every thrust, every ripple of your orgasm, only spurred you on more. You clung onto every word he spoke, like a moth to the flame, and his mouth was a forest fire.

Joel bent forward, wrapping a strong arm around your back and hauling you over until you were perched on top of him. From this angle, his cock felt so much bigger, stretching you wider until your thighs ached. He sprawled back against the comforter; his hands splayed against your hips to guide you in fluid motions above him.

“Joel…” you exhaled, grinding your hips down against him.

“Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you need,” he urged.

You lifted your hips, sinking back down onto him, finding the perfect rhythm that rendered you speechless. You couldn’t form words or think of anything else but his name.

“C’mon, baby. I know y’can use your words. I wanna hear you.”

“It’s just—.” You heaved in a breath as he rocked up into you. “You feel so fucking good, Joel. Your cock…”

“Keep talkin’,” he moaned.

Shuffling his knees up, Joel started pistoning into you hard, making it impossible to form coherent sentences. How were you to speak when his cock was driving into you so hard your vision was blurring? Joel gritted out your name, coaxing you from your chaotic thoughts.

“Never.” You gasped. “Been fucked this good.” Another gasp. “Need this all the time. Need—you. Fuck… Joel…”

“I got you, baby. Ain’t gonna let you go.”

You whispered his name like a cantation, each syllable a broken prayer leaving your lips. Another orgasm throbbed inside your core, and you snaked your hand to rub circles against your swollen clit, trying to alleviate that growing ache throbbing in your veins. Joel’s pace was unrelenting as you toppled closer to the edge, a cry escaping your mouth as you felt your body seize up. The clench of your sex around his cock was enough to force him to the edge, too, and as you hit your climax, his release exploded inside you, with your name falling off his tongue.

Joel lifted himself, molding your bodies together in his firm grip, your lips crushing together as he swallowed the tiny sounds still finding their way up your throat. Your hands clasped around the sides of his neck, keeping his mouth locked with yours until you felt his cock soften inside you. With a roll of his hips, Joel had you pinned to the mattress once more, his cock slipping free as he worked his mouth down your body. You tensed as his mouth grew closer to your navel, embarrassment forcing your spine to stiffen.

“Joel,” you cautioned. “You—you don’t have to do that.”

His nose brushed over your stomach, his hands working in tandem to pry your legs apart. With a dip of his head, he placed a gentle kiss on each thigh, humming in satisfaction.

“Y’want me to stop, baby?” He asked, his warm mouth hovering over your sensitive clit.

“I just—.” You were flustered. “I’ve never had someone…”

His fingers flexed and tightened around the supple skin of your hips, and you could see his dark eyes peering up at you with confusion as his brows knit together.

“Don’t you dare tell me you ain’t ever had a man eat your pussy,” he warned.

You bit your lip and gave him a single nod of your head. Bennett never went down on you, always making some sort of excuse. “You wouldn’t like it.” “I’m too tired, honey.” “Maybe next time.” He never offered, and eventually, you gave up asking. You could hardly count any guy before him since most had been careless hookups and one-night stands—most of them leaving you to chase your orgasm after they left. You couldn’t even count on two hands the times Bennett actually made you cum, and now Joel was setting himself up to do it again…for the third time.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, covering your face to hide the shame that burned under your cheeks.

“Baby, don’t do that,” Joel pleaded. “S’nothin’ to be sorry for, okay?”

“But you just…” You could feel his cum leaking out of you, still. Was he seriously considering this right now?

“I don’t care. I wanna taste us together, baby. Let me show you how good it can feel.”

You inhaled sharply, only responding with another tilt of your head. Joel’s mouth hovered over your slick entrance, his eyes still trained on you.

“Gimmie words, baby,” he said. “I need to hear you say ‘yes’.”

“Yes, Joel,” you whispered.

“Y’want my tongue?”

When you didn’t respond, he teased you with a sharp flick of his tongue against your clit, forcing a cry to erupt from your mouth. Joel groaned at your responsiveness to his touch, awarding you with a thick swipe of his tongue over your slick entrance. He worked at you like he was a dying man, and you were the last drop of water in an empty desert, lapping at every drop of cum dripping down your sex. You glanced at him, meeting his piercing stare between your legs. Rough fingers massaged your sore thighs while his tongue dove into you with such desperation you couldn’t tell if he was pleasuring you or if you were pleasuring him. Euphoria sparked in your veins, overwhelming you to the point of tears. Snaking a hand under your thigh, Joel worked two thick fingers inside you, prying you open and coaxing a sob from your throat.

“Right there, oh my god. Joel, don’t stop,” you choked, gasping for air.

His fingers and tongue worked at you in tandem, the orgasm surging inside you becoming all-consuming. It thrashed inside your veins and tore through you forcefully and without warning. You slumped against the comforter as your soul floated above your body. Was delirium a real thing? Because if it was, this was the precipice of madness. Joel swept a soft kiss over your aching clit before crawling on top of you again. Tangling his hand in the hair at the base of your neck, he brought his wet lips to yours until your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside.

“Taste yourself, baby,” Joel moaned into your open mouth. “Don’t we taste so fuckin’ good?”

“Mhmm,” you whimpered.

Joel kissed you fervently; each stroke of his tongue against yours was purposeful and searing, a blistering admission of devotion and admiration. You still felt undeserving of it all: his patience, tenderness, and kindness… but maybe this was a start. Maybe he was worth letting it.

As the kisses slowed and your bodies begged to be unstuck from one another, you found a stream of tears rolling down your cheeks. Fuck. The euphoria you had been sucked into was fading into the distance, and you were overly aware of the emotions crashing at the surface. Your voice was hoarse as you mumbled his name, breaking away from his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, turning your head into the pillows.

Joel hushed your cries, dragging his thumb over your cheek to collect your tears.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked. “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“No, no,” you said, voice muffled. “I’m okay. Everything was great.”

“Then why’re you cryin’?”

You turned your head back to face him, catching the furrow of his brows through bleary eyes.

“It’s stupid,” you muttered.

“Talk to me, please.”

You curled into his arms, burrowing your head into the crook of his neck. The smell of sex and sweat wafted off of him, mixing with the lingering warm cologne wafting off his skin. You never wanted to leave this moment. You never wanted to be untangled from his limbs. It was a terrifying realization; this was something you wanted.

“You’re just—not what I expected.” It came out as a mixture of a laugh and cry, leaving you gasping for breath. “I haven’t been the easiest person to get to know, and I haven’t been the kindest, but you… you haven’t left. I don’t understand why you haven’t left.”

“Hey, hey… oh, baby,” Joel crooned. “Look at me.”

Joel’s fingers slid under your chin, fighting against your reluctance as you met his shadowed gaze. In the sunlight, you could see the unmistakable flecks of amber and gold swirling in his eyes, but in the darkness, they were nearly black—but just as soft and ardent.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere, okay? There ain’t a single thing that’s gonna change my mind about you. I know you’re worried about all this stuff happenin’ between us, but we can take things as slow as you want, baby. You call the shots from now on, and whatever you wanna do, I’ll be here,” he said.

“I’m not worth—.”

“Don’t,” he interrupted. “You are worth it. I’ll spend every day provin’ it if that’s what it takes.”

