#I get the feeling this series will end before chapter 30 so I gotta get out the funnies while the series is still relevant

[mintisse]

Please accept this Mermaid Melody Aqua edit that I couldn't get out of my head since this chapter came out

#Edit #Mermaid Melody Aqua #Pichi Pichi Pitch #Mermaid Melody #I get the feeling this series will end before chapter 30 so I gotta get out the funnies while the series is still relevant #shut up mint

[corroded-hellfire]

As You Wish - Eddie Munson x Reader, Part 6

A collaboration with the incredible and amazing @munson-blurbs 💜

Summary: It’s your first official date with Eddie, and what’s almost as exciting as that is seeing how the boys react to the news

Note: I will never get used to the kind comments and sweet words you send me over this series. It truly makes me so incredibly happy. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Warnings: smut, p in v, mentions of oral, age gap, older!eddie, Eddie’s breeding kink should be a given at this point tbh

Words: 8.5k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eddie knocks on the door of the trailer he grew up in, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking on the balls of his feet. It seems like an eternity before his uncle opens it, a huge grin on his face at the sight of his nephew. 

“Ed!” he says, holding the door ajar so Eddie can walk in. “What brings you back down to Forest Hills?”

“Can’t a guy just visit his uncle without needing something?” Eddie teases, leaning against the counter, careful not to get any grease stains on it. “I, uh, did need to talk to you, though.”

A concerned frown tugs at the corners of Wayne’s lips. “Y’okay? The boys good?”

Eddie nods, all-too aware of Wayne’s omission of Brittany. “We’re all fine,” he clarifies, “but Brittany and I are definitely splitting up. I filed the divorce papers, then she filed custody papers.”

“Shit,” Wayne mutters, rubbing his palm over his coarse gray beard. “‘M sorry, kid. This kinda stuff ain’t easy, even when you know you wanna end things.” He puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezes. “You’ll find the right one for you.”

Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, and he has to avert his gaze from his uncle. “I, um…I think I already did,” he sheepishly admits, massaging the back of his neck to relax his nerves. 

Wayne’s eyebrows shoot up, but he can’t say he’s all that surprised. “The babysitter?”

“How did you—”

“I may be an old man, but my eyesight is just fine,” Wayne jokes, “and I could see the way you looked at her at Ryan’s birthday party last summer. Like you damn near worshiped the ground she walked on.”

Eddie lets out a nervous chuckle and nods his head. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I feel about her.” 

“She’s good with the boys,” Wayne says. “It was nice to see.” Nice for them to have a maternal figure who loves them is what they both think but don’t say aloud. 

“They love her,” Eddie agrees. He opens his mouth to continue, but his uncle cuts him off.

“So do you.” It’s not a question. It’s a knowing statement from the man who knows Eddie better than anyone. It didn’t take much observation for Wayne to see the possibilities of what could be. Of what are, now. 

“I really do,” Eddie answers. The lovesick expression on his face makes Wayne smile. He’s not seen that look on his nephew’s face since he was in high school. Even then, Wayne thinks, he didn’t light up quite like this. 

“Take it slow though, boy.” Wayne didn’t give a shit that Eddie was in his 30’s now; he’s still going to call him “boy” because he’ll be Wayne’s boy until the day he dies. “You don’t want to rush into anything. That’ll just be trouble for everyone involved.”

“I know,” Eddie says. “I, uh, actually want to take her on our first date this Friday.”

“Do the boys know?” Wayne asks.

“Not yet. But they will. I'm not going to lie to them about where I'm going and who I’ll be with. They get that from their mom, and I will make damn sure they know I’ll never lie to them.”

“Good man,” Wayne says with an approving nod of his head. “Can’t imagine their mom feels too keen about watching the boys while you go on a date, though.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t give a shit how she felt about it. But fortunately for everyone, she’ll be out of town. So, that’s another reason I stopped by. Wondered if you could watch the kids. It’d be up at the house still since I’m staying there while Britt’s gone.”

Wayne’s face lights up. “You know I never need an excuse to spend time with my grandkids,” he chuckles. “Now I just gotta figure out what kinda candy I’m gonna get ‘em hopped up on just in time for you to get home.”

“You’re the best,” Eddie says gratefully, pulling his uncle in for a quick hug. “I owe you one.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne appears to brush off the compliment, but he’s beaming on the inside. Being a grandpa is his favorite thing in the world. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, anyway. Made a little something for those two rugrats.” He disappears into his room—what used to be Eddie’s room—and comes back with two of his woodworks: a miniature bookshelf with an R carved on the side, and a small box with an L on the lid. “Figured Ryan could use another place for his books, and Luke can put his Hot Wheels in here.”

“Someone just earned himself a #1 Grandpa mug for his birthday.”

“Hey, rugrats.”

Eddie strolls out of his bedroom—former bedroom, and down the hallway. The muffled sounds of some animated movie he knows he’s seen before become louder the closer he gets to the living room. Both boys are sitting at a Scooby-Doo themed table and chair set that Luke had gotten for his last birthday. They’re sitting too close to the television, but Eddie decides to let that slide for now. As he gets closer, he sees the boys are drawing, peacefully sharing a single crayon box for once. 

“Yeah, Daddy?” Ryan asks without looking up from his art. Eddie picks the remote up off the couch and turns the tv off. Luke’s little head snaps up and his curls bounce as he swivels his body to stare in his dad’s direction. 

“Hey,” he protests.

“Just for a minute, calm down.” Eddie sets the remote down on the coffee table and comes to stand between the boys’ chairs. He’s not entirely sure what it is they’re drawing, but there’s a brown patch that Eddie thinks is the dog that Luke is always drawing and wishing for. Someday, pal. I promise. “I want to talk to you both about something.”

“What is it?” Ryan asks, scribbling furiously with a red crayon. 

“Hey, can we take a break from the drawing for a bit?” Eddie drops a hand to Ryan’s shoulder and his oldest son looks up at him for the first time.

“Why?”

“Just so I can talk to you for a minute.”

Ryan sets his crayons down and turns on his seat to face his father better. Luke copies his older brother’s actions and the brown crayon that was in his hand rolls towards the middle of the table. 

“Are we in trouble?” Luke asks.

“No,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “I just wanted to let the two of you know that I have a date on Friday night.”

Both of Eddie’s sons just stare at him. For a moment, he wonders if he actually spoke out loud or just imagined it in his head. Luke seems completely unfazed by the news, like he just wants to get back to his coloring. Ryan, on the other hand, looks a little skeptical. Eddie was prepared for this reaction, but he knows that as soon as the boys know who his date is with, they’ll be jumping for joy—quite possibly literally. 

“A date?” Ryan asks. “Like, with a girl?”

“A lady,” Luke corrects. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, now truly getting nervous for the first time. Ryan continues to stare at him, and Eddie isn’t sure how to read the usually open little boy. 

“So,” Ryan starts, “does that mean we get to spend time with—”

“Grandpa Wayne is watching you.” 

“Why?” Luke whines, obviously bothered by the fact that someone who is not you would be watching them. That says a lot to Eddie because he knows how much they love Wayne. It takes most of Eddie’s nerves away, hearing that the boys’ first instinct was that they get to spend time with you if he’s going out. Actual excitement bubbles up within him and it’s almost impossible to keep the smile off of his face. A part of him almost wants to keep the boys in suspense—this is just too good. 

“Because,” Eddie finally says, “I’m taking her on the date.” 

Eddie watches their faces, eager for the reaction. Ryan processes the information first and lets out a gasp. Luke takes a few seconds longer, but then he’s standing up from his chair—knocking it over in the process—and his eyes widen as far as they physically can. 

“You two are going on a date?” Ryan asks, voice high and excited. “Really?”

“Really,” Eddie confirms with a chuckle. 

“Oh my gosh,” Luke gushes, his small hands coming up to run through his curls. “Yes!”

The obvious love and excitement these two have towards you only further solidifies an idea that has been floating around his head lately. That you and he were meant to be together. Eddie knew that his sons had a far better childhood than he had, but he could still see the struggles they had living with a mom who never cared like she should. Eddie tried to make up for it, but there’s only so much one parent can take on from the other. He’d wonder if it was some bad karma of his that his kids didn’t get to have the happy little family that Eddie always dreamed of. But now there’s you. And all three Munson men adore you to the moon and back. And what's crazier to Eddie is that you love him back just as much. The boys? Sure, they’re easy to love. But you love three of them as a whole. Eddie can’t wait to tell you how they reacted to this news.

“You guys are happy about this, I take it?” Eddie asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan says, launching himself out of his chair and wrapping his arms around his dad’s waist. 

Eddie lets out an oof as the weight of his son knocks him back a step. But he’s quickly returning the hug.

“Our super-secret plan worked!” Luke says.

Raising his eyebrows, Eddie turns his head to look at his youngest son. 

“Secret?!”

“Okay, how about this?” You hold up a little black dress for your roommate to inspect. 

Jess tilts her head in consideration. “Too clubby,” she determines, and you roll your eyes with a dejected sigh. “Think…romantic but sexy.”

“Fine,” you grumble, rummaging through your closet. “Does this one pass the test?” You show her a floral lilac dress with a small slit up the side. 

“Perfect!” Jess determines, grinning as she grabs a pair of strappy wedges from the closet floor. “Wear these with that, and he’ll be putty in your hands.” She pauses. “Actually, he basically already is. But, still, you’re gonna look hot.”

Your cheeks burn at the compliment, as well as the thought of Eddie turning into mush when he sees you. “Yeah, yeah. Let me get dressed; this show ain’t free.”

“It is for Eddie!” she trills, but leaves and closes the door behind her. 

You finish applying your makeup just as Eddie rings the buzzer. “Jess, I’ll be back later!” you call out. “Thanks again for the wardrobe help.”

“No problem! Hope you get laid!”

Same, you think, opening the door to find your handsome date standing in front of you. “Wow,” you breathe out. He’s wearing a dark green button-down shirt, black slacks, and his signature leather jacket. His hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. Your palms become slick with nervous perspiration at the mere sight of him. 

“Wow, yourself,” Eddie smiles, pulling you in by your waist and kissing your lips. It starts off gentle, but he gradually deepens it, grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze. “If we don’t leave now, I’m not gonna let you leave the bedroom,” he growls in your ear, punctuating his statement with a quick smack to the soft flesh of your bottom. 

“Let’s get going, then,” you say, grabbing his hand and leading him to the car. 

You’re filled with anticipation; the secrecy of the evening is driving you insane. “How long until we’re at this mystery location?” you ask, trying to keep your eagerness at bay. 

“Soon.”

“Okay, but what’s ‘soon’?” you press. “Like, five minutes? Half an hour?”

Eddie chuckles. “Jesus, you sound like Luke.”

Your jaw drops and you cross your arms over your chest. “Did you just compare me to your five-year-old son?”

“Are we there yet?” Eddie exaggeratedly mimics in a high-pitched voice. 

“I do not sound like that!” you protest through your giggles. 

“I do not sound like that!” he echoes, keeping the obnoxious tone. 

“Now who’s acting like a five-year-old?” you retort, laughing as he scoffs at you, putting your mind at ease. It’s Eddie, your Eddie, and no matter what he’s planned, you know it’ll just make you fall further in love with him. 

Eventually, Eddie pulls onto a highway, and you head in a direction you’re unfamiliar with. All it does is make you even more curious, but you know that Eddie isn’t going to be answering any questions. As if it’s his way of telling you not to say anything, he turns on the radio and fiddles with a dial until he comes to a song he likes. His hand doesn’t go back on the wheel, though. He reaches over and takes one of your hands into his own. Butterfly wings stir inside of you as he brings the back of your hand up to his lips. After pressing a few kisses to the skin there, he laces his fingers with yours and rests them comfortably on the center console between you. 

It feels like forever until you reach your destination. According to the clock on the truck’s dash, it was just under half an hour, though. Gentleman as always, Eddie comes around to your door to open it for you. He even offers his hand to you to help you out of the car. Once he’s shut the door behind you, he doesn’t let go of your hand again. Honestly, it wouldn’t bother you if he never let it go. 

The parking lot of this mystery date spot is pretty crowded on this Friday night. As the two of you get closer, you inspect the large red brick building. It’s old enough looking to be charming, but not derelict or decrepit. Green foliage adorns the outsides, a few benches every couple of feet—mostly occupied at the moment. The other people you see are dressed at the same level as both you and Eddie so the little worry that you’d be over or under-dressed finally fades away. 

Above the front door, there’s a white and gold sign that says “Scott & Ollo’s.” Eddie holds the heavy brown door open for you and, regrettably, you have to let go of his hand to step inside. You don’t have to go long without his touch, however, as he steps up behind you as soon as you both enter, his hands resting lightly on your waist. The first thing that you register is the music. It’s loud—not overbearingly so, but enough where you can tell its live music instead of a recording being played over the PA system. Next, you take in the waiters in their all black attire that are buzzing between tables covered in white tablecloths and an array of foods—that smell delicious, you also notice.

“Hello,” the hostess greets you and Eddie as you walk up to her podium.

“Hi,” Eddie says, keeping one hand on your waist as he speaks to her. “Should have a reservation for two. Under the name ‘Munson.’”

Your eyes are flitting around the space and Eddie watches you with a fond smile on his face as the hostess searches for his name. 

“Ah, here we are. Right this way, please,” the hostess says. 

Eddie once again laces your fingers together and guides the two of you through the decently filled restaurant. As you walk, you notice that the restaurant is arranged in a circular fashion, and that people at the tables keep looking in towards the center of the room. You try to crane your neck to see around some of the patrons, but you’re unable to see what they see. The hostess leads you down a few steps that lead down to another landing where tables are laid out. From here, it’s easier to see what has everyone’s attention. The middle of the restaurant has a live band playing and a dance floor that a few couples currently occupy. 

“Here you are,” the hostess says as she presents your table. She sets a menu down at each place setting as Eddie waits for you to sit in your seat so he can push it in for you. “Your waiter will be Harris and he’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” you say before she steps away. Now seated, you let your eyes take in everything a little bit more. The small lanterns on the middle of every table, some women looking longingly at the dance floor while the men they’re with look terrified of it. At the grand chandelier that hangs over the whole space, the crystals on it reflecting the light all around. “Eddie, this place is beautiful. Where did you find it?”

“A buddy of mine from high school proposed to his girlfriend here. I’ve never been but they both said it was incredible. So far, they’re right.”

“And are you actually going to dance with me?” you ask with a small giggle as you pick up your menu. 

“Getting to hold you close to my body while we listen to slow music? Hell yeah.”

You shake your head fondly at how unromantic he makes it sound; but you know that’s just him messing around. There’s no way he would’ve chosen this place to go if he didn’t want to have a romantic evening and dance with you. 

“Should we get some wine?” Eddie asks. 

“Sure, but you’ll have to order it.”

“Why would—oh, right,” Eddie says with a chuckle. “Sometimes I forget your age.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” you ask.

“I don’t really think of it one way or the other. You’re just…you. My person. Not my person who is twelve years younger than me, just my person.”

His words have your heart picking up speed, and it’s quickly pumping heat up towards your face. His person. It felt not too long ago you could only dream about Eddie ever saying that to you. 

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle and you look up to see what’s so funny. But he’s just smiling at you.

“What?” you ask.

“You haven’t stopped smiling since we walked in the door,” Eddie says. You hadn’t noticed, honestly. But now that he points it out, you can feel the tightness in your cheek muscles at the long-held grin.

“You just make me really happy,” you tell him, love practically radiating out of your every pore. Eddie sets his menu down and reaches across the table to take both of your hands in his own.

“Baby, you’re it for me. Always. Don’t forget that, okay?”

The only response you can give is a nod, as you feel the emotion welling up behind your eyes. After taking a moment and clearing your throat, you think you’re able to speak.

“You’re my forever.”

Harris comes and takes your orders: Eddie gets a New York strip, medium rare, and you choose the chicken florentine. They’re delivered on intricately garnished plates; so beautiful that you’re almost afraid to eat. 

“Been awhile since I’ve been to a restaurant that didn’t serve a Happy Meal,” he jokes, dragging his knife through the tender cut of meat. 

“At least you have your kids as an excuse,” you tease him. “Before that, you were just a grown man eating a very tiny pouch of fries.”

Eddie laughs, popping a bite of the steak into his mouth. “Speaking of those two,” he starts, “I told them.” About us, is what he doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to. 

You offer him a nervous glance. “What…were they okay with it?”

“Oh, yeah. They were only upset that you weren’t watching them until I told them that you were my date.” He chuckles at the memory of their excited little faces, leaning in to add, “and did you know that their ploy to get us together was a secret?”

Clapping a hand over your mouth to keep your giggles from escaping, you widen your eyes. “I think we can cross ‘CIA agent’ off of their list of future career choices.”

“And professional poker player,” he agrees, running his thumb across the back of your hand. “But I really can’t believe my luck. Y’know, how much they love you, and how much you love them.”

“Of course I do,” you tell him. “Even if you and I weren’t together, I’d adore your boys. They’re great kids, Eddie. The best. Because of you.”

Eddie stands slightly to reach over and kiss your forehead. “I love you so fucking much,” he declares. Part of him wishes he had a ring so he could propose right now, make you his forever. 

Once you’ve finished eating, Eddie’s by your side and offering his hand. 

“May I have this dance?” he asks. He keeps his tone serious, but he waggles his eyebrows as he says it. 

“Such a gentleman,” you smile, placing your palm in his. You can feel every crease and callous, and you’re immediately overtaken with a sense of safety and belonging. “Of course you may.”

He leads you to the dance floor, taking you into his arms. Your left hand rests on his right bicep, and your right hand takes purchase in his left. His free hand is soon pressed to the small of your back so the two of you can sway impossibly close. 

The band plays the opening chords of “Something,” by The Beatles, and your face lights up with joy. 

“I love this song,” you tell him, adjusting your stance so your left hand can travel to the nape of his neck. 

Without missing a beat, Eddie says, “I’ll learn how to play it for you.” Shit, he thinks, I’d go home and figure out the chords right now if I wasn’t on the best date of my life.

You’re not totally convinced, tilting your head in disbelief. “Even though it’s not metal?”

“Only for you, my love.” His response is sincere, and you rest your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. If you had to take bets, you’d guess that yours was beating in perfect tandem. 

After you’ve finished dancing, you both agree that you’ve worked off some of your delicious dinner and have room to split a decadent dessert. You settle on a piece of cheesecake with cherry topping and Harris serves it to you with two forks. Eddie tuts you when you go to take the first forkful, but when you look at him in confusion, he spears a generous bite of the dessert and holds it up to your lips. A bubbly feeling floats through your body as you open your mouth and accept it from him. It’s amazing how the littlest things Eddie does give you full body reactions. 

Once the cheesecake is devoured and the bill is paid (which Eddie snatched up the moment it hit the table cloth), Eddie offers you his hand and you walk out of the restaurant and into the chilly evening. There are no clouds in the sky, revealing the black canvas dotted with tiny diamond stars and a luminescent moon. You’re so busy taking in the view, you didn’t even realize Eddie shrugged out of his leather jacket until he’s draping it over your shoulders. It’s pure instinct to clutch it tighter around you, wanting Eddie’s scent and essence as close as can be. 

The band can still be heard outside, muffled, but clear enough to tell that they just started playing Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” The two of you are approaching the first row of cars in the parking lot when Eddie tugs on your hand, pulling you to a stop next to him. Before you get the chance to open your mouth and ask what’s wrong, Eddie wraps one arm around your waist and tugs you up against his chest. He takes your left hand in his right and laces your fingers together as he begins to sway from side to side.

“Wanted one more dance with my girl tonight,” Eddie mumbles, giving you a warm smile. 

“Dancing in the moonlight? Who knew you were such a romantic, Munson,” you tease. He leans in and nips at your earlobe, causing you to giggle. 

“You would’ve thought you’d caught on by now,” Eddie retorts, giving your hand a light squeeze. Letting your eyes slip closed, you lean in and rest your head against the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. 

“This is perfect,” you say, tone dreamy and light. 

“You’re the best dance partner I ever had, Sweetheart.”

The words bring a smile to your face, and you press a light kiss against Eddie’s throat before looking up at him. “Hey, can I tell you something?”

“Course baby,” he replies, his hand that’s on the small of your back tracing patterns over the material of your dress. “You can tell me anything.”

You pick your head up and look at him from beneath your eyelashes. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

That’s all Eddie needs to hear before he’s taking you by the hand and tugging you to the car. 

“Slow down; I’m in heels!”you protest between giggles, but Eddie is not about to waste precious seconds that could be spent inside you. 

You assume he’s going to drive home as fast as he can, which is why you’re more than confused when he opens the back door instead of the front. He slides in and pats his lap with a mischievous grin. 

“In your car?” you balk teasingly, already ducking into the vehicle and draping a leg over his. “Eddie Munson, you’re a little horndog.”

He doesn’t deny it; he simply closes the door and bunches your dress to your hips. You certainly weren’t lying: there are no panties to be found. He inhales sharply at your perfect pussy on display like this for him, and his burgeoning erection twitches behind his fly. “Fuckin…holy shit,” he manages, letting his middle finger graze your glistening folds. “And already wet f’me, hm? Was it my dance moves?” He gently bites your earlobe, and you shiver at the sensation. 

“Was…just you, baby,” you breathe, bringing your lips to his neck and trailing kisses along the side. His hands grip your bare ass, and you use the leverage to grind against the seam of his pants. “What’s got you so worked up?”

Eddie fumbles with his belt buckle, finally unfastening it with a relieved sigh. “‘S you. So fucking gorgeous, and all mine.” He whimpers when your fingers brush up against the outline of his cock while you unbutton his pants and tug down his zipper. “Tell me ‘m yours, please, baby.”

“You’re mine,” you whisper in his ear, taking in the new sensation of his cotton boxers on your throbbing clit and rubbing yourself against it needily. “All mine, only mine.”

Instinctively, Eddie finds your hole and slips a finger inside. “Bounce on it,” he instructs, pouting when you shake your head. “Whas’ wrong?” Shit, he thinks, was car sex a bad idea?

But you chase away his worries when you tell him, “Need more. Another finger. You’re too big for just one, Eddie.”

He happily obliges, making you feel full in the second-best way he knows how. With that, you take what you need, holding onto his shoulders as your pussy grips his thick fingers. He’s plunging them in and out of you as you ride them, the two of you working in perfect tandem to bring you to your release. 

Eddie knows every last inch of your body like the back of his hand, and he curls his fingers slightly to drive you over the edge. 

“F-Fuck, ‘m coming!” you moan, and it must be louder than you realize, because Eddie laughs and lets out a sshh. 

“You’re gonna get us caught, pretty thing,” he warns you, but he doesn’t slow his pace. “I’ll have to tell the cops that I just couldn’t help myself; ya looked too damn gorgeous tonight. Had to be inside you.”

The thrill of being discovered has your orgasm crashing over you, and you cry out Eddie’s name as it hits. He removes his fingers from your pussy, popping them in his mouth and swirling his tongue around to lap up your slick. It’s enough to nearly make you cum again. 

“Gotta feel you,” he mutters, taking his cock out of his boxers and into his hand. Pre-cum leaks from the tip, and if you had more room, you’d lean down to lick it off. “Gotta feel you around my dick, sweet girl.”

“Mhm,” you squeak out, aligning yourself over his length and sinking onto it. Inch by inch, you take him inside you as he stretches you in the most delicious way. The thick vein that runs from base to tip is heaven against your walls, and you steal a second to just feel him before you start moving. 

His hands grasp your waist, sinking into the plush of your ass as he helps you ride him. “Thas’ perfect,” he growls, nodding as you bounce on his cock. “You make me feel so damn good. We were made for each other, I fuckin’ swear.”

The tempo is slow at first as you ease into it, trying to balance the fullness within you and the newest setting for your trysts. Gradually, you pick up a bit of speed, and he matches it, balls slapping against you. 

“I love you,” you tell him, adding the promise of, “I’ll always love you.” You brush his hair from his face and kiss him passionately, tongue brushing his. When he pulls away for a breath, he gives your lower lip a little bite. 

“I’ll always love you,” he swears. “Always, always, always.”

You can feel how close he is, and you’re right there with him, so you pull the trigger. “Prove it,” you murmur. “Fuck me so full that your cum drips out of me. Or maybe I’ll keep it inside me and get nice and knocked up for you.”

A string of swear words leaves his lips as he spills into you. “Oh, fuck yes, holy fuckin’ shit. Wanna get you pregnant, y’gonna look s’good havin’ my babies.” He presses his hands into the plush of your thighs. “Cream my cock, baby. Show me who makes you cum.”

Just a few more bounces is all it takes for you to cum again, flopping against his chest as you take big, heaving breaths. 

“Can’t believe I scored on the first date,” Eddie jokes, and you bite his shoulder in retaliation. “Ow!” He rubs the spot dramatically. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get home, yeah?”

“Don’t wanna move,” you mumble, smiling as Eddie chuckles and kisses your scalp. 

“Faster we get home, faster we can fuck on a nice, cozy bed,” he murmurs, trailing a fingernail up and down your arm. “And I can go down on you like a goddamn gentleman.”

The next morning, you’re barely awake and pouring yourself a cup of coffee in the kitchen when two rambunctious boys burst in.

“You’re here!” Luke cheers—which sounds more like shouting, this early in the morning. You and Eddie had talked about how it might look having you in the house when the boys woke up. But you figured they wouldn’t ask questions, and if they did, Eddie was ready to provide a long explanation on how something was broken in your car, and he couldn’t work on it while it was dark outside. 

“Hi,” you say, voice still groggy from sleep. You shuffle over to the table and take a seat. A Munson boy takes a seat on each side of you, and you let out a chuckle. “Can I help you?”

“How was it?” Ryan asks.

Shrugging your shoulders, you bring the Garfield coffee mug up to your lips and take a sip. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Oh, come on!” Luke whines. It’s hard not to smile and play it cool, so you just take another sip of your coffee.

“What is all the racket?” Eddie walks into the kitchen, the palm of his hand rubbing at his right eye. He’s wearing blue plaid pajama pants hung low on his hips and nothing else. You know there’s nothing beneath them because you watched him put them on as he rolled out of bed. He had tossed you a pair of his sweatpants to put on since you’d only been wearing a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts. 

“Daddy!” Luke calls, making Eddie wince at his volume. 

“Take it down a few notches, kid.” Eddie ruffles his youngest son’s curls before walking over to pour himself a cup of coffee. 

“How was the date?” Ryan asks, eyes looking back and forth between you and Eddie. 

“Date?” Eddie asks. He walks over and takes a seat at the table before taking a casual sip from his mug. “Did someone go on a date last night?”

“Luke, you had a date?” you tease, poking him in the ribs. He gives an overdramatic roll of his eyes and runs his hands down his face.

“No! You two did!” he says.

“Oh, that’s right,” Eddie says, looking at you now. “I do remember seeing you at a restaurant last night.”

“You guys are the worst,” Ryan sighs, slumping down in his seat. It makes both you and Eddie chuckle. 

“It was a wonderful date,” you tell them, deciding to end their misery. Now that they sense they’re going to get some answers, the boys are very alert and paying attention. It reminds you of how your childhood dog would react when you asked her if she wanted a treat. 

“Was Daddy a gentleman?” Ryan asks. Eddie scoffs, as if insulted by the insinuation that he would be anything but. 

“Of course he was.” 

“What did you eat?” Luke asks. Leave it to him to ask about the food.

“I had steak,” Eddie says. “And…other things.”

Heat comes to your cheeks at the way he eyes you over the brim of his coffee cup. Giving him a light kick under the table knocks the smug smirk off his face, though. 

“Like potatoes,” Eddie says, though you expect it’s more to appease you than anything. 

“Ryan said I look like a potato,” Luke adds. 

Coffee almost shoots out of your nose, and you have to quickly cover your mouth so you don’t spray the table with joe and creamer. This was life with the Munson men. Unpredictably hilarious and quite honestly the best thing you’ve ever had in your life. 

“You don’t look like a potato,” Eddie responds.

“He did as a baby!” Ryan rebuts. 

Eddie rubs his thumb and index finger over his eyebrows as he lets out a sigh. “It’s too early for this,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Are you going out again?” Ryan asks, and you’re thankful for the subject turning back on track. 

“I don’t know,” you muse, tapping your fingernails against the porcelain mug. Both Ryan and Luke frown at your response. “I haven’t been asked yet.”

“Daddy, ask her!” Luke chides. 

“Pretty sure I did ask,” Eddie says, raising an eyebrow at you. You know what he’s referring to, but panting out “fuck, when can we do this again?” while you’ve got his dick down your throat doesn’t count. 

“Did you? When?” You smirk at him, backing him into a corner. Now he has no choice but to ask you properly. Eddie’s eyes narrow at you, and you can practically hear him saying you’ll pay for this later. 

“Fine,” he grunts. He takes another sip of coffee before setting the mug down and clearing his throat. “My darling, would you like to go out with me again?”

It feels so infinitesimal to be asking for a second date. This is something teenagers do in high school, not adults with someone whose body you’ve already memorized or when you’ve already declared you’ll love them forever. But it makes the boys happy to hear and he does want to take you out again. 

“I would be honored.”

Your reply still causes Eddie to break out in a beaming smile and reach across the table for your hand. Happily, you lace your fingers with his and don’t even notice the two boys watching with glee. 

“Can we come?” Luke asks.

“Luke,” Ryan groans, “that’s not a date, then.”

“Did you kiss?” Luke asks, ignoring his older brother. Suddenly, Ryan is leaning on the table, eager to hear the answer as well. You see the heat you feel in your face reflected in the pink of Eddie’s cheeks.

“Boys—” Eddie starts before being interrupted by both of them whining.

“Daaaaad!”

“Come on!”

Trying to stifle your giggle, you give Eddie a nod to let him know it’s okay with you if he tells them. Receiving your signal, Eddie nods his own head in reply and shifts in his seat.

“Yes, we kissed.”

Both boys cheer; Ryan throwing his arms in the air and Luke dancing in his seat. You laugh in amusement as you watch them. The fact that they’re almost as happy as you are about you and Eddie being together warms your heart in a way that’s new. It feels as if a new compartment of your heart has been unlocked and all of this love is flooding into it. 

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, trying to calm the boys back down—even if he’s still grinning himself. “We’re all going to the Harrington’s today, so after breakfast I want you both to get dressed.”

“Uncle Steve’s?” Luke asks. “Why?”

“For a play date.” Eddie shrugs and rises from his seat. “More coffee?”

“Yes, please,” you tell him. He picks up your mug and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Neither boy misses the act of affection, and it feels like a surge of adrenaline spikes your blood. You’ve always been so careful not to let the boys know what’s going on between you—ever since that very first night. But now, getting to be so open about it, knowing they’re going to start seeing you as their dad’s girlfriend instead of their babysitter…it’s a lot. It’s not bad, but it’s a bit overwhelming. 