You didn’t know what to say when all you could cling to were the lingering memories of Bennett and the words he had once said. Yes, you loved him at one point, but there were so many reasons to hate him. The constant fights, the constant feeling of never being enough, the constant silence. The silence. Bennett’s silence was a weapon he used to pacify you. You learned over time that speaking up and communicating your feelings was unimportant to Bennett; if anything, it was an opportunity to minimize your voice and keep you docile. You became the smallest version of yourself in his shadow, clawing for scraps of his attention to try and keep the relationship afloat. You tried so hard to keep him happy until it came at the cost of losing yourself entirely. You didn’t recognize yourself anymore.

“What can I do right now?” Joel asked, his voice swimming upstream against the thoughts that drowned you. “D’you wanna take a shower and sleep? Sarah’s at a sleepover tonight, so I ain’t got nowhere to be but here with you.”

You exhaled a heavy sigh, nodding your head at his offer. Joel unwound his limbs from yours, pulling you to your aching legs and letting you take the lead toward your ensuite. With a shaky hand, you flicked on the lights, your eyes squinting to adjust to the harshness of color that washed over the room. A quick look in the mirror told you everything you needed to know; you were thoroughly fucked and completely strung out. Your hair was a tangled mess hanging over your shoulders, your lips fuller and swollen from kissing, yet your eyes were hollow and glossy. Joel’s tall frame came into view behind you, his tanned arms snaking around your middle and tugging you back against his chest. Through the mirrored reflection, he held your gaze with an unwavering kindness that tore through every self-deprecating voice in your head. With his hand splayed over the expanse of your stomach, Joel dipped his head lower, his mouth hot against your ear.

“Look how beautiful y’are, baby,” he praised.

“Joel,” you whimpered, clenching your thighs together to quell the slow ache pulsating inside you again.

You wanted so badly to see what he saw, but all you saw was the lingering handprints of the past plastered over your skin. The places Bennett had touched and kissed before, the echoed arguments that deafened your ears, every inch of you was left tainted. They say it takes the body seven years to replace its cells—seven years to be a new person from the inside out. You were hardly on the cusp of three years since Bennett last touched you, but you desperately wanted to be shed of every fiber that still clung to his memory. You couldn’t speed up the process; it was out of your control, but Joel touched you like he sought to do it himself. Inch by inch, your body would forget Bennett’s touch. It was your heart that needed to follow the same path.

Joel’s deep voice whispering your name roused you from your thoughts, and your eyes snapped up to meet his through the mirrored reflection. Everything fell away, and you lost yourself again in the simplicity of being in the moment with him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he urged, his hand coming down to palm your ass before delivering a light slap.

You let out a startled laugh, forcing your legs to move and start up a warm shower. The second you both stepped under the blazing warmth of the spray, Joel had you pinned to the wall. You yelped at the startling cold of the tiles that pressed into your spine, but Joel’s hungry mouth swallowed every noise you made. Droplets of water fell off his damp curls, settling on your open mouth as he intertwined his tongue with yours.

“C’mere,” he whispered, tugging you back under the pelting rain of the showerhead.

You leaned your head back under the water, letting the water rush over your skin and drench your hair. Joel’s fingers twisted their way up the wet tendrils, gingerly massaging your scalp until a satisfied moan escaped your lips. He worked at lathering shampoo into your hair, scraping his nails across your scalp with each drag of his fingers.

“This feels nice,” you muttered, your voice lost in the downpour of water above you.

The resounding hum from Joel’s chest was all you heard as he washed your hair, his hands never leaving your body, even after the suds began to float down the drain. You lifted yourself on your toes to bring your mouth to his, not trusting yourself with words. For once in your life, you were speechless.

Time slipped away, and it wasn’t until you noticed your fingertips had pruned and the water ran cold that Joel finally tugged you out of the shower. You searched for two towels in your cabinets, watching as his hands worked the fabric over the low taper of his hips. Water droplets clung to the dark hair covering his chest, the muscles of his torso rising and falling with each breath. Your eyes wandered up to his face and settled on the natural upturn of his lips. You tried to fight the smile forming on your lips, but denying the emotions spreading through your body was practically impossible.

You were happy.

“I don’t like when you’re this quiet,” Joel chuckled softly. “I’m so used to you talkin’ or arguin’ with me.”

You blinked up at him, watching the crease form between his brows. It was the first time someone had an issue with you being quiet.

“I’m sorry,” you said. It was your default response to everything. You were sorry for talking too much; you were sorry for not talking enough… you were just sorry.

Joel’s hands came up to cup your face, leaving you with no choice but to look into his tired eyes.

“I hate that you always say that,” he confessed. “I’m gonna make sure y’learn not to always say 'sorry'.”

“You’re gonna teach the teacher?” You lifted a brow.

He chuckled and lifted his lips to press a gentle kiss against your forehead.

“There she is,” he muttered against your skin. “Now, c’mon. You tired me out, and I can’t sleep without hearin’ your voice.”

“Oh, really?” You teased, peering up at him.

“Yeah, really,” he smiled. “So, let’s get our asses in bed, and y’can talk my ear off ‘til we fall asleep.”

And that’s exactly what you did. Hidden under the sanctuary of your comforter and pulled tight against Joel’s chest, you talked until the hours grew late. You told him about your childhood and how you failed math in sixth grade. You told him about your rebellious teen years, divulging the horrendous stories of how you and Beth would sneak out to parties together. He asked about college, and you told him what you could without including Bennett in the story. Occasionally, he would chime in to ask another question, and the conversation would keep rolling, suspending you both in time as you remained wrapped up in one another's embrace. Every doubt had faded, but as your eyes drifted shut, you hoped your guard would start fading, too.

Morning sunlight streamed through the blinds that fluttered against your bedroom window, drenching the room in the warm colors of sunrise. You burrowed deeper into Joel’s body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat matching yours as he kept your back flush to his chest. His fingers flexed against your hips, tugging you closer—if that was even possible.

“Mornin’, baby,” Joel said, his voice gravelly from sleep.

“Good morning, Mr. Miller,” you yawned, shimming your body back against his, awarded with the hard press of his cock at the seam of your ass.

��Oh, don’t start with that shit again,” he groaned, rolling you onto your back.

A laugh bubbled out of you as he framed you between two large arms. Craning your neck, you met his tired eyes and saw the laugh lines creasing the corners. This was how Joel looked in the morning, happy. With his curls untamed and that lopsided grin, he looked happy…with you.

“I’m only teasing,” you laughed as his mouth worked its way down your neck.

“Fuckin’ better be,” he muttered in between each kiss. “I just got you sayin’ my name, so y’ better not take it back.”

“Oh, does me calling you Mr. Miller not turn you on?” You quipped.

“Trust me, baby, everything you do turns me on,” Joel growled.

“I don’t believe you.”

Joel’s mouth traveled down your chest, sucking marks into the skin of your breasts. You careened into his touch, moaning as his teeth grazed over a peaked nipple.

“When I saw you for that first time,” he started, his mouth still hot against your skin. “That fuckin’ dress you wore at the dance…I knew I was a goner. Looked so fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Your voice was ragged as he continued moving lower.

“I still think about how you teased me at the bar,” he said. “It drove me crazy, I swear.”

He had your legs spread open now, his nose pressed into your inner thigh. Arousal pooled between your legs, and you stole a glance at Joel’s eyes, connecting your slick entrance. Even though he fucked you sore last night, your body was addicted, so devastatingly responsive to every word he said.

“And when you yelled at me? Fuck, somethin’ about seeing you all riled up. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought ‘bout you with my hand around my cock. I can’t get enough of you, baby,” Joel whispered.

“You’ve thought about me like that?” You exhaled.

“Ain’t nothin’ professional ‘bout the way I think about you.”

“Keep talking, Joel,” you begged. You were drunk on his words, completely and utterly wasted on every admission he made.

“Thought ‘bout you spread out like this for me.” He flattened his tongue against your entrance, lapping at the juices leaking out of you. “Dreamt ‘bout how sweet you’d taste and how you’d look when you cum.” His eyes snapped up to meet yours, holding your focus as he repeated the motion with his tongue. “Y’taste better than I ever expected.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, your eyes rolling back.

Joel’s lips suctioned around your clit, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud in a steady rhythm. You bucked against his mouth, chasing the orgasm that snaked its way through your stomach. He released you with a loud pop, his tongue tracing over your folds and dragging out the pleasure that swelled inside your core. He was teasing you, controlling your pleasure until it became tortuous. You cried out in frustration, bucking against his mouth, trying to find release.

“Be patient for me, baby,” Joel whispered, ghosting his tongue over your clit again.

“Please, Joel,” you begged. Your fingers twisted into the bedsheets, your nails digging into the fabric to keep you grounded.

Joel’s tongue teased your entrance, barely dipping into you—enough to make you curse under your breath. The longer he teased you, the stronger the need for release became. All you wanted was to fall apart, to feel the orgasm vibrate your nerves and relieve your heart from its erratic beating. You could hardly contain it any longer.

“I—I need…” You were blubbering nonsense, your thighs shaking around his head.

“I know what ya’ need, baby. Just a lil’ bit more.”

Then he was assaulting you with his tongue, drawing circles over your throbbing clit until every muscle in your body tensed and trembled. Your vision blurred as everything rushed to the surface, your thighs squeezing around Joel’s head as the pleasure liquified inside you. You screamed out his name as your orgasm crescendoed and crashed hard. You clawed at the bed, your body seizing up with the final aftershocks rocking through you.

“I could do this for hours,” Joel hummed, nudging your throbbing clit with the tip of his nose.

You squirmed under him, trying to shove yourself up the bed and away from him. You were overstimulated and exhausted, your body still recovering from last night… and this.

“What? Torture me?” You grumbled.

Joel chuckled, smirking at you. He rolled onto his back, keeping his arm wrapped around your thigh. His finger massaged circles into the sore muscles, another groan leaving your lips.

“Make you cum, baby,” Joel said. “Anythin’ you want, I’d do it.”

“How about you make me a coffee, Mr. Miller,” you sighed. “You’ve exhausted me.”

“And how do you like your coffee, Miss Smith?” He tossed back.

“Guess.”

Joel tilted his head back to look at you, his brown eyes glowing in the morning sun. He pursed his lips, studying you as he thought up an answer.

“I’m guessin’ you like it strong,” he mused. “Maybe a lil’ dash of cream, but definitely no sugar.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp that turned into a fit of laughter. Joel raised an eyebrow at your response, rolling onto his stomach to watch you as you continued laughing. How did he read you so well? Even if it was just something as simple as coffee.

“What’s so funny, huh?”

“It’s just crazy how well you know me, that’s all,” you giggled.

“Wait, I guessed right?” He gaped.

“Mhmm, right on the nose.”

“Well, c’mon, baby. Let’s get you that strong cup of coffee.”

Joel tapped your leg before offering a hand to lift you from the bed. You scoured the floor for your underwear, finding them hidden under your nightstand alongside Joel’s boxers. With half your bodies clothed, you led Joel to the kitchen, the natural light reflecting off the marble countertops. It felt strange having someone in the house; you hadn’t brought anyone over since before Bennett left. You had grown so accustomed to your daily routine that including Joel in it felt unnatural…but also so normal.

“Make yourself comfy,” Joel urged, motioning to the barstools at the end of the counter.

You shimmed yourself onto the seat and watched him navigate around your kitchen. Your small pour-over sat in the corner beside the stove, which Joel quickly figured out.

“Mugs?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“Top right cabinet,” you said, pointing toward it.

Joel’s back muscles flexed as he reached to grab two mismatched mugs, and you leaned forward to watch him so relaxed in your home. His presence filled all the empty spaces you had hidden within the last two years.

“I made coffee,” Bennett called from the kitchen.

You dragged yourself out of bed, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you shuffled down the hallway. The house smelt of coffee and pancakes, and the morning was off to a good start. After a late night of arguing, you hoped a shared breakfast together would at least minimize the hostility between the both of you.

Bennett slid a mug across the counter, your hands wrapping around the hot ceramic and inhaling the steam that floated above the liquid. You muttered a soft ‘thank you’ before taking a sip, instantly scrunching your nose in disgust.

“Did you put sugar in this?” You asked, setting the mug down.

Bennett shrugged, sipping from his mug, unphased by your complaint. His hair was messy from sleep, the blonde strands sticking up at odd angles. He had slept on the couch for the night, which clearly didn’t do him well.

“You always have sugar in your coffee,” he glared at you.

“Bennett, when have you ever seen me put sugar in my coffee?”

“I don’t know,” he huffed. “Figured you liked it. Don’t all girls like sugar in their coffee?”

You scoffed at his words, shoving away from the counter and slipping off the barstool. Gripping the blanket tighter around your shoulders, you sulked into the living room, dropping yourself on the couch cushions.

“Here we go again,” Bennett grumbled, loud enough for you to hear.

Whipping your head back toward the kitchen, you jabbed a finger at him, a scowl twisting your lips upwards.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned.

“For fucks sake, it’s just coffee!” He yelled.

“It’s not just coffee,” you argued. “It’s you not knowing anything about me. It’s you not paying attention to me!”

Bennett slammed his mug onto the counter, rattling the ceramic. You jolted at the sound, shrinking further into the couch.

“I’m so sick and tired of hearing you bitch all the fucking time,” he snapped. “You always have something to complain about. Who cares if there’s sugar in it? I was trying to do something nice, but now you’re turning it into an argument. Like you always do. I can never do anything right, huh? It’s always my fault.”

His words were like a slap in the face, a knife to the open wound still bleeding from last night. You and Bennett had gone to dinner together, and he spent half the night complaining about work, never once letting you speak. When you tried explaining that you wanted to enjoy a nice dinner without discussing work, he unleashed a speech about how you were never happy with anything. The argument followed you home until you were both in a screaming match and eventually retiring separately for sleep—you in an empty bed and him on the couch. All you had wanted was a nice date night together, and it ended as it always did: you alone.

“I just wish you’d pay attention to me,” you muttered.

“Because everything is always about you, right? You’ve got to make everything about you. You can’t just say ‘thank you’ and move on.”

You sucked in a breath, trying to keep your anger at bay. Arguing with him was a losing battle; he would never admit his faults, even if it were something as simple as this. You were too exhausted to fight, so you only nodded and rewarded him with a tightlipped smile.

“Thank you for making coffee. I’m sorry for getting upset.”