“Yeah,” you say, shifting in your seat under their gazes. “You can play with Theo and Natalie for a while.”

It doesn’t escape your notice how Ryan flushes at the mention of Natalie’s name. You force yourself to bite back your smile but make a mental note to bring it up to Eddie later.

“Alright, Munson’s,” Eddie says as he places your coffee mug back down in front of you. “What do we want for breakfast?”

“Pancakes!” Luke says.

“Daddy burns those,” Ryan reminds him. 

“Good thing I’m here,” you say, standing up from your seat. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that,” Eddie says, ghosting a hand against your waist. 

“I want to,” you tell him. “Sit.”

“No, let me help you at least.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Can you help me get everything I need together?”

“Course I can.”

Ryan nudges Luke across the table. The younger brother raises his eyebrows in question. Ryan nods his head in the direction of you and Eddie. Luke turns his head to see the two of you moving in tandem to get things out of the cabinets that you’ll need. You share passing words, gently touching or brushing up against one another as you work. It’s so domestic and comfortable for the two of you. But to Ryan and Luke, they’ve never seen something so peaceful. An activity as simple as making pancakes was a potentially explosive event in their lives up until now. It’s the first time both Ryan and Luke are realizing this is how it’s supposed to be. It’s meant to be, “can you pass me the flour?” instead of, “Jesus Christ, where did you put the goddamn pan?” like they’re used to.

The boys stay silent, just watching you and their dad help one another and him make you giggle. It’s possibly the warmest moment they’ve ever felt in this house. Ryan has the sudden urge to hug both of you, but he doesn’t want to interrupt the moment and have it stop. Luke watches in awe at the easy smiles you and Eddie give one another, never shooting the other a glare when they aren’t looking. It’s happy and it’s soft and it’s warm and tingly in a way he didn’t know existed. He’s never been so happy to have to wait for food to be made. 

“Luke,” Ryan whispers, never taking his eyes off of you two.

“What?” Luke’s gaze never falters either. 

“Daddy’s so happy.”

Luke nods enthusiastically. “And it’s all because of our super secret plan.”

Eddie rings the Harrington’s doorbell not once, not twice, but five times. 

“Will you stop that?” you snap, but a smile dances on your lips. “You’re like a child.”

Eddie doesn’t have the chance to retort before Steve swings open the door. “Munson and Munsonitos! And, uh,” he stammers when he gets to you, “Lady Munson?” he tries, nervous to see your reaction. 

Eddie wraps his arm around your waist. “Lady Munson, huh? Kinda like the sound of that.”

The four of you pile into the living room, and Steve encourages the boys to head into the family room where Natalie, Theo, and Danny are playing. “Amelia’s napping, but she’ll be awake and demanding Uncle Eddie cuddles soon,” he promises, laughing when Eddie huffs impatiently. 

Steve walks over to the old record player a little too nonchalantly, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “Let’s set a little mood music, shall we?”

Your boyfriend catches on before you do. “Nope, Harrington, no way. Absolutely n—”

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh oh

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh

Uptown girl

She’s been livin’ in her uptown world

“I hate you,” Eddie grumbles, but his eyes give away his true feelings. 

Steve doesn’t buy it, either. “Look at that shit-eating grin,” he teases. “You can’t even listen to this song without making eyes at her.”

“Harrington, I will throw all your hairspray in the dumpster if you don’t shut up.”

You’re spared from breaking up their ridiculous fight when Nancy comes in the room, twisting the cover onto a bottle. She waves you over, and you dutifully follow, not wanting to witness whatever nonsense the two men were about to engage in. 

When Steve realizes that there are no women around, he leans in and whispers to Eddie, “I told you, didn’t I? Came to your work and said you should be fucking the babysitter.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest and shakes his head. “Overachiever that you are, you went for the whole relationship.” 

“Overachiever, huh?” Eddie muses. “Never heard that one before.”

“I figured. She probably only says you’re not so tough, just because you’re in love with an—”

“HARRINGTON, I SWEAR TO GOD.”

You and Nancy can vaguely hear the end of Eddie shouting something at Steve, but you’re both in the playroom now and the kids drown them out. Ryan and Natalie are using an array of crayons and markers to create masterpieces that are surely destined to hang on the refrigerators of their respective houses. Luke, Danny, and Theo are playing with Legos and Hot Wheels. The three young boys try to make obstacles for the toy cars to overcome out of the small plastic blocks. 

“I can’t lie,” Nancy says as the two of you take a seat on the couch at the far end of the room. “Steve and I were really impressed by the way you handled Theo and Luke’s candy bar argument.”

The praise catches you off guard but brings on a smile so large that it hurts your cheeks. 

“Oh, um, thank you! It wasn’t anything major,” you tell her. The music playing in the other room suddenly switches off and Nancy lets out a melodious chuckle. 

“I told Steve not to play Billy Joel,” Nancy says with a shake of her head, “not unless he wanted Eddie to kick his…” she trails off as she looks at the kids, “…butt.”

You’re not sure what to say in reply to that. Nancy knows the friendship between the two men far better than you do, having over a decade more of experience with them. Anything you could think to add would be so generic or minuscule next to any of her anecdotes about them that it would be obvious you’re just trying to fill the silence that is becoming more awkward by the moment. But you need to say something. 

“So,” you start, Nancy’s full attention coming back to you at the sound of your voice. “You saw the Innocent Man tour? How was that?”

“Oh, wow.” Nancy blows out a breath and looks down at the floor as if she’s trying to conjure up the memories. “It was forever ago…but from what I remember, it was amazing. He just kept singing and singing.”

Just imagining that brings a smile to your face. 

“Sometimes, I like to just focus on the piano keys and drown out everything else. Helps me clear my head,” you explain. 

Nancy nods along. “I find myself doing that when I’m driving. If I ever play it at home, the voices of four children drown it out and it’s a little harder to clear my head.”

“You really are a great mom, though,” you tell her. “I can see how much your kids adore you.” 

“Thank you,” Nancy says, a bit of emotion snaking its way into her voice. “And having a partner like Steve is the best.”

As if the sound of his name being spoken somewhere in the house summons him, a loud commotion comes from the room you’d left the two men in.

“Munson, let go of my nipple!”

“Not until you apologize!”

You and Nancy share an amused glance before shrugging at one another. Ryan even hears the ruckus and looks in that direction. When he sees that neither you nor his aunt are reacting, he goes back to his drawing. 

“Well, most of the time he’s the best,” Nancy says. 

The clock is ticking until Eddie and Steve come back in the room, but there’s something you feel the need to get off your chest while it’s just you two women there. 

“I have to be honest with you, Nancy,” you start. “I was so intimidated by you. Like, almost scared of you.”

“Of me?” Nancy asks, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” you say with a huff of laughter. “I mean, just meeting you at Ryan’s birthday I could tell how sophisticated and intelligent you are. And then when Eddie talks about you — because as I’m sure you know, he loves talking about his friends — I heard how well accomplished you are and all that you’ve achieved and while being a mother of four. It’s beyond impressive.”

“That’s really sweet, actually.” Nancy gives you a shy smile and a touch of pink coats her sharp cheekbones. “But I promise, I’m a nice person. There’s no need to be afraid of me.”

For the rest of what you have to say, you find it harder to look Nancy in the eye as you speak. Your hands fiddle with a loose thread on your jeans as you cautiously glance back and forth from your thigh to the woman sitting next to you. 

“Plus,” you say before you can lose your nerve. “I know how I look from an outsider’s perspective.” You risk a glance over at the kids, and even though they’re busy playing, you still lower your voice. “Young babysitter starts working for a family and then the parents are separating and I…ya know. With an older man. I know what people are going to assume when they look at me. And I don’t care, I really don’t, because I love him. And he loves me. But I care what the people in Eddie’s life think. What his family and friends think. Of me.”

Nancy lets out a sigh and there’s a sympathetic look in her eye as she nods her head. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some of those thoughts when I first found out about you two,” she confesses. “Not long, but longer than I’d like to admit. But you know what I said to Steve once we got home? That if you’re the light that lit a fire under Eddie’s ass to get him to dump Brittany, then thank God.” 

Questions you want to ask Nancy about Brittany fly into your head in rapid succession. It doesn’t sound like the two of them were close. Does everyone hate her? It’s not hard to believe at all, but you’d love to hear it from a perspective other than Eddie’s. But between not wanting to look like a gossiper and the fact that the guys make their way into the room, you keep your mouth shut. 

Nancy must share this sentiment, and possibly doesn’t want to discuss Brittany much in front of the kids, because she changes the subject as the men settle into seats around you.

“You’re in school, right?” Nancy asks you.

“I am,” you reply. “Finishing up my basic education courses.”

“Do you know what you want to do once you graduate?”

“Not a clue,” you admit with a sigh. “Right now, I’m really enjoying babysitting.”

“The kids love you,” Nancy gushes, leaning forward and resting her hand on your arm. “Not just Luke and Ryan—Natalie and Theo couldn’t stop talking about you, either.”

A sense of pride swells in your chest and you can’t help the bashful smile that grows on your lips.

“They’re all such great kids,” you say. 

“Would you happen to have time to add the four great Harrington kids to your schedule?”

Having Nancy ask you that question makes you feel about fifty pounds lighter. Not only is she acknowledging you as part of Eddie’s life, but also has enough trust and faith in you to watch her children. The acceptance by her, Steve, and the kids makes you more emotional than you would’ve thought. It takes a moment for you to compose yourself to answer without your voice trembling.

“Of course!”

Your shoulders sag in relief and you hear a familiar tune being hummed behind you. Turning in your spot to look behind you, you see Steve perched on the back of the couch, a smug smile on his face. It takes your brain a moment to realize it’s Uptown Girl that he’s humming. Letting out an overly dramatic irritated groan, Eddie lunges at Steve, who shrieks and covers his chest.

“Stay away from my nipples, Munson!”

Nancy sighs and shakes her head.

“Would you look at that? There’s two more kids I didn’t account for.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #AYW #AYWS

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter four: american pie

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 6.6k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced/virgin reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, mentions of food/eating, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, etc.), polite southern manners (use of sir), feeling familial and self-pressure, oral sex (m & f), slightly public sex (no bystanders), fingering, dirty talk, LATINO JOEL cause it's canon which means there's likely subpar spanish

It was Thursday night, the week after you’d kissed Joel for the first time. The week after he’d told you that he’s been thinking about you since he met you. The week after he’d asked you to ride his thigh. The week after he’d made you come while teaching you Spanish.

The last two things hadn’t happened since, but it had been a week full of fleeting moments that made your skin heat up when you thought back on them. You stayed later and later each night that passed, talking with Joel and getting to know more about each other. Joel would prepare dinner, relax on the couch, or even stay in the entryway while the two of you conversed, flirty glances and affectionate smiles passed back and forth.

And in the moments when Sarah was off in her room playing or was outside in the backyard with you two watching her from the screened door, Joel’s hands would sneak around your hips or skim down your backside. Sweet and sultry kisses were shared, giving you more Spanish lessons to tell you what he desperately wanted from you. Last night he’d set dinner down in front of his daughter and walked you to the door, wrapping his arms around you and grabbing a handful of ass as he caught your lips in a heady breath, melding his tongue with yours and leaving you feeling like jelly as he pulled away.

Reminiscing on the moment now as you chop some apple slices for Sarah has you so distracted that you jump when you feel a tug on your shorts, tiny fingers poking at your sides.

“Can I have my snack now, please?”

You smile and nod, throwing the slices into the Aladdin bowl sitting on the granite. 

“Here you, sweet pea. Sorry for taking so long.”

“It’s okay! Thank you!” Sarah sends you a beaming smile and twirls around, bounding out to the living room again.

As you’re cleaning up the counter and the dishes, your cell phone vibrates in the pocket of your jean shorts. After drying your hands off on the kitchen towel, you fish your phone out and smile to yourself when you see Joel’s name on the small screen.

On my way home, you got a minute to stick around when I get back sweetheart?

Course I do :) See you soon, drive safe!

Will do. Gotta make it back to both my girls in one piece

The last message makes your smile grow wider, a giddy feeling in your chest at the simple affection, even via text. After rereading the message a few times, you finally slip your phone away again and turn back to your task.

Settling in on the couch with Sarah after the kitchen’s cleaned, Lilo & Stitch runs on the TV after a few incessant requests to watch it with you. Her tiny legs are stretched across your lap, her torso curled into your side, and her eyes glued to the animations on the screen. As Lilo is yelling about feeding fish tuna, Sarah giggles and you wrap an arm around her to pull her closer.

“I want a Scrump! She’s so cute,” Sarah points at the TV when Lilo pulls the doll out of her duffel bag, and you can’t help but grin.

“I think I want a Scrump, too. She’s so much cooler than those other dolls. Very original,” you squeeze Sarah’s side and grin, “Maybe you can get a Scrump for Christmas or something this year! Put it on your list for Santa.”

“But that’s so far away, like a trillion days,” Sarah replies in a louder volume with a huff, perking up at the sound of keys in the front door. Joel walks into the house, throwing his work bag down on the ground and kicking off his boots. He shuffles into the living room, giving both you and his daughter a quizzical look as he flops down onto the couch on the other side of Sarah.

“What’s a trillion days away?” Joel rubs his hands over his face and looks at the movie playing on the TV, laughing softly to himself and sharing a sweet look with you over Sarah’s head.

“Christmas! I want a Scrump doll and I could ask Santa for one, but it’s so far.”

Joel’s laugh fills out, a bit louder as he speaks directly to Sarah, “Well, that’s true that you could Santa for one, but y’know your birthday’s in just a couple’a weeks, Bug. Maybe one of your friends could get you one. Or Uncle Tommy. He’d get you something weird like that.”

“Weird? She’s not weird, Daddy!” Sarah sits up, crossing her arms in annoyance towards her father.

“Sarah’s right, she’s adorable. I told Sarah I want one, too.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at your response, shaking his head and looking back to the doll on the paused screen.

“That thing? Really?” He watches you both nod and grins, huffing a chuckle out of his nose, “Y’all are somethin’ else.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully, and Sarah gets the idea in her head that she could make her own Scrump like Lilo did, climbing off of the couch and running excitedly up to her room to find materials. Watching her with a soft smile, you turn back to Joel when she disappears at the top of the stairs.

He scoots closer on the sofa, a slight smirk raising one side of his mouth. His hands stretch out, one caressing your waist and the other crossing your lap to the side of your thigh to pull your legs over his. There’s a small gap between the two of you now, close enough to feel his breath against your skin while your eyes fall in line with his deep brown ones. Tension feels thick in the silent air, the sounds of Sarah’s footsteps and the birds outside being the only background noise besides your breaths.

“Missed you today, darlin’. Couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Joel’s voice is low, barely above a whisper as the smirk on his face still tugs at his lips.

“Missed you, too. Been thinkin’ about getting a kiss from you all day.”

Your heart rate increases as Joel’s subdued hum vibrates throughout your chest, his large palms skating up your back and fingertips tracing your spine.

“That so? Well, all you gotta do is ask, sweet girl.”

You laugh faintly, biting your bottom lip as your eyes flitter back and forth over his to keep eye contact.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Joel tilts his head, clicking his tongue in a tsk.

“Now I think we both know you have better manners than that, sweetheart.”

You sigh with added drama, mouth screwing up into a tight purse to one side. Joel’s face is still stern, smirk playing at the corners and humor glittering in his eyes. An idea comes to mind, from the first time you met him even, and you bite back the sly smile that would give you away. Instead, you put on your best sweet expression, batting your lashes as you ghost your lips over his as you speak.

“May I please have a kiss, sir?”

His eyes darken as you’re staring into them, a long exhale slipping from his lips as he shifts his hips under your leg. A simper stretches your lips to expose your teeth, a light laugh rolling as you throw a satisfied look in Joel’s direction. A simmer grows in your gut as you await his response, pumping your heartbeat in a steady, quick rate.

“Don’t start somethin’ you can’t finish, querida.”

“What makes you think I can’t finish it?”

“The fact that you have to go home tonight.”

Before you can offer a counter, Joel closes the small gap between the two of you, a sincere smile on his face as he presses his lips to yours in a tender kiss. With a few seconds passing of the PG-rated kiss, his hand drifting down towards your ass parts your lips in a gasp, his tongue melding with yours in a hotter exchange. The two of you makeout with each other for a few minutes before you both hear the pitter-patter of footsteps upstairs, pulling apart and separating to your original spots on the couch.

Nothing more comes from upstairs, and Joel sends you a suspicious look.

“Probably should go make sure she’s not destroying her room or somethin’ to make that weird doll.”

You laugh and nod, standing up from the leather seat. Joel follows you to the front door, watching you slip your shoes on and grab your bag from the table. He grins when you turn back to him, reaching out to pull you in.

“Wanted to ask you somethin’ before I forget.”

“And what’s that?”

His eyes drift down to the ground and he clears his throat, free hand finding the back of his neck and moving up to mess with the hair at the crown of his head. Legs shifting his weight back and forth, left thumb rubbing circles into your hip before his eyes come back to you holding trepidation.

Is Joel…nervous?

What the hell could he need to ask you that has him acting like this?

“Is everything okay?”

You lay your hand over his on your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“God, yeah, I’m sorry. Just, I, uh, I was wonderin’ if you were doin’ anything on Saturday night?”

Joel Miller is this nervous to ask you out?

Joel Miller is this nervous to ask you out.

Damn, he’s adorable.

“Joel, are you asking me out?”

He sees the smile hidden in you expression, an embarrassed groan rumbling from his chest.

“I haven’t asked anyone out in years, sweetheart, so you’ll have to forgive me, but yes. Was wonderin’ if maybe you’d wanna go for a drive, and then stay the night with me? Sarah’ll be at her mom’s for the weekend. And I’ll be real lonesome.”

He shoots you his best pleading look with those big brown puppy eyes — another thing you never thought you would see from Joel Miller, but after a week of being something with him, you’ve come to learn that he uses them frequently to get what he wants.

And you definitely haven’t built a tolerance for them.

And probably never will.

“No need to try to persuade me, I’d have agreed without the eyes, babe.”

He winks lightning fast, shaking his head. Feigning innocence with the look across his face, shrugging his shoulders and holding you to his chest.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, cariño,” a chaste kiss is shared, and then another, and another, “You really wanna stay over?”

“Course I do,” your hands find his shoulders, nerves crossing his eyes, “Don’t worry. I’ll tell ‘em I’m staying at a friend’s house. We can figure somethin’ out with my car.”

“I’m sorry, darlin’. Just don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“I know, Joel. It’s alright. Don’t want to have you end up with a shotgun pointed at you. Metaphorically speaking. Dad doesn’t have a gun.”

He huffs out a tight laugh, nodding slowly and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“See you tomorrow? We can figure out Saturday night then?”

You nod and give him a taut, thin smile.

“See you tomorrow. Night, Joel. Tell Sarah I said g’night too.”

“Course. G’night, sweet girl. Sleep well.”

He gives you one last peck before holding the door open for you, watching from the threshold as you cross the yards and give him one look back, waving to him.

Excitement for the weekend swirls in your stomach, but you can’t help but feel the sharp pain of your heart constricting at the thought of keeping a secret for the summer.

The pathetic air conditioning of your 1997 used Honda CR-V spits out lukewarm air while the rest of the car bakes in the 96º evening heat in the middle of July.

The skin of your thighs is plastered to the gray leather of the seat below you, and you can already tell it’s going to be extra painful to peel yourself out. At this point, you’re gripping the hem of your strappy white sundress and fanning yourself in an attempt to cool down even a little bit.

20 minutes have passed since you parked up at the far end of the lot outside of Foley’s department store at the Highland Mall. You’d told your parents that you were heading over to Emily’s house, a friend from high school, and spending the night there. After covering for her countless times over the last few summers, she owed you a favor — no questions asked — and so you made sure she would corroborate your lie if your parents asked.

But being the goody-goody you always were paid off from time to time. They trusted you enough to not have to check in with anyone you’d mentioned hanging out with, never expecting you to lie to them. And you really didn’t, not fully. You were going to spend the night at a friend’s house, it just happened to be Joel’s instead.

Joel didn’t let any detail slip yesterday when you were talking about tonight before you left. You’d come up with the plan to meet in the mall parking lot, but when you asked what he’d planned, he only gave you a grin and shook his head.

“It’s a surprise, sweetheart. What kinda first date would this be if there wasn’t some element of surprise? I wanna do somethin’ for you, so let me.”

Another five minutes have passed and you are nearing suffocation from the heat in your car. Finally, Joel’s Ford pickup is coasting through the virtually empty parking lot in your direction, slowing down to a halt before he throws it into park. You turn toward your passenger side to gather your purse and your backpack filled with your overnight necessities.

“Shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked just sittin’ here, sweetheart.”

Joel’s voice sounding from right behind you makes you jump, whipping your head around to look at him over your shoulder with a huff.

“Fucking hell, Joel, scared the daylights outta me!”

He laughs, leaning against the frame of your car to block you in.

“Like I said, shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked. Don’t know who’s gonna come by and try somethin’.”

“Oh hush, nobody’s out here,” you slide your purse over your arm and turn off the ignition, dropping your keys inside of its largest pocket. Joel backs up a few steps to let you climb out, a soft wince slipping from behind your teeth as your skin sticks to the seat. Once you’re standing in front of him, you turn around and lean over the seat and center console to grab your overnight bag.

Joel’s hands find your waist and turn you back to him when you have your backpack, a tender smile on his face as he looks down at you.

“Didn’t get to properly say hello to ya.”

His lips meet yours in a supple kiss, a smile finding its way onto your face as he lets out a satisfied hum.

“Hello to you too,” both of your smiles match before you continue, “So what’s the plan? I need somethin’ cold wherever we’re goin’, I’m sweating.”

His smile grows wider while his head slowly moves left to right. Your hands brush when he takes your overnight bag from you, his other hand finding the small of your back to guide you to the passenger side of his truck.

“You’re nearly there, darlin’. If I know anything about you, I know you’ll like what I’ve got planned for you.  And I promise it’ll cool you down.”

When the car door clicks open and he swings it out, Joel sends you a wink before offering you a hand to help you climb up into the cab. He closes the door behind you, making his way around the front to his side, setting your bag on the seat behind him, and starting up the truck.

Warmth spreads on your skin when his hand finds your thigh, long fingers extending to the inside while his thumb sweeps back and forth languidly toward the outside. Strip malls filled with one-off businesses, chain restaurants, and a few honky tonk bars blur past through the window, Joel heading in the direction opposite of your neighborhood and further out of Austin proper. The windows are cracked, and the speed of the car cools the wind down as it rushes in, swirling your hair around. You open the window further, extending a hand out and closing your eyes as you feel the evening summer air fill the car.

Joel slows to a stop at the first red light you’ve hit and you slowly open your eyes, taking in your surroundings and smiling softly when you recognize where you are. His timbre takes you out of your observations, head snapping in attention to him.

“You look real beautiful tonight, sweetheart. Pretty as a peach.”

The hand on your thigh finds yours closest to him, lacing your fingers together and bringing the back of yours up to his mouth to press a sweet kiss to your skin as the light turns green. You hold his hand with both of yours in your lap, a shy grin on your face.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, Miller. Lookin’ mighty handsome, but you always do.”

“Oh yeah? You think I’m handsome even when you see me dirty and sweaty and exhausted most of the time?”

He glances towards you, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Well don’t go fishing now, but yes I do. Especially then,” you say casually, shrugging your shoulders before adding, “You’re built like a brick house. It’s hot seeing you all sweaty and dirty with your hair messed up and your t-shirts tight around your arms and your chest.”

Joel laughs, squeezing your hand in his and shaking his head in disbelief.

“Don’t think anyone’s ever said that I’m built like a brick house.”

“It’s true! In the best way possible. You’re solid and strong and tough. Safe. Sturdy. Reliable. The metaphor extends past your looks.”

“Thank you, sweet girl. ‘M glad you see me that way.”

He takes a breath in like he’s going to continue but it’s interrupted by getting his chance to turn off the main road and into the first destination of the night — the Tastee-Freez that you and Joel had talked about visiting when you were kids. Come to think of it, there’s a good chance you would have been there at the same time when you were younger.

A nostalgic grin crosses your face as you look over at Joel, a sheepish smile on his face. He scans for a parking spot, finds one, and lets go of your hand to stretch his arm behind your seat, twisting around in his as he effortlessly backs into the spot.

Why is it so attractive when a guy does that?

At the walk-up window, Joel stands slightly behind you with his hand rubbing up and down your back while you both act like you’re reading the menu when in reality, you’ll get the same thing you’ve been ordering for years.

It was a quick wait until you were up at the window to order, Joel’s hand still on you.

“Ladies first, darlin’.”

For you, it’s a vanilla-chocolate twist soft serve in a cone with chocolate hardshell dip.

For Joel, plain vanilla with butterscotch hardshell.

And yes, you had to give him a little shit for that.

The two of you find an empty picnic table at the side of the building, sliding onto the benches across from each other. Joel rests on his elbows on the table, leaning closer to you while his right leg slips between yours as if you’re a magnet. In between bites and licks of ice cream, the two of you reminisce together about coming to this particular establishment as kids, and then as teenagers, rowdy and causing trouble in Joel’s case. 

“That poor kid!”

“Oh, c’mon. He was eleven and it was Tommy. He doesn’t need your sympathy, darlin’. He was askin’ for it.”

“No eleven-year-old deserves gettin’ an ice cream cone to the head when he was talkin’ to his first crush! I can’t believe you were such a cruel older brother back then.”

“Cruel? I wasn’t cruel. I was building character. Now he’s a slightly less annoying pest.”

“That’s such bullshit, oh my god!”

Easy banter bounces between the two of you, stories running off on tangents and revealing details to each other about yourselves. Laughs and flirty passes are shared, Joel insisting on you trying his cone after you dogged on his choice again. You ended up swapping, Joel giving you the last bite of chocolate dip that your original cone had before finishing it. Flimsy paper napkins stuck to your hands as you attempted to clean up the drips that covered your skin, giving up and running to the bathroom at the back to wash your hands quick. Joel emerges at the same time as you from the men’s, giving you a smile and catching his hand with yours as your strides match up.

“Ready for the next surprise?”

“If it’s anything like this one, you have my full trust.”

“So glad you said that, ‘cause I actually booked us an appointment to get matchin’ tattoos.”

Your face drops, gaze snapping over to Joel and rolling your eyes when you see the playful twist of a smirk on his lips, humor in his eyes. Gripping his bicep, you shove him to the side gently, Joel not getting too far with his hand anchoring him to you.

“Quit fuckin’ with me!”

Joel’s head falls back as he laughs, slowing his walk as the two of you approach the truck again. He opens the door for you, grinning sweetly and pursing his lips.

“Can’t help myself, you look cute gettin’ fucked with. All flustered and wide-eyed.”

He winks before kissing your temple, a heat crawling up your spine and settling in the back of your neck. After helping you into the car, Joel’s back in the driver’s seat and eases the car out of the parking lot. He takes a right, heading back in the direction of your neighborhood.

About three miles from home, he takes a left and drives a bit further west. The radio plays quietly, a comfortable silence filling the car. His hand rests on your thigh again, half of his fingers slid underneath the hem of your sundress. His gaze is straight ahead on the road, and you take a moment to study his chiseled profile.

Familiar trills of piano and a bright, full voice rings out from the speakers. An excited gasp drops your jaw in a short inhale, your hand reaching for the volume dial to turn it up. Don McLean’s American Pie plays loudly into the truck now, a wide smile on your face as you look over at Joel next to you.

“I fucking love this song!”

The slower introduction seamlessly transitions into the upbeat, classic summer song as you roll your window down all the way. Your arm falls out of the opening, hair blowing in the wind as you start to sing along with Don.

“Do you believe in rock 'n' roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow?”

Your eyes shut tightly while you nearly shout the words, laughing in between the lines.

Joel’s own laugh interrupts your singing of the rest of the verse, and you sit up quickly to turn toward him.

“Sing along! I know you know how Miller. I saw your guitar and your daughter likes to tell me about all the songs you sing together.”

“You sound much better than me, darlin’. I like listening to you.”

“C’mon, please! For me?”

The song continues to play while the two of you project back and forth, Joel giving in to your own pleading puppy eyes and joining in with you on the chorus. His voice is gruff and bluesy, and suddenly it’s your favorite sound besides his speaking voice. The two of you start to shout the words, carefree when you pull up to stop signs and dance in your seats. Joel holds his hand in a fist over to you, your own hands wrapping around it and using it as an air microphone. He brings it back to himself, bobbing his head while the words effortlessly fall from his lips.

The river comes into view between trees, and a smile finds your face as you realize where he’s taking you. Another place you’d mentioned in passing that he’d paid attention to.

Parking up at the lookout point, the song fades into the next one. You turn the volume back down, sighing happily as you take in the view of the sunset starting. No other cars are around, the two of you alone in the spot you love to visit when you come back home during the summers to watch the sunset fully unobscured.

“You’re a good listener, y’know.”

Joel turns to you with a coy grin tugging one corner of his mouth up. He shrugs and rubs his hand against your thigh.

“Easy to remember things about you.”

The simple sentence strikes a chord in you, your heart beating faster and gut swirling with a warm, airy feeling. You can’t think of anything to say to him to convey what you’re feeling, so instead you unbuckle yourself, sit up and scoot over across the bench seat to his side. Your gaze only drops from his eyes to glance at his lips before you kiss him. It’s slow and syrupy, stretching your insides like taffy. Your tongue melts with his, soft whimpers being swallowed as Joel’s hands grip your thigh, gathering you across his lap. His hands move around you, pushing the steering wheel up as far as it could go and adjusting his seat back to give you more space to sit comfortably. Once the seat is settled, he wastes no time finding the flesh of your ass, hands slipping under your dress and moaning quietly when his fingertips brush against the lace of your panties.

“Wore somethin’ pretty for me, darlin’?”

“Mhmm. Wearing those white ones you like so much.”

“Fuck me.”

A giggle falls from your lips against his, the bulge of his jeans growing under you. His large hands on your ass push you down and grind his hips up against your covered pussy. The center of them sticks to your folds, your own hips swaying in the same rhythm. Heady kisses continued, Joel pulling away to attack your neck with kisses, licks, and tiny bites. All that comes from your mouth are whispers of his name.

Beneath you, you can feel that Joel is rock-hard. Saliva floods your mouth, an image of him in your mouth right here in his truck playing in your mind. A jolt of adrenaline kills your nerves, confidence filling your chest as you pull away from Joel, moving to sit at his side on the bench again. Joel stares at you inquisitively, his lust-hazed mind taking a moment to catch up until your thoughts become clear when you pop the button of his pants and drag his zipper down. His hand lays over yours, eyes locking with yours.