Bennett rolled his eyes, dumping his coffee in the sink.

“Whatever. I gotta get ready for work.”

Then he was disappearing down the hall, slamming the door shut hard enough to knock a picture frame off the walls. You jumped at the sound and let the tears quietly fall as you sat in heavy silence.

“You alright?” Joel’s voice echoed around you.

You blinked rapidly, shoving down the memories and returning to the present. Joel had a hand extended to you, the mug piping hot and billowing with steam. You took it carefully, blowing on it before you took a cautious sip. Perfect. It was perfect, and it twisted something unpleasant inside you.

“I’m fine,” you lied, setting the mug down. You mindlessly traced circles around the brim, watching the bubbles around the edges pop against the heat.

“Am I that bad at makin’ coffee?” He frowned, leaning against your fridge.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re thinkin’ about somethin’, huh?”

“Stop doing that,” you whispered, adverting your gaze toward the sliding doors leading to your backyard.

“Doin’ what?”

“Seeing right through me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Joel moving through the kitchen, rounding the counter to stand in front of you. With a gentle hand under your chin, he drew your attention his way, a deep furrow between his brows.

“You wear your emotions on your face,” he said. “I can tell when you’re upset ‘bout something.”

“We don’t need to talk about it,” you sighed.

You didn’t like seeing Joel’s lips downturned; you missed the grin typically plastered on his face. You felt guilty for being the reason he looked so upset, and your knee-jerk apology was on the tip of your tongue. Joel bent down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering an extra moment before he pulled away.

“What if I wanna talk about it?” He asked.

“I don’t think you do,” you laughed bitterly.

Joel crowded you, stepping into the space between your legs. You were at eye level with his chest, counting the constellations of freckles hidden under the hair covering his torso. You’d rather marvel over his broad frame than discuss the painful memories of your past. You didn’t want to ruin this moment together.

“It’s okay,” you insisted.

“Don’t shy away from me, baby. Y’can talk to me ‘bout anything.”

You hesitated a moment. Joel had you spread open on your bed only minutes ago, and now the topic of your past was about to be the morning discussion. You didn’t want to talk about Bennett after an amazing night together, but if you knew anything about Joel, he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily. He always wanted to know more.

“You’re just different from what I’m used to,” you started. “Bennett, my ex, wasn’t like you. He didn’t pay attention to me the way you do.”

Something flashed over Joel’s eyes, a sudden flicker of anger as you spoke about Bennett. He gave you a moment to collect yourself before you continued.

“We were together for five years, and he didn’t even know how I liked my coffee,” you scoffed. “And you guessed it in two seconds. Two seconds, Joel. I don’t understand how you do that.”

“Do what, baby?”

“Pay attention. You notice all these stupid, little things about me and make it seem so easy.”

Joel cupped your face in his large hands, his thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones. You leaned into him, letting his touch ground you while your eyes fluttered shut.

“I pay attention ‘cause I wanna know everything about you. Every single lil’ thing. That’s what it’s supposed to be like in a relationship, baby. Y’learn everything about the other person, and you remember it. From what you’ve hinted ‘bout before, I take it this Bennett guy was a real piece of shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone has told me.”

“Am I wrong, though?” Joel pressed.

“No,” you confessed. “He did treat me like shit. I wasn’t allowed to speak up for myself, or he got mad. He liked it when I was submissive and quiet, so that’s what I became.”

Joel’s fingers flexed against your face, his jaw clenching at every new admission. You had never admitted those things aloud, that Bennett forced you into this tiny box, making you become the perfect, obedient girlfriend. With an engagement ring on your finger, you were even more inclined to be whatever he wanted, just to know he wanted to marry you. Looking back, maybe the ring was less of a testament to his love and more of a muzzle on your outspokenness. Someone wanted to marry you, so that should make you quiet, right?

“I don’t want you quiet,” Joel whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “I want you to be yourself in every way.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore, Joel. I haven’t been that girl in years.”

Tears were spilling over your cheeks, soaking Joel’s fingers that still gripped your face. Why did you cry so much around him? You hated how emotional you were; you hated feeling weak and small. You couldn’t get through one fucking interaction with Joel without ending up a mess. Did Bennett ruin you entirely?

“I’m sorry,” you cried quietly. “You probably need to leave soon, huh? You said Sarah’s at a sleepover, so I’m sure you gotta go get her and—.”

Joel tugged you forward, fusing his lips with yours. The taste of coffee and sleep lingered on his tongue as he coaxed your mouth open, and you welcomed him without hesitation. He kissed you slowly, with deliberate determination. You responded the same, letting yourself grow limp in his arms.

Breaking away, Joel leveled you with a stern stare that didn’t quite reach his lips since they twitched into a smile.

“I’m gonna kiss you every time you apologize just to shut ya’ up,” he said.

“That doesn’t sound like a threat, Joel,” you smirked. “I’ll just apologize more.”

“Then I’ll figure out some other punishment.”

Your thighs clenched at his words, and your mind wandered to all the possibilities of what he could do. You hadn’t lied to him when you said you didn’t always like things ‘vanilla,’ but you hadn’t really dipped your toes into that area yet. You’d willingly explore it with him because if last night proved anything, it was that you trusted him more than anyone. He could do anything to you, and you knew you’d be safe.

“Got a dirty lil’ mind, huh?” Joel’s voice dropped lower.

“Oh, shut up.” You playfully shoved at his chest, shimming yourself off the barstool.

Joel wrapped a hand around your wrist, pulling you back into his arms.

“I’m serious, though, baby. It fuckin’ kills me to see you cry. I’m gonna fix that.”

“You don’t have to, Joel. I’ll be okay. I’ll work on it.”

“We are gonna work on it,” he corrected.

You swallowed thickly and nodded. You were in uncharted territory with him, afraid of the future but willing to see where it would go. You had fought against it for almost two months now, and you were tired of fighting. You’d take things slow and test the waters with him… and hope you wouldn’t come out the other side with a shattered heart.

After cleaning up the flower petals left in the entryway and redressing, you finally urged Joel to go home. It was mid-afternoon, and you knew Sarah would want time with her dad. You couldn’t selfishly keep him to yourself, but he made it very known how badly he wanted to stay. With his flannel in his hand and his hair slightly tamed, Joel lingered by the door, reluctant to leave. You had shrugged on a robe while he had dressed, already dreaming about the long bath you’d take when he left. Your muscles were screaming for release after last night and this morning.

“Y’sure I can’t stay a bit longer?” Joel pouted, his lips pushed out as he glanced at you.

You laughed at his demeanor, enjoying the playfulness he always exuded. You wanted to learn how to be like that, to shed the walls built up around you.

“Sarah’s going to want to spend the day with you,” you said. “We can plan another date soon.”

“Or…” Joel wagged his brows. “I could come back tonight.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “Go home, Mr. Miller, before I kick you out.”

Joel tugged the belt wrapped around your waist, hauling you closer until you were bumping into his chest. Dipping his head, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips. You could feel the smile forming on his lips as you nipped at his bottom lip.

“Have a good day, baby,” he grinned. “I’ll call ya’ tonight.”

“I’ll be waiting,” you exhaled.

You watched Joel until he got to his truck, his grin shining bright under the afternoon's clear skies. You waved at him as he drove off and closed your door with a heavy sigh. You needed to find your phone and make a very important phone call.

“You had sex with him, huh?” Beth asked, the phone barely reaching the second ring before she picked up.

You flopped onto the couch, your head hitting the cushions with a soft thud.

“I did,” you groaned.

“And?” She pressed.

“It was fucking amazing, Beth. I’m so screwed.”

“Why? Isn’t this a good thing? You finally hooked up!”

You grabbed a pillow to slap over your face, muffling a frustrated scream so that Beth wouldn’t hear.

“I’m scared, Beth.”

“Scared of falling in love?” Beth asked.

“Scared of getting hurt,” you sighed.

Beth was quiet for a moment, exhaling before gathering her thoughts and speaking her mind.

“You can’t let your past get in the way of this, sis,” she started. “Joel sounds like an amazing man, and he’s night and day different from Bennett. I get you’re scared of getting hurt, but I seriously doubt he would do anything to hurt you. Let him in, sis. Let him love you the way you deserve.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to reel in the tears… again. Beth was right, like always, but it didn’t make these feelings easier to battle. There was so much to lose.

“It’s obvious he likes me already, but I’m such a fucking mess. I—I feel so broken, still. What if he gets tired of me? What if he never feels anything more than this?”

“I think he’s already falling in love with you, sis.”

#joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel tlou #tlou #joel miller pre outbreak #pre outbreak!joel #joel is the fluffiest man alive #so much fluff it's disgusting

286 notes · View notes

railingsofsorrow · 3 months

Note

hiiiiii!!!! i saw your requests were open and i’m so excited i love your writing so much!! i was wondering if you would be willing to do a coffee shop au of spencer x barista!reader? i feel like it would be very fluffy :) <3

a healthy caffeine addiction

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: spencer finds a new coffee shop near work and he may be going there not just for the coffee...

pairing: s.reid x gn!barista!reader

w.c: 3K

warnings/content: a lot of flirting; mentions of case related stuff but you blink and you miss it; fluff fluff!! (you asked for it); swearing.

A/N: hi! I used gender neutral pronouns because you didn't specify so I thought it would fit best. the coffee shop is called “enchanted brewing” just do you don't get confused. one more thing! I mixed two of his best eras, glasses + long hair just because I was feeling a little silly. thank you for the request <3

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

[requested] ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh, look, it's boy genius again.” You muse upon seeing a certain long-haired FBI agent next on the line. He's wearing a purple tie today which checks out your theory that it's his favorite color because he's always wearing something purple. It would be funny if it was an unconscious choice. “What's your order today, Dr. Reid? Maybe some coffee with your sugar?” You ask as if you hadn't seen him earlier in the day and had repeated the same thing.

You've met Spencer Reid when he walked in one day as the coffee shop you work in was still closed. He hadn't seen the closed sign. After spending five minutes straight apologizing, you delivered him his coffee order promising he wasn't bothering you. Especially if he was a cute guy with glasses. But you didn't say that last thing out loud, of course.

He's been coming to Enchanted Brewing for two weeks now. You have his order memorized from each early morning that he strides in through the entrance, his satchel hanging from his right shoulder as his bright honey-brown eyes scan through the menu on the wall. He always did that in spite of ordering the same thing from the first day.

Your timeline is slightly offbeat today. Your favorite costumer usually comes in on his way to work, once a day. Except that today he showed up twice. You're not complaining, you're currently trying to hide how happy you are that he appeared right on time for your lunch break.

“I want something different,” he says, adjusting his glasses as he looks at you with a timid smile. “Surprise me?”

“Oh.” You quickly recovered — did you? — from the spell he had you in and moved to prepare his drink. “I'll definitely surprise you, boy genius.” You already had one in mind. Your boss shots you a glare from the other side of the counter where he's delivering an order for a regular. He had reminded you of your lunch break an hour ago but you ended up attending clients and time passed by. You mouthed that it was your last one before lunch and he rolled his eyes with a knowing smile.

You take Spencer to a table outside. The day was good enough to not worry about a storm interrupting your afternoon coffee. Not yet, at least.

“So.” You utter after taking a bite of your sandwich. Spencer is sipping on the surprise he asked for and you are no profiler but your guess is that he liked it. “Aproved?”

“One hundred percent approved. What is this?” He makes a sound of satisfaction as he drinks it again. A smug grin reaches your face. “It's so good.”

You hum, “It is. From how much you like your sweets, I thought you'd like this one. Though, it barely tastes like coffee.”

Spencer silently agrees with you. “What's it called? I can taste caramel.”

“It's a caramel macchiato,” you reply, sipping your watermelon juice. “Caramel is all you can taste, boy genius.” You laugh at the way his cheeks turn pink at your nickname. Ever since he told you about his PhD's and his age. “To what do I own the pleasure of seeing you twice in a day?”

He takes his time putting the cup on the table, fingertips grazing the sides in half circles. When he meet your gaze, you were already staring, but you have the decency to look away, feeling your cheeks heat up. Thank god you were done eating or else you'd be blushing and attempting to swallow your food. Not a good view.

“Um, I... I didn't have a case today and I finished paperwork early so I thought I'd come, um.” He stammers, straightening his posture and exhaling. The middle of his forehead creased a bit and you find it incredibly endearing seeing him trying to figure out the words.

“...you were craving caffeine so you came to the best place near your work?” you complete his sentence with a playfully smirk dancing across your lips.

“Yes!” Spencer exclaims, clearing his throat realising his voice had failed. He offers you a sheepish smile, to which you respond with a grin of your own. “Yes, and... well.”

“It's okay,” you tap your fingers against the hard wood. “You can admit that I make the best coffee.” The convinced stance you had made him chuckle, eyes traveling over your frame discreetly. He could only hope he was being discreet.

“I wanted to see you.” He admits. “And for the coffee, of course.”

Sometimes you had the impression that he did know the effect he had on you, either that or he just didn't want to see it.

“Of course.” You nod as if it was obvious. “Sure.” He wanted to see me? Me?

He pulls his glasses up again, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. He was about to say something when he jumped on his seat, groaning as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“I have to go,” he says, disappointment lacing through his tone. You brush off his apologetic expression.

“That's completely understandable. Duty calls.” Both of you stand up. You still had half an hour left of your lunch, you guess you would have to resort to play your mobile game instead of flirting with a handsome FBI agent. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Hopefully,” Spencer picks up his work bag and the coffee cup you thought he had already finished. The corners of his lips raise a bit when he catches the boy genius written in a messy handwriting on the cup. “It's not a local case...”

“Oh,” you try to hide your lack of joy. “Alright. Be careful then.” Spencer nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile. “And don't betray me for another barista, boy genius.” That got you one of his short laughs that made his eyes crinkle in the edges.

“Never.”

──────────────

Spencer was back three days later. The case was a hard one, one of those were the unsub decided to not make their lives easier and kept moving across state lines to hide. He was keeping a victim hostage in the trunk of his car and thankfully, they were able to save her in time. Everybody was granted a day-off to get some rest.

It's not like Spencer was married to his work, in fact, he could enjoy a little alone time in the comfort of his home with a book and some coffee to accompany his quiet reading.

But that's the problem.

Routines are hard to create and they are hard to let go of. Ever heard the saying “old habits die hard”?