“You don’t have to do anything, sweetheart.”

The anxiety starts to crawl back, and before you lose your nerve, you shake your head.

“I want to. If you want to. It’s okay if you don’t, we can forget—”

“Definitely want to, darlin’. Definitely. If you’re comfortable,” his hand sweeps over your cheekbone and down your jaw, a tender grin crossing his face, “You ever done this before?”

Shaking your head, you bite your bottom lip.

“Never, um, with my mouth. But with my hand, yeah.”

“That’s a good start, cariño. I can teach you how to do the rest, but you show me what you know.”

You kiss him again while he pushes his jeans down to his kneecaps along with his boxer briefs, his cock springing up against his t-shirt. Your lips pull away from his as your head stares down at his lap, licking your lips. Joel’s voice rumbles low as he mumbles.

“G’head, pretty girl.”

A long exhale is quiet out of your nose, your tongue wetting your palm before your hand wraps around the base of his thick cock, starting languid strokes along the length. Pre-cum pebbles out of the slit at his tip, your thumb ghosting across it as your hand reaches the top on the next stroke. A short hiss squeezes out from behind your Joel’s teeth, his hand gripping your side while his head finds a place in the crook of your neck and his mouth continuing to pepper kisses and nips against your skin.

The pace of your hand speeds up, a faint moan from Joan vibrating against you.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Feels good,” another sigh of a moan cuts him off before he adds, “Think you wanna try with your mouth now? We’ll take it slow.”

“‘M ready.”

Joel helps you get comfortable kneeling over him on the seat and you feel the burn of his stare when you bring your mouth down toward his dick.

“Just start with the tip, darlin’. Y’can kiss it, lick. Only take it in when you’re ready.”

You follow his gentle instructions, kissing his tip and feeling his pre-cum coat your lips where it meets his skin, licking the spend before running your tongue across the tip. The sounds from Joel above you go straight to your aching pussy, your panties completely soaked without his touch reaching there. Your kisses drift down his length, tongue tracing over the veins before your mouth returns to his tip, taking the head into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks.

“Oh, fuck. That’s so good, baby. Just like that.”

At his encouragement, you swirl your tongue around him in your mouth before lowering your head and dropping your jaw wider to take more of his large cock. Joel instructs you to use your hand on the rest of him, following the same rhythm with your fist when you start to move your head up and down. He moans your name, hand resting on the back of your head and fingers tangling in your hair. You work your mouth on his cock, your free hand slipping between his legs to give attention to his balls.

“God damn, sweetheart. Sure you haven’t done this before?”

His breaths are short and you feel his balls tighten in your hand. He twitches in your mouth and he rasps out that he’s close. You’re desperate for him to come in your mouth, taking as much of him as you can before it sets off your gag reflex at the back of your throat. The loudest moan you’ve heard from him rumbles out of his chest, soft “fuck”s following it.

“Gonna come, sweet girl, fuck. Don’t have to take it in your mouth.”

Your lips leave him with strings of saliva tethered from his cock to your mouth, shaking your head quickly.

“I want it in my mouth.”

Joel’s eyes darken, nearly black, a flash of deep desire in them.

“Think we both know you got better manners than that, sweetheart.”

Your cunt flutters around nothing as his commanding voice, whimpering as he tugs your hair gently to look at him.

“May I please have your come in my mouth?”

“What are you forgetting? Ask again.”

His own hand works his cock, sweat pooling in the exposed skin at his collar.

“May I please have your come in my mouth, sir?”

“Good girl,” you relax next to him, bending over his lap again as you hear him give you permission, “Go on, pretty girl. ‘S all yours.”

His cock fills your mouth again, the tip gagging you again and muscles tightening around him send him over the edge, warm come spilling onto your tongue. You try to catch as much as you can before it slips down him from your mouth, his hand at the back of your head pulling you off to look at him again.

Awestruck, blown pupils stare at you as you show him his spend on your tongue, closing your lips and swallowing. He groans your name, breaths slowing while he watches you use your fingers to clean around your mouth, sucking your fingers before licking his cock clean of his come.

“God, you’re fucking incredible.”

He kisses you deeply, cupping your chest with one hand and thumb brushing over your hard nipple. You settle back with a proud smile, shrugging casually.

“Got a good teacher, I guess.”

He kisses you again, sighing softly as he pulls away.

“Better be ready for another lesson when I get you in my bed tonight. But I think you’d just qualify this one as a lecture. No need for student participation.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. Gonna make you come with my fingers and then on my mouth. You want that, baby?”

Your head lulls in a nod, a smirk crossing your face.

“Yes, sir.”

Joel groans, shaking his head as he mirrors your smirk.

“You’re fixin’ to be trouble with that, aren’t ya?”

“Yes, sir.”

You wink as Joel tugs his boxers and jeans back on, not bothering to button them. After the two of you get buckled, he backs out of the parking space, shaking his head again as he starts back to his house, driving a bit faster than before.

“Mi pequeño diablo, my little devil. Who would’ve thought you were such a naughty girl?”

Falling back against the pillows at the head of his bed, a film of sweat coating your naked body with a sheen and chest heaving to catch your breath after your third orgasm from Joel. He’d sped back to his house, only slowing down to drive normally down the neighborhood streets to not draw any attention to the two of you. Once you’d made it back, he’d virtually carried you inside with how quickly he was moving behind you and guiding you up to his bedroom.

His fingers had coaxed the first out of you, straddling his lap at the edge of the mattress after a heavy makeout session. His lips spilled out Spanish, translating for you after he’d let it all out.

“Te ves tan hermosa cuando te corres, cariño. Quiero que lo hagas una y otra vez solo para escuchar tus pequeños sonidos y mirar esa cara. You look so beautiful when you come, sweetheart. I want to make you do it over and over just to hear your little sounds and look at that face.”

Dressing you down to only the lacy set you had worn for him, he worshipped your body with his mouth, pressing kisses and marking you with lovebites as he got you completely naked. Teasing your nipples, fanning his breath over your wet cunt, he roused you up to use his mouth to make you fall apart all over again.

After his taste of you, he begged you to let him do it again.

“Just one more, sweetness.”

“I can’t do it, Joel, ‘s too much.”

His fingers worked you open slowly again, whimpers falling from you as he sends you soft encouragements.

“You can take it, pretty girl. This pussy was made for it, made for me to play with.”

It didn’t take much more convincing after he said that, his thick fingers and mouth pulling out that third ultra-sensitive orgasm from you, his name moaned repeatedly from you as you look down at him using his tongue to clean you up.

You finally caught your breath, exhaustion rushing over you as your hazy vision watches Joel clean you up with a warm, damp washcloth. Your eyes fell closed, turning on your side on his bed and using the last of your energy to slide under his comforter. The bed sinks when the weight of him joins you, strong arm wrapping over your side and tugging you closer across the sheets. He’s bare besides his fresh pair of boxer briefs.

“You sleepy, my sweet girl?” His voice is low and raspy, lulling you into the warm slumber.

“Yeah, but I wanna stay up with you.” You fight the feeling of falling, peeling your eyes open and stretching your lips into a drowsy smile when you see Joel’s affectionate look.

“‘S alright if you wanna go to bed, we’ve got the morning, too.”

“No, no. Just ask me a question, if I keep talkin’ I’ll stay awake.”

Joel chuckles, his smile showing off his teeth as his hand reaches for the side of your face, brushing your hair behind your ears.

“Alright, rapid-fire questions, sweetheart. Favorite color?”

“Green.”

“You?”

“Purple.”

“Childhood pet?”

“Dog. German Shepherd named Roxie. She was the best.”

He laughs softly again and nods.

“Had a mutt we found in our neighborhood. His name was Mancha. Means Spot, or really stain, in Spanish. My mom thought she was hilarious.”

It’s you laughing now, grinning widely.

“That is hilarious. Is she—is she still around?”

His lip twitches, eyes darting from yours for a second.

“No, she passed away when Sarah was two. Dad’s been gone since I was seventeen.”

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

You skate the pads of your fingers across his cheek in a tender touch.

“Thank you, darlin’.”

He punctuates his statement with a kiss on your forehead, hand tightening at your hip before he continues.

“What was your first impression of me?”

Your skin heats and a sheepish smile crosses your face, shaking your head.

“I was hoping you would never ask me this,” you groan before dropping your eyes from his and studying your finger as it creates constellations of the freckles on his chest, “I saw you first from my living room window getting out of your truck when you moved in. I thought you were really attractive; probably would’ve said hot. I thought it was kind of funny that you were yelling at Tommy, and I could see your whole demeanor changed when you grabbed Sarah out of the car. You just lit up and it was so endearing. And then I was immediately embarrassed when you noticed me and waved to me.”

“Y’know, I saw you way before that day, sweetheart.”

Surprise twists your face, wide eyes meeting Joel’s.

“What? What do you mean? Are you a stalker?”

“God, no,” he laughs before he caresses your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth, “It was the first time I toured the house. It musta been your Spring Break or somethin’, but you were sittin’ in the hammock in your backyard when I walked out onto the deck in our yard. Thought it was nice to see what the neighbors were like. Then you got up and walked towards the deck, and I really saw you when you got closer. Felt like the wind got knocked outta me, you were just so beautiful. Like the sun was radiating off of you that day, kinda— what’s the word?...Ethereal. I was sold on the house already, but the chance to see you again, meet you, was the cherry on top.”

You swallow audibly, breath caught in your throat as you look at him tenderly. Leaning over to him, you press a gentle kiss to his lips and say quietly.

“Bet my pajamas and bedhead look on your moving day had you second-guessing your choice.”

All he does is shake his head, a smile plastered on his face.

“Not a chance, my sweet girl. Not a chance.”

Conversation slows as both of you grow more exhausted, Joel turning to lay on his back and tucking you into his side. Your ear rests over his chest, the strong, steady thump of his heartbeat drawing you into sleep, not before pressing one last kiss to his skin.

taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @clingontolife @elizabeth01585 @wandaandellie @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @livinxdeadxgrl @sw33tp1xie @starsandsaints07 @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @whydontyoysaynodoja @beee-haw @shmaptainshmerica07 @jenna-mcgraw19 @whore-4-pedro @spursgirl14-blog @katifefe @joelmillerswifu @itsgiorgiaz @soph55 @grapejuicesny @wild-hearts-runfree @youcancallmeelle @lisa-ru @jupitren @ziggy-star @miaispunk @oneofutoo @starkovli @thatgeminigirlx @marchai @bunnyskisses @houseofballoonsth @casual-obsessions @pedro-pascal-lvr @bimbodolls-world @burningnerdchild @tuquoquebrute @mrsvedder12 @estelivi28 @helllsent @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @angie2274 @owod3 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn @sunakochansama43 @elissaaa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain

#joel #writing #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #neighbor au #hot & heavy #joel miller smut

[millerscoffee]

dancing is a dangerous game | part three

"the only thing i'll ever ask of you, you've gotta promise not to stop when i say when," she sang.

6.8k | joel miller x f!reader

this is part 3 of the "dancing is a dangerous game" series | other parts below:

part one | part two | part three | masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings (for this chapter): post-outbreak au. no ellie. no clickers. mentions of consensual non-con (spoiler: it's more that reader is nervous and is scared things will fuck up, so she tells joel not to stop if that tension in her rises). survivalist!joel, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), soft!dom joel, introduction of safe word, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv (unprotected), cum eating (whoops), biting, crying, fluff, angst, READER RIDES A HORSE! no use of y/n.

summary: within your second week at joel's, there are things you are forced to look within yourself. joel helps you through it.

A/N: i really appreciate all of the notes and comments for this series! i didn't know where it would lead when i wrote that first chapter, but it's all overwhelming and sweet! i know the last chapter was more plot, but i feel progression with these twooooo 👀

"I don't think it's trust." "Then. What. Is. It?" Joel moves over to you at the bed's edge, taking your chin in his warm hands. It's as if the breath got knocked out of you. Like he's doing what you asked without you realising it. "I can't–" you feel undeniably small. Tears fall easily when you look down at your laps side by side until your vision gets blurry. His booming stirs in you. Not fear, but not necessarily happiness. He's compelling you to look at patterns within yourself, it makes you want to break down. Panic threatening to tap at the door of your sternum. Just when Joel's index finger, large and calloused, curls under your chin. It gently coaxes you to lock eyes and your lip wavers. "You're doing so good," when he says it, voice like honey in comparison to the rough-textured grip he has on your face, your heart races.

When Joel back turns around, his eyes are dark. Like he’s thirsty, but would only drink if you let him. He’s deliberate in brushing past you on his way up to the loft, his presence lingering just at the end of the stairs. “Come to bed.” It’s simple, and what you come to learn, is Joel’s way of asking. He don’t. But he gives you room to make the choice. You don’t recall your eyes even scanning the living room. They only land on the broad frame in front of you, and you follow it like a beacon of light. Beginning your second week, you don’t sleep on the couch anymore.

You're skittish when reach the top of the loft.

What if he expected something from you? What if it was more than what you were willing to give?

What did you want to give?

"It's nice up here," an attempt to purchase to any sort of gravity. Anything to make sense of just how you ended up in the situation in the first place. The feeling of Joel's lips still very much present on your own.

But your eyes stay at the ground, more in your own head than you are able to look at the man you're in front of. Joel tilts his head to catch your gaze.

"You sayin' that to me, or y'erself?"

"Oh... uh... to you. To you." You flash a crooked, but distant smile.

"Hey," Joel hushes, walks over to you, his frame seeming somehow even larger in the petite space. "If this is too much, we can get you back down there. Y'know. Extra blankets."

"No–" you object so quickly you have to clear your throat. "I mean... no. I want to stay. Just..."

"Hadn't shared a bed with someone?"

"Not in a long time." You think of your past lover. The warmth the two of you made together under makeshift tents and old buildings with shitty furniture. Taking turns sleeping while keeping an eye out for danger. This was different, and so were the circumstances.

Joel walks over to what you presume is at least the start of his side of the bed before his inevitable migration to the centre of it at night, and gets undressed until he's left in his boxers. Unlike when the two of you had sex and he wasn't wearing anything under his jeans. It was like he didn't know you were gonna be up there with him tonight.

"We'll take it slow, if that's what you want." Climbing into bed, Joel opens the opposing side of the blankets for you. His hair slick back from your fingers combing through it downstairs. Orbs seeking to learn your quiet demeanor. He looks sweet. Patient, even.

How could you say no to that? Not when he's being so compassionate. And certainly not when he's giving you the choice.

The temptation to be vulnerable could kill you. Could be dangerous.

Then again, the situations you continuously put yourself in before you met Joel had more consequences than getting in this man's bed. A man who was shifting your perspective. He didn't seem like any other person that entered your life only to leave it.

You choose to ignore the expiration date in a few short weeks.

So you abandon your jeans. Neatly fold them in a chair tucked away in the corner of the room. Everything in slow motion to quell the reality of your emotions towards the man you currently have your back to. The man who made you feel melted and was being uncharacteristically open with you long before whiskey was involved.

Not that the whiskey mattered, you weren't really feeling its effects anymore anyway. This experience had you both to a sober, cognitive state. You had control of yourself considering how out of control you felt on the inside.

In your underwear you stand with a blue cotton t-shirt that just grazed the crease of your bottom and your exhales are shakier than you'd like to admit.

Because if you admit it, then it's true.

If you admit it, he could have a lot more control over you than you knew what to do with.

"Joel," you sound faraway when you break the silence. Back still to him, you tilt your chin at your shoulder before closing your eyes and inhaling deeply. You can't believe what you're about to say.

"If I tell you to stop, I don't want you to listen," Tears wick at your eyes, blinking them away rapidly before turning to face Joel directly. You can't bring yourself to look at him, yet.

And he's silent.

"Because if we start this... it–it's not gonna be easy for me," you your hands, shaking them off as if the energy could ease by doing it. Pleased when it kind of works. "I'm not gonna be easy, and I don't mean sexually...," you laugh pitifully, "My impulses may make me want to stop. From what I've... god I sound so pathetic, from what I've been through." Teeth grit, tears fall, "It could be too much. And, too–," sentences chop, "I want this. If we start this I don't think I could stop. Which sounds counterintuitive, but... yeah."

You want to fucking vomit from exposing yourself this way. Your mind swirling from the brain break you just gave yourself. Did any of it make sense? Did you come all the way up the ladder just to ruin any chance of being close to him? Why did you want to be close to him? You feel like an idiot, to put it crassly. A credulous girl making hasty decisions only to retrieve back into complacency.

These thoughts flood your mind and you're sure the storm is evident as it crosses your brow. So caught up in forbidding your heart to find resolution that you can't see what's in front of you.

What's been in front of you, if only you'd pluck it.

When you finally land on him, he looks concerned. Like he's taking in every word you say and committing it to memory. He doesn't move from his spot, but he does sit up straighter. Body language letting you know he is open, but not withdrawing.

"You want... this," he repeats you, but in his voice it sounds more seductive. Did you say it this seductively? "And you want me to keep going if you say no...,"

"Sounds kinda worse when you say it out loud." You mumble.

"You trust me."

That makes your face screw up. Shoulders creep towards your ears, the bridge of your nose collides on itself.

"Trust. I don't... I don't do that."

"Well, what else would y'call this request?"

Climbing on the edge of the bed, you sit on it in contemplation. What else could this be? Surveying the room, you come back to him in your line of sight and the furrow of his brow – soft, but covetous – makes you swallow hard.

You have two choices: hit the wall you put up. The one you'd been hitting every day for a week, or you could push through it.

"I don't think it's trust."

"Then. What. Is. It?" Joel moves over to you at the bed's edge, taking your chin in his warm hands. It's as if the breath got knocked out of you. Like he's doing what you asked without you realising it.

"I can't–" you feel undeniably small. Tears fall easily when you look down at your laps side by side until your vision gets blurry. His booming stirs in you. Not fear, but not necessarily happiness. He's compelling you to look at patterns within yourself, it makes you want to break down. Panic threatening to tap at the door of your sternum.

Just when Joel's index finger, large and calloused, curls under your chin. It gently coaxes you to lock eyes and your lip wavers. "You're doing so good," when he says it, voice like honey in comparison to the rough-textured grip he has on your face, your heart races.

This simple act triggers your fight or flight, but you choose to stay and confront this. It helped that any of your other thoughts were ripped from you. All there ever could be was the thumping hum of him in your hippocampus, burning your memories alive. Joel.

"Taking all this in, so well, angel. I know it's for a reason, but I need you to say it. And I need you to mean it. If you want this as bad as you do," his nose brushes against the tip of yours, "you can do it."

It's definitely not the magic of him that clouds your mind. It's more of the fact that this human in front of you, someone who could have killed you, could have just run you off after fucking you – is showing devotion in making sure you find this. That you use your voice. Like he's dangling a key right in front of you, and all you have to do is tell him the truth.

A key to your paradise.

Staring at his lips, you tempt forward, but he pulls away just a centimetre. Not so fast, not until you give me what I want.

You exhale through your nose in reflection. Close your eyes like you're about to jump, and maybe you are.

Jumping off into nothing.

Worse, jumping into something.

His hand moves to the side of your neck, and that causes your own hand to move over his. As small as you feel in his grasp, you try to hold him, too.

"I don't know how this happened," you mutter like you're cursing yourself, but your eyes open. Melting into Joel's touch. "I don't know how you did it, but I... I trust you."

It doesn't register immediately that you are holding your breath as soon as you say it. Half expecting the world to explode, or eight thousand clickers eat at your flesh. Something bad because any time you let someone in, something bad happened. Your superstitions getting the best of you.

But there is no earthquake. No slew of cordyceps-infested human shells scurrying up the stairs– well, ladder.

It's softer. It's solid. It's Joel wrapping you up in his arms, making light work in picking you up to land you gently on the bed that you soon realise is more comfortable than it looks.

Joel's face is a mix of admiration and determination. You can see by the flare of his nostrils that he's proud of you. And you don't know why, but basking under his pride brings a sense of peace you'd long forgotten. It wasn't that you needed his stare to appreciate yourself, but there was no mistaking the safety it gave you.

Your worry doesn't simply melt, though. You meant what you said in that you weren't sure you could do this. Legs spread wide to accommodate the width of his frame, and your breath hitches when he takes the pillow from behind you and guides your head down onto it. Treating you like a delicate thing makes you wonder what it would be like if you did soften. If you did allow yourself to become malleable beneath the grasp of someone so new, but had such hold on you. Not for him, but for yourself. What would it be like to trust? Fully. Under conditions that were so harsh outside the two of you in this moment. Could it be done?

The chatter in your mind stops at the drop of a hat when Joel leans down to kiss you. Even more curious than downstairs, your bodies find it easy to meld together.

You're grateful for Joel's lips to dim the thoughts reeling of what could or couldn't happen. He fills your senses, facial hair brushing against your features, and you're amazed at how that pout of his sends prickles to your skin. How skilled he is in wielding your mind to quiet, and your core to pay attention. All of the blood rushing downward in your haze.

Joel's tongue is the first to tempt in. It brushes into the tangle of your kiss. It's cliche to say it feels like heaven, but you imagine that's what it is like if you had to guess. Like a quiet white, nothing else but the feeling of him and your breaths taking up space as you give yourself permission to move your hands. Fingers snake up his hair, the backs of your knuckles brushing over the old scar at his left cheek down to his jaw. You feel him shudder above you, and wrap his large paw around your wrists to stop you. It makes your heart skip to feel how tender is he knowing you have felt his strength.

It's a secret shared between the two of you that he can be this disarming. And you keep it tight to your chest.

You focus on the heat emitting from his skin. Like he's burning the candle at both ends and his stomach creates all this centralised heat. Your bare legs brush against each other and the sensation from this and his weight brings you direct, but silent communication that this feels good to him, too. That he needs this as much as you do, and wants you. You yet to decipher if it's merely physical.

You don't realise it right away, that your hips are squirming beneath the weight that is the man kissing you like his life depends on it. This makes him pull away from the kiss, and right when you let out a whimper you can feel how damp the fabric clings to your folds.

"Can you hold still?" He's asking you, but it's out of genuine curiosity than a scold. And now that you think about it, now that you're an inch apart you can feel the heat of you radiate from your cheeks, lips, neck, chest. Splotched and muddy, you wonder what you must look like. You manage a weak nod, he nods back, going in for your neck.

"Joel," you gasp, hands moving against his wrists that tighten the tiniest amount against the pressure. His teeth graze over your heartbeat, littering open kisses over the skin and you moan at the same time as him when he sucks. Taking the skin of your neck between his lips and turning marks out of it. Urging you to slip completely under. Your body feels pliable to him, your moans turn to quiet whimpers as he pulls back again. Admiring his work, he rolls his thumbs over the insides of your wrists individually.

"Look at you," he suspires and it's in contrast from when he said it with your ass in the air for him a week ago. It makes you feel adored, whether he did or not. You are stronger than to let tears come up, and you don't. But you know you could if you thought about it long enough. "Gorgeous."

You blush, a full smile tugging your mouth and he pauses, tilting his head. Like he's learning what you like, and taking you in at the same time. "You're being a good girl. You know that, dontchu?"

Oh.

You nod, but it's hard not to bite your lip at that and you're aching now. Your need for him too strong than succumb to your need to guard. Your gesture makes Joel smirk, the tips of his fingers at the base of your shirt and he peels it up to your chest, just at the underside of your breasts and his eyes shift from a golden brown to black in the endeavours of his own hunger. You aren't alarmed that he isn't saying anything, and really it's nice to not verbalise your desires. It was already so difficult for you.

He knows.

And he finds it as no surprise, the keen noises you make when Joel's teeth sink into your flank right under your ribs, but it doesn't tickle surprisingly. Instead it feels good, like an itch you've been wanting to scratch. Like your sides have this constraint from your holding that he's chewing out. His mouth travels up, nosing past the fabric to kiss and suck over the shape of your breasts before cupping his lips around one of your nipples, keeping the other preoccupied under his thumb.

You let out a heady sigh, his whiskers prodding into your skin in the best possible way. His eyes slip shut, and you take in the way his eyelashes splay across his cheeks. It would be innocent if the work he's doing on the peaked bit of your flesh wasn't sending a direct signal to your clit. "Joel, I–"

He pops his mouth off of you instantly. Like your words break a spell, gaze soft and round when they look up at you. "This okay?" You bite down a groan when you hear just how fucked he sounds. Fucked like you sounded when he all but caught you cumming on his couch.

You nod, but he's not so lenient this time. "Words, darlin'."

"This is okay."

"Just okay?"

That seemed to be more of a challenge than a question or disappointment. As if he could do better, go deeper as he explored what you liked.

But you want his mouth back on you, to feel him and not just to quiet your mind. To genuinely feel him take you, and you let out a whine in response. "Joel, you know."

"I can't know unless you tell me, baby."

The slip of this pet name knocks your breath out. Half naked on his bed, your nipples glistening from his spit. Your hand smooths over the side of his neck and you tilt your head down to look at him better. He's being brave, and so should you.

"It feels good. It makes me want more." You're blushing now. To admit that, to tell him you want more – out loud with your words rather than the bucking of your hips leaves you feeling more naked despite being exposed.

But it's the green light Joel needs from you. To know you want him like this as opposed to the first time the two of you got stripped down. It was just you who was naked, then. It was him who was calling the shots. You blink in awareness that he's giving you the reigns in the way he knows how.

Giving you the reigns in light grasp while he takes the rest of the lead, tight in his palms.

He is background hum. He is thunder loud and present – you never see it, but you feel the humidity, and when he grows closer, the wind that moves your hair.

This is what it's like to hand over control to him. He knows what to do with it and he doesn't make you guilty for holding it. You're learning that of him, just as he's learning you.

Affection drips when his brushes his nose against the inside of your tits, lips trailing down your stomach until he grows increasingly aware of the ache between your legs. The pool of wetness slicking over the fabric of your underwear.

This makes him drone, low and hungry, and you blink up at the ceiling because fuck what if he didn't like it? Now wasn't the time for your self-consciousness to invade your thoughts, but it sat with you when you licked your lips – just before sitting on your elbows to get a better look at him.

You didn't do this last time. What if he wasn't into you?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath. Nope, definitely not. He's into you. While his lips press and teeth nip at the insides of your thighs, your breath hitches in the process. "Wet for me?" His question rhetorical, he thumbs over the blotch in your panties and that is enough to make you whine. For your hips to raise.

He pauses then with a serious look about him.

"Say red if it's too much. Understood?" You nod and he pulls his head away, producing a mewl from you. Desperate for contact. "Repeat it." Your eyes roll back all on their own and it feels like sandpaper to swallow from your dry throat.

"If it is too much I will let you know by saying red." Though the words felt formal, the delicious growl coming from Joel's throat lets you know it was exactly the correct way to form the words.

Because he's peeling your undies off completely, giving him a good view of what's in store. "I missed this," he admits and you blush deeper than you did when he was being corporeal. The exhales cool your dampened skin as he gets closer. Wraps his hands around your hips while keeping your legs secure underneath his flexed arms.

His eyes dance between yours and your cunt. Like he's watching what gets you twitching for him, and he's found that it's a mixture between his words and the way he stares at you like you're his last meal. Hard not to, to be fair.

It starts with his tongue at your entrance, like you're letting yourself pour over his tongue and he likes that. His grunts flush your clit, a buzz of him under your skin when he finally presses his tongue inside you. You both let out a sigh of relief by this. And you would run your fingers through his hair if he'd let you, but while he's wrapped his hands around your hips, your arms are on either side of those strong arms. He's subconsciously saying to you: you're not going anywhere, you're going to take it.

And that sends your head to spin. Your chest rises and falls irregularly to the feeling of him ghosting his pouty mouth over your folds until your clit is on fire just to be touched. "J-Joel," it's faint, like you can barely get it out.

"Mm?" He's busy.

"I... I need–"

"What is it, angel?" He asked a lot of rhetorical questions, his breath warm against your sex. "You want this?" His tongue ghosts over your clit and he has to use force to keep your hips in place in order for you to not buck his teeth out.

"Joel!" The sight of your hardened nipples makes him mutter under his breath again, his teeth lightly grazing over the sensitive nub.

You choke a whine, curling your fingers into themselves.

"Is that it?"

"P-please. Please!"

"Manners. Such a sweet little thing." His tongue flicks his tease against the hood of your clit and you practically howl in response. "Taste just as sweet, too."

To say your core is sticky is an understatement, your thighs pull apart slightly every now and then and it feels like effort to pull them apart from just how wet you are. Joel's mouth, Joel's fucking mouth, makes a meal of you then. Tongue rolling and flicking over the glistening skin until he finds sucking is what takes you there above all else.

His plush lips press around the nub of nerves, pulling it into his mouth with such a rush it makes you a whimpering mess far to quickly than you want to be. Thighs trembling involuntarily.

You'd only thought about this from the first day he fucked you. What his mouth would feel like right where it is, and it doesn't disappoint.

You're reduced to a slack jaw, his tongue skilled at the repetitious movements that send you to your climax.

"Cou-could I – fingers?" You quite literally can't get another word out of yourself. You're close, but he obliges – perfectly timed as his middle finger presses inside; working tandem with his tongue. He seems to like the way you feel by the noises he makes, the spongy spot inside you easy to find when you're like this. But that's just Joel, you knew that now. Nothing was hidden when he was in charge of your pleasure.

Although just one, his finger feels thick inside you. Way bigger than yours, and the steady push/pull of his while his mouth sucks on your clit is just too much not to submit to.

So it's volcanic, the eruption within you.

Seriously, it's like one moment you're not cumming and the next your pelvis and thighs are shifting like tectonic plates beneath him. Writhing and igniting with every axon that starts from the core of you and traverses your limbs. You're a mess, physically and mentally. No real words coming out, just a slew of curses and Joel's name as if it is a profanity in itself.

And with the way he's keeping his mouth tightened on you until you've reached it, you aren't too sure his name isn't a blasphemous word that should be left from your lips every second of the day.

On the comedown, your body spasms. Small noises leave your throat until it's a bounded release of giggles, your arm slung over your eyes. "What the fuck have you done?" Fucking giggles. You're giggling for the first time in... god knows how long.

Your sentence is slurred and sloppy, rubbing your eyes as if you're taking your time before you must face him. His soft eyes, mindful kisses along the insides of your thighs – each one sending a signal to your brain to jolt a little each time. Then you feel it, or well, you don't feel it anymore. His finger leaving you empty, an ache you want back.

"Is it such a bad thing?" When he speaks, you notice how hooded his eyes look like this. He's thoroughly enjoying himself, his tongue laps at your folds one last time for the night, mindful to miss the central core of you.

"I don't think so." An honest revelation.

When he comes up, his middle finger tempts your lips from where he was and you aren't shy when you wrap your lips around his finger, cleaning yourself off of him. You reach down when you pop your lips off of him, your hand eager to find his length that's straining beneath the fabric.

But Joel swats your hand away when you tempt it near him, "You’re not doin' that. Not right now." You can see the outline of it, like what's between his legs is begging a different story. Joel, however, has his arm draped around you so heavy that the weight of him won't let you do much else other than drift off to sleep.

"I'll get you back," you warn, yawning into the air. Face greeting the crease of his neck.

"We'll see, darlin'."

You drift off. Your top on, him in his boxers. In bed with a man who was making you understand trust could be on the table without transaction.

---

You wake before sunrise.

It's just the sound of your lungs sharing oxygen in the same space, you shift your body to face his. His back is to you, but you can make out the way his shoulders slope in the dark.

You like this Joel. Not because he's asleep, but because there was no holding between the two of you. Both easy to contract, but seeing him as pliable as you were last night tugs you.

Any pretense disappears until you are both left with your wanting; lying in wait.

And that drives a fire within you. You move forward, your breasts pressing against the broad scope of his back. It's warm, the scent behind his neck lulls you deeper into relaxation until you close your eyes. But Joel's a light sleeper, and the slightest movement towards him wakes him up. He's cautious not to stir right away.

Joel turns then. Fluid in its motion, he faces you. Arms wrap around you, flex and strengthen against the soft frame of your body. Rolling on top of you, your legs come apart naturally and he is warm from the bed. This version of him isn't much changed from last night, but he's more involved in his own taking than accounting for yourself – a grown woman who can make her own resolutions. You choose to stay under him, and he picks up on that.

Your mouths collide in the dark, touching and searching each other and you're slick from its gathering of your night's sleep. Right at the core, he presses his hips down and you respond in your own wave up to meet his. It's easy to slip off your shirt, leaving it abandoned somewhere in the sheets.

His boxers come down enough, then, to feel his cock thump against your folds and you inhale sharply – needing him more and more. He's hard, dripping, white hot against your skin. You clench around nothing before his hand guides himself through the slick of you, tempting over your clit before going back down. "I need you, too," thick with sleep, you groan at the sound of him and the sound of your slick being slipped against.

He's slow, only holding the tip at your entrance and you wriggle – becoming wide awake now with the width of him at your ache. "Please," you whisper, and he indulges. Doesn't make a fuss. Because he wants this, too. Wants you. Said it himself.

"You feel so damn good, swallowin' my tip like that." His face buries into your neck, lazy and sleepy when you wrap your legs around his waist. Fingernails engage his skin when he pushes, stretching you wider and deeper. It feels different from last night. More complete with this involved, too. Your lips brush against his neck while you shiver and experience. In the break of dawn with sleep lines still on both of your skins. It starts off gentle, at least.

Keeping it together is arduous, like you're both bursting at the seams to... let it all go. You have the opportunity to say it, to tell him you want this. It's everything you were explaining last night. How you want this, but it could be difficult to express. And if you were wriggling away from it, you didn't want him to stop.

One minor detail, though. You weren't wriggling away.

Physically, your legs spread further apart, your hand reaching down to touch him. Inviting the tips of your fingers to graze the bed of coarse hairs that resided just above his cock. His breath hitches then, and you both roll your hips; up and down respectively. Allowing him to go deeper, and he is deeper.

"You feel that?" His grip now on the side of your neck, keeping your eyes poured into his – even in the indigo of dawn – and your moans are turned to nothing but choking mewls when you nod. "S-so big," not that he needed his ego stroked, it's the only thing you can think about.

He's blocking any other sense having you like this. You feel every twitch, the rush of his cock growing harder inside you, if that were even possible. Your eyes flutter back in your skull for a moment in time.

"That's what you do to me, baby." His hips are merciless in the way they recoil against yours over and over. The sounds of your skin slapping mesh with the squelching of your cunt. Your hands moving to his head, fingers in his hair and you share the same breath – his exhales, your inhales and the other way around. Leaving you both dizzy and on the precipice.

Your hair sticks to the sides of your neck that he's abandoned to rest his forearms on either side of your head, fingers lost just above your head as he holds you together like this. His eye contact isn't as intimidating as it was before, and this time you crave it. The sun's coming up and it's seeping through the window that he built with the same fucking hands that are tugging your hair to look at him. His cock pulling all the way out to thrust all the way in, and he repeats the process. Tits bouncing, claws finding purchase on the sheets, on anything while he fucks you like this. A wonder fleets of how he can even keep up like this for his age, but it's washed away as soon as it comes. Your toes curling, a guttural scream of his name coming from you when your release is found. Cream coating his cock, you think you're there, but that's when you hear him.

"Easy, baby. That's it. That's fuckin' it, don't you dare fuckin' stop for me. Cum all over this cock. You can take it, that's it." His words send stars to your eyes, mouth lax just like last night but you don't remember. You don't remember anything other than the feeling of him pounding you into his mattress that is rattling and squeaking because fuck, it feels like it could break at any moment. "Joel!" You mean to say more, you really do, but it's too much to. Not while he's fucking and talking you through it, not while his own orgasm hits him when he feels the twitching of your clenched cunt around his cock. Tightening and releasing repeatedly through your bliss.

"Shit, darlin' – fuck!" Joel leaves you as late as he can, and it still feel too soon. He palms his cock a couple of strokes before spilling his hot cum over your stomach and that was sexy enough, but the sounds he's making. The animalistic grunts found through the structure of his nose has you blinking up at him like he's the most magnificent thing you've ever seen.

Maybe he is.

And you wonder then, what it would feel like to have his seed buried inside you, but you don't ask for it.

It's not the right time.

Sun cascades itself through the sky, leaving the room lilac and blue. You're both panting, his body half on you, half on the bed.

"Y'good? Y'okay?" You hear him, but it's muffled from his arm that's over your shoulder, his face plastered into the side of your bruised neck from last night.

"Mmn," you respond, but make an annoyed sound when he's soon to sit up. He looks worried over your body.

"Shit– gotta clean y'up. Sorry 'bout that."

But you smirk instead, thumbing over the pool at your stomach. You bring it up to your mouth with your eyes round and wet when they gaze into his, sucking it clean. "I got it."

Joel blinks with a look of arousal and a grin spread across his face as if to say, what am I going to do with you? "Dirty girl."

"You like it."

"Not wrong."

---

Midway through your second week, it's early when you both start off your chores for the day. You try to pacify the idea of you two being some sort of post-apocalyptic cowboys on a homestead that barely has the proper tools to sustain it half the time. It works for the both of you.

Outside the air is thick, but sky clear as you walk towards the stables. And there's Joel, exactly where you knew he would be. Bent down on his knees, working on the same project you were last week on the stables.

Security and routine close cousins to abandonment and disappointment – this plays in the background of your thoughts. You intentionally swallow it down as you approach him.

"Could I ride her?" You come into his line of vision, and you see him make a sweet face of happy to see you and did I hear you correctly?

"You can ride?" His question has amusement in it, and you scoff – grin tugging at your face. Ignoring the blatant double entendre that he probably didn't even mean to slip out, anyway. But Joel is pleased when you pick up on it because he did in fact say it on purpose.

Of course he did.

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve yet, Miller."

Joel grunts on his way up onto his feet, bowing graciously. "Go right ahead, ma'am."

She's set up to ride when you approach her and you reach out to scratch behind her ear before saddling up on top of her.

"Hey, girl," you smile, petting over the coarse hair of her back. She's gentle, but not exactly willing to go straight away. It makes you laugh, and the ease of tension makes it easier for her to trot. "Same here, sister." You snicker to yourself, and the horse takes you out of the stables. You mostly let her do the leading, but she's easy to work with as you take her around the land Joel has claimed for himself.

There's a freedom you haven't experienced in so long while you're riding her. You remember being a kid on the back of your dad's horse, the wind against your skin like this. The prospect of new. You slow her down in your approach back to the stables after a few minutes.

When you come back, you're welcomed by Joel's clapping hands a toothy smile across his face that hurts in the best way. His pride and entertainment.

Joel basking in this side of you as you open up to him.

"Damn, maybe you could give me some lessons, darlin'. You teach yourself that?"

You appreciate him not assuming someone taught you how to do this, but the truth is you were. "My dad, actually. He taught me how to ride a horse, how to shoot a gun–"

"Not well on that last one," he jabs, motioning towards his leg you purposefully missed.

"You don't know what you don't know."

For a moment, you forget. All that burned to the ground in your previous life. Your father dying in your arms. All of it.

"She and I had a talk," you start, climbing out of the stirrups.

"Oh, did you?" Joel lifts his brow, urging you to go on.

"Her name is Bandit."

"Like you?"

"Like me."

"Figures."

---

You're both asleep up in the loft. Each morning, you were beginning to notice that Joel's night terrors were becoming less and less frequent. Subsequently, so were your own.

That was until one night you were awoken by the sound of your own sobbing, and Joel's arms tight around you. He knew not to wake you up, but he was too concerned not to try to settle you down.

"W-what?" Your voice is groggy, palpitations in your chest high. Confusion suffuses you.

"Shh, s'okay. Close y'er eyes."

Joel feels bad for waking you up, he didn't mean to. He thought he was doing the right thing. Yet even though it takes takes you awhile to fall back asleep, you do fall asleep and stay asleep.

His arm stuck around you. His protection like a blanket.

Joel's eyes stay open until they cannot and slumber creeps up for him.

All in the pursuit of your safety. He doesn't mention it, doesn't ask questions or bring it up.

---

It feels pleasant with Joel. The two of you have a routine of working on your individual duties in the day, but you always come back to each other in the evening. He's rough around the edges, there's still things that he's keeping to himself. But you don't mind because you are too, and there's no rush.

The leisure of this is what takes you by surprise the most. Not Joel being kind, or slow, or even sweet to you.

It's the fact that in the middle of chaos, you have found a pocket of serenity. The stillness between breaths.

Towards the end of your second week at Joel's, you find it brave to drape your calves over his lap while you both read worn books that have been well-loved and repeatedly grazed. In the living room you've chosen poetry tonight. Audre Lorde. Because it's there and it feels appropriate to go for poetry.

You hum to yourself when you read something striking, and now Joel is curious.

"Let's hear it," he calls, not moving his eyes from his own pages and his free palm curls over your shin.

"You want me to perform for you?"

"Quit bein' weird and just read it."

You laugh, licking over your lips before theatrically clearing your throat.

"Kinda liked it better when you were shy," Joel adds, but you know he doesn't mean it.

"You'll get used to it. Okay. Let's see... 'Always / in the middle of our bloodiest battles / you lay down your arms / like flowering mines / to conqueror me home.'"

There's a long pause between the two of you.

"I don't get it."

"You're a bad liar."

"Flowerin' mines don't even exist."

"Joel–" you huff, but that's what he wanted out of you. A response, a reaction, a rise. He puts down his book to look over to you and he's at mercy to your gaze.

"I know what you mean."

It's supported, this comfortable silence. The underbelly of what was the start of a bloodied battle. Unwillingness metamorphosing into a budding bouquet of trust.

You both go back to your books.

No need to say what is right in front of you.

He knew what you meant. Understanding.

It was all you wanted.

taglist: @cool-iguana - comment to be added!

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou fic #tlou smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #soft!dom joel #softdom!joel #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #by bee #dancing is a dangerous game

[albertasunrise]

Hope - Gotta be Hopeful

Masterlist

Summary: After Joel loses his wife and your best friend during childbirth. You support him as he takes on parenthood on his own at 22. But when feelings start to develop, you battle with the guilt you feel for falling for your best friend’s husband.

Relationships: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3 I choose to give none. Read at own risk. 18+… this is to avoid spoilers! (So happy y'all loving this fic. Sorry in advance for this angsty chapter ♥️ slightly shorter chapter but it'll all make sense in the end 🙊)

Series Masterlist - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Your brows pulled together as you eyed the time on the clock. It was gone midnight and the later it got the more worried you became. Alec had promised you that he'd get back no later than 11 and had sworn to call if that was to change. So the fact that it was just shy of 12:30 had you picking up your phone and opening your contacts. 

Your brows pulled tighter when Tommy's name started to flash on your screen. 

"Tommy, what's up? Everything okay?" 

"No." He choked down the phone and your stomach sank. 

"What's happened?" You managed to ask as your hands started to shake. 

"Joel and Alec were heading back from the bar and... Shit... They were heading back and..." He trailed off and your throat tightened as you waited for him to continue "They were in an accident..." 

"What do you mean?" You sobbed as your eyes flitted to the photo Alec has recently had printed and framed of you all at one of the many weekend BBQs you'd had. Joel smiled as he held a giggly Sarah in his arms with Noah at his feet, grabbing his jeans as he grinned at his friend. You and Alec were in a natural embrace. He's kissing your temple as you grin at the camera whilst Tommy stood to one side scrunching his face at the two of you. 

You had taken a few but that was the one you'd ended up picking. It emphasised the family-like unit that had developed between you all. 

Tommy's sob pulled your attention back to the call you were on and you fought to keep yourself together. "I'm on the way to the hospital now with Sarah... Shit... shit it's bad. It's really bad."

"What hospital Tommy?" He gave you the address and told him you were leaving before heading up to Noah's room. 

You picked up the sleepy toddler and grabbed the emergency to-go bag that Alec always had packed for him. The little boy was confused when you carried him to the car and put him in his seat but you tried your hardest to stay calm so that he didn't get worried. 

"Where's daddy?" He asked sleepily as he wiped his eyes and you choked back a sob. 

"We're going to see Daddy, honey." You said softly as you jumped in the driver's seat.

"Is daddy okay?" He asked softly and you shut your eyes a moment as you willed your tears away. 

"I hope so sweetie." 

...

Tommy was cradling a sleeping Sarah against him when you arrived in the waiting room. Noah looked around at his surroundings, his mussy clutched tightly in his little hand. His eyes grew wider when he saw Sarah and he grinned as he jumped up and down on the spot. 

"Sarah here." He screeched, quieting down when you crouched down to his level. 

"I know sweetie but she's sleeping right now." You said softly "We need to be quiet whilst we're here okay? There are lots of poorly people that need to sleep to get better." 

"Are Daddy and Joel sick?" He asked quietly and you nodded softly.

"Yeah, baby... they are but the doctors are going to help them feel better." You said sweetly "But we need to be quiet and gentle so that they can rest okay?" 

He nodded, eyes growing a little teary and you were quick to pull the toddler into your arms, looking at Tommy over his shoulder. He gave you a grim look that made your stomach sink. A short while later, Noah and Sarah were curled up together on the couch in the corner, fast asleep. He held her closely, the blanket from her emergency back draped over the two of them. 

"What are the doctors saying?" You finally managed to ask and Tommy scraped a hand over his face as his eyes drifted to the kids. 

"Joel was driving." He started and confusion filled your features at this new information "Truck jumped a light and t-boned them." 

Your shaky hand flew up to your mouth as you tried to muffle the gasp that slipped from your lips. 

"Joel's suffered internal bleeding and a bleed on the brain. They've put him in a coma and he's on life support. Won't let me see him till he's more stable. They're trying to treat the brain bleed without surgery but..." He trailed off, throwing his head in his hands as he tried his hardest not to fall to pieces. 

"What about Alec?" You asked softly, listening to the soft sigh he let out before he raised his head to look at you again. 

"He's in a bad way." Tommy confessed "Broken leg and arm. Internal bleeding and head trauma." He stated, taking a moment to compose himself "They had to remove his kidney and gallbladder..."

"What else?" You pushed, knowing there was more "Tommy, what else?" 

"His spine was damaged too." Tommy replied, finally looking at you as his eyes started to mist with tears "They're concerned about the long-term damage but at the moment it's too early to tell." 

"Are you telling me he may not walk again?" You sobbed, glancing at the children when Noah moaned softly in his sleep. 

Tommy couldn't keep the tears at bay. They silently slipped down his cheeks as you looked at him pleadingly. 

"They don't know." He answered honestly and you sobbed, cradling your bump when your baby girl started to move. 

...

3 hours later you were finally able to visit Joel. The doctor had promised you that you would be allowed to see Alec soon so you resigned yourself to waiting. You carried Sarah, the lighter of the two toddlers and Tommy carried Noah as you were led to the ICU. Joel was situated in his own room, surrounded by different machines that were throwing out different sounds. Sarah turned her head, tiredly rubbing her eyes as she looked at her father who lay in the bed in front of her. 

"Daddy?" She said softly, leaning back to look at you before returning to her dad "Daddy." She said, her voice growing more distressed and you hushed her as you carried her closer.

"Daddy's not very well." You said softly as you sat in the chair that had been placed beside his bed, Tommy pulling the spare sat in the corner up next to you. 

"Daddy owie?" She asked as she pointed at the scratches visible on his face and arms.

"Yeah, daddy's got a few owies but they'll get better honey." You said softly "Just needs to sleep a little bit and then he'd be all better." 

You knew it was going to be hard for the toddler to understand. You wished you knew what to do. Tommy was 19 so you knew that he was going to need help with Sarah whilst Joel was in the hospital. You were going to need each other as you navigated this mess. 

Now more than ever. 

...

Tommy took care of the kids whilst you went to visit Alec. He looked, physically in better shape than Joel. The doctor had advised you he was sedated but that they were confident he was going to recover. 

They just weren't sure if he'd walk again. 

His right side was almost pure plaster. His arm and leg elevated to help the healing process. You sobbed as you sat beside his bed, wishing you knew what to say to him. How were you going to cope if he ended up paralysed? 

You were 6 months pregnant and had a 3-year-old also. The idea that you were going to have a disabled partner too was daunting. 

"Hey." Alec croaked, pulling you out of your thoughts and you jumped to your feet, cradling his face as you kissed him sweetly. 

"Hey." You sobbed as you pulled back and rested your brow on his. 

"Hey, no tears." He said softly as he used his uninjured hand to wipe them away "It's okay... We're okay." 

You nodded softly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you drew your head back to look him in the eye.

"How's Joel?" He asked and you choked on a sob "He's not?..." Alec asked as his eyes grew wide and you shook your head.

"No... No, he's alive but he's on life support." 

"Shit... God this is my fault... If I hadn't offered for him to drive-"

"No, hey. You can't think like that." You said as you placed your hand on his hip, pulling your hand back when you noted the stitches "Oh, sorry." 

"It's fine, can't feel it." He said, shaking his head and your eyes widened at that "What?" 

You were fighting not to break down as you stepped back from him and covered your mouth to muffle the sobs that wanted to slip out. 

"Baby... what aren't you telling me?" 

"You damaged your spine in the accident." You choked out, hand shaking as you spoke "There's... there's a chance that..." 

"A chance of what?" He pushed and you sobbed harder "Fuck, baby you're scaring me. Just spit it out."

"You might not walk again." 

The silence that fell over you both was deafening. Your whole body was shaking as you watched him process this news, your hand on your bump as she gave you a powerful kick. Making you wince. 

"You okay?" Alec asked, taking you by surprise and then your eyes followed his to your hand rubbing where she just kicked and you nodded. 

"Yeah, she's just making herself known." You chuckled as you made your way to his side again and placed his hand on your bump, smiling as he smiled at the feeling of his little girl moving underneath his fingertips. 

"We'll work this out." He stated, eyes not leaving your swollen middle "It might now be easy but we'll get through this." He finished, looking up at you "I promise." 

You nodded at him, lifting his hand to kiss his grazed knuckles. You believed him. No matter how this went. You were going to make it. 

Alarms started to blare from another room and your stomach dropped. The sound of Sarah screaming made your blood run cold and you glanced at Alec before sprinting out the hall, almost colliding with Tommy as he was pushed from the room, Sarah crying in his arms and Noah clutched his leg. You pulled the inconsolable toddler from his arms so Tommy could pick up Noah, watching through the slits in the blinds hanging in the window as the doctors shocked Joel. 

"DADDY!" Sarah screamed, thrashing in your arms as she tried to reach for him and your heart broke as you stood there and watched them work. 

Praying for her sake that they could bring him back. 

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #last of us #the last of us #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gif #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #last of us fanfiction #Gabriel luna gif

[untaemedqueen]

The Deal

Drug Lord!Yoongi x Coffee Shop Owner!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 30.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Mentions of Drugs and Drug Deals, Blood, Smut, Emotional Damage, Love, Gunshot Wounds

Warnings For This Chapter: Deep Talks, Unprotected Sex, Pregnant Sex, Sir Kink, Begging, Praise, Creampie

It didn't take long to get back to the forest and the whole time Yoongi clung to you like a sloth.

It's almost as if the four months your boyfriend was gone had completely disappeared in the blink of an eye. The way he holds you in sheer silence with his hand pressed snuggly to your stomach makes you almost want to crawl into a hole and die.

You thought you would have so many things to say and so many questions for him but the silence ended up being more comfortable than you could imagine.

No one spoke, really. It was like a gigantic invisible force field was wrapped around the drug lord and nothing could get to him.

Without a word, he scooped you up from the backseat of the trunk once you were both safely home. Now with the both of you sitting at the end of your large bed, he finally speaks.

"I love you."

Your heart wants to shatter and dissipate at the simplicity of his words.

"I love you too," you breathe.

Yoongi pulls you closer, burying his face into your neck with a sigh.

With the silence of the house creeping around you, it feels comfortable.

You feel comfortable for the first time in forever.

"I'm so sorry, baby doll," your boyfriend whispers.

"It's not your fault," you reply.

And you mean that wholeheartedly. It was unfair and unjust what happened to the father of your little girl, he isn't to be blamed at all.

"Taehyung told me some things… about our girl."

You find yourself ashamed, if you're being honest. You haven't wanted to pay attention to your growing bump. It hasn't been an easy road and every hardship along the way has made you resent this unborn baby who's done nothing wrong.

You don't even have the confidence to meet his gaze. You just stare straight ahead, hoping that the conversation would just disappear.

You've gotten so good over the past few months at masking anything and everything you can when you're conflicted. You've had no one to lean on like Yoongi, not even your younger brother who you love so dearly could help ease your pain so you hid it away in a tiny little metal box within your heart.

So you do so now, like all the other times.

"Like what?" you mumble, folding your arms.

Yoongi sits up then, grabbing your wrists gently and prying your locked limbs away from your body. It doesn't take him an ounce of his strength and yet, you still struggle.

"Come on, baby," Yoongi begs, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into the comfort of his hug.

You don't answer him and he takes it upon himself to correct the situation.

"While I was away you turned into me before I got with you. And I get it, believe me I do. It's hard to be angry at the world and keep everything on your shoulders. And you can be angry at me and angry at every-fucking-body because what happened was unfair… but it's not good for the baby."

His words punch you in the gut and you can practically taste bloody iron in your mouth at this moment.

He lays back on the bed, taking you with him and cradling your head against his chest.

"We're in this together, Y/N. You gotta talk to me."

Your sigh is irritated and short but you wrap your arm around him tightly nonetheless. "I'm not mad at you. You didn't do anything wrong."

The drug lord tilts his head to look down at you and he's more relieved than he could have ever imagined. Just hearing those words, hearing that you're still by his side in everything feels so fucking good.

"I'm glad," he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

He's being so calm and understanding that it coaxes more words from you. "I've been pissed at every other mother fucker I could get my hands on these past four months."

Yoongi presses his lips into a hard line hearing just how grated and venomous your voice is. "I know… but I'm home now and you need to focus on our growing girl."

"I can't," you murmur in reply.

Yoongi is fast to sit up and narrow his eyes at you. "We wanted this. We wanted a baby. We tried for her and we're so fucking lucky that we got her. What do you mean "you can't," baby. You have to."

He sounds so hurt that it makes your limbs feel weary.

"She probably hates m-"

"Stop!" Yoongi cuts you off with wide eyes.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you stare up at the ceiling to avoid his harsh gaze.

"Don't. Just don't. This is our baby. She loves you, you're her mother. Please… don't talk that way. We have to show her all the love in the world. Not this… Not this insecurity. You felt guilty and angry while I was gone but baby doll, I'm back. I'm back and I'm not going anywhere. Don't you love her? Don't you love me?"

You answer without hesitation. "Yes."

"Then we show her that love. Do you understand me? You can't keep this anger built up inside of you like this. Please," your boyfriend begs, drifting his hand over your taut skin.

Swallowing the urge to smack his hand away, you can only nod in agreement.

You have been volatile. You have been a wreck. But you need to learn how to lean on the man you love again.

"Yes?" the scarred man prods.

"Yes," you promise.

"Good girl," Yoongi whispers, wrapping you up in his arms once more.

Just to lay in bed with Yoongi all day feels like nothing short of a miracle.

You'd almost forgotten how much you enjoyed this. The softness of his breathing, the rhythmic beat of his heart that sounds like the most cherished of songs, the gentle kisses were almost completely wiped from your memory. But now as you lay under the sheets, watching the setting sun high above the forest canopy… it's all freshly returning to the forefront of your brain, like acrylic paint drying on a canvas.

"God, I fucking missed this," your boyfriend hisses, hugging you tighter.

When your fingers drift below his white tank top, you can feel the ridges of his abs hard and unwavering beneath your touch.

It seems like most of his jail time went to exercising.

Yoongi shivers at the slow almost sensual touch and his head angles towards you with a sly smirk.

"Did you use the prison clause while I was gone?"

You blink at his words, confused at what he's asking. "What's a prison clause?"

He chuckles then, maneuvering onto his side to drift his hand over your skin. "When your significant other is in jail, you can fuck one of the other men in the family if you want."

Your jaw drops at his words and you're completely baffled at the thought. "Ew. God. Why would I do that?"

The drug lord chuckles, leaning down to kiss at the thin skin of your neck. "Well I read a book while I was inside that was about pregnant women. It said that pregnant women's hormones are all fucked up and they're hornier more of the time."

"What? I wanted to crawl in a hole and die, not take a random dick up anywhere."

"That's my good girl," Yoongi preens, nipping at the thin skin until you're writhing beneath him.

You can tell that he has so much pent up frustration within himself that he needs to let loose and with how comfortable you've been all day, you want to let yourself go as well.

"Come here," the drug lord hisses, hooking his hand around the back of your neck and pulling you in close.

Yoongi doesn't care about foreplay at this moment, he only cares about being deep inside of you.

He needs you like he needs air to breathe. It's been too long without you.

"God," he groans, kissing you deeply.

You can taste the missing and the wanting. You can taste the neediness and you're slowly allowing yourself to succumb to everything he wants.

Everyday inside his cell, he begged each and every god to bring him back to you. He needs you in every way and it's been months since he's had anything to do with you.

The drug lord is quick to take off your clothes, not caring about the expensive garments that are torn to shreds in mere seconds.

"Oh my God, look at you," he hisses, running his hands over your sides.

He doesn't care about savoring the moment if he's being honest, he just wants to be balls deep inside of you, chasing a high that he hasn't felt in ages.

Your boyfriend strips out of his clothes in mere moments, not even giving you a chance to appreciate his newly sinewed body.

Your breath gathers in anticipation while he prods the head of his cock to your now weeping cunt.

"I fucking love you," he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours.

He enters you slowly, both of your mouths dropping open at the sheer stretch.

His forehead falters to the valley of your breasts. Whimpering at the small burn as he stretches you, your fingernails graze his muscled, tattooed arms.

"So fucking tight," he groans, suckling at your nipple to distract you.

He lets your pussy adjust around him, his hand cupping your distended stomach.

"God, this feels so fucking good," he whimpers, flicking your nipple with the tip of his tongue.

Pulling his cock almost all the way out, he moans at the way your velvet walls clench around him.

Yoongi kisses you languidly, drifting his fingers along your bump as if he almost can't believe you're carrying his child.

"Tell me how much you missed my cock," he begs, pressing his forehead to yours.

"So much, Sir. It feels so fucking good," you mewl, looking up into his mocha irises.

"That's my good girl," he praises, snapping his hips back to meet yours.

He begins a relentless pace, groaning and moaning as pleasure courses through his bones.

"Fuuuck, you feel fucking incredible," the drug lord hisses, cupping your breasts with his hands.

You can't help the breathless whines and sweet moans that breach past your lips like a prayer.

Your boyfriend continues to lavish you with attention, pulling your ankles up and over his shoulders to deeply fuck you the way you deserve.

"It's been so long," you gasp softly, raking your nails down his inked chest.

"I know baby doll, I can feel your pussy already trembling for it," the drug lord coos.

He begins to develop a thin sheen of sweat, swiping his thumbs sweetly over your stiff peaked nipples and adoring how your body shakes with pleasure.

"God, your little pregnant cunt is amazing," Yoongi praises, moving one hand from your breast to rub fast, hot circles to your throbbing clit.

"S-Sir!" you whinge, feeling your stomach begin to bubble over with euphoric intentions.

"Give it to me, sweetheart. Show me how much you missed me. C'mon," the drug lord mumbles, fucking into you faster and harded until all of your senses solely belong to him.

He can feel your cunt beginning to milk him for all he's worth. "That's it, baby doll. Cum on my cock. Give it to me."

Your breathing becomes shallow and all you can think about is the insane amount of pleasure that you feel as your body tips over the precipice.

You can hear how wet you are, the sound is almost deafening.

"Yes, fuck! Go ahead, baby, let go," Yoongi coos.

As you orgasm, the sharpness of his moan makes you shudder.

"Christ! You're so fucking tight!"

You can feel his cock beginning to thicken and throb within you and you can think of nothing you want more than for him to fill you up.

"Please cum inside me, Sir. I want to feel it," you beg.

His bottom lip tucks between his teeth and he's so close to combusting right then and there at your sweet begging. "Yeah? That's what you want? You want me to cum deep inside you? You want me to make a fucking mess for you?"

You nod incessantly, allowing him to grasp your wrists and haul them over your head in a vice-like grip.

He fucks you faster, allowing all the stress that's become entangled throughout his muscles for months just to diminish slowly.

"You look so beautiful carrying my kid, y'know that?" Yoongi praises, pulling your legs off of him to butterfly them apart.

"Sir," you preen, letting your head loll back as he continues his relentless pace.

"I'm so fucking close," he whimpers, cupping your stomach.

"Cum inside me, please," you whine.

His cock begins to pulse at a rate that seems almost inhuman.

"Who do you belong to, sweetheart? Who owns this pregnant cunt?"

"You, Sir! Only you!"

"Damn fucking straight," he hisses.

His thrusts become harder and uneven and his thighs begin to lock in place.

"Shit! I'm cumming, baby. I'm fucki-"

He groans loudly, burying his face into your neck as he cums deep within you.

It's practically animalistic the way he wraps his arms around you as if to cage you in his embrace to show you where you belong.

You can feel how fast his heart is racing as you place your cheek against his chest.

There's silence for a moment but you're comfortable once more.

"We have a lot of work to do. I'm pulling us out of the business. It's not safe," your boyfriend admits.

Your eyes widen and you look up at him with shock written all over your face. "Seriously?"