Ivan Pavlov researched about classical conditioning. According to him, you have a stimulus and a response in a given situation. It is likely that you'll keep repeating an action if it proves to be beneficial to you. If you like doing it, you'll barely notice it became an habit.

He's been visiting your coffee shop almost every day for the past weeks and that is an habit he's gotten quite comfortable with.

Therefore, in order to not disturb his routine that is very very important to him — honestly? Spencer can't handle changes — he drives down to Enchanted Brewing. The soft jingle of the bell alerted of his entrance.

Spencer gets in line. There's seven people in front of him, maybe because it's lunch hour and all of them are rushing to get their orders. Spencer waits. He still hasn't heard any flirting remarks or winks sent his way and he's not sure if you are not behind the counter today or if his lenses are just really blurried that he can't see your pretty face.

“Afternoon, sir. What would you like to order today?”

You are definitely not behind the counter and he's slightly confused before listing off his order. The clerk notes it down, then he stops midway, studying Spencer with narrowed eyes.

“You're boy genius?”

Spencer blinks, startled. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish and really, what is that question? How is he even supposed to answer that? You call him that, so is that a yes? Is he supposed to say yes—

“Sorry,” the guy says, shaking his head with a laugh, “they told me about you.”

“Oh.” Spencer doesn't know what to say, thankfully, he doesn't have to because he carries on.

“You two have kind of a system going on, right?”

“A- a system?”

The clerk's polite smile widened into a smirk. “Well, yes.” He says slowly. “You order the same thing and they make you an entire difference drink, isn't that it? They explained it and that's how I got it.”

“Uh, yes. I think so. But you don't have to—”

Your coworker waves him off, “I was just making sure you were the guy, really. They left a special order for you in case you appeared while they were still sick.” Spencer's concern is visible through his face. “Sore throat, I asked them to stay at home this week. You know, they don't care about day-offs so I forced it upon them to have it either way since they're sick. Really stubborn, that one. I'm Tim, by the way."

“Spencer.” He gave a little wave while introducing himself and was quick to add. “Are they okay?”

Tim turned to look at him in the middle of the beverage making. He nodded. “Yes, they'll be back in a day or two. Nothing serious.”

Spencer lets out a sigh in relief, leaning against the counter to wait for this order to be ready. He hopes you get better soon and that you were taking proper care of yourself. If he knew, he would have brought some jell-o and mint tea, they are great remedies to soothe a sore throat. After he paid for his surprise drink, he sat down on a table outside, there wasn't a lot of people and he enjoyed his alone time while mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

Maybe if he had gotten your number, he could ask how you were. But he didn't because Spencer doesn't think. He doesn't have game as Derek says, whatever that means. It's not his fault that he can't think straight around pretty people, is it? He can't help it!

He left the café that day with another great drink to add to his list and his mind set on one thing: he's going to ask for your phone number next time he sees you.

──────────────

Every person in the whole freaking world decided to appear at Enchanted Brewing today. Nothing wrong with people. You love people, really!

But your back is aching and your hand is cramping from how much you used the hand mixer. God, you needed to lay down for a month and wake up maybe never.

A costumer just left and you finally turn the sign to closed. Thank god. You're finishing cleaning up the tables when you notice the silence. Being around people all day long can be a little exhausting, especially if you have to yell a name in order for someone to pick their order. Your recently recovered sore throat does not appreciate that.

You're alone tonight. Tim left early to run some errands and you're in charge of closing. You don't mind, it's actually peaceful to close the shop and make your way home. You don't live far and the streets aren't too busy nor totally empty.

Boy genius didn't show up again.

You know his job is demanding, he's occupied being a hero and using his brain to solve difficult cases and catch bad guys. You feel bad complaining about your work, knowing what he does. He must get exhausted daily.

You miss him. And it's weird, you're not one to get attached easily. To be able to call Tim your friend took about half a year, you just don't trust people fast. Spencer just feels different. He makes you feel comfortable, despite not having the experience of hanging out with him outside of your work, he's that kind of person that has a safe ambience all over him. You could be wrong, you're aware of that, you don't really know the guy. He's a regular, he loves your surprise coffees, he's got a cute smile and an awkwardness that is endearing. You don't know more than that, but you'd really like to.

After placing your uniform in your assigned locker, you check one more time to see if everything is in place before leaving.

The doorbell scares the shit out of you and you grab the first thing you see to defend yourself, which is your phone.

It's closed. You turned the sign. The lights are off. Who the fuck is entering a coffee shop when all of the lights are off?!

“Uh, what... Why are you threatening to throw your phone at me?”

And there it is, the man you cannot stop thinking about materialising in front of you. Not a burglar.

Your shoulders slump in relief and you lower your phone back to the counter. “Fuck, genius. Don't do that. Why do you always ignore the closed sign?”

“Sorry,” he responded, bashfully, realising how the situation came out. “I saw you were inside and I just came in, didn't thought it through.”

“Mm. You scared the shit out of me.” A soft smile formed on your lips and it soon became a wide grin. “God, you're so...”

“Annoying?” he offers, grimacing as he buries his hand on his overcoat. Both his cheeks and the tip of his nose are pink, reminding you of how cold it is outside. “Sorry, I'll just— I'll leave you be.” The regret on his features is what puts you out of your dazed stare.

You sprint over to the door, blocking his exit. “I didn't say that.” You let out with bated breath. He halts right in front of you, big doe eyes staring down at you in surprise and you're beaming at him again. “You could never be annoying, boy genius. I was about to say amazing, actually.”

Morgan and Penelope are two people that keep making his life miserable by the amount of nicknames they make up for him. But this one? This one he doesn't complain at all. Boy genius. You could call him that every day and he would never dare be annoyed by it. The reason is because he loves your voice — which he realised it's a bit hoarse right now — but that's besides the point.

That is a nickname he missed dearly.

Were they about to call me amazing?

“I have a confession to make.” Emily is one hundred percent right when she said his IQ is slashed to 60 while around pretty people, because now that he's seen you he can't seem to remember what he came here for. “I betrayed you.”

You raise a brow, surveying him with amusement. “Oh?”

“Yes. I, I ordered a caramel macchiato on a cafeteria in Fairbanks.” He elaborated, lifting his hand to brush his hair behind his ear. You wanted to find out if it was as soft as it looked. “It wasn't good. I don't know, it wasn't the way you made so I didn't— I didn't though it was good.”

Your chest swells for a reason you're not sure.

“What I'm trying to say is that... Your coffee is better. No. It's not actually that—”

“Breathe. You're turning red like a tomato.”

That made him impossibly redder. He pushed his glasses up his nose, swallowing hard.

“Spencer,” you say, dropping your flirty facade in fear of him combusting in front of you. You nudge your finger against his hand, timidly. “I won't bite. You can talk to me.”

“Okay.” He croaks out, playing with your fingertips. And without looking directly at you, he lets out a sigh to muster some courage and says, “I like you.” He manages to say, pretending as if the way you said his name didn't affect him that much. You're smiling at him and suddenly he's fourteen again with butterflies in his stomach because his first crush just greeted him in class.

“I like you too,” you confess in a whisper. You're too close yet so far.

Spencer shakes his head, lifting his gaze to yours since he was staring at your hands. “Not like that. Not in a I like-your-coffee-and-your-flirting kind of way.”