Yoongi nods thoughtfully, combing his fingers through your hair. "Yeah. We can't raise our daughter in an environment like this. We need to get out of this forest, create a new, legal business. And we need to start over. We have the money for it."

You never expected this. Not in the least. But you can see how the family needs this.

"Well… where do we begin?" you inquire softly.

"First I need to take care of something…" Yoongi whispers, pulling the sheets over the both of you.

"Like what?" you mumble, getting comfortable on your pillow.

"Reptile exterminating," he hisses, kissing the top of your head.

<---- Last Chapter                                              Next Chapter ---->

The Deal taglist – @jeon-junggoop, @btsarmy9593, @slothykrueger, @jcsmae, @milesjeon11, @cloudyblisss, @borahae-reads, @secretlycrazyhummingbird, @rjsmochii, @sugas-bbygirl, @ggukkieland, @hyungieyoongi, @chxmachxps, @dvalitaes, @vintageroses10, @maerawrrr, @flowerblu00, @veronawrites, @seoqity, @wozwaid, @hisbutton-nose, @sweetempathprunetree, @jinsearthh, @codeinebelle, @serious-addiction, @bt21chim, @rosquilleta, @dunixxd, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @openup-yourmind, @shesaysweirdthings, @marslena, @deathkat657, @yoonlattesworld, @that-funny-alien-28, @clutterfied, @belladaises, @silentkei, @btsnina, @shydestinyyouth, @thefreddieman, @kkklaudiaaa17, @moonchild1, @ronie1974, @jeonghanniehae​, @rinkud, @giselleg7784, @bbkissme99​

#the deal #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #drug lord!yoongi #drug dealer!yoongi #yoongi smut #pregnant smut #bts fics #bts fic

[squireofgeekdom]

haven't done a writing update in a minute, outside of doing wip memes, so --

meet in the middle, chapter 26, the very last chapter -- I think I last counted this at 35 scenes, now I'm counting it at 33, with three of those scenes not having been placed in the outline, i'm pretty sure i've shuffled and consolidated some things, also i may just be off in my counting, who the fuck even knows what i'm doing. Anyway, 7 of those are almost entirely complete, 13 are partially done with 4 of those being more than half done, and 13 are not started.

damn. usually breaking it down like that helps me realize i'm further along than i thought but uhhhhh this really just reminds me how much further i've got. and it's been over a year. trust me, no one is more frustrated at how long this is taking or wants this fic to be done more than i do. cheerleading is. welcome if you want to. That said, all told, writing and outlining and notes and all, the draft is already 8k/30 pages, so it's not nothin, and I do really love some of the scenes I'm finally getting to writing/finishing, and I feel like I've got a bit of momentum. Just gotta keep coming back. 2024 guys, 2024. (knock on wood)

Other things I'm working on - you think a year and change is a while, the Believe AU series hasn't been updated in two+ years cause whoops, that did in fact grow a plot and an ending and it took a hot minute to figure that out. There are four fics left, and the very last one is with my first reader! (thanks M!)

Things that I've started more recently include two Lucius & Fayeth fics, for High Rollers Aerois, inspired by my relisten through (which I've almost finished up!) The first is actually Fayeth & Aridan centric, tentatively titled 'for I cannot turn yet', structured around three scenes, one of which is done, one of which is partially done, and one of which is still notes

The second Lucius & Fayeth fic is tentatively titled 'many rings', which has four scenes mostly/partially written, and then a big ending montage and set piece I still need to break down

As for more things I've been working on for a long ass time - I started 'we both are' shortly after watching the kenobi series, so well over a year now - it's a reva & obi-wan centric fic, to absolutely no one's surprise. I've been making some progress on it recently, it's got 3 scenes pretty much complete, 8 scenes partially finished with 4 of those more than halfway done, and 5 scenes not started.

Plus, a bonus - if you've heard me mention Somnolence or #somnolence fic fuel, that's my post-canon Insomniac Spider-Man 2 fic concept, that's currently just 3k/9pages of notes and bits of writing, but hey, it has a title and a summary - it, in fact, weirdly had a title and a summary before i managed to put a single word of it on page. if you like the weird mindscape/dreamscape kind of stuff i've done in a fair few of my fics, it's going to have lots of that, and if you looked at the spider man 2 symbiote/symbiote hive mind stuff and thought 'this could be weirder and hornier', it should be up your alley XD

anyway, writing! it's a thing i do sometimes.

#squire talks #mitm #believe au #we both are #qpp: you wake up married #somnolence fic fuel

[poledancingdinos]

You’ve Got Me Hooked - Chapter 1

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Riley McKenzie)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Sex work, Stripper, OnlyFans

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @peaches1958​ @identity2212 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond​ @amberangel112​

A/N: I finally found a title for the fic! If you want to be added or removed from my taglist, let me know!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Sy

"Holyshiet,” I blurt out, catching my friend’s attention, “that's fucking cheap. How is that room not taken?" I turn my phone screen towards Jared so he can look at it from across the table.

Jared only shrugs, turning his focus back to the laptop in front of him. "Maybe the guy rentin’ it out is a freak. Or maybe he just didn't bother takin’ the ad down. What’s it say? Posted over 30 days ago?"

I read the ad again, scrolling through the pictures. "The place is nice but the ad doesn't say anythin’ about this Riley guy so ya might just be right ‘bout him bein’ a freak."

At this point, what do I care? I’ve been looking for a place to stay for the last three weeks and so far I’ve found jack shit. Not a single one bedroom is available anywhere in this town or in the two neighboring ones which means I had to start looking at rooms for rent. There were a couple of other places in my price range but all of them involved sharing with a couple of college kids. I’m a thirty-five year old retired army captain. It’s bad enough that I gotta bunk with a roommate again, I put my foot down at sharing with party-loving frat boys who just want me around to buy them cheap beer.

Yeah, this guy might be a freak but the place is about a hundred dollars less per month than I was expecting to pay and there would only be the one roommate. It beats sleeping on Jared’s couch and constantly being a third-wheel to a married couple. I feel like I’m one of those man-child characters on a TV show where the married people set up an apartment over the garage because the husband’s best friend can’t live on his own or hold down a job for shit.

"Only one way to find out," I begrudgingly say, copying the phone number into a blank text and typing up a message.

"Riley?" I ask as I approach him. 

I step down from my truck to find an older man standing near the back entrance of the building. He holds a cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag before pulling it away and stamping it out on the brick wall. 

The man shakes his head, extending his hand for me to shake.

"I'm Clayton, the landlord. I'll be showin’ ya the apartment."

"I thought I'd be meetin’ Riley today.” That pisses me off. Either the guy isn’t reliable enough to hold his appointment with me or he just didn’t give a shit and blew me off.

Clayton unclips a packed keyring from the buckle of his jeans and unlocks the door to the building.

"Riley is out of town for the week. It was a last minute thing."

I follow as we climb to the fourth floor landing. Oh the guys are gonna love dragging my mattress up these steps. If I end up moving in here, I’m going to owe them more than pizza and beer that’s for damn sure.

"How long has this room been available?"

"Oh, 'bout, three months or so."

My eyebrows fly up before pulling together in a frown. I had guessed it had been a while but three whole months?

"This is a steal for the market right now, how has no one jumped on this place?"

We reach the top floor and Clayton moves to the door on the far left. He flips through his keys until he finds the one engraved with the number 401.

"The girl who rents it gets the final say in the matter.” He turns the knob and pushes the door open. “She filters the people who text her then we do the visits together 'cause it lets me get a feel for who might be livin' in my property. If I approve, she does an actual interview."

Did I just hear that right? "Wait, the person livin’ here is a woman?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

Is it a problem?  It’s not what I expected but I’m desperate. Would living with a woman really be worse than with a guy? Maybe if I planned on taking girls home every night but after how shit went down with Lisa, that won’t be happening any time soon. Hell, none of the girls in this town will even look me in the eye anymore. They’re all too afraid to invoke Lisa’s wrath.

Who am I kidding, of course it’ll be a problem.

"No, Sir. It's not what I expected but I'm not against it."

I step through the threshold, taking a few steps before stopping behind the worn gray couch in the living room. One of the reasons I assumed that a man was living in the apartment was the fact that it was completely devoid of any personal touches or decorations. There is a large flat screen television and coffee table but an empty space where a dining room table and chairs should be. Instead there is a pair of barstools at the kitchen island. 

"The last three men I met were all outta here before I’d even had time to finish a cigarette after leavin' them alone for their interview so I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you."

Oh great. This girl is sounding more and more frustrating by the minute. If she doesn’t want to room with a guy then why the fuck not put it in the ad?

"And what about the women?"

"There haven't been any who came 'round for a visit.”

Huh. That was an unexpected answer.

“She lived alone for almost two years before decidin’ on gettin’ a roommate. I get the feelin’ she's usin’ this as a substitute for that Timber business."

I almost correct the man but I get the feeling that having a strong knowledge of hookup apps might not be the best way of selling myself to a potential landlord. I follow as Clayton steps further into the apartment, leading me down a hallway with three doors and opening the last on the right. "This right here would be your room, the bathroom in the hall would basically be your private bathroom since the master on the other side has its own. The old owners had a shower and toilet added into the laundry room for their son which is why you’re lucky enough to not have to share."

Clayton's cell phone rings and after checking the caller ID, he excuses himself to answer it out in the hall. I take the opportunity to check the plumbing in the kitchen and the bathroom, flushing the toilet and making sure the hot water works well everywhere. The place appears well looked after and the bedroom is more than big enough for the few belongings I took with me after splitting up with my ex. I threw it all in storage while I crashed on Jer’s couch. I wanted to get out of my old apartment so badly after the breakup that I didn't fight for any of the things we bought together — scratch that, the things I bought at Lisa’s request — only taking what I already owned before moving in. Luckily for me, that included the bedroom set with the king bed. 

By the end of my inspection, I’m convinced that this would be the perfect place for me. It’s close to my work, in the same part of town as most of my friends and far enough away from Lisa that the possibility of running into her on a day to day basis is relatively small. Plus, I saw a nice communal yard in the area between the four apartment buildings in the collection which would be great for letting Aika out to run.

"Sorry 'bout that. There's a heatin’ problem at another one of my properties so we may have to cut this short. If ya don't mind, I've got a few questions for ya before I let ya go then Riley can be in touch herself to reschedule a meetin’."

Maybe this time she’ll actually show up.

"All right, shoot."

"Why don't ya have any references from previous landlords? Ya look to be in your thirties but there ain't one person listed on your application."

"I've been in the army for the last decade. With me bein’ overseas a lotta the time it was easier to either let my ex or my previous roommates take care of that stuff. My name has never officially been on a lease."

The man hums, nodding his head.

"My son was a Marine. He never spent much time at his apartment either."

I notice how Clayton is only using the past tense but I know enough not to bring it up. After a moment of silence Clayton clears his throat.

"Ya said ya got a dog?"

I can’t help but smile when he mentions Aika.

"I do. A German Shepherd."

"We got a lotta little dogs in the buildin'. I don't like their odds ‘gainst a hundred pound Shepherd."

"That won't be a problem, Sir. She's incredibly well trained, the army saw to that."

Now, if any of my potential neighbors are fixing pipe bombs in their apartments, that’s a whole different story, but somehow I think he might just forgive a bite in favor of keeping his building in one piece.

Clayton seems satisfied with my answers. "I got no objection to ya movin' in here but, like I said, Riley will make a decision after she meets with ya. She'll be in touch."

I follow the man out of the building then say a polite goodbye before climbing into my truck and making my way back to Jared's house. I really wanted this place to work out but after what I heard about Riley, I’m far from sure I would meet up to her standards — whatever those might be — and I’m even less convinced that she would meet up to mine but beggars can’t be choosers. 

The corner apartment was nice and bright from the big windows. The high ceilings and open floor plan made it plenty big enough for hosting a football night but the kitchen, living room and dining room being open also means there would be no privacy save for our bedrooms. The place was spotless but that could have simply been due to the fact that she was out of town. Mostly, I wonder what was said between Riley and the three other guys for her to turn them away less than five minutes after sitting down with them.

Riley

This past week in Vegas has left me absolutely exhausted. The blisters on my feet have blisters of their own, I have more bruises than skin and I’m sure that once I go to sleep, I won’t wake for at least a week but I agreed to meet Sy tomorrow and I’ve already blown him off once so my prolonged nap is gonna have to wait. The first thing I have to do when I get home is rinse off the damn glitter that I somehow keep finding everywhere despite my multiple showers since my last performance. Let’s just hope the increase in subscriptions and followers is worth spending the last of the emergency fund I had saved up.

I’ve been looking for a roommate for over three months but so far, I haven’t gotten along with the few girls who showed interest and the men, well… All of those I agreed to meet have recognized me as soon as they’ve seen me. One even thought it was completely sensible to ask for a private show right there on the spot. Thank god none of them said anything in front of Clayton.

The process hasn’t been fun but I really need someone to split the bills with me. After I lost my job, I started waitressing. When that didn’t cut it, I started working at a strip club two towns over. It was good money considering I worked four nights a week but it still wasn’t enough to pay for my living expenses and my stupid student loans. At first I still tried to find something — anything — in the business or marketing field but when I ran out of places to apply to, I gave up and started running an OnlyFans page instead.

I get to the strip club early most nights to film while there are fewer customers around. I even partnered up with a few girls who have popular channels, taking every bit of advice they have to offer and even filming content with them to post once a month. In the brief time I’ve been running my page, I’ve used more of the skills acquired during my marketing degree than I did in the two years at my old job. Maybe if they had given me greater freedom to execute the projects I pitched to them they wouldn’t have had to downsize… or close altogether.

I originally chose a club two towns over to avoid being recognized; only it seems that many of the clients have the same thought. Luckily for me, my landlord is not one of them. He hasn’t questioned my reasons for bringing in a roommate, only asked that he do the same checks he would for any new lease. I normally meet the girls at a coffee shop or something before setting up a visit at my place but with the guys, I prefer the extra safety of having Clay there for the first meeting.

He doesn’t know how badly I need money. He’s been kind enough not to increase my rent since I got here because I always pay early but who knows what he would do if he knew I was barely hanging on and that bringing in a new tenant would make at least three-hundred bucks more per month. So what if I haven’t had a proper meal this week. Ramen noodle packets are a food group right?

Chapter 2

#captain syverson #captainsyverson #captain syverson fic #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x ofc #henry cavill

[polizwrites]

PoliZ's WIP Update - 6 Sep 2023

A low-average writing week - I touched four fics (2 WIPs & 2 new works)  for a total of  2254 words, roughly half of which were on a single fic.

On Ao3, I posted:

Chapter One of Keeping All My Secrets Safe Tonight - a Stony Spu AU expansion of this Tumblr ficlet.

Braking Their Fall - Sam & Rhodey No Powers AU featuring a skydiving rescue (remix of Falling For You)

On Tumblr, I posted:

The Family You Find - Ayo takes Bucky to his new Wakandan refuge.

I have  20 semi-active WIPs  😬 with my  current  deadline being the All Caps Bingo that wraps at the end of September.

See  below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc.  As always, feel free to send me   prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding  any of these projects  or any other WIPs I’ve got out there.   Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Seek & Destroy Collab

After reading @psychiccatpanda‘s amazing   Morguna and the Green Queen, I  got the itch to explore the Soldier’s POV and talked  Faustie into   collab’ing with me!  We’re working on a new part of the series, and I’ve  contributed about 900 words towards the  2500-ish we have so far.   Going to see if I can squeeze any of my BBB squares into this fic.  

Hot Bucky Summer [BBE_HBS]  (Ends Aug 30) 

Thanks again to the @buckybarnesevents  mods for running this event - it was a lot of fun! Masterpost

Tony Stark This or That [TSTOT_23] (Ends 31 Aug)

Thanks @tstot mods for bringing this challenge back - hope to see you next year! Masterpost

Stony AUgust (Ends 31 Aug)

Kudos to the @stonyauniverse mods for running this clever weekly challenge! Masterpost

Week 5: Sweet or Steamy - Posted Chapter One of Keeping All My Secrets Safe Tonight last Friday. It crossed over with my TSB KINK: Deep throating and SAUB AU: Spy squares and came in at 1466 words including the original ficlet. Due to the time crunch, I only got a bit of steaminess going, but am working on Chapter Two, which is up to 562 words and will include Tony's mission as well as the encounter between Steve and Tony alluded to in Chapter 1.

All Caps Bingo [ACB_R1]  (Ends 30 Sep)

I’ve got twenty completed fics, and four WIPs and  am in good shape for a blackout, since I'm finally starting on the "The hell I can’t! I’m a Captain!" challenge.

* Row 5 (One Fill, One Bingo).   “Man, shut the hell up!”, Alpha Bucky Barnes, James Rhodes, Humping, Competitive Idiocy. I'm about 255 words into Sam and Rhodey working to get their alpha besties together after watching them pine over each other for way too long.

* N2 - Sex Toys - Filling this with the upcoming Chapter Five of Finding Something Fresh - Beta!Sub!Bucky and Omega!Dom!Steve enjoy their first sexual scene together. It will cross over with my SVB Tied to a Bed square. It's up to 988 words and will hopefully post Friday.

* G1 - Isaiah Bradley -  Planning to add more to The Fist, Defeated.  (possibly present day)

* G3 - Established Relationship - planning to fill this with Chapter 2 of   Half of the Flesh and Blood That Makes Me Whole   - a Bucky POV remix of at least the first part of Take What Was Wrong (And Make it Right), which is current sitting at  52 words.  I’m expecting at least one more chapter, possibly two, depending on how far I want to take the remix.  

* O3 - Pararescue Sam Wilson - Wrote a remix of  Falling For You from Sam’s POV as a crossover with @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt: [#FFF212 Gotta Go Fast]. Braking Their Fall came in at 607 words and will post to Ao3 before this event is over.

Sam Wilson Bingo [SWB_R3]  (Ends 15 Oct 2023)

I have five fills and one WIP -  I need to work on cross fills between this and the All Caps, Bucky Barnes and Captain Bottom bingo!

* B4 - Natasha Romanoff -  Maybe add on to my Card Sharks drabble, where  SamNat & Steve conspire to create a polycule with Bucky?  this idea crosses over nicely with my BBB KINK: Seduction mission square

* N5 - James Rhodes - filled with Braking Their Fall - see ACB Pararescue Sam Wilson above.

* G3 - Joaquin Torres - possible expansion of A Rising Star

WinterIron Bingo  - [WIB_R1]   (Ends 16 Dec 2023)

I have sixteen fills completed and two WIPs for this brand-new bingo event that I’m helping mod!  Along with crossfilling against my other bingos,  I’m going to try to combine my B column squares for the Iron Soldier badge (complete a bingo with a single work). – Alpha Tony Stark, “That was not my intention.”, James Rhodes, Alpine loves Tony and Blind date.   (Tony POV remix of A Sugar Coated Pill?)

* N1 - Bucharest –  I think I can fold this into a future chapter of My Love is Vengeance -  where a young!Tony and a recovering!Bucky have been kidnapped by Hydra, who still thinks Bucky is the Soldier.  

* G2 - Eye contact during sex - This will come into play in Chapter 6 of A Sugar-Coated Pill, where Bucky figures out what making love really means, with Tony’s help. It’s crossing over with BBB KINK: Gentle Sex and is up to 312 words.

* G4 - AU: College Students – looking to expand Beaten to the Punch with some backstory on Bucky and Tony as science camp counselors to fit with this square - will also cross over with my WFB  Volunteering Together square.  

* O5 - Gentle – use this poem  as inspiration?

Stucky’Verse Bingo Round 1 - [SVB_R1]   (Ends 22 Dec)

Ten fills, three WIPs and a couple of ideas.

* A1 - Harem - crossover with CABB Secret/Forbidden Relationship - Bucky and shrimpy!Steve are both concubines - they love each other more than their lord. I poked at this a little last week and have 71 words.

* A4 - Fairy Tale Curse  - this seems custom-made for a continuation of Beyond the Beast😁  Nothing written yet, other than some Vague Ideas.  

* B3 - Tied to a Bed –  Chapter Five of Finding Something Fresh - see ACB Sex Toys above. 😁

Bucky Barnes Bingo  - [BBB_R5]   (Ends 10 Jan 2024)

I’ve got  eleven fills,  four WIPs,   and a couple more Vague ideas.

B2 - KINK: Seduction Mission - might add a new chapter to Card Sharks - where Sam/Natasha and Steve finish what they started to get Bucky onboard for a poly partnership.

U1 - Never the fall that kills you -  I’ve got a WinterIron hanahaki fic idea for this that I might play with.

U3 - Fireplace -  Working on a 1980′s No Powers WinterIron fic set at a ski lodge where Tony’s being wooed by poetry and love letters that Bucky wrote to someone else.   Started poking at this as a crossover with a Love Letters prompt and it's sitting at 129 words.

C2 - Yelena Belova–   The plan is to use this prompt in the next chapter of Peresmešnik,  (aka Three Avengers and a Baby), which is currently sitting at 1100 words (400-ish of which are mine).

C5 - Marriage of Convenience/Pretend Couple -  next chapter of   Lady Natasha’s Consort and Lord Steve’s Companion.    Got a spark of an idea the other day that might get me a bit further on this fic.  

K3 - Magic -  Aro!Bucky healing with a kiss idea?

Y1 - Gentle Sex – In-progress Chapter 6 of Sugar-Coated Pill- see WIB Eye Contact During Sex.

Y3 - Alpine  - see WIB Iron Soldier combo.

Y4 - Forgotten Things -   using this for Chapter 4 of   You Can’t Stop It With a Gun  - it’s sitting at  116 words at the moment.    

May Adopted - Insomnia - finally got this filled with The Dead of Night, which also filled a Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF211 An Old Friend] along with my JBB FREE square. It came in at 317 words and will post to Ao3 before this event ends.

August Adoptable: Take the Shot - sounds like a WinterHawk fic to me… maybe cross over with JBB Touch-starved?

Tony Stark Bingo Round 7  - [TSB_R7]   (ends 15 Feb)

Ten fills and zero WIPs, with a couple of ideas in play.  

* S1 - Galaxy - possibly use in final chapter of   Never More to Go Astray ?  

* S4 - “Are you there yet?”   -upcoming Chapter 5 of Sugar-Coated Pill – see ACB Nesting above

* T5 - Shawarma - possible crossover with SAUB Canon Divergence – Battle of New York-related?

* A2 - KINK: Concubine - possible crossover with SAUB Gentle Dom

* A4 - Historical - see Stony AUGust Week 2: Time Period above.

* R1 - Animal Transformation - DemonPanda shared a fun prompt on the WIB server - Tony as a short-haired werewolf who needs to cuddle his pack members for warmth.

* R2 - KINK: Deep Throating - filling this with Chapter One of Keeping All My Secrets Safe Tonight - see Stony AUgust Week 5 above

* R5 - Doppelganger/Evil Twins -   The Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF214 Broken Mirror] got me at least a good start on the idea I’ve been playing with for this square. I posted NamNori on Tumblr and have a general idea of how I want to build on it to also fill my SAUB AU: Crack square. It’s currently sitting at 360 words.

Stony AUniverse Bingo  [SAUB_R1] (ends 15 Feb)

Another brand-new bingo I’m helping co-mod!   Five fills, three WIPs and several  crossover ideas already!

* S2 - AU: Crack - see TSB   Doppelganger/Evil Twins

* S3 - AU: Wings - see ACB Established Relationship

* S5 - Accidental Baby Acquisition - see BBB Yelena Belova

* T1 - AU: Fantasy -  CoffeeOwl shared a really cool dragon!Steve/indebted!Tony prompt in the ACB Discord server that I may be playing with for this.

* T4 - AU: Canon Divergence - see TSB Shawarma above.

* N1 - AU: Spy -  expansion of  Keeping All My Secrets Safe Tonight see Stony AUgust above.

* N2 - Mutual Pining - crossover with CABB Royal Knight?

* N3 - Gentle Dom - see TSB KINK: Concubine above

Captain (America) Bottom Bingo - Round 2 [CABB] (ends 28 Feb 2024)

I signed up for a 3x3 card for this bingo and have four fills, one WIPs and a couple of crossover ideas.

* A1 - Licking Lips - Chapter Four of Finding Something Fresh - see HBS Week 13

* A2 - Secret/Forbidden Relationship - see SVB Harem

* B3 - Royal Knight - see SAUB Mutual Pining.

Post July Break Bingo  [JBB_23p] (Ends Apr? 2024)

@julybreakbingo is running another event to tide participants over with a 2x3 non-fandom-specific card - I got mine earlier this week and am checking it over for potential crossovers.

A1 - “It’s you. It’s always been you.” - This might fit in with my TSB Doppelgangers/Evil Twins fill NamNori above :: ponders::

B2 - Character’s personality is split into two different beings – I’ve never played with Bucky & the Soldier being two different people, but this seems like the perfect opportunity! Will see what might be a good crossover on BBB or WIB (or even SVB)

C1 - Touch Starved – another good fit for a Bucky-centric fic. (Steve or Tony or Clint) possibly crossover with BBB "Take the shot"?

Warm and Fluffy   Bingo  - [WFB]   (no end date)

I got my card from  @warmandfluffybingocards back in February but really hadn’t done much with it  - however, I’m picking it back up for some crossover possibilities!

 * O5 - Volunteering Together – see WIB AU: College Students

————

On  other creative fronts:  I have an Audrey II Stuffed With Character figure in progress for a commission.  If  you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations, check  out Stuffed With Character    over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 150!).   These soft stuffed figures are  mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC   and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design   requests  for any fandom!

#writing stuff #wip wednesday #wip update #shameless self promo

[infinitethree]

OOC::

It took ten goddamned months, scrapping upwards of 15k worth of prose, and Innit deciding to evolve itself out of fucking NOWHERE

But bastard lad's bastard backstory is finally going live! There's still technically four chapters not done, but they're all in the back half. There are 30 chapters and currently about 72k of prose. The actual working doc is much closer to 80k.

Updates will be every Mon-Wed-Fri until it ends on November 30th.

My goal was to have this fic fully written before I published a single word of it. I didn't quite manage that, but it's pretty close. Of the four chapters not fully written, three have significant portions done. The remaining one is the epilogue (which has already had two or three iterations). There's a summary of what I want to happen, but if I can't fight my ornery muse to make her cooperate within a month or so I'll scrap it again and do something entirely different.

I wanted it out on or near September 24th because that marks a year since I wrote the first doc that wound up becoming chapter one of "Two Talks With Rather Different Tones".

...Which was started and finished on the same day.

I've been writing for sixteen years, but...never fandom content, and never solo. I didn't think I was capable of doing either until I tripped and stumbled ass-backwards into writing Day and Theo (my beloveds).

So a year of writing fic feels very, very special to me. I wanted to finally share my absolute favorite character, crown prince of bastards, Daz. I hope by the end, everyone better understands why I love him so much. I also hope there's wailing and sobbing.

To celebrate this year of fic writing, I'm doing three contest/scavenger hunt/guessing game type deals. They're all a bit different but the premise for each is similar:

Figure out a piece of information and win writing.

The one for "Blood & Gold" can only have one winner, but the ones for the "Mostly Benevolent" series and the askblog can have multiple ones.

For here, though, there's some interesting facets. One of those is that the prize isn't really set in stone. Like you gotta be reasonable about it and you do have to pick something related to my writing, but the winners get to ask for something of their own choosing.

If you're interested in participating, the contests can be found in this folder.

The askblog has secrets that nobody has come anywhere close to figuring out. Part of that is because there's really only Noodley who gives me questions, and they already know those secrets.

#FicUpdates #CocoChaos #Noodley also just sent in some more questions #so look forward to all that #but also please give me questions of your own #I would LOVE to interact with more people #just not at the cost of main tagging all of this #listen I love c!Tommy but Inniters scare me #and I'm like 99.5% sure the more...passionate...ones would hate my guts for Day and Daz #and all the other sympathetic Dreams

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The "work ethic" is a dirty trick we play on ourselves

In Nebraska — and elsewhere — the forced-labor camps that some prisoners are sent to have been rebranded. They’re called “Work-Ethic Camps” now, and prisoners do 30–40h/week of hard labor for $1.21/day, interspersed with “intro to business” courses.

As Jamiek McCallum writes in Aeon: “If there was a formula for obliterating the work ethic, giving people undesirable jobs with long hours and barely paying them sounds exactly like it.”

https://aeon.co/essays/how-the-work-ethic-became-a-substitute-for-good-jobs

McCallum is reiterating the thesis of his 2020 book, “Worked Over: How Round-the-Clock Work Is Killing the American Dream,” which presents discourse about work-ethic as “a severe anxiety about a fundamental precept of the American civil religion.”

https://www.basicbooks.com/titles/jamie-k-mccallum/worked-over/9781541618343/

Americans fret that a failing work-ethic is symbolic of national decline. Which is weird: hours for all workers rose by 13% between 1975 and 2016, and millennials are more likely than their elders to say “hard work is important to getting ahead.”

https://oxford.universitypressscholarship.com/view/10.1093/oso/9780190685898.001.0001/oso-9780190685898-chapter-4

The white-collar workers who locked down for the pandemic increased their hours worked:

https://hbr.org/2020/07/microsoft-analyzed-data-on-its-newly-remote-workforce

The precarious “essential” workers who risked their lives and stayed on the job contended with irregular schedules and low pay.

We have a “work ethic” problem — but it’s not too little work ethic — it’s too much.

McCallum: “overwork, unstable schedules, and a lack of adequate hours define the paradoxical time signature of the work life today.”

But, McCallum argues, the work ethic doesn’t create the bad working conditions. Rather, we dream up the work ethic to resolve the cognitive dissonance of unsustainable, brutal working conditions.

That’s why surveys show workers who express a preference for shorter hours report satisfaction with their working conditions when their hours get longer — workers don’t “get what they want” so they “want what they get.”

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1162/1088198054084581

This rationalizing of the bruising effects of overwork as the virtuous expression of good morals is essential to capitalism. Capitalism requires that we prove ourselves “worthy” — of food, shelter, education, leisure — by succeeding in the market.

It’s not shocking that a Wisconsin school district is ending free school meals for young children in order to improve their work ethic. If you can’t afford food, you don’t deserve food.

https://www.businessinsider.com/waukesha-school-district-says-free-school-meals-spoil-students-2021-8

The cult of the work ethic is the flipside of the aristocrat’s leisure-as-status-symbol — the use of hobbies and “idleness” as a way to demonstrate your membership in the ruling class — think of preppie chic, with its emphasis on golf- and boating-clothes.

Early capitalists demanded leisure for themselves and hard work for the proletariat — but so did their enemies. Marxists valorized work and workers, creating the worker-hero.

But the left has also always had a pro-leisure/anti work ethic tendency, embodied by the likes of Woody Guthrie, whose “Talking Hard Luck Blues” is a smart and savage assault on the idea that overwork is a virtue.

https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/woodyguthrie/talkinghardluckblues.html

I held 125 head of wild horses, put saddles and bridles on more that that

Harnessed some of the craziest, wildest teams in the whole country

I rode 14 loco broncos to a dead standstill and let 42 hound dogs lick me all over

Seven times I was bit by hungry dogs and I was chewed all to pieces by

Water moccasins and rattlesnakes on two separate river bottoms

I chopped and I carried 314 armloads of stove wood, 100 buckets of coal

And I carried a gallon of kerosene 18 miles over the mountains, got lost

Lost a pair of shoes in a mud hole

And I chopped and I weeded 48 rows of short cotton, 13 acres of bad corn

And cut sticker weeds out of 11 back yards

“All on accounta’ cause I wanted to show her that I was a man a I liked to work.”

In “Talking Union,” Guthrie says the point is leisure:

You get shorter hours, better working conditions, vacations with pay, take the kids to the seaside.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C13JFv4JfH8

The work ethic hustle hasn’t just robbed us of time for leisure — it’s transformed leisure into a self-Taylorizing time-and-motion hustle. Conquering Disneyland requires a project manager, a spreadsheet and a stopwatch.

https://doctorow.medium.com/disneyland-at-a-stroll-part-vi-62934f35aac1

This is why we call it “late-stage capitalism.” It’s not just precarious workers logging destructively long shifts and losing the leisure time to imagine, dream, love and live — it’s also the 1%, who sometimes pay for the privilege. It’s a system that punishes the winners, albeit less severely than the losers.

McCallum closes his essay with some remarks from Andrew Russell, an inmate at a Nebraskan Work Ethic Camp. Russell worked a series of sub-survival jobs before finding a living wage selling meth, a gruelling job that he worked long hours at before his arrest.

Russell actually escaped from the WEC but was turned in by a friend who needed the reward money, and had to serve an extra year as punishment. He served three years and was released in 2019, having earned “enough money to buy a bus ticket to his parents’ house.”

“I know how to work just fine, been doing it as a kid. What are they trying to prove? I like to work hard, but there’s gotta be a point, so I don’t feel I completely wasted my time. I wanna do real work. What really matters is everything we do outside our jobs to strengthen our community —���that’s the real work.”

#pluralistic

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter twelve: sunshine baby

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ MDNI)

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 6.7k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, inexperienced reader, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, pet names (sweetheart, darling, sweet girl, mariposa, etc.), feeling familial and self-pressure, established relationship, spanish cause joel is latino, oral (m receiving), dirty talkkk king joel miller, soft joel, possessive joel, mentions of depression and symptoms, struggling with self, discussion of parenting, angst, arguing, i'm sorry </3

a/n: everyone go give @northernbluess all the love for always helping me with beta-ing AND cause we are gonna be writing a fic together :)))) more info on her monthly recap posted the other day xx love ya bestie! y'all enjoy this chapter (i have a feeling it will be RIP to my notifs)

Mid-week, your usual nanny family lets you know that they won’t need you for the day and to take the day off. With no other plans, you decide to visit Joel at his work site for the day to bring him lunch. You throw something together and head out from the neighborhood, calling him on speakerphone. It rings a few times before the line clicks and his voice projects from the small speakers on your cell phone.

“Hi, Mari baby. What’s going on? Is something wrong? You never call when you’re working.” Joel’s side of the line is filled with background noise, men shouting, and construction sounds of hammers, saws, and machinery.

“Hey, J. Nothing’s wrong, I actually have the day off. Kristie called this morning after you left to say she was staying home for the day so I’ve got nothing to do,” you hold up your phone as you come to a stoplight, “So I thought I would come to visit you for a little bit. I made you some lunch. Where are you at today?”

Joel’s smile is evident throughout his response, his voice getting louder to be heard over all the noise, “We’re at the Maple Avenue site. Right at the corner of Lake St. Not too far from home, so I guess I’ll see you soon?”

“I will see you in, like, ten minutes. Already on my way.” The two of you make a bit more conversation before Joel has to hang up, saying that he has to go tell someone ‘how to correctly install a support beam’.

“Alright, gotta go, sweetheart. Love you.”

“Love you too, J. See you soon.”

Exactly ten minutes later, you’re pulling up outside of the work site, confronted with the vague shape of a house with the framing up. You grab the cooler bag from your passenger side and climb out of the car, crossing the road and walking up to the younger of the two Miller brothers that you see standing in front of a table of plans and chatting with an employee.

Tommy looks up and grins when he sees you, clapping the other guy on the back to grab his attention, “Look who it is! Y’know, George, you better tell the guys that they better thank this woman right here — she’s the one who’s made Joel less insufferable.”

With a roll of your eyes, you stride up to Tommy and give him a hug in greeting before stretching out your hand to introduce yourself to George. He excuses himself to get back to his task at hand, leaving you with Tommy and waiting for Joel.

“So what d’ya bring me, sis? If you bring a treat, better have enough to share with the class.” He grins mischievously and reaches for the cooler in your hand.

“Eh, none of that, Tommy! If you ask nicely, I’ll give you the food I so graciously brought for you.” You smile and set the bag on the makeshift table of folding saw horses and a plank of composite. Unzipping the bag, you pull out the extra food you made for Tommy and pass it over, laughing when he pulls you in for a squeezing hug.

“God bless you, Posey, I was gonna have to have a gas station lunch today with the amount of shit we have to get done.”

“Quit squeezin’ the shit out of my girl, Tommy.” Joel’s voice fills your ears and you laugh when Tommy pulls away, happily picking up his sandwich and unwrapping it to take a large bite out of it.

“Hey, just thanking her for feeding me, too. Also, this is good as fuck.” He points to the food in his hand while Joel sidles up next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and kissing the top of your head.

“You’re welcome, Tommy,” you reply, grinning before turning to your side while Joel gently squeezes your shoulder. “Do you have some time for lunch now? Or should I wait around for a bit?”

Joel shakes his head and smiles, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your lips, “I’ll make time for you whenever, darlin’. Think everyone can survive for a bit without me.”

“Y’all are too much. I’ve never seen my brother like this, Posey. Please continue to keep him happy cause he’s a much better boss these days.” Tommy laughs loudly when Joel shoots him a look of annoyance, the younger Miller turning to head into the framed home to check in on the rest of the work being done. Joel picks up the cooler bag from the table and takes your hand, nodding toward the street.

“C’mon, Mari, we can eat in the truck bed. Probably better than a construction site.”

The two of you sit on the edge of the truck bed, eat, and chat about the day. Joel mentions how much work he has left for the day, clearly stressed about getting enough done before he has to leave to get Sarah. You offer to pick her up from camp and bring her home, planning to make dinner so Joel can stay longer to get some extra tasks checked off his to-do list before the weekend.

After finishing up your meal, the two of you walk back up to the site, Joel taking you on a tour through the bones of the house. He explains the vision for each room and the finishes he’s going to propose to the family building it. You follow along with him, smiling at his enthusiasm as he gestures about bay windows and oak flooring.

When the two of you are standing alone in what will at one point become a bedroom with a view of the tree-lined backyard, Joel pauses and turns to you. Taking your hands in his, he looks down at them as he laces your fingers together before meeting your eyes with a tender smile.

“Y’know, I could build somethin’ like this for us one day. We could find a piece of land we love, maybe a little bit further out of the city to get some more space. Really make it our own…”

A squeeze of his hands reassures him in the moment, matching his sweet smile with your own, “That sounds wonderful, J. But I have to say, I like our house now.”

Your smile grows wider when Joel’s does, his brown eyes catching the midday sunlight and creases at their outer corners deepening along with his dimple. He pulls you into a tighter embrace, kissing you gently before nudging his nose against yours.

“Te amo, mi Mariposa.”

“I love you too, J.”

Music is playing from the CD player when Joel walks through the door later than he usually does. His shoulders are tense, his back is aching, and all he wants to do is sink down onto the couch and relax with you and Sarah. Toeing off his work boots and tossing his keys onto the entryway table, he bites back a smile hearing the slight commotion that is you cooking — some of that noise contributed by Sarah messing around with everything, too. 

The next song clicks over on the tracklist, the beginning notes of ‘Sara’ by Fleetwood Mac, a favorite in the Miller home since his little girl was born. He remembers singing it to her when she was an infant, letting her dance on his toes when she was younger. It’s been a while since he heard it, and walking to the doorway into the kitchen, a wide grin stretches across his face. The deep, dull ache in his muscles lightens at the sight of you dancing with Sarah, singing all of the words to her and her singing along with what she knows.

“Said Sara, you're the poet in my heart…Never change, never stop…” your voice carries over the stereo, Sarah’s popping in on the last two lines. Joel stands to the side, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the two of you twirl around the island. At one moment, you catch his eyes and beam brightly at him, waving him closer and reaching out a hand for him to join.

He does just that, scooping up Sarah with a grunt to hold her in his arms while you rest a hand on his shoulder and one on Sarah’s back. The three of you move and sing together, the butterfly in Joel’s chest rapidly pounding its wings and bouncing against his rib cage.

This is all that matters, this is what he envisions for his future. Small moments like this, altogether, his girls — and maybe another baby or two.

A simple life.

The next couple of weeks are packed with nights spent between all three of you, weaving your unit tighter together. Board game night with Sorry and Monopoly, and a sore loser Joel who insisted that the official rules be read aloud, even in the instance that his own daughter was the game winner — only just pushing him out of the top spot.

There was another evening spent at the arcade and bowling alley, a rainy day that washed beyond sunset. All of you ran from the truck into the building, shaking off the droplets before weaving your way through the games until the bag of quarters you and Sarah had gathered dwindled completely. A round of bowling was played, Joel being ‘generous’ (his words) to allow the bumpers to be put up for Sarah…and you.

The latest evening, Friday night, was spent alone with Joel while Sarah was at a sleepover. Your parents were out of town with friends for the weekend, and Chris was out with some college buddies who were visiting Austin, leaving the house free for you. Joel came over, crawling into bed with you after another long day at work, and the two of you languidly spent the evening shifting between random conversations, lying together quietly, running ghostly touches over each other until the tension snapped. Intermittently, the air between the two of you would heat up, leading gentle touches to be filled with more pressure and building up until the room was filled with breathy moans and begging.

Joel unravels you once with his hands, another with his mouth; the third time he reaches for you, soft and low pleadings to fill you up, you flip him around onto his back. Trailing kisses down his bare torso, you stop at his waistband and peel away the cotton of his boxers from his sweat-sheened skin. A long sigh deflates his chest when you take him into your mouth, his precum and your saliva mixing in slick as you work your head up and down at a steady pace. He’s propped against your headboard, pillows shifted behind him, and a mesmerized, open-mouthed, and heavy-breathed look on his face as he watches you. His voice hits your ears in your focus on his pleasure, the things he’s compelled to say flooding between your legs all over again.

“Fuck, Mari…”

“Tu puta boca perfecta…(Your perfect fucking mouth…)”

“Such a good girl, a perfect fucking girl. Bet you love this, don’t you, mi zorrita? Love sucking my cock and makin’ me feel so good.”

“Gonna come — oh fuck, sweet girl, gonna let me come down your throat? Let me see you swallow it all, Mari baby?”

Your name leaves his lips in a breathless moan, his come shooting in thick ropes and spilling onto your tongue as he finishes. Lifting your head off of him, you show off the pool of it on your tongue before swallowing it and giggling as he quickly pulls you up for a sloppy kiss.

At the stroke of midnight, the two of you are treading water in your pool, only illuminated by the bulb string lights running across the pool deck. The water is warm from the sunlight simmering over it all day, the perfect bath temperature surrounding your bare bodies as you mess around. Evading Joel’s arms, teasing him as you swim away before he corners you, a satisfied smirk on his face when he stalks up to you and towers over you, tilting your head back with a dripping wet hand. He leans down to kiss you deeply, stealing the air from your lungs with its delicate intensity.

The light bounces off the surface of the water, reflecting in his eyes as you hold his gaze and silence falls over the two of you for a handful of heartbeats.

He speaks in a hushed voice as if any louder would shatter the moment, “M’gonna marry you. Gonna give you whatever kind of life you want — a house, babies, I’d move across the world with you if you wanted. Middle of nowhere. Whatever you want, Mari.”

A smile grows on your face, droplets littering your face as you match his volume, “The only life I want is one with yours.”

It’s morning on a Saturday and you’re rushing around the kitchen, sloshing coffee in your half-full mug and waiting for your toast to pop out. You have only about twenty minutes until you had promised to meet Joel and Sarah at his truck in his driveway, the time counting pressuring you, especially considering you’re still wearing your pajamas and have a bad case of bedhead.

There’s a brief moment to breathe as you take your finished toast out of the toaster and stand in front of the island to butter it, reaching for the jam as your mom walks in from the living room. You glance up at her before continuing your task, passing her a greeting that she returns while refilling her coffee mug.

“Oh, sweetie, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something.” Your mom turns toward you, leaning back against the counter. Your stomach flips at the statement, nerves at the ready to start to hear something along the lines of ‘So you and Joel…’ But that doesn’t come; instead, your mom continues with a different line of questioning. “You know Sherri’s son that was about a year older than you all throughout school?”

“Um, yeah, I think so. Isn’t his name Ollie?”

“Well, he goes by Oliver now, according to his mother, but yeah that’s him.”

Another look is exchanged when you glance up at her, picking up a piece of your quick breakfast and taking a bite. You speak with a mouthful, “Okay, so what about Oliver?”

There’s a look that your mother has given you over the years of being her daughter. It’s a smile, but not any old smile that she gives out willy-nilly. No, this is a smile for specific situations. When she really wants you to hear her out, to do what she’s suggesting — if you can even call it that. Most of the times she’s used it on you, it’s left you no choice but to follow through on what she wanted.

The look on her face is exactly that right now.

Along with that persuasive face, she stands from her place at the counter, striding over to you and resting a hand on your shoulder while she looks you in the eyes.

“Well, sweetie, you have been home for nearly the entire summer and I haven’t seen you with anyone but your college friends a couple of times or Joel and Sarah. And I mean, they’re lovely people, but you probably shouldn’t be spending your entire free time with a nearly ten-year-old girl and her dad…”

Inside, you find yourself flipping straight to anger, ready to defend those two with your life, to defend your actions by telling your mother everything. How Joel isn’t only Sarah’s dad, how he’s the man you’re in love with and have been in love with for the last few years. How Sarah isn’t your ten-year-old next-door neighbor, how she isn’t only a little girl you nannied for a summer. She’s a light in your life, a wonderful addition that you’ve received on top of your love for Joel. Sarah’s become like — like a daughter to you.

All of these words die in your throat, fearing the outcome — disappointment, possibly resentment from Joel, and confusion and likely anger from your parents for keeping such a secret. Instead, you continue to listen to your mother’s request.

“I was talking to Sherri about you, and she said that Oliver moved back from Chicago to Austin this summer, about a month ago, and he’s been looking for some people his age to hang out with — is that what y’all young people call it now? Basically, she said he’s been looking for a girlfriend. I thought, knowing he’s a sweet boy, that maybe you would be interested in meeting up with him?”

“Uh—um, I don’t—” you ramble, feeling your cheeks heat up in the scramble for a legitimate excuse.

“I mean, you don’t have to say anything now. But I got his number from Sherri so I’ve got it if you want to reach out to him. She said she chatted to Ollie—I mean, Oliver, and he said he remembered you and would absolutely be interested in gettin’ reacquainted.”

That same smile paints your mom’s face, tilting you in the direction of simply agreeing to get her to stop. But then your mind flashes you an image of Joel, laying next to him a few nights ago in bed with his boyish grin, giddy like a schoolgirl when you casually said ‘I love you’ to him before going to sleep. That is what you’re thinking of when you address your mother again, a smile of your own on your face from imagining your man.

“I’ll think about it, Mom,” you say, a flat out lie to appease her. You finish up your breakfast and down the rest of your now lukewarm coffee, rushing around her to the basement door leading to your studio. The answer is enough to satiate your mother, her returning with her filled coffee mug to the living room and leaving you to finish your mad dash to get ready for the day.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! I woke up late and then I was trying to eat breakfast quick and my mom came in and was trying to talk to me and I still had to get ready—” you ramble as you rush across your yard to Joel’s driveway where he is awaiting next to his truck with Sarah already seatbelted in the back row. Joel holds his hands up and laughs, interrupting your train of explanation.

“Woah, woah, slow down, Mariposa. You’re like a minute late, we’ll still make it on time.” He nods to the truck, leading you around to the passenger side and opening the door for you, lending a hand for you to get up. While Joel rounds the front of the car again, you turn around in your seat after belting yourself in, smiling at Sarah.

“Hey, sweet pea. Excited about your softball game?”

“Hi, Posey! I’m excited, but also I know that Daddy’s gonna get annoyed about something the umpire does or the other team, so I’m sure he’ll get yelled at again.” Your head snaps to Joel when he climbs in, guilt all over his face as he cringes. The engine rumbles to life as it turns over, and the three of you start the drive across town to the tournament fields. 

You shake your head and roll your eyes, turning back to Sarah. “Don’t worry about him today, I’ll keep him in line so y’all can have one game without him gettin’ too competitive for you all. You just have fun with your teammates and do your best.”

“Hey, I always want her to jus’ do her best. And I want the other team and the umps to do their best and not make poor calls or crappy plays.”

Sarah laughs at your playful back and forth, the two of you resigning the conversation to listen to the radio. Joel reaches across to take your hand in his, resting them both in your lap while the breeze from the open windows blows your hair around.

Before you know it, Joel is pulling into a parking spot at a park district site, the screams and laughter of children melding with the clink of metal bats and soft thuds of softballs landing in leather gloves. It pulls you back to your childhood, endless summer weekends spent across the state of Texas for your younger brother’s baseball tournaments.

Sarah whips off her seatbelt and scurries out of the car, running across the grass to meet her teammates at the dugout of their assigned field. Joel chuckles to himself and shakes his head, cutting the engine and turning to you.

“Ready to witness some riveting sportsmanship?”

“Well, from what Sarah said, I think I’ll have to keep an eye on you for your sportsmanship. Are you really one of those dads?” You lift an eyebrow, a smirk held back on your face.

“Maybe…”

With a shake of your head, you reach over and pat his thigh, warning him, “Be a good boy, and we’ll get some ice cream after. Deal?”

His thigh tenses under your touch, a quiet puff of a sigh leaving his parted lips. He shakes himself out of the daze, licking his lips and holding your eyes, “Do I get something else if I’m a good boy?”

“Maybe…” You throw his response back at him, peeling your hand from his leg with a satisfied smirk, and climb out of the truck to follow him toward the bleachers. Joel makes a detour to drop Sarah’s bag at the dugout, wishing her luck while you send her a wave from the seating area.

Climbing up a few rows, you shoot a friendly smile to the other parents there, all of them giving you a curious look. Settling on the bench, you rest your hands on either side of you, gripping the bleacher out of anxiety. The sun is beating down on you this afternoon, but it is nothing compared to the scorching stares you can feel from everyone around you, especially the mothers. A cool relief only comes when Joel makes his way over, stopping halfway up to you to chat with a couple that greet him cheerfully. You watch the umpires prepare the field, popping the rubber bases into place. The next moment, you hear your name called, following the sound to see Joel waving you over with a grin.

Carefully climbing down, Joel reaches out a hand when you’re close, helping you down to stand on the aluminum beam in front of him.

Introducing you to the couple seated in front of you, you share a smile with them while Joel’s hand rests on your waist, “This is Adam and Maria, they’re the parents of Sarah’s friend, Katie. Adam and Maria, this is my partner…”

You tune out the rest of the quick introduction when Joel uses your name, feeling a flip of your stomach when he drops the title so nonchalantly. You haven’t heard him say anything but ‘girlfriend’ in a lighthearted manner to Sarah or Tommy, and this feels way different. The word is definite, solid, and much more committed than the flippant terminology.

Getting out of your distraction, you make light small talk with Adam and Maria before Joel excuses the two of you as the game is about to start. He follows you up to the same spot you were holding before, sitting down next to you and tuning into the game immediately. Nothing more is said about how he introduced you, the tiny, one-word difference saying much more to you than any explanation could.

As Sarah’s team takes the field, Joel raises his hands and claps loudly, calling out encouragement, “Let’s go, Comets! Y’all got this!”

Sarah’s positioned at third base, with an ideal view of her from where you’re at on the bleachers. The game’s start is delayed from a change in the other team’s lineup being sorted, the pause in the fanfare causing Joel to turn to you and wrap his arm around your lower back. Wordlessly, he leans in for a chaste kiss, smiling sweetly when he pulls away and pushes his sunglasses back down on his nose.

“Didn’t get to give you a kiss when I first saw you.”

Instead of responding, you lean into his side when the umps break from the circle with the two head coaches and both of your focuses turn to the field with the first batter up.

It’s a fairly standard game until the top of the fifth inning. The field umpire called a batter safe at third after Sarah tagged her first, Joel standing up immediately and gesturing wildly as he yelled toward the field.

“What are you blind, ump? She clearly landed the tag before number twelve’s foot was on the bag. I could see it clear as day from here and I’m way older than you are, kid!”

The umpire crosses his arms, giving Joel a warning look as he strides over. Sarah stands at her base, shifting her weight back and forth uncomfortably as the girl running the bases gives her a glare. You can tell Sarah’s turning into herself, the unwanted attention making her second-guess in the moment. Every young girl has been there before, and it makes your stomach turn knowing the feeling she’s having.

“Sir, I’d appreciate it if you keep your thoughts to yourself and take them up with the head coach at the end of the game. We’re all trying to play a fun and fair game, and I’m calling everything how I see it.” The umpire stands at the fence in front of the bleachers, projecting his voice up to Joel. He can’t be any older than nineteen years old, likely a college kid with a summer job. And definitely not one that pays enough to fight with a man like Joel.

“Calling ‘em how you ‘em? You really must not have great eyesight then, son, ‘cause that was a horrible call. I’ve got reading glasses in my car, d’you think you need ‘em?” The last line gets a few laughs from surrounding parents, and one glance over to Sarah again and you see her talking to her coach, shoulders slumped and arms limp. Her face tells you she’s asking for something, a gesture toward her father standing on the bleachers.

“Sir, if you keep this up, I’m going to have to eject you from the field area.”

Reaching up next to you, you wrap your fingers around Joel’s wrist and tug harshly enough to draw his attention. One look into his eyes with a subtle glare — invisible to most bystanders but communicating everything it needs to in the moment to Joel. He resigns with a sigh, waving his hand up in understanding as he takes his seat again.

Speaking only loud enough for him to hear, you give him a playful pinch and roll your eyes, “We’re leavin’ if you pull shit like that again, ‘cause you’re mortifying your daughter and it’s not a good look to be kicked out of your kid’s little league softball game, J.”

He rolls his eyes in return, the reprimand getting him riled up again, “But that was such a bullshit call, Mari. I couldn’t let the ump—“

“You can and you will. Sarah’s here to have fun, and you’re here to watch her have fun. If she gets serious about wanting to play softball and wants to join a league outside of the park district, have at it arguing with umpires and coaches. Cause you’ll be surrounded with other parents doin’ the same shit.”

“And how d’you know that?”

“I was a witness to the dramas of travel baseball for, like, seven years of my life. Dragged to tournaments for Chris every weekend over the summer. And saw plenty of dads like you.”

Joel laughs and shakes his head, leaning closer to speak low in your ear, “Sweetheart, I don’t think there’s a dad out there who’s like me…At least I hope there isn’t, ‘cause then what’s my appeal to you?”

You snort out a quiet laugh, shoving him away lightly before jesting, “Convenience. Barely had to walk fifty feet to find a hot dad. Didn’t need to prowl the baseball games anymore.”

“Convenience? Is that all it was?” He fakes shock and disappointment, a slow shake of his head until he breaks out into a cheeky grin, “Should’ve moved sooner.”

“Well, not that much earlier, manther.”

“Manther? Enlighten me, Mari.” Joel gives you a curious stare while his arm makes its way around your back again, resting at your lower side next to your ass.

“The male equivalent of a cougar. You’re a manther.” Beaming up at him, you laugh as he pinches your side, acting offended all the while he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“Only for you, Mari baby, only for you.”

The Comets, Sarah’s team, won the game 6-4. To celebrate, the team agreed to meet at the Tastee-Freez nearby to hang out and get some ice cream. The drive there was filled with Sarah and Joel recapping her plays, and a strong scold from the younger Miller about the older’s argument. You kept to yourself, smiling along with the jokes shot between them, sitting back to admire the two of them.

You never could have expected this kind of life with them when you saw their small family moving in from your front living room window. 

Joel reaches over, takes your hand, and links your fingers together with a soft squeeze. When you turn to him, attention focusing away the road in front of you while the truck rolls to a stop at the red light, Joel meets your eyes with a tender look. His mouth lifts at the corners, pursing his lips as he brings your hands up to kiss the back of yours. The small gesture and the glint in his eyes fill your chest with a warm rush of syrupy ooze, enough heat to spread to the rest of your body and between your ribs, and leave you with tingling nerves.

The parking lot is packed when you arrive, Joel opting to park along the side of the road in the mix of grass and gravel. Hopping out of the car, Joel is quick to get around and take your hand again, pressing his lips to the top of your head as the pair of you walk behind Sarah up to the snaking line filled with her teammates and their families.

“Remember our first date here?” Joel inquires, tilting his head with a growing smile.

Chuckling, you nod and reciprocate his smile, “How could I forget? You got a butterscotch-dipped cone, weirdo.”

“Hey, if I remember correctly, you’re the one who polished off my cone and I took yours. So quit knockin’ the butterscotch dip, Mari,” Joel’s voice is dripping with nostalgia, the date you two had two years ago feeling like a lifetime ago. While the line moves forward, you lean back against his chest, and his hands find your sides, skating up and down along the fabric of your sundress. In front of you, you reach out and rest your hands on Sarah’s shoulders, smiling when she leans back into your touch. Her tiny frame sways drowsily in your arms, one of your hands reaching up to play with her curls gently.

“Feelin’ tired, Sare Bear?” Your chin tucks into your neck to look down at her and she looks up, nodding slowly and stretching her arms in front of her. Reaching your arms around her shoulders, you hold her comfortably against her chest, the three of you in a tight-knit row in line. “Well, you’ll get a sugar high from the ice cream and then you can crash at home after you hang with your friends. You just give us the word and we’ll head home, yeah?”

Joel orders for the three of you at the front of the line, refusing your offer to pay and shooing you off to find a spot to sit. Sarah eyes a table of her friends and you nudge her side, nodding and telling her to go sit with them, “I’ll survive with your dad myself, I promise.”

Sarah giggles and jogs off, leaving you to find a spot at a small table for you and Joel. He drops off Sarah’s sundae to her before he makes his way over to you, handing off your chocolate-dipped twist while he keeps his butterscotch cone. It’s always easy conversation for the two of you, discussing plans for the next morning about when to leave to take Sarah to the aquarium and what to do for dinner when you’re home.

Things are simple. Reminiscing on old memories while making new ones, watching Sarah laugh and smile with her friends.

“So, what are you gonna do when she’s a teenager?” You inquire, taking your attention away from Sarah’s posse and focusing back on Joel.

“What am I gonna do? I think you mean what are we gonna do? I’m gonna need all the help I can get, and well, you’re the one who’s been a teenage girl before.” He gestures to your cone with his, and you reach it out to switch with him. Continuing to snack on his vanilla and butterscotch, the two of you talk about what you were like as a teenager and what you think Sarah will be like.

Before you know it, your cones are completely gone and you’re left with a pile of sticky paper napkins. Sarah walks over, plopping down next to Joel on the bench of the picnic table. The three of you chat for a bit longer before heading back to the car, en route to home for the evening.

Sarah’s tucked upstairs in bed, Joel’s sock-covered feet bouncing down the stairs that you hear from your place in the kitchen, finishing up your wipe-down from cleaning up dinner. Joel plops down on the couch as you walk back into the living room, greeting you with a sleepy smile and an arm-lifted to invite you in.

Happily, you cuddle into his side, giggling quietly as he pepper kisses across your profile while you flick on the TV. Mindlessly channel searching, you’re reminded of the conversation with your mother from this morning, and remember how you wanted to tell Joel all about it.

Sitting up and turning to him, you laugh quietly as you start to recollect, “Guess what I forgot to tell you this morning?”

“Hm, what, baby?” Joel answers, trailing his fingers along the bare skin exposed from your camisole.

“My mom came into the kitchen as I was makin’ breakfast and she told me about this kid, well, I guess he’s not a kid anymore, but anyways, this kid from high school that was a year older than me and is my mom’s friend’s son. And she was saying how good he’s doing, how he just moved back here from Chicago and is looking for people to hang out with, and then she gave me this look — oh my god, if you could see this look she does, it’s like she’ll completely shatter if you don’t do what she’s asking of you — and she tells me that she got his number. For me,” you guffaw, shaking your head before continuing, “And I mean, that look, I just couldn’t say no and so I told her I would think about it—”

“You would think about it?” Joel interrupts, sitting up straighter and brow knitting together as his voice grows half a decibel louder.

You squirm in your seat, cringing at the harshness in his voice and inching away to look him in the eyes, “Um, yeah. I mean I couldn’t just come right out and say ‘no’, she would ask me a million questions why.”

“Okay? And?” Joel removes his arm from around your shoulder and tilts his head in disbelief, exhaling out a laugh as he shakes his head.

“And what, Joel? Was I just supposed to tell my mother about us?”

“Well, no, but you could have said somethin’, Mari. That’s not very fair to me—”

“What would you have wanted me to say? You aren’t ready, Joel, or at least that’s what you said, and I have been more than willing to wait but I know my mom and I know she would have picked up on something if I said no.”

“What am I supposed to think when you’re telling me this, too? Like it’s some joke, ‘Ha ha. Isn’t so great and funny my mom tried to set me up with some other guy?’ That’s not funny to me.”

“Oh my god, are you serious right now? It’s not like we’re a joke to me, I just thought it would have been a little bit of a chuckle for us. I don’t want anyone else, Joel, and I thought you would have known that by now. If anything, I should be the one feeling some type of way about having to lie to my mom about my relationship status cause you don’t want to tell them yet.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have the capacity to deal with your parents right now, I’ve got my own business to run and my daughter to take care of and you've got your own shit—”

“Don’t. Don’t even start with that, Joel. You’ve had the same business and daughter for the last two years and you’re still not ready when I’ve fully committed myself to you and been as vulnerable as I possibly can with you. I am trying really fucking hard to get better for you, going to therapy and possibly starting medication. I don’t know what else would make you feel ready. Us being married? We kind of need to tell them before that point. And also, you seem more than ready to tell everyone else in the world. Your daughter knows, your brother knows, random parents at Sarah’s softball game know. Why can’t I share you with the people in my life?”