You fear you're misunderstanding him and you don't want to make a fool out of yourself, so you remain quiet, getting lost in the twinkle in his brown eyes provided by the street lamp outside.

“I like you in a... I-want-to-spend-more-time-with-you way.” Finally, he says it. Could he have explained it better? Yes. Is he able to do it? Not with you looking at him like that. “I-Mm, I mean, I love your company and spending time here but I would like to take you on a date.” You were supposed to ask for her number first! What are you doing, you idiot?! “If you want to, of course.”

You can't hold back the giant grin taking over your features. “Boy genius,” you drawl out, doing what you've been fantasizing from the first moment you've seen him: touch his hair. You pull a stubborn strand behind his ear and from the way he almost flutters his eyes shut and leans into your touch, you assume he likes it. “When I said that I liked you, I didn't mean as a favourite-cute-costumer-of-the-month kind of way. But in an I-think-he's-cute way.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” You laugh. “Spencer, I would love to go on a date with you. Preferably, somewhere where we don't drink coffee.”

The crinkles around his eyes show up as he chuckles, nodding. “Okay, yeah, we can definitely do that.”

“Cool.” And you can't stop smiling like an idiot.

Spencer not only got the number but a date with the cute barista. He'd say that's very cool.

#reader insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #requested #spencer reid fluff #this is the fluffiest shit I've ever written #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine

208 notes · View notes

uwingdispatch · 7 months

Text

Wayward Evenings

Notes: Ezra Bridger/Reader, established relationship, gender neutral reader, post-rebellion/post-war, hurt/comfort, chronically ill/disabled reader

CW: alcohol consumption, the aftermath of alcohol consumption, implied sexual intimacy

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

You hadn’t expected to spend your evening holding your husband’s hair back in the refresher. In fact, you’d had other plans. But when Hondo was in town…you’d learned to expect this kind of thing. Perhaps it was your mistake to try and do tonight any other way, but you’re still annoyed that Ezra is just so…Ezra when it comes to the former pirate.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” you tell him. Ezra is leaning against a cabinet on the floor doing his best to stay upright. Despite your irritation, you’re right there with him, smoothing his sweat-slicked hair away from his face. “Every time,” you say. “It’s like you’re incapable of making good decisions around that man.”

“I think you’re onto something there, sunshine,” he says. “But can we talk about it tomorrow? I feel like I’m going to die right now.”

You let out a deep sigh. “Sure,” you say. “If you promise to never drink pirate moonshine again.”

“It was made on Batuu, so technically it’s moons-shine.”

“You know what? I’m just going to leave.” You have no intention of leaving.

“I’ll never touch that shit again,” he says. “For you, of course.” And then wretches again.

An hour ago someone at the cantina had called you to come get your idiot husband. They normally would have called Sabine—she was more physically capable of dragging Ezra out of a bar and throwing him into a speeder—but she’s been off planet for the past few weeks and that left you and your droid to come coax Ezra out of the building and get him home.

“I know you had plans,” he says. “I’m so sorry,”

“Too drunk to stand up,” you say, “before the sun’s even fully set!”

“I guess I was just feeling ambitious.”

“When they called me to come get you they were worried you were going to try and fight a Dowutin. Over an insult to Hondo’s ‘honor.’”

“I would never actually—”

“If you weren’t who you are you might have gotten arrested.”

“I know.”

“Ezra, I love you, but I really don’t love this.”

Even still, you’re rubbing his back, holding him steady. There are people you meet at a certain age and somehow, whenever they’re around, you become that age again. You understand this. It just doesn’t make your current predicament any less frustrating..

C2-B35 rolls in grumbling and hands you fresh towels, which you pass off to Ezra, who seems to be regaining his balance as he stands, the nausea abating.

“I think the worst is over, Cee,” Ezra says.

Ceetoo, being a therapy droid ultimately concerned with your wellbeing, chirps and whirrs—a curse-ridden message for Ezra that you don’t bother acknowledging. Because despite her vitriol, the little astromech has been monitoring his vitals since the two of you picked him up earlier.

“Get cleaned up,” you say. “Is there anything you need?”

“You’re too good to me,” he says. “But all I need is you.”

In the kitchen, inhaling a bowl of leftover pasta, you remind yourself that this is not a regular occurrence. You hear the shower running and feel a bit of relief knowing you’ve moved on to the part of the evening where Ezra can take care of himself. Which means the vomiting is over. And given how much of that had gone on earlier, you’re pretty sure he meant it when he said he’d swear off Hondo’s moonshine.

When he emerges he’s wearing just a pair of gray lounge pants and a soft red robe—yours—left open.

Ceetoo is nearby watering her plants and in a series of beeps and whistles she asks if she needs to still be monitoring Ezra.

“I’m good, Cee,” he says. “I just need to rest. And make up for…all of this.”

He slips his arms around your waist and nuzzles your neck before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“Feeling better?” you ask.

“Eh…mostly.”

“Still a little drunk?”

“A little.”

You take his face in your hand, brushing your thumb over his cheek before tucking a few wayward curls, still wet from the shower, behind his ear. He leans in as if to kiss you and you stop him. “Not before you drink that water,” you say, pointing to a large glass on the kitchen counter. “All of it.”

“And then?”

You shrug.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sunshine,” he says, his voice low, his lips almost touching your ear.

You reply: “I know.”

***

You’d been dating Ezra for six months when you first met Hondo. Ezra had described the old Weequay as “kind of like an uncle, but not the kind of uncle you call in an emergency…unless it’s like a real emergency, he’ll show up for that.”

And after a night out with Ezra’s “uncle” you wondered if you really knew who you were dating. It wasn’t that the liquor had changed his personality, or even that Hondo had. You just hadn’t seen this side of him before.

“I think I overdid it,” he said.

“You did.”

“I should have warned you.”

“Ezra,” you said. “I don’t know if there’s any way to warn someone that one of your dearest friends is the kind of person who thinks axe-throwing while drunk is a good idea.”

You were walking a rather tipsy Ezra home after what you had thought would be a casual dinner with a quirky family friend. But that was not how time with Hondo would ever go. You’d threatened to leave over the whole axe-throwing throwing thing, but stayed a while when Ezra reluctantly backed down from the challenge.

“I forget that Ezra Bridger cannot hold his liquor,” Hondo had said. “I would do anything for this boy, but he would have made a terrible pirate.”

Ezra looped his arm around your waist and sighed. “With Hondo,” Ezra said, “sometimes it feels like I can go back in time. Like…”

“Like all the time you lost while you were away didn’t happen?”

“You get it,” he said. “Of course you get it.”

“I don’t know if I get it, but I think I know what you’re saying.”

Ezra never got to go through a wild phase—not the way most people did as young adults. Hondo, however, seemed to make space for the chaotic teenager in anyone. Which maybe under other circumstances might have been fine, but Ezra’s limit was usually a pint or two of ale. Tonight there had been Correllian wine. And then shots of something that smelled like explosives.

Just outside of his house now, Ezra mumbled, “I would have been a great pirate.”

You swiped his key card to open the front door and, as soon as he could get to it, he flopped into his bed.

You sighed, watching Ezra struggle to take off his socks. “I’m sure you would have been legendary.”

“Legendary!” he repeated.

You got ready for bed, using the items of yours that had started to collect in the refresher. Some you’d left at Ezra’s place over the last few months. Others Ezra had bought for you, wanting you to feel welcome and at home with him. He called your name, and you went to the kitchen to get him a glass of water, knowing he’d be feeling this in the morning if he didn’t at least try to hydrate.

“Come here,” he said. “Let me hold you.”

When you joined him in bed, he pulled you toward him, undressed now, his skin warm against yours. “I don’t usually drink like this,” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen you this intoxicated before.”

“That’s on purpose,” he said. “I can’t believe I let myself…you know what? It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Drink the water,” you told him.

“I will,” he said. “Hey. Hey…can you look at me?”

You tuck his hair behind his ear, let your fingers trail down his neck and along his jawline. “I’ve been looking at you this whole time.”

“I’m just so glad you came out with me tonight. I know Hondo is a lot, but he’s family.”

“He’s probably not too fond of me.”

“Are you kidding? He loved you.”

“Really?”

“How could he not, sunshine?” he said. And after a pause, “Do you know how important you are to me? How much I love you?”

It was the first time either of you had said these words to the other. And you hadn’t expected to hear them as a drunken confession. “Ezra, I—”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“It’s okay. Just…tell me again when you’re sober.”

“I will.”

He pulled you close and you rested your head on his chest, breathing deeply. He smelled of sweat and alcohol, of course. But also of him. Of a man you’d very much fallen in love with. Sometimes you thought you’d fallen in love with him the day you’d met. But you’d held those words back, wondering sometimes whether Ezra Bridger was the type to settle down.

But now, there was something about the way he stroked your hair as he started to doze off. And when he said “I’ll tell you I love you every day for as long as you’ll have me,” tipsy or not, you believed him.

***

You’re in the kitchen brewing a fresh pot of caf when you hear Ezra stumbling down the hallway, followed by the loth-cats that had been sleeping at his feet.

“You’re never up this early,” he says.

His hair is wild, and he’s wearing a robe—his this time—and not much else. You don’t need to tell him he’s a mess. He knows. And he knows how he got here.

“There’s no Jedi trick for hangovers,” you say. “Or at least that’s what you’ve lead me to believe.”

You put a plate of eggs and two headache tablets on the table and he sits, a look of defeat in his big blue eyes.

“I’d been hoping to make you breakfast today,” he says. “I really kriffed things up last night.”

Ceetoo comes in the front door carrying a shopping bag, looks straight at Ezra and starts grumbling in binary.

“I know,” he says. “I’m profoundly aware of this. Can you please lower your volume?”

You bring two cups of caf to the table and sit beside Ezra. A man who’s stayed up with you through countless nights when your chronic pain was at its worst. Who makes a point of bringing you your favorite tea anytime you have a particularly bad migraine. A man who, when you’d first met, lived on the opposite side of town—but when he found out how difficult your anxiety could get, he started making that long drive to you any time you were struggling and he thought he could help.

He did kriff up last night. But you can’t find it in yourself to hold it against him. “It was a rough night,” you say. “But it’s behind us.”

Sipping his caf he says, “Thank you, love.”

“You would do the same for me.”

“I don’t mean the breakfast. I mean, I do. But you deserve better than a grown man who can’t get his shit together for one night so you can go out with your friends.”

There’s something sheepish about him as he takes your hand, and you see the “boy” Hondo always refers to when he talks about Ezra, despite his being in his forties.

“You have your shit remarkably together ninety-nine percent of the time, Ezra,” you say. “I can make new plans. And you were sick enough yesterday that I think that might be punishment enough.”

Ceetoo grumbles as she brings you a plate of sliced fruit. She’d happily gone to the store for you but had been less than enthusiastic about it when you told her the fruit was for Ezra—she could hold a grudge as well as any organic. But you reminded her of how many times he’d been there for the two of you, and that if you could forgive him for one ruined night, she could, too.

As she’s leaving the kitchen she beeps and whistles: try not to barf.

Ezra laughs. “I’m so glad she doesn’t actually hate me,” he says. “Though sometimes I wonder.”

You sit in silence for a while, listening to the wind blowing a tree branch into the window outside, the birds singing in the garden. And you remember planting that garden with Ezra when you first moved into this house, how you reminded him again that you probably wouldn’t be able to help much with maintaining the garden because of your chronic pain. And he’d taken your hands and told you that he didn’t expect anything of you other than that you being in his life. That just you being here, making a home together—that was enough. He’d wiped the tears from your cheeks when you began to cry, your heart so full it was spilling over.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Better now that I’ve eaten, actually.”

He gives your hand a squeeze before you get up to feed the two tooka cats who have gathered under the table, nipping at your feet. One you’d had when you met Ezra—the other was a three-legged stray Ezra had found living in an alley behind his work, far too friendly to be a street cat. You nearly trip over the little guy as you turn to put the kibble away, only to be steadied by Ezra—you hadn’t even realized he’d gotten up from the table.

“Hey,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

“I was fine,” you insist.

He smiles. “Sure.”

His grin is infectious, and soon you have your arms around his neck, unable to stifle the smile on your own face. He ghosts his fingers along your cheek, his thumb swiping over your bottom lip for a moment before leaning in to kiss you, slow and lingering.

“You can make me dinner tonight,” you tell him.

“And in the meantime?”

You can’t imagine he’s recovered that quickly. But Ezra is always full of surprises. So when he leads you back to the bedroom you follow. He discards your clothing in the hall, piece by piece as you stumble over each other, a feeling of lightness filling you as he kisses your forehead, your nose, your neck before you tumble into bed. And when you find yourself beneath the sheets with Ezra, you’re thinking about how seamlessly he fit into your life, from the very beginning. And now, how perfectly your bodies fit together, his deft hands finding exactly where and how you love to be touched.

He whispers in your ear: “Let me make this up to you.”

And you melt into him, your fingers lacing into his hair as he kisses you deeper, a spark of electricity running through you as if it were the first time he’d ever kissed you.

“You still owe me dinner,” you tell him.

“I’ll give you anything,” he says, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. “Anything you want,” he says, “it’s yours.”

And, if only because he’d never once given you a reason not to, you believe him.

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! Once again I am here to be a gremlin about Ezra Bridger somehow growing up to be Blorbo. I hope this fic made you feel seen and loved.

@writingbylee @waterpancakeao3 @princessxkenobi @zinzinina @aerynwrites @belfry-bat @phoenixhalliwell @r1-sw-lover @laserbrains @darthanakn @lovedbyth3sun @usernamesarebitches @maul-ologue @operation-spot @writeforfandoms @akgracemk @littlemousedroid @strwrs @saveatruckrideoptimusprime @galaxtic-writings @mintpurplemnm @againstacecilia @elasticreality@zombiedixon89 @forresway @sith-as-heck @alistocats @favficss @themandadolorian @ginger-swag-rapunzel @iamsuchanasshat @vvpoisonous @saradika @islandfrogeery @boba-brasso-bee @groguspawbeans @fluffyprettykitty @mischiefqueer @wretchedmo @wyn-n-tonic @dystopicjumpsuit @1vlouds @lucypaulette @x-0ophelia0-x @densenubi @dolphincommander @glass-soup @cosmictearsfall

106 notes · View notes