Joel groans and leans his head back, reaching his hands up to press the heels of his palms against his eyes. You can’t help but roll your eyes, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest as you look down at him on the couch. After a moment of silence, he drops his hands and opens his eyes, looking up at you with a dead stare.

“I can’t do this anymore. Not right now.”

“And when are we supposed to do it?”

“I don’t know, Mari! I. Don’t. Know. But I do know that I can’t do it right now, and I don’t want to do all this right now.”

“Oh, so everything in our relationship is operating on the basis of ‘when you’re ready’.”

“Quit bein’ ugly, this isn’t like us.”

“It doesn’t feel like it right now. I don’t know what else you need to be ready to be fully a part of my life, Joel. We're always going to have shit going on, life is never going to get to a perfect place.”

“Mariposa, I love you, but I don’t want to do this right now. I’m going to bed.” Joel shakes his head to himself again, pushing up from the couch and rounding the coffee table. He brushes against you, hand bracing on your side while he gets past you and heads up the stairs, leaving you in the dark.

Only the glow of the television illuminates the room, tightness in your chest as you glance around the otherwise empty room. Tears fill your eyes, a trembling hand reaching for the remote to turn off the screen and the sound, punishing yourself in the lonely silence for a few minutes before tiptoeing up the stairs. At his open doorway, you tentatively linger within the threshold, Joel’s form slumped on his side but adjusting its position and breathing unsteady — still awake.

Without a sound, he sees you standing there before he lifts the covers, a normally welcoming invitation with a smile and a ‘C’mere, Mari baby.’ Instead, you walk on eggshells to the bed, slipping under the covers before he drops them on top of you, his arm tucking against his side. When you open your mouth to speak, he rolls over, back facing you. As you fall asleep, you study his broad shoulders and the curls at the nape of his neck, itching to reach out and touch him, show him your care, tell him about your love. Apologize for everything, promise to continue the seemingly endless wait until he’s ready. But you tell yourself you have to stand your ground on this and just discuss everything later like he wants.

Later. Always later.

taglist:

@beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @sw33tp1xie @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @angie2274 @pedrostories @pedroholic @theelishad @johnwatsn @elissaaa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain @northernbluess @cannolighost @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @thereaperisabitch @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel @cartoon-garbage04 @bianqueee04 @nostalxgic @xyzstar @cumberpegg

#joel #writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller angst #joel miller series #tlou fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

[wiypt-writes]

Consciousness Of Guilt

Chapter 1

Summary: It’s a year since Ransom was murdered, and you’re settling well into your new life in Boulder. It hasn’t just provided you with a fresh start-it’s brought you a new sense and purpose, an appreciation for the things you took fore grated, and the friendship of a former ADA…

Warnings: Bad Language, allusions to past abuse (Non Con/Dub Con) but nothing explicitly described in this chapter.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

W/C: 5k

Consciousness Of Guilt Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/N- So, here it is! The sequel to Murder, He Wrote . This is the last time I’ll post this note, however, please be aware that the prequel is a Dark series. Whilst this is not, it will contain flashbacks and themes as we progress, however nothing will be as dark as MHW. Chapters will be clearly labelled with appropriate warnings. If anyone is uncomfortable with the themes of a certain chapter, I will be more than happy to post/provide abridged versions which will not deviate from the storyline.

Sunrise. You used to hate the coming of each day. It meant another monotonous day in your young adult life. A 'depends on the day' type of job at the paper in which you got your start, it meant earning little for the slave work you put into each piece or research. It meant another day you'd woken up in fear, not knowing what was coming next. Then, for a little while, sunrises were okay. They were a soft glow across the room, illuminating hard lines and soft curves, whispering words and lingering kisses. And then, they became fearful again, bringing the unpredictable nature of a life in which you were trapped.

But now, over the last few months, since taking up your new hobby, sunrise had become a beautiful thing. The feeling of peace and comfort washing over you like a warm rain, bringing the redeeming nature of a new day as vibrant watercolours paint the new-born sky. Whether you caught it from the East side of your condo; your master balcony and study or your garden, or even your hikes, you appreciated every, single sunrise as if you were seeing it for the first time ever, each and every day.

For this morning's sunrise, you were perched along Boulder Creek Path, a trail that runs from the foothills to across town, a typical recreational getaway for many locals and tourists. You looked out over the bridge as the creek flowed beneath your feet. You were lost in the serenity of it, the bubbling water lulling your mind into a deep mediation that washed peacefulness through your entire body.

A year ago today, your life changed and you were freed. Free of the nightmare that had plagued you, robbing you of nearly a year of your life. The months that followed weren't so easy, but once things settled and the fires were extinguished, you found peace.

You found you.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket brought you back from your reverie, pressing your thumb onto the screen to unlock it. You opened your messages tab and tapped the most recent incoming text.

A smile flicked on your face as you slipped your phone back in your pocket. It didn’t escape your knowledge how Andy didn’t need to even ask what coffee you wanted. But then again, this wasn’t the first time you’d had breakfast in the small, independent coffee place not far from your home and place of work. You knew when you arrived that a large caramel vanilla latte, with an extra shot would be waiting. But no food, your order varied depending on your mood.

Twenty minutes or so later, you parked your sting-grey Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT 4x4 back in your garage to your condo at the corner of 9th and Pine Street and set off on the short ten minute walk to your designated meeting place, centred near the town square, not far from your office which was a gorgeous old red-brick building on the corner of 16th and Walnut Street.

As you approached, you didn’t spot Andy’s black Audi TT in any of the spaces littered around but it didn’t bother you. Barber was reliable, if he said he was going to be there, he’d be there.

And sure enough, as you walked along the side of the cafe you, spotted him at your usual, preferred table by the large window, overlooking the street. He saw you approaching and smiled, giving a small wave.

The smell of roast coffee beans, baked treats and other delicious aromas hit your senses as you opened the door. You approached the table and Andy stood up to great you, smiling. A light grey tee sat exposed under a partially zipped up light weight blue leathered hoodie whilst dark and crisp denim covered his narrow hips and long legs, his go to well-worn black work boots on his feet. His hair was styled and soft looking, his beard always trimmed and neat. He gave you a strong, yet gentle hug, a juxtaposition he managed effortlessly before he turned and waited for you to sit first before he took up his previous seat, nodding to your waiting drink.

“Thank you.” You beamed at him, taking a quick sip. "Of course." He smiled as he took a drink of his own coffee, straight black, before he leaned back a little. His left arm rested over the back of the booth bench, the platinum of his wedding ring catching the early morning sun which streamed through the window. You momentarily glanced at your own hand, bare of the heavy rings which had been taken in the ‘mugging’. Mind you, you wouldn’t be wearing them even if you still had them. Your story was a lot different to his.

“So, where'd you go this morning?" his soft baritone drifted across the table and you glanced back at him. "Fiddled around down Boulder Creek Path." "You seem to be getting around better now." "Yeah, thank God for GPS. Did I tell you that last week I was looking for some store Amber vaguely told me where about it was and ending up like thirty minutes down the highway towards Denver." He laughed, his whole body smiling, radiating genuine amusement. "You have more faith in GPS than me, when I first moved here I got pulled over for going the wrong way down a one way street because it told me to.” You grinned as he shook his head. "And that annoying voice! I want to wring her damn neck." You gave a chuckle but before you could reply, the middle-aged woman, who owned the café, interrupted you both with her usual familiar greeting and the smile she reserved for Andy. “Hey Patti, how are ya?” He smiled back. “Same old, same old.” She winked back. “What can I get you kids today?” “Y/N?” Andy looked at you and you smiled. “Can I get an almond croissant and a granola pot, please? With the blueberry compote.” “Sure honey, and for you Mr Barber?”

“French toast please, all the trimmings.”

A fizzing filled your ears as you were suddenly back on a clinically clean, modern kitchen, nervously scouring a fridge and cupboards for something to make your captor breakfast with. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, counting backwards from five as you always did to keep the memory from swallowing you.

“Hey,” a gentle touch to your hand jolted you back and you looked at Andy who frowned. “You okay?” "Yeah, no, I mean yes, I'm okay. It just…it dawned me this morning that this was the best thing I could have done for myself. Like there's just a newfound peace that's settled with me, you know?" He just smiled as he squeezed your hand before slipping his away. “Yeah, I do.” No more was said about it, and Andy didn’t press. He never did. In the eight weeks or so that had passed since you’d met him that Friday evening in the bar, the pair of you had struck up a friendship that was based on a mutual understanding. You both carried a heavy burden of a traumatic past on your shoulders, but you had an unspoken rule. He had never mentioned Ransom. And you, in turn, never broached the subject of Laurie or Jacob. You understood you were both moving on with your life, both wanting to heal from the past and you wanted to spend the rest of your life never in fear again. Instead, a simple chatter always flowed between the two of you, and today was no exception. You barely stopped to thank Patti for dropping your order off at the table. Current work was never a topic of conversation, although office gossip featured on occasion, but mostly it was always about happenings around town, him asking about you, your parents and your old job, the two of you talking about your favourite places in Boston. You never missed certain facial and eye cues Andy gave off at the mention of certain things, but when you saw them, that sag in his smile or the far off look his eyes would give, you'd change the subject. You ate in comfortable companionship and after another coffee, Andy asked for the bill and then pulled out his card to pay. "Next one is on me, you paid for the last two and coffee all this week." You gave him a stern look as you headed towards the exit. “Well, if you wanted you could grab us a beer later.” He shrugged, pulling the door handle to open it, allowing you to step out before him. “I gotta nip into the office for a coupla hours but...” "Breakfast AND drinks?" You smiled as he fell into step beside you. The July day was starting to warm a little now, the slight chill of the early morning all but gone. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you actually like hanging out with me." “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I just find you slightly less irritating than everything and everyone else.” He teased and you laughed. “So... Happy hour?" "Yeah." You nodded “It's a date." Andy confirmed and you quirked your eyebrow, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as he realised what he had said. “A date?” “Well, I don’t mean a date date but...” You felt the heat in your neck a little, so to save your embarrassment and his blushes, you smiled, "it's a date-not-date. Say Oskar’s, 6:30?" "Oskar’s." He confirmed. "I'll save you a tall, cold one." “You’re an angel, you know that?” "I wouldn't go that far. My halo is held up by horns” “Even Prometheus was an angel at some point, Y/N.” He replied as you reached the corner of the street where you would part. Him towards the office, you back home. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. "I'll see you tonight." At that he gave you another quick hug, his hand rubbing your back over the top of your light jacket before you headed your separate ways.

You enjoyed the walk home. It gave you the perfect chance to just mellow out and walk off a bit of your breakfast. You tucked your hands into the pockets for your vest, your white thermal keeping your arms covered. You headed down Pearl Street, watching as the little shops and boutiques began to set up their patios and side walk spaces for their Saturday. You took in the clean fresh mountain air deep into your lungs and allowed a warm smile to cross your lips. 

From Pearl to 9th you went, hooking a right up 9th until you walked to the corner of Pine, and onto the porch of the nice and spacious condo you closed escrow on just weeks ago. 

That deep feeling of home greeted you as you stepped inside, wiping your boots on your door mat just before kicking them off and setting them by the back door you’d come through. The cream walls invited you in, the oak furniture and fixtures, a feature that reminded you of home, the decor you grew up with, a safe place. 

You'd bought the condo outright with the money you'd inherited from Ransom's untimely death and subsequent estate. You knew before you'd even stepped foot into the property initially, that it'd become yours. The week you closed escrow, you and your parents moved you into the three bedroom, three and a half bath condo, never looking back. 

The open floor plan and panoramic views had stolen your breath and it was then, the first night your parents had left you alone, too anxious to sleep alone, you had fallen in love with the sunrise, seeing it from your front garden patio, bundled up with tea and a wool blanket. All three rooms in the space had no adjoining walls and their own en-suites. The master bedroom, your room, was massive. An en-suite with walk in shower, soaking tub and Jack and Jill sinks. Two walk in closets that you knew you'd probably never fill completely, an Eastwardly view and balcony. The two spare rooms, were separated, one on the second floor down the hall from yours where it's balcony looked West, as it were above the garage and the third on the top and final floor with its own balcony. That was your office space, a spot for you to work and to breathe in the fresh air. 

Everything in that condo was yours, down to the logs you'd put in your fireplace and the silly little amenities you'd given yourself from knickknacks to the colour of your dishes. There was one space however you left untouched. And only your parents had been inside to pack away your unused things as storage space. That room was your basement. You didn't need to go down there, you figured if you needed something from there, you'd go buy it anyway. All that was truly stored down there anyway were things from your childhood your mother insisted on you bringing along.

As if her ears were burning, your phone buzzed from your back pocket, revealing your mother calling. 

"Hey, Mom." You answered. 

"Hi, honey. I was just calling to see how you were doing. Check in on you." You could hear the worry in her voice and you couldn't help but smile. 

"I'm really good, Mom. It’s been good here." "You still hiking every day?" She sounded hopeful now.  "Lately it's just been on the weekends. I've been really busy at work, which isn't exactly a bad thing either." You had made your way to your room, looking for some lounge pants to change into while you continued your conversation.  "Well, busy is a blessing. Do you have anything planned for today or...."  "Uh, well I just had breakfast with a friend from work who I'm also meeting for drinks later." You smirked at the thought.  There was a joyful sigh that poured into your ear from the ear piece, "Oh, this friend wouldn’t happen to be the mysterious Andy you’ve name dropped the last few calls would it?"  You hesitated, "y..ye...yeah." Then you heard the tell-tale sound of your mother's chuckle. “We’re just friends.” "I'm not saying anything." You could picture her with her hands held up in defence. "You sound happy." “I am. I feel okay, more than okay even. I’m good.” "Alright. Well, don’t waste your day. Enjoy it. Your dad and I will talk soon." “Yeah, listen Mom, why don’t you come over for a few days in a couple of weeks? You’ve not been since the week you came to help me move in. It would be nice to show you round now I’ve got my bearings.” "We would love that. I'll have your father look at booking some time." “Okay just let me know. Tell Daddy I said hi.” "I will, sweetie. Love you, bye.” "I love you too, Mom, bye." The seventeenth of July, a date that you hope one day will come to mean nothing and be like any other day. But for now, it was a sting that reminded you of all that had happened. Not unlike Halloween, a day in which you'll forever hold in a fearful anxious place in your soul. It served as a reminder of the moment your life had taken a very dark turn, a darkness that you were still, in a lot of ways, finding your way through. Ransom. His name still tasted sour on your tongue. But left a sadness over your heart like a sheer curtain. You had truly hoped he wasn't going to revert back to the beast that held you captive. But you were wrong, and post the revelation of the real reason he had taken you, he’d been far more brutal and cruel than he had with you before, something you’d thought was impossible. And he’d broken you for a second time, or so you’d let him think. Desperate to escape his clutches, you’d done the only thing you could- you’d killed him. Whilst you may not have held the knife, you’d arranged it all. And, even though it had been an absolute last resort, you’d be lying if you said there hadn’t been a satisfaction to watching him bleed out and choke on his own blood. The realisation that had clouded his arrogantly handsome features as he came to understand it was your doing would be forever etched into your brain. That said, it made you feel a little bit queasy when you thought about how taking someone’s life could make you feel a sick sense of pleasure. The nightmares had plagued you for months after. The torture which sleep brought you only ceased around the time things were settled within the system between you and his parents. With a deep sigh and the need for distraction, you set about some spot cleaning in between loads of laundry and by early afternoon you had settled in on your couch with a beer and your latest box set binge. Not two episodes in and your phone pinged next to you.

With a smirk, you snapped a photo of your beer bottle in your hand and a few moments later his response came through.

The angel made you laugh, a direct reference to his teasing before. But before you could reply, you got another text with simply saying “fuck it” along with a picture of a tumblr of whiskey on his desk. With a snort you replied

With a smile you tossed your phone down onto the seat beside you, and resumed your watching.

***** Andy was kidding when he playfully said he'd be there by 6:45, fully intending on their agreed upon 6:30. But, he was late. He'd been so involved with his brief that he'd lost track, and for the first time since meeting her, was late for a meet up with Y/N. She was fully understanding as he'd text her apologizing for the time as he'd rushed out of the office and quickly headed for Pearl Street. He'd gotten very lucky with close parking and literally stepped inside Oskar's Taproom promptly at 6:45. He found Y/N sitting at the bar, her hair down, a nicely fitted black tee and skinny denim jeans, her foot tapping against her bar stool in waiting. Next to her was an empty stool and a full, cold looking tall pilsner on the bar, saving his space.

"Hey," he said as he leaned into her, a gentle hand on her back, getting her attention.

Y/N startled a bit but realized it was Andy and grinned, "'bout time! I was going to get started on yours without you." She nodded to the cold beer.  “I’m so sorry.” He shook his head, “I just got caught up.” "Well, you haven't stood me up yet, so I trusted you'd show." “And I did tell you 6:45 before. You know, on account of you being a cheeky little shit.” She rolled her eyes at him, "whatever." She smirked. He slid onto the stool next to her and took a long pull of his beer, damned it tasted good. He gave an appreciative sigh and turned to her. “So, do anything much this afternoon?” "I did absolutely nothing, well nothing of importance. Talked to my mom, did laundry, you know nothing exciting." “To be honest, sounds like a pretty good afternoon.” He chuckled. “Sometimes there’s nothing better than laying in front of the TV with no where you have to be.” "Cheers to that," she raised her glass to him. He clinked his with hers and returned the smile she had. The blues band that was set to play happy hour was starting to tune up and it gave Andy an idea. "What do you say we find a spot in the patio, little less noise." “Sounds good.” She nodded. Andy flagged the bartender down for another round to take with them. But before Y/N could pick up her glass, Andy took it for her and gestured with her head for her to go on in front. She looked a little surprised at his act of basic good manners, and not for the first time. He'd often seen her look at him in a similar way when he held doors open for her or helped her with her jacket. It made him wonder what kind of asshole Drysdale had been. But, then again, he got the impression it hadn’t been a particularly happy relationship to start. Not that it was any of his business, nor was he one to talk. The last seven months he’d been married to Laurie had been as strained as they'd ever got. They found a spot at a two top near the corner of the patio at the gate that separated it from the sidewalk. Andy waited for Y/N to sit before he set their glasses on the high top table and took his own seat. "So...much better," he leaned in across the table. "Love this place, but it's not always the best for conversation." “Yeah but it has a good atmosphere.” She smiled. “I like it. Not the type of place that-“ she stopped dead and took a deep breath. “Doesn’t matter.” He half smiled, "you know, I've been meaning to tell you, it's okay to talk to me about anything you want. No pressure, no strings. Just a friendly ear." She smiled. “I know, thanks. And the same goes for you too.” For the first time, an interesting silence came between them. They each sipped their drinks in an almost a mirrored like fashion and chuckled when through. "I think that's the first time we've ever not had something to say." Y/N shrugged. He nodded, and then she took a deep breath. “I was just gonna say its not the type of place Ransom would ever have taken me. He’d have thought it beneath him.” "I think that's the first time you've ever mentioned his name." He pointed out. "Yeah, I try not to. It's uh," he watched her as she struggled to start her story, playing nervously with the earring in her ear. "Complicated." He leaned on the table, his forearms crossed and supporting his weight. He wanted her to know she had his full attention. “Well, from what I know about him, which granted is only what I saw on the news or heard around Boston, he certainly enjoyed the finer things in life.” "That's one way of looking at." She chuckled dryly. "It wasn't an easy marriage, despite how short lived." "Well, I was with Laurie since law school and we still had our ups and downs. I don't think marriage is easy in general." Andy admitted. "I was with Ransom less than nine months before we got married. It, uh, lasted three weeks."

Andy paused, “okay, so granted Laurie and I were a whirlwind what with her falling pregnant so fast but... I’ll give you that one.” “A whirlwind?” She asked and Andy nodded. “Yeah, we hadn’t even been together a year when she got pregnant with Jake. Not gonna lie, I shit myself but...” he sighed, swallowing. “Well, he was worth it.” "I'm sure he was." She nodded. Andy cleared his throat. “He was a good kid, despite what he, well what he was accused of.” “I can’t even begin to imagine how that felt, for any of you.” She said gently. “Fucking shit.” He said bluntly. She blinked and then the pair of them laughed quietly. "I'm sorry, Andy. And I mean that in all sincerity." He sighed and gave a soft little smile. “Thanks. You know, for the most part it’s just happy memories. But then sometimes it’s hard...” he trailed off shaking his head, “but of course you’ll know that.” “Suppose so.” She shrugged. “I doubt our marriage was anything near as loving as yours. I, uh...well, Ransom was mentally abusive, very controlling. Getting married wasn't exactly what I'd wanted but, I felt trapped in a way." She paused as he listened intently. "I guess it's harder to explain than I thought." She bit her lip and then shook her head. “Then the asshole went and got himself killed.” "I hate that you had to witness that." She shrugged and her finger swiped at the condensation on the outside of her half empty beer glass. “It was a year ago today.” “Jesus fucking Christ.” Andy shook his head in shock as he took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.” “I’m not.” She sighed. “And I know that probably sounds awful but... I don’t mourn him, I can’t. Not after everything. I’m just glad to be away and out of it. Fuck, that makes me sound like a really cold hearted bitch.” She scrunched her nose and chuckled a bit. Andy cocked his head to one side, studying her face which was, despite what she said, laced with sadness and he took a deep breath. There was more to her story than she was telling him, he could see that, but he had his own secrets too. And he found himself realising he didn’t care. Moving away post the accident that claimed Jake and later Laurie’s life had been a way for him to leave all that shit behind. And she was trying to do the same. “Okay, let’s make a deal.” He leaned forward. “No reverse gear. We look forward and not back, at least not at the hard stuff.” It took a moment for her to process it, and Andy watched her expression behind her eyes as he did so. Then she smiled, "deal." Andy smiled as she reached for her beer. He watched her pretty face as she drained her glass, setting it down in the table before she leaned towards him. “Have you eaten? Because I’ve suddenly got a hankering for something greasy and very bad for me.” “Sounds like someone I used to work with.” Andy shot before he could stop himself and Y/N threw her head back in a loud laugh. “Lawyers for you.” “Hey, not all of us are jerks.” He pouted and she shrugged. “Jury’s out.” She winked. At that Andy raised his brows, downed the rest of his pint and then stood up. “Something dirty and greasy that isn’t an attorney coming up, I’ll grab us a menu.” They each ordered a greasy, filthy cheeseburger with all the fixings and two smaller beers a piece to go with it. They moved their conversation away from their pasts and talked music as the band played some songs they were familiar with. Y/N finding the perfect moment to joke with Andy again about his age versus hers, despite it being maybe seven or eight years. Neither seemed to mind.  Again, when the bill came, Andy slapped his card down before Y/N even had a chance to grab her wallet, which caused him to laugh loudly at her pout. “You’ll just have to get it next time.” “Oh," she smirked, "so that’s your game? You paid, so I owe you a next time?” He shrugged. “Would that be such a bad thing?” She bit her lip and grinned with a shake of her head. “No, not really.” “Good, I’ll hold you to that. And, as a lawyer I feel obliged to tell you that’s a legally recognised verbal contract.” “Uh, I’m sure there’s a rule that a social agreement made between friends is done so without an intention of being enforceable.” Y/N shot back and Andy felt his mouth curl up on a little surprised smirk. “Therefore no intent, no legal comeback. Your move, Counselor.” He laughed and shook his head. “Nope, I got nothing.” “In that case, I call recess.” She grinned. “Oh faahk off with the legal puns!” Andy snorted and once more she laughed as they stood up, their night at an end. He walked behind Y/N with a gentle hand on her back as she weaved through the tables on the patio, eventually ending up on the sidewalk out front.

"Thanks, for breakfast, dinner, drinks," Y/N shook her head, feigning annoyance. Andy smirked, "thanks for meeting me. You're not walking home are you?" "I can, it's not far." She replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Absolutely not, I'll take you," he nodded his head in the direction in which his car was. He gave a small wink when she accepted his offer. He held the door open for you as you slid into the passenger seat of his Audi TT. You quickly realized that this was the first time you'd been in his car and the very first time he would see your doorstep. However, the thought of both those things didn't bother you one bit. In fact, you found yourself more comfortable than you'd expected.

All in all the drive was no more than five minutes, and if he hadn’t been going that way already, you’d have felt like a complete fraud, but he assured you it was on his way.

You helped yourself out but Andy waited for you around the front hood and walked you to your doorstep, lit by the lantern porch light your Home Owners Association contract insisted be up. "So, this is me," you sighed. Andy had his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and he rocked a little on his heels as he waited for you to open your front door. When you'd opened it, he scratched behind his neck and said, "so I'll see you Monday?" "Yeah," you agreed. He turned to go but you called out to him, "Hey, Andy?" He quickly turned back to you, his one foot on your stoop, the other the next step down, "yeah?" In a sudden moment of courage, you stood on your toes and placed a soft kiss to his cheek. His smooth cheek and the slightly rough yet softer than anticipated scratch of those dark whiskers, intermittent speckled with auburn, felt amazing against your lips. And fuck, did he smell amazing. Which you knew already from the tight and friendly hugs he'd seemed to start giving you. The first hit of his aftershave was always the same, dominated by a white-out of bergamot and pepper, a bright flash of sweet, dewy citrus that is both crisp and clean, underpinned by a freshness that was both light and gentle and completely different to the heavy sandalwood based fragrance you’d grown so used to. It was brief, but when you pulled back, you gave a content huff, “Huh.” “What?” He was clearly puzzled. “Your beard. It’s kinda soft.” “What? What the hell did you expect?” He laughed. “I dunno, maybe a toilet brush type bristle.” “You kiss a lot of toilet brushes Y/N?” “Try not to.” She winked. “Thanks again, Andy. I enjoyed today.” He chuckled and shook his head as he watched you turn back to your door and finally stepped inside your home. Before you closed the door, you turned back, noticing he was watching you go in. "Bye."

"Goodnight, Y/N."

**** Chapter 2

#consciousness of guilt #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters #reader insert

[blorbosondeck]

fic rec masterlist

canon divergent/finale fix its

Anamnesis

THIS! FIC! this fic lives in my head rent FREE it is so good and it makes so much sense in the narrative that the shitty finale concocted, as to why they wouldn't mention cas or anyone else and its just. so good and they write chuck in the most villainous way that i love!!!

"Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be. Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19."

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven by @adhdeancas

GOD FUCKING CHRIST this is so good and sweet and im such a sucker for team ups and reunions!!! its 3:30 am rn and i just finished it and i love it SO much it made me laugh a lot and the last few chapters i had the stupidest grin just plastered to my face

The Closer the Star, the Greater the Parallax by @rocksalts​

repressed bastard dean submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known and receives the rewards of being loved but only after some miscommunication i LOVE this i read it last night and it’s a fast favorite. my interests have overlapped and i am INTO it

“When Dean sits down to watch some bullcrap Discovery Channel episode with Cas, he doesn’t expect to actually learn anything. Except, with Cas explaining, he makes an effort to connect the dots.”

Don't We All Deserve To Be Happy?

VERY sweet and a VERY good pick me up. all around feel good fic!!! 

"Post-canon fix-it, divergent from 15x19 where Jack stays and Dean doesn't die and Cas comes back and everyone is happy. Take a shot every time I'm salty about the finale."

Keep Your Love Alive

okay. okay okay okay this may be my favorite finale fix it just because of how well reasoned it is. like this feels what should have happened i love it SO much

"Dean gets to spend eternity sharing beers with Bobby on the Roadhouse porch and riding around in his Baby with Sam. He’s at peace… or he feels like he should be. But a few things nag at him: Where is Cas, and everybody else Dean had been hoping to see in Heaven? Why does he feel like he’s stuck in a loop, reliving the same memories over and over again? And who are the strangers wearing Sam’s and Bobby’s faces?"

The GoldenRod Revisions by @aethylas​

this is one of the most well written things ive ever read. the script format DID make it feel more real and honestly? this is better writing than this show deserves. the finale that could have been ♥️

“A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.“

Ascend by @wanderingcas​ 

THEE finale fix it fic!!! written by the AMAZINGLY skilled and talented @wanderingcas !!! it’s 50k of angst and hurt/comfort and pure bliss

“Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?”

Things Happen (They Do, And They Do, And They Do) by THEE @sobsicles

i KNOW everyone has already recommended this and likely you’ve all already read it. but it has to go here bc REPRESSIOOOOOOOOON i LOVE this so much it is one of the most perfect things i’ve read. are you bisexual? did you have a kind of weird relationship with your best friend and not realize that how you felt about them wasn’t necessarily how other people felt about them and you were maybe a little bit in love with them but were too repressed to realize it? you’ll feel seen. maybe a little too seen

Closer (isn't close enough)

are you a sweet and sappy yet horny bastard? do you like cas exploding light bulbs? you will like this.

“the one where they finally talk about what cas said before the empty took him”

You and Your Husband

it is exTRMELY sweet!!! repression dean strikes again <3

"Five times Dean corrects someone about his relationship with Cas, and one time he realizes he doesn't need to."

Tall Grass

miscommunication and a slowburn! despite being written in 2017 and finished in 2018, it feels like a fix it. ft. plant obsessed cas <3 

Invictus

a LOVELY and short (relatively) finale fix it

“They saved the world. They're free. It's done.

Except it's not, and carrying on is the last thing any of them are thinking about.

They still have someone they need to save.”

Unchained Link

post finale- it’s a great case fic and i am compelled i want more!!!

"It's after the end of things. Life continues on while Dean is "livin it up" in heaven. But it's never that simple, is it? A freak occurrence sends Dean into another time stranded back on Earth. And he thought his hunting days were over. But, no worries. His knight in shining armor comes to the rescue. Hijinks, therefore, ensue."

fun and time unspecified

Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Love Potion No. 5

very funny and sweet! miscommunication at its finest ♥️

"Cas gets drenched with a mystery potion from the ‘love spell’ shelf and... Dean has a sneaking suspicion, angel or no— the spell may have taken effect. And Cas might be in love with Sam."

The Way We Were

Y'all. It is so good its a great mix of funny and serious- extremely fun to see dean as like a base bisexual

"Dean and Castiel pose as a couple to gain access to a gated community known as 'The Glen', a pleasant if secretive location that the boys believe might be linked to several dead bodies showing up over the years bearing signs of ritualistic sacrifice. All seems well until Dean's memory is affected from an incident during a solo exploration, leaving Dean convinced that their cover story is true. Castiel is left trying to resolve their case without taking advantage of an increasingly enthusiastic Dean"

While You Were Sleeping

this is basically just the movie but replacing sandra bullock with cas. this is my comfort movie and imo, one of the most perfect rom coms. the fic isn’t finished but i still have the tab open on my phone and i will straight up go back and re read it when i need a pick me up. 

aus/rewrites

The Harvelle Gospels: Offscript

i know everyone ever ( @jewishcharliebradbury ) has recommended this fic. and for good reason go fucking read it

“The Apocalypse is averted, the angels are in Heaven, and Jo is free from the threat of possession. Somehow it couldn't be farther from a happy ending.“

absolute riots

An Ineffably Profound Bond

i honestly would have put this in the finale fix it section! look. i know. i know you've been burned by crossover fics before. but this is Thee good omens/spn fic you want. its funny as hell and immensely satisfying. im weak for everyone working together tropes and that is this

"After Chuck sets 'The End' in motion, the remaining members of TFW make a miraculous escape. Not willing to waste any time, Castiel comes up with a plan to travel to one of the other worlds to try and get help from the angels there, but after a fight with Dean, it's the hunter who gets sent into an alternate universe,with seemingly no hope of return.

When a mysterious human with a heavenly weapon shows up in Aziraphale's shop, he and Crowley learn that their world is not the only one. Now it is up to them to decide whether or not they want to join forces with the human and help him save his world or simply find a way to send him home."

Somebody Up There Likes Me by @lafilleredige

cas is hit with a spell that turns his vessel into a woman, hijinks and sexuality crises ensue etc etc sam is a supportive and bitchy little brother and its all SO fucking funny and also. horny as hell i love it i love it i LOVE it

“’Dean doesn’t want to talk about your breasts, it’s making him uncomfortable because he hasn’t acknowledged the complex fluidity of human sexuality.’“

Stray Cat Strut

a long crack fic that IS one of the funniest things i’ve ever read and i can’t explain why. it’s so ooc but its so funny that i don’t care. if you need a laugh you gotta read this

"Sam and Cas are immediately in love with the adorable kitty they find outside the bunker door, and occupy their time planning how to convince Dean--who they believe is off sulking after a botched hunt--to let them keep their cat. Along the way, Dean learns to use a litter box and hears some confessions he maybe wasn’t supposed to hear, all while realizing just how much he loves Castiel.

Now all Dean has to do is convince Cas and Sam their new pet cat is actually him before they do something crazy--like neuter him!"

canon compliant or slight canon divergence

Give

by @doublestuffedimpala post season 7 episode 7, kind of ambiguous ending but truly a cas is happy to bleed for the winchesters fic

Punch Like Bones 

short, post 5x04 homoerotic moment that i wish we’d gotten

#lmao please interact with this i spent so much time on it #i had to go onto desktop for this #ill keep adding on to it #my fic recs #fic rec #spn fic rec #deancas fic recs #charlie.txt

[negans-lucille-tblr]

Absent - Chapter Twenty Eight

Summary: Y/N’s father loves her - maybe too much given how sheltered she is - but he’s always absent. He’s either busy with work or busy entertaining women. Y/N thinks she’s finally found a way to get him to notice her, and with a little help from Uncle Sam, she finally gets some quality time with Daddy. But for how long can she keep his attention?

Pairing: Dean x daughter!Reader / (scenes of) Sam x niece!reader / (scene of) Benny x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Smut, Angst, Fluff)

Chapter Tags: massage, handjob, heavy angst, threat, angry!Dean, talk of murder, talk of drugs, mentions of incest

Chapter WC: 2219

A/Ns: Please send an ask to be tagged in this series.

This fic is complete over on Patreon (30 chapters total)

Absent Masterlist // Sister/Daughter!Reader Masterlist

< Previous Chapter 

Chapter Twenty Eight - Safe

Dean’s POV

“Holy shit, yes, right there,” Dean groans, closing his eyes and humming happily under his breath. “Don’t stop, sweetheart,” he encourages. He hears her giggle. “You ever thought about doing this professionally?” he asks.

“I’m that good, huh?” she prompts with a chuckle. 

“Damn right you are, feel like I should be fucking paying you.” She rubs in little circles across his shoulder and up his neck, and then massages down each side of his spine. Dean can practically feel the tension melting away under her touch as she rubs and presses all the right places on his back. 

“I’m serious, you need to become one of those massage people,” Dean tells her with a happy sigh. She smoothes her hands over his shoulders and then down his chest.

“Wonder how much I should charge for a happy ending?” she purrs, her mouth right by his ear. Dean chuckles and opens his eyes, watching her hands get closer and closer to the front of his boxers. 

“Oh sweetheart, you can charge whatever you want, I already know it’s worth it.” Dean’s phone buzzes alongside him, but he closes his eyes and ignores it as she reaches the elastic waistband of his boxers, and pushes her fingers underneath it. He can feel himself getting aroused, and then once more his phone buzzes, and threatens to pull him back to the reality he’s been working so hard on trying to ignore and forget. 

He takes a deep breath and focuses hard on the feeling of her hand wrapped around him as she slowly pumps and - why the fuck isn’t he getting hard? Just concentrate Dean. His phone buzzes again and then doesn’t stop. 

“Sorry baby, two seconds,” he grumbles, relenting to answering his cell. He looks to see that it's Sam calling and grunts. “What Sam?” 

“You’ve seen it right?” Sam asks, panicked. Dean hasn’t even got out his question of seen what? Before Sam’s speaking up again. “The video. Fuck, Dean, tell me you’ve seen the video.” 

“Sammy slow down, what video?” he asks, sitting up straighter. The girl behind him steps away and leaves him alone. 

“The one of Y/N - fuck,” Sam grunts. “You’ve gotta come home Dean.” 

“Sam! What fucking video?!” Dean shouts down the phone as soon as he realises this is something about Y/N. 

“Check your fucking emails. I’m gonna start working on finding her, just come home.” 

Sam’s hung up before Dean can say anything else, and there’s nausea sitting in the base of his throat as he sees an unopened email sitting in his inbox from an anonymous source. He clicks it with a shaking thumb, and sees the video Sam must’ve been talking about attached to it. He feels even more anxious as he waits for it to load, and the buffer circle taunts him for what feels like hours, but the reality is a few seconds at most. Instantly the shot is of Nick, the bad news that Dean knows he should’ve taken care of years ago. But Sam always had a soft spot for the waste of space, and convinced Dean that he wouldn’t be a problem anymore, so Dean had foolishly let him live. 

“Hey boys, been a while, huh? Kinda miss you, ‘specially you, Sammy. Anyway, would love to stay and chat, but I’ve actually got someone here who wants to talk to you.” The camera pans, and Dean is on his feet the second he sees his daughter tied to a chair. Her shirt is ripped, her lip bust and dripping blood down her chin, and her make up is smudged all over her cheeks as she sobs.

Dean reaches for his jeans and struggles to get them up his legs with one hand, as he shakily holds his phone with the other.

“Daddy,” she sobs, and Dean feels like his heart has stopped. “P-please just do anything he says,” she continues, her voice catching in her throat as she cries. “He said if you don’t he’s… he's g-going to k-kill me.” Dean clenches his jaw hard as he just about manages to do up his jeans with one hand, and frantically searches for his shirt. “Don’t let him kill me. I’m sorry for everything I’ve said and done. I’m sorry, I promise I’ll be the perfect daughter, and I’ll do whatever you want. I don’t hate you Daddy, I’m sorry. Please, I love you so m-much,” she sobs. “Uncle Sammy, I’m sorry too, please just let me come home.” Dean can barely keep the bile in his throat, and when he swallows there’s a thick lump as he finally finds his shirt and flies to the door of his apartment complex, not even acknowledging the girl still in her underwear he’s left standing in the living area. 

The jet can’t get him home quick enough, and Dean’s anxiously bouncing his legs and calling every single person he can think of who might be able to find Y/N and bring her home safely the whole journey. He tears through the front door of his house the second he’s close to it, and roars Sam’s name. He finds Sam in his office, typing away on his laptop. 

“Well?” Dean presses urgently. 

“Nothing yet, Charlie’s working on getting a location, but-”

“But isn’t fucking GOOD ENOUGH SAM!” Dean reaches for anything he can get his hands on, and attempts to break it by tearing it down or throwing it across the room. Sam doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and lets Dean have his moment, and when Dean thinks he might have caused enough damage, Sam speaks up again. 

“If you let me finish I was going to say but, we know she can’t be far, and we know that she’s still in the first location. I’m waiting on the call any second now, and as soon as we get it I’ve got ten men ready to go in guns blazing if they have to.” Sam’s voice is calm, like he’s got it under control, but Dean can’t think straight, all he can think about is Y/N - his baby girl, the only person besides Sam he’s ever truly loved, being in danger. 

"How did this even happen?! Where's Benny?" Dean growls. 

"Benny quit earlier on today, Dean. Was gonna tell you when you got back." Dean doesn't get why Benny would just leave and not say goodbye, but Dean has pretty much neglected him since he arrived, so maybe he can't blame the guy. “Nick’s been making demands,” Sam adds carefully. Dean snaps his head to look at his brother. 

“Well, what the fuck are they? Give the bastard what he fucking wants, why are we even hesitating?” 

“He wants you to give him the business.”

“What?!” Dean frowns. “Just hand it over to him, just like that?” Dean’s mind is spinning. 

“I was thinking, if you can give me just a little more time I can draw up a contract with a loop hole, and we can make him think we’re giving him what he wants, but the loophole will mean that he doesn’t get anything.” 

“Well how much time are we fucking talking here, Sam?! He could be about to kill my daughter!”

“A few hours, at most,” Sam argues. “We’ll tell him we’re working on the contract, that’ll buy us some time.” 

Dean scrubs his hands down his face. He just wants Y/N home safe, and Sam seems to be much more level headed than he is right now, so he trusts his judgement. 

“Okay, whatever you think. Whatever gets Y/N home quickly and safely.” Sam nods in agreement. 

“I want that too, Dean, more than anything. You know how much I love Y/N,” he tells him softly. Dean nods now, and tries to hold in the tears he’s been desperately fighting since seeing the video. He rights a chair he’d thrown in anger and sits down in it, clasping his hands tightly in his lap. 

“This is all my fault,” he whispers, looking down at his fingers. “I should’ve been here for her, should’ve been around more. Fuck. I always put the business first, but now - fuck, this all means nothing if I don’t have her. I do everything for her, and that’s always been my drive, but I’ve forgotten along the way that it’s pointless if she’s not around to appreciate it. And fuck, she just wants to love me, Sam. She just wants to know that I love her too. And fuck I do, more than anything - more than you realise. When you’re a parent it’s just - you wouldn’t understand, I can’t even put it into words. But those lines blurred and now - fuck, it’s more than that, and it shouldn’t be, and when I tried to reject that I ended up rejecting her and-” Dean chokes on his tears and shakes his head. 

Sam doesn’t say anything, but Dean doesn’t need him to. He reaches up and dries his cheeks, sniffing hard.

“When we get her back, I’m never putting work first again,” he swears to himself. He lets the quiet grow again, and then thinks back to the video even though he knows it’s only going to upset him more. “Sam?” he asks, looking up. 

“Yeah?” Sam asks softly. 

“Why was Y/N apologising to you?” Sam frowns slightly and swallows. 

“Oh, urm… we had an argument about her going to those parties, that’s all.” Dean continues to frown. “Listen, Dean, I really need to concentrate if I’m going to get this done and get it right.” 

“Yeah, of course, I’m sorry,” Dean nods in understanding and rises to his feet. “I’m gonna get some coffee, need to make sure I’m sober enough.” 

-

Once again, time drags impossibly slowly as Dean sits in his office, feeling utterly helpless, waiting for either the location or Sam to finish the contract. Dean realises, as he sits there and stares at a spot on the wall, that Sam really has got it all together, keeps things ticking over just fine without Dean. And what does Dean do? Gets fucked up, fucks anything that moves and fucks up everything else whilst he’s at it. Y/N only has one father, and he can’t even get that right. He holds his face in his hand and closes his eyes, wanting nothing more than to down a few measures of whiskey. But he knows that he needs to be as sober as possible until Y/N is home safely, so he begrudgingly sips of the black bitter coffee in his mug that’s turning cold. 

His office door opens and Sam walks in. 

“I’ve almost got it, I just need some signatures for you to hand me over some stuff.”

“What? What do you mean?” Dean frowns.

“I need to have control over certain accounts and stuff for this to work.” 

“You? Why you? What are you talking about Sam?” Dean asks, confused. 

“It doesn’t matter, Dean, just fucking sign the paperwork so I can finish this contract and we can get Y/N home, please!” Sam thrusts the papers in Dean’s face, and Dean frowns before grabbing his pen and scrawling his name over the dotted lines. Whatever it takes, he supposes. Sam lets out a breath and offers him a sympathetic smile. “Thanks, let me know if Charlie calls in the meantime, she’s gotta be close now.” 

Sam leaves Dean alone again, and Dean tries to figure out what Sam is doing, but he doesn’t understand the first thing about paperwork and law, that’s always been Sam’s thing, so he stops trying when it starts giving him a headache. He waits in silence once more, and the shrill sound of his office phone ringing snaps him out of his fog.

“Yeah?” he answers immediately. 

“Dean.” It’s Sam, and Dean’s disappointed about the fact. “Listen, I thought I’d try some hacking of my own, just stuff that I used to do now and then, you know?” “Get to the point, Sam,” Dean grunts. 

“I think I’ve got the location.” 

“What? Where?” Dean asks immediately, poised and ready to leave. 

“Some warehouse on the edge of town. We should at least check it out, right?” Sam presses.

“Damn right we should.”

-

Dean’s barely let the car stop before he’s jumping out of it. Sam’s getting out of his car directly behind him.

“Dean, wait,” Sam calls out. “We can’t just go in there guns blazing, what if he’s got her?” he reasons. Dean grunts, but knows that Sam’s right, and slows down, but refuses to drop his gun. They enter the building quietly, cautiously looking around until they enter the main warehouse, and it’s almost silent except for Y/N’s sobs. Dean turns a corner and sees her, sitting alone in the chair she was sat in in the video, and he glances around for Nick, before running to her. She flinches the second she sees him, and he’s quick to soothe her. 

“Baby girl, it’s your Daddy,” he tells her softly, reaching for her binds as he undoes them. She instantly throws her arms around him and hugs him tightly. “Where’s Nick, baby?” he asks gently. 

“G-gone,” she whispers. “Daddy, I thought I was gonna die.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I’ve got you, you’re safe now.”

Next Chapter >

Always and Forevers: @stoneyggirl​ / @hoewkeye​ / @dandywinchesterbras​ / @foxyjwls007​ / @kyjey​ / @spnbaby-67​ / @waywardbabie​ / @phoenixblack89​ / @miraclesoflove​ / @valisiofdauntless​ / @peaches007​ / @xoxabs88xox​ / @sam-girl1998-blog​ / @linki-locks11​ / @vulgar-library​ / @jades-bullshit​ / @dirty-pan-goblin​ / @little-diable​ / @waywardbaby​ / @tatted-trina6​ / @lunarmoon8​ 

 * * *

Supernatural Forevers: @moosekateer13​ / @akshi8278​ / @atc74​ / @notyourtypicalrose​ / @angelofthetrenchcoats​ / @pyroqueen-k​ / @thecreatiivecorner​ / @collette04​ / @lovealways-j​ / @noneedtoknow789​ / @socalgem1124​ / @impala1967dwinchester​ / @thoughts-and-funnies​ / @blueaura​ / @animegirlgeeky​ / @onethirstyunicorn​ / @zeppette​ / @anaelsbrunette​ / @lettersofwrittencollective​ / @beth-winchester21​ / @laxe-chester67​ / @nightsbite​ / @h0unds-of-h3ll​ / @squigglylinesdotthei​ / @an-unforgettable-place​ / @seawinggs​ / @krazykelly​ / @shelvierenablatt​ / @bobbie3939​ / @snow-white-74 / @sharp-cheekbones-locked​ / @jaydahlynne​ / @michellemxndes​ / @tvdspngirl314​ / @squirrelnotsam​ / @lyarr24​ / @deansbxtch​ / @pinkshenanigan​ / @beskaradberoya​

* * *

Absent Tags: @deans-baby-momma​ / @Chriswhore / @lifeofrileyp​ / @hamildork​ / @smellingofpoetry​ / @slut-for-jared​ / @destiel-bridesmaid​ / @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x​ / @healpeony​ / @cemini-winchester​  / @destielstuffandthings​ / @moonlightandscarlet​ / @prettysourabbie​ / @bobbysxidgits​ / @brookelan​ / @tootsie562 / @xhannahbananax03​ / @teresa-67​ / @vikki240401​ / @inkedaztec​ / @awinchester27​ / @cutebutnotinorcent​ / @cole22ann​ / @1800-bleach​ / @deangirldream​ / @ghostlygooppeanutwobbler​ / @deanscroissant​

#absent #dean winchester #dean x daughter!reader #dean x reader #smut #angst #fluff #dark fic #sam x reader #sam x neice!reader #Benny x reader #wincest #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #au #negans-lucille-tblr #daughtercest

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 292: You Say Jeans

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “well anyway here’s that Touya reveal I foreshadowed like a million years ago, viva la 2020.” Dabi was all “hello world, I’ve killed 30 people and today I’m going to explain to you all why” before he proceeded to explain ABSOLUTELY NOTHING but everyone was so distracted by his tale of child abuse and hero conspiracies that they didn’t much seem to notice. Can’t Ya See-Kun’s Shark Friend was all “IS THIS THE END OF HERO SOCIETY AS WE KNOW IT”, and Horikoshi was all “STAY TUNED”, and then Dabi set himself on fire and leaped off of Machia’s back like the chaotic evil, I-just-bleached-all-my-brain-cells weird little fire man he is, ready to burn everyone to crispy bits before they could even react properly to his whole big revenge speech. Fortunately he did not succeed on account of THE RETURN OF THE JING, THE JOAT, BEST FUCKING JEANIST, back from the dead by popular demand in what critics are calling “the best fucking comeback since Jesus himself.”

Today on BnHA: Best Jeanist snatches up Machia and the rest of the League with his fiber steel cables before you can say “more like BEAST JEANIST amirite.” Dabi gets all worked up and lights Hadou on fire which is a real JERK MOVE, and is all “THIS RIGHT HERE IS ALSO ENDEAVOR’S FAULT”, which, NOT SUPER CONVINCED ON THAT, BUT OKAY. Anyway so then he burns up all the cables holding him which is crazeballs btw, and then he and Shouto start fighting, and so basically the whole thing is a literal hot mess and we’ll see how that goes. Meanwhile Tomura wakes up and summons some Noumus, and poor Jeanist has to deal with those on top of the still-attempting-to-rampage Gigantomachia, and everyone else is all “we can’t help you on account of we’re all half dead”, and so it’s looking really bad. And then -- and I can’t stress enough how much I don’t even have the faintest idea how to segue into this next part -- the chapter ends with Mirio!?! just sort of POPPING UP OUT OF THE GROUND all, “SURPRISE, BITCH”, and it literally was so surprising that I am still just kind of speechless. WELL-PLAYED, I GUESS, lol wtf.

lol okay so the first page in the RHA scan is just the “three musketeers” movie promo image that we all already saw a few days ago. but it does confirm that (a) it is indeed a movie, and (b) that it’s set for a summer 2021 release! how exciting

okay so now back to our special Dabi edition of Making a Murderer

“ray of hope” oh hell yes. SAVE US MR. JEANIST

I guess he had a TV in his private hero jet or something?

gotta say, “dammit Dabi” does not even remotely sound like Authentic Best Jeanist Dialogue to me though. gonna need Caleb to see to this. well but what do you guys think? does Best Jeanist curse?? I personally feel like he’s one of those guys who NEVER EVER swears no matter what, except under the most hilariously trifling circumstances. like he’s eating an avocado one day and he accidentally stains the cuffs of his beloved jostume green and he’s all “FUCK”

btw how fucking rich is Best Jeanist though that he has his own fucking plane? the thought just suddenly occurred to me, you know? like even Endeavor, whose agency has its own on-site luxury apartment suites for all of his interns, still drives around in a dinky little car that Bakugou has declared to be too small. which, I guess we know why he felt that way now, seeing as the guy he previously interned with apparently gets around in Jeans Force One

anyway so back to the part where Jeanist shows up to save the day!! YEAH JEANIST WOOOOO

ILU JEANIST YOU REALLY ARE THE BEST!! HUGS AND KISSES!!!

lmao we just saw Gigantomachia take out like a hundred guys not ten chapters ago. and Best Jeanist shows up and takes him down in like two seconds. HOW DO YOU LIKE THEM APPLES LEAGUE OF VILLAINS. BET YOU’RE WISHING YOU’D TAKEN HIS QUIRK NOW, AFO. GET FUCKED YOU OLD SPUD

KACCHAN IS SO HAPPY TO SEE HIM AWW

SIDE NOTE, IIDA, YOU AND I ARE GONNA HAVE WORDS LATER ABOUT YOU ACTUALLY AGREEING TO PUT HIM BACK DOWN. YOU DO UNDERSTAND THAT THIS CHILD IS STILL DRIPPING BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE FROM HIS MULTIPLE STAB WOUNDS, RIGHT? WAY TO ASSERT YOUR AUTHORITY THERE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE THE CLASS PRESIDENT NOT THE CLASS CLOWN, COME ON NOW

LMAO DABI IS FRANTICALLY TRYING TO DO THE PLOT MATH

SHOULDA CHECKED MORE CLOSELY MY GOOD MARK. LOOKS LIKE YOU MISSED THE “MADE IN CHINA” STICKER ON THE BOTTOM. YOU HAVE BEEN BAMBOOZLED. OR ACTUALLY, I GUESS THE MORE ACCURATE WORD HERE IS JAMBOOZLED, AHAHAHAHA. JEANS

HOLY SHIT DABI

I legit almost thought that was Tomura for a second. you two look so alike now with the white hair and the crazy eyes

meanwhile, Shouto is still crying and it’s a lot to take, you guys. lotta feels

ffff come on Jeanist you better do something awesome again here, the mood of the chapter is starting to slip now

YES, GOOD, THAT’LL WORK

WELL YOU TELL ME, SPINNER. I GUESS THAT MEANS BEST JEANIST IS OFFICIALLY THE STRONGEST CHARACTER IN THE SERIES NOW. SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

ffff now Spinner is trying to wake Tomura back up. nah, how’s about we not do that

OH MY GOD HADOU YESSSS

MY GIRL OUT HERE WITH THE “NO THANK YOU” BOUT TO CURBSTOMP THE BIG BAD WITH HER QUIRK KSFHLKLK WHO HERE HAD “HADOU SAVES THE DAY” ON YOUR WAR ARC BINGO CARDS, YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!!

HEY!!!!

fucking son of a... fffkfkff... someone please reassure me that fire isn’t Hadou’s weakness. someone. anyone. also could someone please dial an ambulance and send them to Horikoshi’s house. but not just yet. first I’m gonna need you to wait about fifteen minutes or so while I take care of some things

well all right then, Dabi. so you wanna go on then and explain to us all how this, too, is somehow Endeavor’s fault?

oh I see, you’ve decided that since he’s responsible for “creating” you, everyone you hurt and kill is in truth really being hurt and killed by him! well now, that sure is convenient as fuck I guess

(ETA: that’s a nice effect with the panel sides getting all warped by Dabi’s quirk though, just noticed that.)

amazing how quickly you used up that sympathy card my guy. Shouto please kick his ass, I’m fucking done lol, you can all sort out the rest in therapy later

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE DIAL BACK DEKU’S EMPATHY STATS JUST A LITTLE BIT, HOLY --

“TODOROKI-KUN IS HURT THE MOST”, HE SAYS, WITH HIS ARM BONES SHATTERED INTO LITTLE TOOTHPICK-SIZED PIECES. I MEAN, HE’S PROBABLY TALKING MORE ABOUT MENTAL ANGUISH GIVEN THE CONTEXT HERE, BUT STILL. THAT’S ENOUGH HEROICS FROM YOU ALREADY FOR ONE DAY

NOOO JEANIST

LOTS OF SMOKE IN THE AIR RIGHT ABOUT NOW AND MY BOY’S STILL DOWN A LUNG. GOD DAMMIT

“if the number one suffers a total loss here, this country will fall to pieces” well okay, real talk though, I think the “country falling to pieces” part is pretty much unavoidable at this juncture. you all are just gonna have to try your best to pick up those pieces after the fact and see what you can do with them. if I were you I’d be less worried about the number one’s reputation and more concerned with the half-dozen child soldier interns who are still on the field and very much at risk of being burned to death should you suffer that “total loss.” please try to keep it together here for them

OH FOR FUCK’S

I really thought RockLockRock was gonna come into play here. USE YOUR QUIRK TO LOCK THE ROPES IN PLACE YOU DIP!! if he seriously just sits there and does nothing when his quirk could be the deciding factor I am cancelling his useless ass cute kid or no cute kid shfkjdls

(ETA: is he even there?? did he and Manual just hightail it out of there?? “well good luck, children.”)

also, we’ll put this aside for now to perhaps speculate about later, but what’s with Tomura remembering his dad’s house yet again in that far right panel?? and being itchy again?? I still have yet to fully work out the psychological mechanisms at work as far as his itchiness goes, so I’ll admit this is intriguing to me. it seemed like it was connected to his decay quirk, but then why is it acting up again now. what is this lol

yuh oh

forgot about these guys. looks like these heroes aren’t having such a fun time

oh fucksticks

excuse me ma’am but I don’t like this. you do know that my kids are all there, right. all burnt and impaled and broken-boned and the like. well except for Iida. he’s fine still. BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN I FEEL LIKE WATCHING HIM GET TORN APART BY FOUR HIGH ENDS, WTF

HORIKOSHI YOU MOTHERFUCKER I SWEAR TO GOD

god fucking... okay look. Horikoshi. you win, okay!? congratulations, you win, this is your show and we’re all just sitting here at your mercy. fine. go ahead and just kill off everyone ever, then!! what am I even gonna do about it. stop reading?? fuck

this whole thing really went from zero to fucked before I could even blink huh. I really thought this was gonna be a turning point chapter for the heroes. shows what I know I guess??

meanwhile this motherfucker is just SCREAMING

ngl, if I wasn’t currently terrified on account of things suddenly taking such a drastic turn for the worse, this would be the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Jeanist my man, I hype you up like it’s my job because you are the greatest fucking meme character in the history of time, but make no mistake, you are also highkey WORTH ALL THE HYPE AND THEN SOME

seriously, though. don’t fucking mind him you guys, he’s just standing here in the coolest pose of all time taking on Gigantomachia all alone with one fucking lung because the substance pumping through his veins is COLD-BLOODED LIQUID DENIM, and DENIM FEELS NO FEAR

Best Jeanist really needs to get his own theme song. -- oh my god I just finally thought of a title for this post. lmao and it’s the dumbest thing. omg

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKI BROS ARE OFF IN THEIR OWN DRAMATIC LITTLE FIRE WORLD

which one do you think is the Mario and which is the Luigi. well, but I mean, Dabi clearly thinks that he’s the Luigi though and that’s why he’s so mad. nobody wants to be Luigi. what a life

THAT’S IT, SHOUTO!! POINT OUT ALL OF HIS HYPOCRITICAL BULLSHIT, I WANT ANSWERS

JUST TO CLARIFY, IT’S THAT NATSU, NOT SOME OTHER NATSU!! SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF!!

OH, WELL IN THAT CASE

BUT OF COURSE. THAT WOULD MAKE IT ALL WORTHWHILE, holy shit. okay I’m just gonna go ahead and say it, Dabi is a piece of work. I really thought this arc would make him more sympathetic at long last, but it seems like it’s doing just the opposite?? this is like an anti-redemption arc. I don’t relish the thought of venturing into the fandom tags once I finish reading this lol

(ETA: well folks, I’ve done it. and actually it was pretty interesting because there are apparently like ten different things that people are mad about, and so it’s like. each post is a new adventure lmao.)

so Shouto is all “BRUH HAVE YOU COMPLETELY LOST IT” and Dabi is all “YES”, basically? like, he says he’s completely lost his feeling for anything. omg. but you were so sweet. how does that even happen

“finally I can kill you” okay for real what the heck is your damage bro?? can we not. I like Shouto just the way he is, un-killed

oh shit and now the Noumus are here

cue Bakugou diving in to save his mentor, STAB WOUNDS BE DAMNED!! actually it would make more sense for it to be Iida, but if Kacchan is really fixin’ to go full Shounen Dumbass here then he might as well go all out, y’know

-- unless of course, Deku decides to activate another quirk??

“last I checked, the main character of this series was still me” OH? WELL I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE, SO PRAY TELL, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT LEFT UP YOUR SLEEVE YOU SUICIDAL BRUSSELS SPROUT

fucking love how he’s all “HAHAHA WITH MY NEW QUIRKS I CAN STILL DO STUPID SHIT EVEN WITH MY ARMS AND LEGS GROUND TO A FINE POWDER” btw. what can I say. Deku gonna Deku

FMMFHDKUHK W H A T

HOLY SHIT. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. WHAT THE WHAT. QUE THE FUCK

(ETA: okay look, all the love in the world to the brave scanlators who take time out of their lives to translate the leaks every week just so we can read the chapter a couple of days early like the addicts we are. that said, translating Mirio’s signature “POWER!!” -- which was already written in English in the original scan -- to “POG-CHAMP” is just a whole new level of wtfuckery from them lmao. is the Lida person back at it again?? amazing.)

MIRIO!?!?! SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY?!?! POGS HIMSELF UP OUT THE GROUND TO BEAT THE NOUMUS LIKE IT AIN’T NO THING. JUST LIKE WE ALL PREDICTED!? I’M SORRY, DID YOU NOT SEE THAT COMING?? YOU MEAN TO TELL ME YOUR DAILY HOROSCOPE FROM ASTROLOGY DOT COM DIDN’T HAVE THAT ONE IN THE CARDS?? WAS IT NOT OBVIOUS?? TODOROKIS PLUS BEST JEANIST EQUALS MIRIO??

hot damn. Tintin really saw the writing on the wall with the impending Dabi Discourse and was all “NOT SO FAST” lmao. “HERE’S A BRAND NEW THING FOR YOU ALL TO DISCOURSE ABOUT” MIRIO YOU WILD CHILD. YOU GLORIOUS THUG

MEANWHILE LET’S NOT FORGET WHAT MIRIO HAVING HIS POWERS BACK ACTUALLY IMPLIES. HOLY SHIT. SUDDENLY WE CUT BACK TO ALL MIGHT’S OFFICE, ALL THE WAY BACK AT UA. ERI BRANDISHES HER TOKOYAMI-GIFTED BUSTER SWORD, A DETERMINED GLEAM IN HER EYE. “I HEARD YOU WERE TRYING TO HAVE A GIRL POWER ARC WITHOUT ME.” OH. MY. GOD

#bnha 292 #best jeanist #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #hadou nejire #toogata mirio #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha