#feral ford au

[itsharleystuff]

↳ II. 𝘍𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘝𝘖𝘐𝘋

Read part one here.

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!Joel Miller x afab!fem reader (no outbreak au).

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.6k (once again, I’m sorry)

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after your steamy encounter with Joel during your homecoming party, things between you have been stagnant. Although, fate seems to be on your side when both Sarah and your dad have to leave town for a short while.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, p in v sex, Joel hits it from behind, blowjobs, some teasing, a bit of spanking, pet names (darling, sweetheart, honey), unprotected sex (pls do not attempt), cum eating, taking nsfw photos, Joel tries to be dom but fails, age gap (reader is twenty four, Joel is late forties), reader is kind of a brat, fluff and feelings (yes, this is a warning), alcohol consumption, brief mention of family death. Barely edited, sorryyy. No use of y/n.

—A/N: this can be read as a stand-alone but I suggest reading the previous part for a better understanding. Btw, there’s a couple of Easter eggs from the game in this! Also— I tried making a moodboard and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I’ll probably stick to gifs in the future, lol.

“I like Indiana Jones," you babble, taking a sip from your coffee without looking at anyone in specific. "I was twelve and in love with Harrison Ford..."

"Okay, so that's one movie we're definitely not going to watch." Sarah chimes in, lazily chewing on her scrambled eggs. "How do you feel about Robert Pattinson?"

"That depends," you reply, moving your head side to side in a contemplative manner, "are we talking twilight or Harry Potter?"

You hear your dad snort on the other side of the table and see Joel chuckling beside him. Sarah crosses both arms over her chest and raises a brow at them. “What's so funny?"

"Nothing," your dad clears his throat and side-eyes his friend. "Just thought you two were a bit old for those crappy vampire movies. Maybe watch-"

"Forgive me, but I don't think it's a good idea to take recommendations from either of you," you cut him off, leaning back on your chair. "You're both obsessed with die hard, think The Godfather is incredibly complex and in your spare time watch construction programs. We'll be fine on our own."

"Touché..."

It's been three weeks since your homecoming party, and ever since then it has become a habit to have breakfast together every weekend. Today, Saturday, it was the Miller's turn to cook, which consequently had you and your father sitting at their table. As of now, you and Sarah were discussing your movie night, which had to be postponed due to her road-trip to San Antonio— apparently, she and her friend Ellie were going to visit some college campuses there.

It's also been three weeks since that little, hot encounter you and Joel had in your kitchen. And, contrary to your better judgement, both of you were more than eager to spend some extra time alone. Things since then had been uneasy, specially when being surrounded by others; always worried that someone might notice those stolen looks you'd share or sense the palpable tension that rose when you would stand too close to each other.

You try not to think about it. Except when you do. A swirl of memories would come flooding your mind in the most inappropriate moments, creating that heat that made you remember exactly how his fingers felt inside you, his tongue between your folds, the sloppy kisses and that feral, hungry look in his eyes while eating you out, touching you like you were the most precious thing on earth.

"How about pride and prejudice?" the girl wonders, standing up to clean her dishes and snapping you back to reality.

"Shit, I love period dramas!" your dad shoots you a reproachful glare at your language, but you chose to ignore it. "As a matter of fact, most of my designs are inspired by the Victorian and regency eras."

"Oh, yeah," Sarah recalls, "I remember I read about it in one of your blogs. Dad showed it to me, by the way..." Joel clears his throat loudly, making her giggle.

Although she had mentioned it before, it was still kind of weird that he acknowledged your work. At first you thought it was merely because he wanted to connect with you somehow, but lately he'd been asking if he could see your new sketches and would let you borrow some old magazines he had around the house. Your best friend, Sophie, mentioned he might've been trying to show his interest in you subconsciously. And she was that one psychic friend who believed in zodiac signs and angel numbers, so you decided to believe her.

In that moment, your dad receives an incoming call on his cellphone; he excuses himself and heads to the living room. Your eyes lock with Joel's, and the fact that he was uninhibitedly staring back at you drew a smug smile on your face.

"Are you interested in fashion, Mr. Miller?" he sulks out a dry 'no', but you could see him fidget with his watch nervously. "Pity. I thought maybe you could model some of my male designs."

Sarah genuinely cracks up at your comment, slapping one hand on the table. "You want dad to pose for you? Seriously?"

"Why not? I brought my Polaroid camera, I can get some very nice shots." You were partially joking, but deep down you just wanted to see how he'd react.

"I mean, I know dad's got his charm with women, or so they keep saying-"

"No way anyone says that," he rambles.

"But the idea of him modeling is probably the funniest thing I've ever heard."

The fact was that you didn't want to take pictures of him so anyone else could see them. You wanted them exclusively for yourself. A couple of naughty Polaroids to keep around for whenever you were aching for him —which has been nearly every fucking night since your arrival—.

"It was a silly idea," you finally agree, shrugging. Joel stands to take his things to the sink. "Do you really have to leave for the weekend? You're like, my only friend here."

"Uh, about that..." she leans in towards you and you can practically smell a scheme on her. "Would you be mad if I gave your number to someone?"

You can quite literally feel the man standing behind you tense up. "Huh?"

"Yeah, like... To a guy." She moves in her place, but there's still no answer from you. "He's my English teacher. His name is Will and he's super smart, young, really funny and very handsome, I might add. I believe he can be your new male model." Sarah adds that last bit with a grin.

When you turn your head to see Joel, there was a deep scowl etching on his face, his body remaining still as a stone.

"I don't know... As friends, maybe." You weren't sure why, but the idea of meeting anyone new didn't really sound appealing.

She opened her mouth to say something but before she could actually do so, your dad walked in again. He appeared upset, gesturing nonsense and muttering impassively.

"What's wrong?" your tone comes out concerned.

"I have a meeting in Boston," he sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder apologetically. "Apparently it's urgent and I have to catch the next flight if I want to be there by nightfall."

"Oh, don't worry," you smile at him warmly. "I understand. Besides, I'm an adult. I can manage a weekend by myself."

He nods, still seemingly aloof. "I know but- I just wanted to spend some more time with you."

And of course you wanted that too, but saying it out loud could literally bring him to quit his job. He was always very extreme when it came down to you.

"What time d’you leave?" his friend asks him.

"Half past four. Why?"

"I can drop Sarah off at Ellie's and then drive you to the airport, if you'd like." Such a caring friend, Joel Miller. So selfless. Helping your dad out, attending his daughter's every special need...

"Yeah, thanks a lot, man. Take care of my little girl while I'm away."

You see his eyes gleam with a mix of unknown emotions, "Will do."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The last few days had been no less than torment for Joel. Each moment that went by in which he didn't get a chance to be near you had him losing his mind. Badly. And it wasn't necessarily a physical thing— not always, at least.

Every morning, he would wake up and go to work, knowing for certain that when he comes back home he'll find you hanging around with Sarah or sitting out on your porch with a sketching notebook on your lap.

He liked to guess what you'd be doing.

Would you be playing board games with his daughter? Watching a movie or baking desserts? Maybe you were thrift shopping with your dad or simply going to the mall. And later on, when he finally gets to see you again, you'd tell him all about it.

Joel also liked to imagine what kind of clothes you'd be wearing. One thing he noticed is that you never stick to one particular style or aesthetic. One day you could be wearing pastel sundresses with ribbons in your hair; the next one could be long, black skirts paired with basic tank tops and multiple necklaces, or even something more extravagant, depending on your mood.

Seeing you was an experience— one that he could never get tired of. It's like every time he sets his eyes on you there's a certain color palette that changes constantly, or the feeling of gathering all your favorite songs into one playlist and then hitting the shuffle button. He never knows what to expect. Hence why he had given up on trying to relate you to the silly things around; like seasons, animals, artists or foods. Instead, he started associating you with feelings.

You were creative, unique and incredibly fearless. In a way, you made him feel uneasy, excited, thrilled, confident and many more emotions at the same time. If he had to describe you in one word, he'd say evoking.

Oh, how you pestered his brain.

He hated how much he thought about you, and how little guilt he felt from it.

Right now he was sitting on the drivers seat of his truck, waiting at the airport's parking lot. You asked him if you could walk your dad to his corresponding gate and he agreed. The downside: it had started to rain, probably not too bad for your dad's flight to be delayed but enough for your clothes to get soaked on your way back.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you muttered, shutting the passenger's door behind you. “The seats are gonna get all wet..."

"Here," Joel takes off his jacket to place it over your shoulders.

It feels warm and it smells like him, "Thanks."

He starts the car without saying anything else, keeping his eyes glued to the road. You, on the other hand, could not stop staring at him. Now that no one else was around, there was no shame in admiring his side profile, the way his muscles flexed and his hands grasped the wheel. There was something inherently attractive about men driving, but- Jesus... This image had your mind roaming around dark places.

Suddenly, realization sinks in— you're alone.

Alone with him.

"I, uh..." he taps the wheel with his thumb, still avoiding your gaze. "I wanted to take you out for dinner. The weather kinda ruined it."

The corners of your mouth hitch up in a silly smile. "Too bad. I really didn't want to be alone tonight."

Joel hums, appearing somewhat distraught. In reality, he was fighting for his life. The clothes you chose to wear today were not fitted for the rain; denim mini-skirt, high pair of boots and a white top that complimented your upper body. He tried not to look at the raindrops rolling down your thighs or note how transparent your shirt has become, forcing himself to stare at your hands and the many rings that decorated your fingers, seeing there the one he gifted you.

"How about you come over to my place?" you suggest, trying to catch his attention. "I'll need a shower and a change of clothes but... Maybe we can do something afterwards."

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, still avoiding your gaze, "Like what?"

This time your voice goes lower, a smirk spreads across your face and something in your eyes flickers; a darker, sensual spark.

"Oh, you know..." your hand carefully comes to rest on his knee. His thigh tenses but he doesn't say or do anything to push you away. "Whatever you want."

He swallows hard, feeling the pads of your fingers run circles on his leg, your nails mildly scratching over the jeans in a way that raises goosebumps on his skin and eases his nerves.

"I've got a better idea," he says, keeping his tone calm —barely—. "Why don't you come to my house instead?"

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Sure, but- what about my clothes?"

And then he smiles cockily, as if this had been his plan all along, "Wear mine."

Well, there was absolutely no way you were going to turn him down. With a bit more boldness, you slide your hand a few inches up his inner thigh, still rubbing soothing patterns. His jaw clenched, but remained silent and apparently unbothered.

"Joel?" his name rolled off your tongue sweetly, in a way only you knew how to. He uttered a 'hm?' in retort. "Did you miss me?"

"I've seen you nearly every day," he answers playfully.

You laugh, stopping your movements and simply resting your palm there. "So... No?"

"Didn't say that, darlin'." The truck suddenly stops at a red light as he exhales heavily, giving in to you at last. "But I'll let you guess."

A push and pull game, like a cat chasing a mouse. Your smirk widens. "I don't think so. Not as much as I have."

His eyes scan your body from head to toe, the way you sit with your legs slightly parted, back laying flat against the seat and face turned towards him with heated cheeks and low gaze. Unexpectedly, your hand draws back from his lap as you start looking through your purse and a frown forms on his face, baffled by the loss of contact.

"Which is why..." you take the Polaroid camera out and see a whole shift in his eyes, like he's about to burst in laughter. "I brought this."

"No," despite his categorical denial, you still held the object up.

"You have a green light," he curses under his breath and you hold back a chuckle. "Just let me have one, please."

He sighs in defeat, "Why'd you want that?"

The rain had started to settle down but the air was still pretty cold, all that could be heard besides your own voices being the drops that crashed against the car.

"Cause you're handsome," he rolls his eyes sarcastically. "And I like you."

Hell, you were always so straightforward. It made his heart jump inside his chest, wondering if it was gonna burst out.

"You won't like me as much once you meet that Will dude," Joel prattles through gritted teeth, remembering his daughter's suggestion from earlier.

"The guy Sarah mentioned?" your brows furrow subtly. "Why? What's up with him?"

He yanks his head to the side, glancing over at you for a second, "Nothin'. Just thinkin' out loud." In spite of your puzzled expression, he decides to grant your wish. "I'll let ya' take it. But only if I get one in return."

Your lips purse in a smile, "As many as you like, Miller."

He doesn't say anything in response, but his grin doesn’t fade either and you managed to capture it on paper. The image slowly started to become visible and your first thought was how well it captured the whole 'Joel Miller' essence. It was a simple photo of him driving with one hand on the wheel and the other arm thrown lazily over the backseat. That denim shirt hugged his arms exquisitely, the rolled-up sleeves adding to his appeal. He was looking at you when it was taken, so you could see more than half his face— and the way he was grinning, you couldn't help but think he appeared so much younger when he did that. The entire thing felt so much like him: snuggly, blue, genuine and you absolutely loved it.

"There," you show it to him as he started to pull over. "Isn't it nice?"

"Just keep it to yourself, aight?" the man grumbles.

"F'course," with a spark of joy, you slide the photo inside your wallet. "Wouldn't want anyone else peeking at that gorgeous smile of yours. That's a treasure of my own."

"Shut up-" he rumbled, turning his face the other way and opening the door, seemingly flustered. And out of all the amazing things you've accomplished in your life, making this rugged looking man blush was probably your greatest pride.

When he helps you out of the car, holding your hand firmly and cleaving to your waist; you wanted nothing more than to kiss him under the pouring rain, wildly and unhinged, just like last time. But this particular spot possibly had too many curious eyes of which you were unaware of. He obviously doesn't need to guide you through his house, since you already know nearly every corner of it, except for one. His bedroom. And apparently, that's the precise location he's taking you to.

"Please excuse the mess," he says, placing one hand on the door handle, "I haven't had a woman in here for ages, so I'm afraid I probably won't live up to your expectations."

"Joel," you snort, "it's been a decade and a half since you last dated anyone. Trust me, my expectations are pretty low."

He scowls, squinting both eyes. "You didn't have to say it like that..."

It's honestly better than you thought. His bed is nicely done, brown bedsheets striking as warm and welcoming; the walls were painted a pretty, light shade of blue that matched the grayish curtains on the left. The drawers in front of his windows had a bunch of stuff scattered on top of them: a CD player along with a few music discs, some papers, a cap and a pair of reading glasses, batteries, one screwdriver and a framed picture of him and Sarah at the beach. Meanwhile, the nightstand simply had one lamp and an alarm-clock on it. Over the bed's headboard were one poster of a music festival, the image of a landscape and an advert of what you guessed must've been a club, that read 'tacos and beer" on it. The door to the bathroom was on the right.

Messy, yet tidy at the same time. Very Joel-like.

"No way..." you murmur, eyeing the guitar beside his bed. "All this time I thought it was a myth."

"What?" he asks from behind you.

"Dad told me you used to serenade girls back in college and that you wanted to become a singer." A giggle escapes your lips, unable to contain it. "I remember saying he was surely making it up, but..."

"I didn't- I mean..." he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck and feeling his chest swell with your laughter. "Oh, shut up!"

"Make me." The lingering, mischievous smile on your face made his heart pound and blood rush. "Come on, Miller. Shut me up, I dare you."

His eyes darken, but you don't falter for a second. He doesn't move a muscle, solely watching as you took off his jacket and threw it to the bed.

"You dare me?" his voice goes drops an octave, following your every move closely. "That's rather bold of you, sweetheart."

"Mhm," without breaking eye contact, you start taking off your boots. "And yet you're doing nothing about it."

Joel starts walking towards you slowly, holding your gaze intently. Your hair was damp and your clothes were still wet; it didn't really matter that the air was chilly cause you still felt warm all over. He soon invades your space, cupping your chin in his big hand and lifting your head upwards.

"Well, you're awfully quiet now, aren't ya'?" his hot breath fanned across your cheeks, the gap between your faces being basically invisible.

"I'm just waiting for you to start singing some random song by Alabama or Johnny Cash," you scoff. "Like a good ol' Texan ma-"

He doesn't let you finish the sentence, abruptly crashing his lips into your own. Joel isn't delicate about it and the fervor with which he kisses you makes your body stumble a few steps backwards. Your shoulders hit the wall and he pins you against it as your mouths find a way to mold perfectly, at a much nicer pace than last time. You throw your hands around his neck and let your fingers tangle in the curls around his nape, tasting the fresh mint on his lips. His hands rest on your hips, chests pressed together as the temperature kept rising with each second that went on.

You part your lips in order to grant him deeper access, feeling his tongue slide past your teeth and meeting your own in an ardent, heated way. It was perfect, until he broke apart, looking down at you with an asserted confidence.

"You really know nothing 'bout country music," he says in between shaky breaths, beaming. "S'that what you wanted?"

"Yes," you manage to say.

"Then say 'thank you'," Joel indicates petulantly, stroking your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "Go on, don't be such a brat."

You blink twice, your brain still buzzing with the sensation of mouth on you, barely capable of processing anything else. "But I want more..."

"You'll take what I give you."

Shit, when he said it like that- "Thank you."

"That's my girl," he straightened his back, opening the door next to you. "Now, get your pretty ass in the shower before you catch a cold, 'kay?" You roll your eyes and hear him chuckle. "There's clean towers under the sink. You can take some clothes from my drawers, or Sarah's if you feel like it. I don't think she'll mind."

"Understood." He can tell you're annoyed, which he finds funny.

"Don't be mad at me, angel." Joel tugs a strand of hair behind your ear. "Promise I'll make it up to you."

You nod distractedly, lost in the cocky spark on his eyes. "I'm not mad. Just hoping you fuck me real good if you're making me wait for it."

Your words almost make him choke on his own saliva. "Sweetheart, you're making it real hard for me to be a gentleman."

It makes your ego boost, in a sense. "I'll be quick. Can you get something for dinner, though? I'm starving."

"Shit, darlin', pick a struggle," he mocks as you enter the bathroom, "are you horny or hungry?"

"Oh, you jerk!"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

6:15 pm.

You take a quick glance at Joel's alarm clock once you come out of the shower. It's been little more than an hour since your dad's plane took off. You hope the rain hadn’t made his flight any difficult, cause the weather turned out to be quite a blessing for you.

The cozy feeling of a nice, warm shower after being soaked under the rain was starting to settle in your bones, making your limbs relax. Then you realize, you smell like Joel. The scent of his soap, his shampoo, even his laundry detergent, is all over you. It's intoxicating in the most fantastic way possible, making your insides burn with a thrill of excitement. You took one on his flannels, —dark green with red stripes— and decided to wear it without anything besides your underwear. It was pretty big anyway, and covered just the necessary areas.

You slid your socks back on when all of the sudden you hear the faint sound of music from the floor beneath. Curious, you walk towards the noise, finding out Joel was in the kitchen, crouched down in front of the opened fridge. The CD player that you saw earlier on his room was now on the table, playing a melody that you recognized almost immediately.

"I like this song," you say, leaning against the wall. "That's Billy Idol, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he recalls, taking out a medium sized plastic box from the fridge. "Tommy made that mix. There's plenty of hits from past decades. I think you'll enjoy it."

The man finally turns around to face you and his face fails to hide his surprise. The way his prying eyes sweep your body in detail, taking his time particularly on your bare thighs, almost made you feel self-conscious if it weren't for that shadow of desire that crossed his eyes and the way his nostrils flared from a contained breath.

"How is he, by the way?" you ask, still on the subject. "Haven't seen him in a while."

"Who?" he clearly forgot what he had just said.

"Your brother," you call to mind, "how is he?"

Joel sets the box down on the table and drifts his gaze back to your face. "Fine, I guess. Last time we spoke he said he'd go to Dallas." He takes two glasses from the pantry and what it looks like a bottle of wine. "I-uh... There isn't any real food in here besides those strawberries and chocolates that this guy brought for Sarah. Should I order something?"

You shake your head and walk over to him, "This will do. Won't she get mad if we eat them, though?"

"Don't think so," he replies, pouring the red liquid into the glasses. "I'll blame you if she does."

"Oh, okay-" you cock an eyebrow at him and hold back a giggle. "Thought you didn't like wine."

"It's a fancy drink," he explains, "s'only for special occasions."

"Oh?" you take a sip from it, eyes boring into his. "And what's tonight's?"

Joel smiles conceitedly, jutting his chin out. "I've got you all to myself."

You snort, feeling the heat soar across your cheeks. He takes the snack box and with a sly gesture asks you to follow him into the living room, the melodic sound of the eighties tune turning to background noise as you do. The only lights on are the ones in the kitchen and the lamps beside the couch, shining a perfect light on his features.

"Come here," he calls, the leather squealing under his weight when he sat down. You set the glass down on the coffee table in front of the tv, going to sit next to him. "No, sweetheart," he grabs your waist and pulls you closer to him. "I meant here."

His legs part slightly, making room for you to sit on his lap. Your smile broadened toward a soft chuckle, settling yourself on his thigh. Joel immediately gets his hands on you, one on your lower back and the other merely resting on your upper leg.

"So, who's this mystery man that's been giving gifts to your darling daughter?" he scoffs in response, reaching for a chocolate from the box.

"Honestly? No fuckin' clue." You hum in surprise, drinking from your wine. "She never involves with them, thank god, and once they meet me they never come by again."

"I see,” you muse, “you're the overprotective type," you bite on a strawberry next.

"I wouldn't say it like that..." he sees the sarcastic glimpse on your expression and holds back laughter. "It's a dad reflex, I can't control it."

"Right, sounds convincing."

You stretch your arm behind the couch, setting your elbow and laying the side of your face on your palm. His face is very close to yours but all you do is simply stare at each other; Joel's big brown eyes glimmer with infatuation. “Can I ask you a question, sweetheart?" he asks lowly. "Somethin' more serious."

You wince in confusion, but still nod, "Sure."

He inhales sharply, taking a couple of seconds to actually say what he meant to. “Why are you here?" your frown deepens at his words. "I mean- Texas. I know you said you wanted to make up for the lost time with your old man, but... I feel like there's something else you're not saying."

It takes a minute for you to really sink in on his question. You nearly gulp down the alcohol before setting the glass down, avoiding his ardent gaze.

"Honestly?" you sigh, "There's so much to unpack that I don't even know where to start."

"Try." Although he didn't sound harsh, the effort he was asking you to put in wasn't something of your liking.

"Well, first of all," you meditate, clearing your throat, "the city didn't feel like home since my mom passed. It made me realize how much I missed here." He nods comprehensively, caressing the exposed skin of your thigh in a reassuring manner. "And then there's this- fear. Yeah, I guess it is fear... I've managed to accomplish so much in such short time that it actually fucking scares me to go any further and see that-" you stop, sighing and shaking your head. "That I've reached my limit."

For a moment, there's just silence floating between you, all that could be heard were the rain and a song by tears for fears.

"Darlin', look at me," he asks softly but you can't bring yourself to do it, embarrassed by your confession. "Please, let me see those pretty eyes of yours."

And it's practically impossible for you to deny him anything. Specially when he asks so nicely, when his hand grabs the side of your face so gently— you give in, just like that.

"You're afraid to succeed because you don't know what to do with yourself afterwards. Is that it?" You nod faintly. "Can I speak frankly?"

"I have a feeling you will anyway-"

"Yeah. A bit of tough love, but you need’a hear it." Joel strokes your cheek sweetly and you get shivers from the affection in the action. "Sweetheart, I know what you're going through. Shit feels like it's either moving too fast or not moving at all. And I know how scary that is. Trust me, there's still plenty of time for you."

You square your eyes to his, "Sure, bet you were frightened when you were twenty four."

"Terrified," he spoke truthfully. "Everyone I knew was getting married, moving out or working their asses off."

"And you?" he grunts, taking a strawberry from the box. "What were you doing?" Joel eats the fruit patiently, simply staring at you silently. "Come ooon, don't play hard to get."

"Gotta promise you won't laugh."

It's a tricky business for someone who makes fun of everything, and yet you simply reply: "I swear."

"Fine," he rasps out in fake annoyance. "I used to make my own guitars and- sell 'em sometimes. I'd also teach guitar lessons and horseback riding."

Your eyes widen in surprise and something flutters in your stomach. "Shit, that's actually pretty cool!"

He groans, rolling his eyes at the same time, "I told you not to make fun of me."

"No, no- I mean it." You shuffle on his lap, resting a hand on his chest. "And you sound passionate about it... Why'd you stop?"

The man shrugs his shoulders, tightening his grip on your waist. "It went well for a couple years but I eventually had to get something more solid. More so after Sarah was born." He takes a deep breath in, the smell of his own shampoo on your hair hitting his nostrils and catching him off-guard.

"You should teach me," you suggest with a smug grin. "I always wanted to learn."

"What, guitar or horseback riding?" he wonders, suddenly nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck.

"Guitar. I'm pretty good at riding, if you must know." You feel him chuckle against your body, his facial hair scratching your sensitive skin.

"We'll see 'bout that," his voice comes out husky as he starts kissing along your jawline.

Joel's common sense jumped out the window long ago, but the string of self control that kept him sane all this time couldn't bear the weight of you wriggling on top of him, semi-naked and with his scent all over you. Something primal took over him, a glimpse of possessiveness that he didn't believe himself capable of feeling towards you specifically. He wanted you to wear that flannel around town so people would look at you and know who it belonged to; whose bed you've been visiting. He wanted you to smell of his cologne so other men would know that you weren't free for them.

Your fingers run through his soft curls, messing his hair while he grabs the back of your thighs and manhandles you onto straddling his lap. He nips and licks over all your vulnerable areas, making your breathing start to labour. How could he possibly know this well the easiest ways to have you so desperate this quick? Leaning into his touch, yearning for him even with the smallest action? He wasn't aware of the answer himself, he just knew.

Joel instinctively throws his head back when you tug at his hair and seize the opportunity to duck down and lay a sweet kiss on his forehead. His hands coast up your thighs, splaying his fingers on your ass to squeeze the flesh. You hold back a giggle, kissing the curve of his nose before catching his soft, soft lips on yours.

He slides an arm around your waist, pressing his palm between your shoulder blades to keep you as close as possible. You feel your nipples harden when his tongue ran along your bottom lip— tauntingly slow, until you allowed him full access to your mouth, letting him taste the sweet mixture of wine and strawberries on your tongue. But his vehemence didn't make you any less eager, kissing him back with just as much passion and vigor, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip and mildly pulling at it with minor strength.

The action ignites a fire within him, seeing you on top, feeling your fingers roam around his cheekbones and along his jawline like you knew just how much fucking power you had over him... It was a new sensation, a new kind of desire he didn't recognize at first.

Joel's lips were swollen and his own excitement was starting to feel evident underneath you, which created a blunt ache between your legs. He usually appeared so big and mean, with those broad shoulders and permanent scowl on his face. Now, though... He seemed like he'd let you do just about anything with him, to him— it didn't really matter as long as you kept staring at him like that; through heavy lids, eyes sparkling with a profound, desperate need that spoke without words, saying 'only you get to see this side of me'.

You start grinding your hips against his, rubbing your clothed core above his growing boner in small, calculated circles as you shore yourself up with a hand to his chest. He merely admired you from his position, letting you have your way with him; all the while his gaze reflected patience, like he could take over the situation any second but enjoyed watching you lead.

"Joel," you call his name, leaning forward to kiss his chin, moving your lips all the way down his throat and feeling the nice scratch of his beard. Your hands grab the collar of his shirt as you come up to whisper in his ear: "Stay still."

Panting, he narrows his eyes in confusion, "What?" Though you don't give him enough time to figure out your words, getting back on your feet and parting his legs further with a light thump of your knee.

He observes your every move quietly, amused by your confidence and determination when you drop to your knees in front of him. Joel's cocky expression doesn't sway, not even when you drag your nails across his inner thigh, inching closer towards his very visible hard on. However, his body betrays him, selling a whole different story. His muscles tense, his jaw clenches and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"Stop being such a fucking tease," he hissed, refusing to place his hands on you.

"Or what?" you drawl, coming to rest your palm on his crotch. A simple, feathery touch that made his pulse accelerate.

"You'll regret it," he warns grimly.

"S'that so?" you start to unbuckle his belt, way too slow for his liking, tugging down the zipper of his jeans. "I think I can handle it."

He smirked, his hand slithers to the back of your scalp and forces you to lock eyes with him. "Don't test your luck, sweetheart."

You pout mockingly, doing exactly the opposite of what he was saying while dragging down the fabric just enough to free his cock. Your new found courage falters for a second, finally seeing him in all his size and girth. He was, by all means, a big one, the amount of precome oozing on the tip telling you just how much he loved being teased, despite whatever words came out of his mouth. The mere sight of it sent a new heated wave of slick between your thighs.

Joel mimicked your expression scornfully, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone, "Too big for ya'?"

"None of that," you wrap your hand around the base, not really applying any pressure; though the sole warmth of your touch was enough to give him goosebumps, "we'll make it fit."

"That's my girl."

With a chuckle, you lower your head to kiss the inside of his thigh, the pads of your fingers softly grazing the veins on his length. His whole body shudders, leaking onto your hand and letting out a subtle gasp as you spread kisses all along his shaft. Your eyes peer into his soul when you gently place your lips to the slit, tasting the salty precome as he calls your name in what resembles a desperate plea. In a swift move, you finally take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and deciding to put an end to his suffering. He mutters a gruff 'fuck' when you attempt to take him farther, pumping what you couldn't yet fit and snaking your free hand under the hem of his denim shirt to caress the soft skin of his belly.

"Shit, darlin'-" you feel the heaviness of his palm simply resting on the back of your head, not pushing or forcing you in any way, but allowing you to adapt to his size. "The only way to get ya' to stop talking is with a mouth full of cock, ain't it?"

You hum in response and the sensation is completely enrapturing for Joel, his callused fingers tangle in your hair to ground him as he releases a shaky breath. It's a huge challenge to focus on anything else but him; your mind whirring with a familiar dizziness while you bob your head up and down his shaft, intoxicated by the taste of him, the smell of him and every sound that escapes his lips, making your clit throb with need and your arousal pool in your panties, uncomfortably sticking to your skin.

For Joel, it's overwhelming.

He's never really been the noisy type during sex but heck— you were doing it for him. He's a panting mess above you, his hips buck ever so slightly in tandem with your mouth, trying not to lose it entirely. Your spit drools down his dick and the way your dark, dilated pupils sparkle with lust as you hollow your cheeks around him pulls a groan deep from his throat.

"That's it, you can take it," he coaxes when your nose nudges his pubic bone, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. "Good fuckin' girl, just like that..."

Enticed with the praise, you keep repeating the motion, sliding one hand to hold his hipbone for support and feeling his burning skin under your touch whilst the other plays with his balls to aid his pleasure. The obscene slick sounds mix in the air with his hoarse cursing, the rain and the faint music of kings of leon, sex on fire.

He looks so good from this angle, chest rising and falling with heavy, irregular breaths, head thrown back and both hands on you, keeping you angled for his cock. Drops of precum roll on your tongue as you keep changing the pace at which your head moves, tears welling in your eyes and jaw going slack. Shit, you're aching for him so bad that the only thing you can think of to relieve the need is squeeze your thighs together in order to create some friction. And it works, the action eliciting a moan from you that makes him fucking whimper your name.

"Bet your cunt's drippin' just from sucking my dick," he muffles a laugh that turns halfway into a sigh when you pay special attention to the ruddy, sensitive tip. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum-"

You can tell he is by the way his cock twitches in your mouth; his spine straightens at the heat gathering between his legs and he tries to pull you off against your will, uttering a warning that you chose to ignore. Joel's lips part in a throaty groan when he reaches his high, feeling the outline of your fingers digging harshly on his hip, your hand rubbing his length and your tongue lapping at his slit, taking in every single drop of his release until he's spent, right before pressing a soft kiss to it that makes him shiver. And hell— contrary to others, he tasted good; warm and thick, coating your senses.

His heart beats aggressively against his ribs and he loosens his grip on your hair, allowing you to get back on your feet while resting your hands on his waist. Although his eyes are barely open, he can quite literally feel your smile when you chastely kiss his lips. He chuckles breathlessly as you sit beside him, tugging himself back in his pants.

"We're not done yet," he says, grabbing the back of your knee and promptly engulfing your leg around his waist, maneuvering your body so that your back rests against the couch and he's crouched down, caged in the middle of your thighs. "I said I'd make it up to you and I will."

"Well, you've certainly got some stamina in you, old man," you poke fun at him, raising a hand to move those rebellious curls away from his eyes.

Joel smiles, caressing your cheek affectionately. "Always got somethin' to say, don't ya'?"

"Oh, Mr. Miller," you coo, enveloping your arms around his neck, "we both know just how much you love to hear me talk."

"Mhm," he leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, "yes, I reckon you're right."

His big hand covers nearly half of your face as he holds you still, crashing your lips together. He kisses you deeply, vigorously, in a way that makes you wonder if you could possibly drown in a person's essence. His other palm slides between your bodies to start undoing the buttons of the flannel —his flannel— you were wearing. You can't help but whine when he draws back, watching you from above.

"Joel-" blood rushes through your ears and can feel your cheeks warm up as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers coasting down your throat and to the valley of your breasts, licking his lips when he sees your hardened nipples.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he speaks freely, without holding back emotion, and it makes your heart skip a beat. "Such a sweet, sweet girl I can't get enough of."

"Then take a picture," you purr, "it'll last longer."

He stares at you through a measuring squint, a lighthearted smile forming on his face. "Since you insist." It takes a moment for you to realize what he means, until you finally recall that there's actually a camera inside your purse; one that he reaches for. "If I remember correctly... You said I could take as many as I like."

You lightly squeeze his waist with your thighs, feeling your whole body burn with anticipation. "I did say that..."

"Let's just pray your dad won't find these hanging around," he ponders, turning your face slightly to the side. "He'll have my head."

"And that would be terrible..."

He takes the Polaroid with one hand, the other coming to grope your breast as he backs off for a better angle, ultimately deciding to wrap his fingers loosely around your neck instead, purely holding you there. You glance at the lens, making your best "fuck me" eyes added to a cheeky smile, hearing him curse under his breath prior to snapping the picture.

"You've got the prettiest fucking tits I've even seen, sweetheart," he snarls, laying a palm flat over your lower abdomen while he waited for the photo.

"Has anyone ever told you you've got such a marvelous way with words?" he suppressed a laugh, safeguarding the picture on the back pocket of his jeans.

"Just a few women." Before you can even begin to act annoyed, he sets the camera aside and leans down to kiss your collarbones, the pad of his thumb kneading circles around your sensitive nipple. "Look at you, honey," he murmurs, "you're so easy to please... Or is it just because of me?"

You're panting, your back arching in response to his constant ministrations, every inch of your skin blushing under his attention. "I think it's-" you're cut off by the sudden need to swallow when he sucks a mark on the vulnerable skin between your breasts, "you."

His body vibrates with a laugh and you feel his hand palm your clothed sex, dragging his tongue over your delicate nipple, gently nibbling at it. You screw your eyes shut and let a single, fluttery moan slide past your lips when his thumb nudges your clit.

"So wet just from giving head?" Joel shakes his head in fake disapproval. "Who knew you were such a horny little thing?"

You are holding onto his bicep for dear life, fearing you might collapse into oblivion if you part from his body. His index glides across your slit over the drenched cotton fabric, making you squirm beneath him.

"You- you tasted good," you babble, mind all over the place. 

"Yeah?" his chest swells with pride, "you should taste yourself, angel," his mouth travels across your abdomen, "sweetest thing I've ever had."

It's pointless trying to conjure a response, you're simply too far gone by now. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and buries his head between your thighs, flattening his tongue against the bundle of nerves. You whimper, running your fingers through his locks and bucking your hips to meet his face.

"Please," you blurt out, "Joel, please..."

"What, sweetheart?" he asks, moving the underwear aside to directly touch your clit, fondling it as he watched your slick coat his fingers. "What do you want?" But you can't conceive an answer, all that could come out of your mouth were those pathetic, desperate moans. "Use your words."

With his free hand he plays with your nipple, grabbing your breast with his entire hand. "I want you."

He tauntingly moves his fingers around your seam, refusing to go any further. "Say it again."

"I want you, Joel."

Cocky bastard.

He licks his fingers clean and starts getting off the couch, leaving you with a confused, dumbfounded expression that nearly makes him crack up.

"You didn't really believe I'd be fucking you on the couch, did ya'?" he teases, but all you can muster up is a barely audible 'oh'. "Come on, let's take this to my room. And don't forget to bring that camera of yours."

Mind still dazing, you obey his instructions, following him silently upstairs as he undoes the buttons of his shirt. For a second, he glances back at you, gifting a soft, reassuring grin before extending his arm to grab your fingers, holding your hand in a pure, intimate touch.

And just for that moment, you forget that he's actually your dad's oldest friend, that he's Sarah's father or any other thought of the sort. He's just Joel. Joel Miller, the only man that has managed to make you feel butterflies in the pit of your stomach, or that made you blush with merely a few compliments.

"Ask me to kiss you," he urges, taking the camera from your hands and carefully placing it on his bedside table, his eyesight fixed on you.

"Kiss me," you don't ask, you downright beg.

He does, though it's not like the previous times. He's tender, almost languid about it. His hands are on your bare hips while yours cup his cheeks; Joel's fingers reach to remove the flannel from your shoulders and moves his lips to the newly exposed skin, murmuring constant admirations. You feel your lungs clench and a tingly sensation on your lower belly.

"I'll take care of you, darlin'." You let the shirt slide down your arms and fall to the floor. "Gonna show you what you've been missin' out on by fooling around with those stupid boys." His words go straight to your core as he takes a step back to sit on the edge of his bed. "Take them off," he gestures to the last piece of clothing on your body.

You compel to his wish, stripping under his prying eyes while he lazily gets rid of his boots. His lips twitch in a smile when he sees the glistening mess he's made of you, promptly dragging you on top of him. Your hands lay flat on his exposed chest shortly before he switches positions, readjusting you on the middle of the bed.

"Joel, please just-" you whine when he keeps playing with your entrance, stretching you with his fingers. Your skin scorches with desire, knees weak from the growing heat on your lower body.

"Stop nagging, sweetheart," he grits through his own lust, his gaze impossibly dark. "I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Joel, I'm too worked up, I-" you gasp when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that particular spot that made your toes curl. "Fuck..."

"Come on, baby." He ducks down to kiss the skin behind your ear and his beard tickles nicely. "It's just the two of us now, feel free to be as loud as you need to."

His pants are undone and hanging loosely on his hips, the image being so blatantly erotic that only managed to get you more aroused as you fumble to get rid of his shirt. He chuckles at your eagerness, shrugging it out of the way and haphazardly kicking off his jeans and underwear altogether, discarding them on the floor with the rest of the clothes.

You take a second to revel on his naked figure, his tanned skin, broad shoulders and sturdy chest, the marked collarbones and every noticeable mole. His hair is messy from your fingers, a thin layer of sweat sticks some curls to his temples as his wild, hungry eyes bask in the view of your sopping pussy when he parts your shaky legs further. But the moment of appreciation is brief, both of you being edged and spurred on.

He maneuvers a hand to your lower back and aligns your hips with his, watching the way your hole drips for him, wetting his bedsheets. You're a panting mess beneath him, lightly scratching his shoulder-blades and biting on your bottom lip, looking up at him doe-eyed and all splayed out for him to take. Joel wants to tell you just how badly he's longed for this— how he's been yearning to have you so achingly bad. But right now, feelings overrun his thoughts, especially after hearing his name spilling from your lips, begging for him to take you.

"Relax, darlin'." Joel teases your slit with the head of his cock, rubbing it along your sex and coating it with your slick. Your head tilts backwards, dipping on his pillows, small whines keep spilling from your mouth. "I won't go easy on you."

"Great, cause I don't want you to-" your slurred words get muffled by the sudden feeling of intrusion as he finally buries himself in your cunt, letting out a filthy, guttural groan.

You close your eyes, feeling lightheaded and staggered from the way he was filling you up so nicely, the stretch being a tad painful at first, but the kind of pain that could only ever feel good. Then your whole body quivers from head to toe.

"That's it, you can take it," he mutters, peppering kisses to your chin and collarbones as he bottoms out. "Fuck, you feel divine-" The tight, warm grip you welcome him with resembles nothing he's ever had before. This is new, this is you.

You bear down on his cock, enveloping your legs around his waist and lifting your hips to encourage him. He holds you down with a firm grip around your neck, starting to set a pace with his hips as he draws out and then back in slowly, roughly, making your back arch. Your erect nipples brush against his strong chest and create a delightful friction that has you moaning louder than you could've expected. You're amazed by the way he thrusts into you, somehow mindful to hit every right spot inside you —needless to say that it was something that others could hardly manage before—, his pubic hair tickles the skin below your belly button, sending shivers down your spine that prompt you to drag your nails down his back.

"Look," he indicates, despite your inability to even think straight. "Look," he repeats harshly, using the hand that was on your hips to tilt your head downwards, forcing you to stare at where your bodies connected. It was obscene, the wet noises of your pussy and skin clapping against skin sounding purely pornographic. "Look at the mess you're making."

"Joel, I-" you can't form sentences properly, all your attention being focused on how good he's making you feel. "I'm so close, for god's sake..."

"Lemme help with that," he speaks breathlessly, pining your leg over the crook of his elbow to make his thrusts deeper, more precise. You cry out in bliss, feeling the heat expanding from your stomach to your legs. "Yeah, you're close, I can fuckin' feel it- fuck..."

Your walls flutter around him, squeezing his dick just right. He knows he's in too deep when you call out his name like it's the only word you can remember, when he wallows in the glorious view of your pretty face contorted in pleasure. He looses the grip on your neck and strokes your lower lip with his thumb, prodding you to keep eye contact as your orgasm washes over you. It's electrifying, a feverish kind of sensation that gratifies every nerve on your body.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, overcame by the intense feeling of euphoria that your body was providing. You realize in that moment that the reason why Joel could fill that void so easily was because he kept prioritizing you above him. Your pleasure was his, too.

"Jesus Christ, Joel-" you mewl when he abruptly pulls out, “… Worth the wait.”

He laughs shakily, kissing your lips shortly. "Turn around, sweetheart. I want to fuck you from behind."

With a buzzing dizziness, you follow his instruction. God, right now you'd do just about anything if he asked you to. You notice movement from his part and patiently wait with your butt up in the air for him to stuff you again; instead, you hear the familiar clicking sound of the Polaroid camera.

"You fucker," you chuckle, "did you just take a picture of my ass?"

"Couldn't help myself," he groans, caressing the soft flesh before lightly slapping it. "You look too damn gorgeous." The hit on your skin burns nicely and you can't hold back the gasp that escapes your lips.

"Shit- do that again..."

You can practically hear his smile when he talks, "You into that?" he repeats the action with a little more force and the pain sends a shock of pure pleasure between your legs, your own fluids dripping down your thighs. "F'course you are, I should've guessed with that attitude of yours."

He plays with your swollen pussy, enjoying your tiny moans and the way your legs tremble as you fist the sheets underneath you, burying your face on his pillow when he spanks you again— this time so hard that it probably left a mark. But before the sting washes away he takes the opportunity to enter you in one swift move, holding your hips steady and trailing his fingers along your spine.

"That's my sweet girl," he praises a midst, starting to grind his cock inside you. "Taking me like you were made for it."

This is way more intense, the angle allowing him to hit deeper, harsher. His gruff moans become more frequent as he speeds up his pace, letting you know just how good you were making him feel. The sensation was purely fantastic, melting every thought away and just leaving Joel Miller to fill you in every sense of the word. His hands are never still, roaming your responsive areas, caressing the most sensitive and always taking care of your aching clit.

You might cry from the overwhelming ecstasy— the way his tip constantly hits the depths of your cunt with each relentless thrust has you seeing stars. Joel gets a thrill from the way you can't seem to get enough of him either, throwing your hips back to meet his unwavering pace, clawing at the pillows and moaning helplessly, pushing him close to his climax.

"Joel, it's too much..." you mumble. "Please, I can't-"

He hunches over you, kissing your nape to ease the overpowering sensations, "Yes, you can. You're a big girl, you can take it." And then your vision goes blurry, all you're able to hear being his disjointed, lewd moans; all you can feel is his hard, hot body flushed to yours, his cock twitching inside you and the wetness of your own body. "That's it, give me another one, baby- fuuuck..."

The buildup is so strong you nearly collapse, feeling yourself tremble as he chases his orgasm, fucking you through yours. His fingers reach your bundle of nerves and apply barely any pressure, which has you coming undone in seconds, absolutely soaking his dick and the sheets beneath you, chanting his name like a prayer. A string of curses falls from his lips as he pulls out and quickly manhandles your fucked out self to lay on your back. He exhales sharply through his nose, spilling his load all over your stomach without even touching himself.

You both stay there for a while, catching your breath and looking intently at each other’s eyes before he rolls over, going limp beside you. You stare blankly at de ceiling, suddenly feeling aggressively aware of your sticky skin covered in sweat and cum, the numbness on your lower body that will surely feel sore in the morning and all the marks he's left dispersed on you. You feel satisfied, fulfilled even. Joy bubbles up your chest and comes out in form of a giggle, one you're unable to hold back.

"What?" he asks, turning his face towards you with a half-smile.

"I don't know, I just..." you shake your head, still laughing. "I don't know."

He chortles in disbelief, holding out a hand to take some tissues from the bedside drawer and going to swipe his mess off your tummy and inner thighs. "Shit, I think I might’ve just fucked the sense out of ya'."

Joel sets himself between your parted legs, laying the weight of his upper body on top of you, resting his chin on your chest, eyes boring into yours. He looks so young like this, despite the greying hair and the small wrinkles, his beautiful brown orbs sparkle ever so brightly under your attentive gaze.

"What will your dad say when he returns and finds out his only daughter has completely lost her mind?" he jokes, cradling you in his big arms.

"Come on," you roll your eyes playfully, "we both know that if I had been in my right mind since the beginning, I probably wouldn't be in your bed right now." He doesn't reply, but his smile doesn't fade either. Joel nuzzles his face on the crook of your neck, kissing your pulse zone briefly before closing his eyes. You run your fingers through his hair, softly massaging his scalp in utter silence.

The wind was howling outside, rustling the tree branches, but at least it wasn't raining anymore. You can feel Joel's heart beating against your ribs, his deep breaths fanning across your shoulder and his unique scent all around you, on you. In spite of the cold air, your naked bodies are warm enough to stay comfortably in this position, at least for a while— however, there's something deep inside you that doesn't want this moment to end.

"Hey," you call him lowly and he hums in response, "can we order pizza?"

He nods faintly, "Anything you want, honey."

Anything.

If only.

"I'll call," you say. "Any specific requests?"

"As long as there isn't any pineapple on it, we're fine." You glance down at him, almost appalled.

"You don't like pineapple on pizza?"

"No. That's disgusting, come on."

"Oh, grow up!" he opens his mouth to retort, but when he sees your dismayed expression he can merely bark a laugh that you get infected with.

"Order whatever you want," he whispers in your ear. "But you'll have to promise something."

"What's that?" you raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Say you'll stay," he murmurs, slightly hesitant. "Stay here and spend the night with me."

The proposal takes you by surprise, so much that you actually stopped breathing. You ponder wether if you could or you should; because, at the end, what would a night really mean? What could possibly change?

Nothing, right?

Besides, no one had to know.

(...)

A few moments later you're downstairs looking for your phone, wearing nothing other than his green flannel. Joel decided to take a shower while you ordered the food and you chose to walk around the house, paying attention to the little details you hadn't quite noticed before.

Now that you see it, there are plenty of horse images here and there. Very Texan of Joel, you can't deny. Lots of pictures of Sarah growing up, some of him and Tommy and a good deal with your dad. None of his ex-wife. In fact, there's no proof that she even existed. You decide not too think too hard about it, since it was none of your business after all.

You pour yourself a glass of water and wander your eyes across the amount of pills he usually takes. Anxiety pills, painkillers, vitamins. What could possibly be troubling this middle-aged man so bad? Again, you decide to turn a blind eye and simply pick up the phone, expecting a message from your dad to tell you he arrived in Boston well and safe. Instead, you find that your direct messages in social media have new requests. Curious, you open them to see what the fuzz was about.

Hi!

This is Will

I don't know if Sarah mentioned me...

I'm her English teacher, haha

I hope you don't find this creepy, your profile popped up in my 'people you may know' section and since Sarah said she wanted to introduce us, I thought I might just say hi 😉

Honestly, with everything that went down you had nearly forgotten about Sarah's 'you should hang out with people your age' speech. And now that you were stalking his profile, he appeared to be maybe a couple years older than you— handsome in a boyish, intelectual way, if that made sense. Apparently, he studied in New York too, and lived in Queens.

Hi!

Yeah, I reckon she did

What's up, Queens? :)

You don't really expect a reply, not giving much thought to anything in the moment. Though, an involuntary smile twitches your lips when there's a quick message that reads "Not much, Brooklyn" and the writing bubble underneath.

After all, having a friend in Austin wouldn't hurt.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us au #smut

[the-mushroom-faerie]

here's the drawing for the Pegasus Natives AU!!!! im so proud of it like the FOLDS the SHADING omg im so excited to share this with you

fashion breakdown under the cut bc i way overthought this lol

from left to right

aiden - i tried to have my references match the vibe of canon for the planet with all the kids but the most important additions imo were his flat cap and his "shoes". the flat cap was because ford wore that ballcap of his so often he looked weird without it, and i once again felt it matched the vibe. the barefoot covers were based off acrobat covers because i refuse to believe that feral forest children who climbed trees for a living wore real shoes.

teyla - i felt like taking one of her canon outfits was cheating in a way??? so when i saw a sweater shawl in my references it screamed teyla to me. the satchel belt was embarrassingly an afterthought when i realised she was the only one without any pockets 😅

elizabeth - i pulled the colours from her usual outfits and uniform because she looks so good in red 😍

john - this was really hard! and also the only one where my references were screencaps from canon. i mixed Ronan's tunic shirt, holsters, and blaster with John's cloister outfit from epiphany

rodney - we really only see the genii in either uniform or farm garb, but i know there has to be a secret third fashion. because the technology mirrors 1940s allied nations, i went with 1940s men's fashion. his tie is pulled from his uniform patch

radek - same as rodney but i went with a different reference lol but his sweater is pulled from the uniform undershirt he always wears

carson - hoffans seem to wear a lot of 1918 three piece suits, so i took inspo from a bunch of different suits to get one i really liked. his undershirt is the same powder blue as the shirt he wears under his uniform (bc i wasnt liking the yellow of his uniform patches 😅)

#pegasus natives au #pn:au #mushroom art #stargate #stargate atlantis #teyla emmagan #elizabeth weir #aiden ford #john sheppard #rodney mckay #radek zelenka #carson beckett

[toytanks]

listen, listen, human ford is nice and all, but where's my non one-of-us au inhuman/demon ford? like the sheer power of the nightmare realm/entire multiverse just mutates ford into something unrecognizable and inhuman

when ford returns through the portal, hes forced to conceal the monstrous parts of his appearance from his family, but cannot fully hide the effect its had on his mind

like almost feral!ford but not quite.

#gravity falls #ford pines #stanford pines #another thing is that it could've been kicked off simply by being near bill #or that bill gave ford a glimpse of omniscience #anyway #i've been thinking about this a normal amount i swear

[nobody-is-here01]

back on my bullshit, (im here to spam you Marine Luffy stuff)

Thinking about Marine Luffy’s dynamic with the 7 warlords and it's one of the funniest things ever.

Boa Hancock is going to get her own post because I have SO MUCH to say about her and Canon! Luffy along with Marine Luffy’s dynamic with her.

Anyway, personal headcanons of what I think Marine Luffy and the Warlords dynamics are.

Doflamingo: Luffy is usually the one who during Warlord meetings has to deal with Doflamingo’s bullshit. This is partially because Luffy is the only thing that really puts the fear of god back into Doflamingo. Also, Marine luffy is absolutely feral, and terrifying, and does indeed bite. I think in some twisted ways Luffy in this AU reminds Doflamingo of when he's younger. In some fucked up way of trying to cope with trauma Doflamingo tries to simulate situations that he went through as a kid to see how Luffy reacts. To see if things had been a bit better, if things had been different, if Doflamingo could have been a better person. The Dressrosa Arc still happens in this AU except a bit later. As Doflamingo’s tyrant rein finally falls he realizes that “huh maybe we never were that similar…”

(I have no idea if this AU is a Crocomom AU or not but I’ll go ahead and write up how it would go in either situations.)

Crocodile: Dynamic is definitely more cold and distant than in an AU where Crocodile is Luffy’s other parent. Luffy is seen as a threat, and Crocodile has at least 15 different drawn-up plans on how to deal with him. (none of these plans would actually work in practice.) The dynamic is pretty much just business, you leave me be I’ll leave you be.

Crocomom: Similar to the first one. Except the first time he meets Luffy and he hears that he's Garp's grandkid he's freaking the fuck out. Because holyshit, that's his alive, grownup, kid. Crocodile has no idea how to explain to Luffy that like “hey im your biological mother, now a man, hahaha…” So Crocodile simply doesn't. (The two of them do have a heart-to-heart much later alone in Impel down during the breakout.)

Moria: Honestly I don't have much to say about him. Luffy absolutely hates Hogback and Absolom though. So Luffy has a dislike for Moria and what he does. But Moria out of all the warlords not including Kuma is the easiest to deal with, so that earns him some brownie points.

Kuma: Im not sure if you caught up with the latest chapters. (specifically his backstory chapters) so I will be staying silent for now as not to spoil anything for you.

Mihawk: Mihawk is both intrigued and concerned at the beginning. Because that is Shank’s hat, and Shank’s kid. Why is Shank’s brat in the Marines?? Mihawk also like all the other warlords tends to use Luffy as some form of a coping mechanism. It's not uncommon to hear about Luffy and Mihawk getting into another physical fight. But after a while, Mihawk does realize that he has been accidentally treating Luffy as if he is Shanks. Mihawk realizes that he can't force Luffy to become his new sparring partner. Luffy is not Shanks, and he can't fill that hole either. After Marine Ford Mihawk reads the news regularly, a rare grin on his face whenever he catches sight of a straw hat.

Jinbei: That is Luffy’s emotional support parental figure your honor! The only one who is normal, safe, and sane. Also, the only one to look at Luffy and go “Are you okay?? I don't think healthy humans are supposed to act like that.” Also, the one to get Luffy to open up and heal slowly after Marineford. Also Luffy definitely knows the full truth of what happened to Fisher Tiger in this AU, so yeah that's something.

(I am so sorry, this is a really long post 💀)

Aaaahhhhhh!!! I've missed you and your bullshit bombarding my asks!

I love how with each dynamic all of them are also like, 'alright this kid is fucked up, keep an eye on him' but for different reasons

So here are some of my thoughts on what Marine Luffy’s relationship is with the warlords (love yours so much)

Crocodile : so unfortunately not a coco-mom au, like you said their relationship is strictly business, Luffy doesn't really care for the warlords as long as they don't get in his way.

Domflamingo : Luffy finds him kinda annoying so he tries to avoid any situation where he would meet him, unfortunately he can't at warlord meetings, but he's tried, probably one of the only warlords Luffy wouldn't mind punching out of the blue, dude would punch him without reason (gets away with it too)

Kuma : (no sadly not that far yet but I know a bit of his background not much though) but Luffy likes him

Moria : almost the same relationship as Domflamingo, except he just straight up avoids him, unless he has to deal with Moria then he will and he'll do it quickly

Mihawk : one of the few warlords Luffy actually respects, he admires his fighting and his character, granted it annoyed him a bit to constantly be reminded of Shanks, like you said he also like the other warlords used luffy as some form of coping, but after he realized what he did he stopped and him and Luffy kinda became like gossip buddies, like they'd hang out whenever Mihawk was in the area, but Luffy wouldn't actively seek him out, Mihawk would have to come to him if he wanted someone to talk to or spar with,

Jimbe : only warlord and person that Luffy actually likes from the warlords, yes he likes Mihawk, but Jimbe is different, Luffy has a sort of awe for Jimbe and felt very honored to know about him and his past with Fisher Tiger, Jimbe is the only one who knows that Luffy secretly wishes he was a pirate instead of a Marine, when Jimbe asked why Luffy didn't just become a pirate now Luffy replied saying that he's made so many promises to the people he protects that he doesn't want to go back, not now at least, Jimbe is also the only one who knows about Ace and Sabo and how much Luffy misses them and how proud he is of them

absolutely love your asks 🩷

Have aa good day/night

#one piece #my asks #marine luffy #monkey d luffy #seven warlords #sir crocodile #dracule mihawk #jimbei

[littlemisspascal]

Fast Cars and Lightning Bolts Part 4

Pairing: Din x Female Reader

Word Count: 3200+

Rating: T

Summary: It’s kind of ridiculous, really, the way everything else fades away the longer you stare at Din. The gaudy banners in all capital fonts seem to blur and the colorful bouquets of balloons lose their vibrance. The Din Djarin Effect, you used to call it, a comforting distraction to indulge in when the rest of the world felt too close, too much all at once. 

Author Note: 2 years later I'm sure 99% of people have lost any care about this series, but it felt nice returning to this fic after so long away. Hope someone out there enjoys this 😊 All likes, comments, and reblogs super appreciated 💗

Warnings: Helmetless Din, dialogue heavy, racing au, heavily inspired by Ford v Ferrari, language, worldbuilding, No physical characteristics of Reader described except for having hair + a heart condition (I’m not a doctor, all medical details are fictional)

Series Masterlist

Mos Espa is hotter than you remember.

Or maybe it’s how different the city looks—flourishing businesses, smiling faces, and cleaner streets (literally and figuratively, not one piece of trash or shady character in sight)—that’s making it hard for your memories to sync with your reality. 

There’s a bustling crowd of hundreds at the Fett Motor Company Headquarters by the time you arrive. You almost forgot how overwhelming being in the midst of large groups of people can be, all clamoring for a handshake or autograph. Like feral dogs fighting over the same piece of meat, pulling and tugging until they get their portion of the prize. 

Today’s a significant one for Fett Motor Company. Not only are they announcing their partnership with you and subsequent entry into the world of auto racing, they’re also celebrating the launch of their newest model. Dozens of reporters and photographers from every major HoloNet site have come, drawn to the promise of a spectacle and juicy bits of gossip to spin a story out of.

Attending events like this has always been the part of fame you liked the least. Too chaotic and invasive for your tastes. Makes your heartbeat start to climb until it’s in your ears, an incessant reminder of your retreat from the spotlight.

There are a plethora of people in every direction you look. Do they notice your trembling hands? The bottle of pills in your jacket pocket? Can they tell you’re in over your head? 

So many people. So many pairs of eyes.

And then, just when you think you’ll be swallowed whole, there’s Peli blasting her way through the crowd with waving arms and shrill exclamations, providing you a path to freedom. The rush of absolute relief nearly has you sinking to the floor, but she’s quick to latch onto your wrist, towing you to sanctuary in a quieter room away from access of the general public.

“Thanks, Peli,” you say, letting out a shaky breath as the tension digging into your spine starts to loosen. 

“Don’t mention it, LB,” she shrugs, then nods at something off to the side. “I figured it’d go smoother if I saved your hide instead of tin can man. He looks like a biter—and not in the sexy way.”

“What?” Sometimes your engineer makes no damn sense. You look at where she’d gestured, first noticing Ahsoka (the young Togrutan mechanic had practically stubbornly glared you into letting her come along) talking animatedly to—

Your eyes widen.

“He…” you trail off, mouth abruptly dry. “He actually came?”

“Well, yeah,” Peli replies, looking back and forth with furrowed eyebrows. “You invited him, didn’t you? He told me he wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Funny. Last thing he said to you, back in that diner one week ago, standing up from the table with an expression devoid of the previous softness, was, “I’m nobody’s puppet, not even yours. Find someone else.”

It’s kind of ridiculous, really, the way everything else fades away the longer you stare at Din. The gaudy banners in all capital fonts seem to blur and the colorful bouquets of balloons lose their vibrance. The Din Djarin Effect, you used to call it, a comforting distraction to indulge in when the rest of the world felt too close, too much all at once. 

You give yourself a tiny shake, forcing yourself to blink. Today’s too important for your career to lose focus.

Walking up to the pair, you greet Ahsoka first with a friendly nudge of your elbow against her arm. Blue eyes widen in surprise before she beams at you, utterly oblivious to the straightening of Din’s posture you catch out of the corner of your gaze. 

“Lightning, you made it!” Ahsoka’s one of your youngest employees, full of big emotions and just a tad bit impulsive at times, but Peli swears she’s got one of the brightest minds for vehicular engineering the woman’s ever come across in all her years. And that’s the exact kind of talent you want to surround yourself with these days.

“Welcome to the madhouse,” Din remarks dryly, and you hate the instant locking of your eyes with his, the sensation of a loss of control of your own self. You hate the reminder that for all the things time and distance have changed, there still remain some constants entirely uninfluenced by either. 

Still.  Better to have loved and lost than to have continued down the road you and your ex-boyfriend had been on, pretending things were fine when they were anything but. And having him here in Mos Espa, looking at you, speaking to you, that’s more than you had dared to hope for one week ago, parting ways in the diner; definitely more than five years ago, breaking up in the middle of your living room. 

You smile at him, unable to stop yourself. Another one of those pesky constants you can’t shake. “I’m glad you came,” you tell him genuinely. Then, a hint of teasing, “Forgot how nice you look all dolled up.”

He has ditched his usual oil-stained clothes for his clan armor, Mandalorian beskar pristinely forged by his mentor to fit his exact measurements. The rare metal glints dangerously in the afternoon sunshine streaming through the skylights, a far contrast from the soft and silky fabrics of the expensive suits other men have chosen for the occasion. It’s purposeful, this look, there isn’t a doubt in your mind. You can already imagine the numerous photos of champagne and fancy ties and plastic smiles online, and there Din will be, stubbornly resisting to blend in.

Honestly though? You would’ve been upset if he’d tried. 

His lips curl at the corner. “You don’t look half bad yourself, mesh’la.”

Maker. You’re tiptoeing the line of dangerous territory, feeling hot all over in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature. And judging from that look in Din’s eyes, a daring sort of regard, the bastard knows it.

“Have you seen the new Fett Firespray?” Ahsoka asks, her voice startling you out of your staring contest. Embarrassing, how easily you’d forgotten she was standing right next to you.

“It’s uglier than a shaved bantha’s ass,” Din remarks, so utterly deadpan it takes an incredible amount of self-discipline not to bark out a laugh. 

Ahsoka huffs, the kind of sound kids make when they think an adult has said  something stupid. Maker, she really is young, isn’t she? “It wasn’t that bad. All those customization options for the interior were pretty cool.”

The unimpressed scowl twisting Din’s mouth tells you exactly what he thinks about the options. Pretty cool definitely isn’t his opinion on the matter. No, you’d bet it’s on the complete other end of the spectrum. Which means that’s where your opinion can also be found.

Ahsoka may be the brightest of her generation, but Din is Din. When it comes to cars, there’s no one’s judgment you trust more. Another constant that’ll stretch the length of your combined lifetimes.

Fennec Shand and Peli approach at your side, putting an end to your conversation with Din before you’re ready for it. Your fists clench against the nervous energy pulsing in tandem with your heartbeat, then immediately slacken upon registering the unknown Duros accompanying them, red eyes peering at you with scrutiny.

“I’d like you all to meet the senior vice president of Fett Motor, Cad Bane.” Fennec introduces with a respectful dip of her chin, hands clasped behind her back. Her hair is styled in another long braid with intricately woven orange ties holding every strand in place. “Bane, this is Lightning Bolt.”

Rather than shake your outstretched hand, Bane merely tips his wide-brimmed hat in acknowledgement. His crimson stare never lessens in its intensity, as sharp as the pointy teeth peeking from his lipless mouth when he speaks.

“Afternoon, little lady. You look…rather ordinary outside of a race car,” he says, and that’s enough for you to determine three things. One: his voice is as deep and gravelly as the depths of a bottomless chasm. Two: he’s a master at intimidation. And three: he’ll mercilessly squish you beneath the heel of his boot the second you let your guard down.

You absolutely cannot show weakness in front of him.

“Ah, well, despite what the tabloids might say, I’ve always been just a regular, ordinary mortal girl.” You force your mouth up into a small grin, tacking on a rueful little laugh you learned over the years will smooth the spikes of even the prickliest of bastards. Hard to tell if it works on Bane, his features so stoic they might as well be carved out of stone. “I brought along one of my best mechanics, Ahsoka Tano. And this is my–”

You cut yourself off, triggered by the inaccuracy. The acknowledgement that Din isn’t your anything anymore. Once upon a time you were so close you might as well have been the same person. Tangled up in each other’s souls. Indistinguishable. LightningandDin. But the way Din’s looking at you, guarded in a way you aren’t used to seeing, well. Not everything can remain a constant after five years. 

Surprisingly, though, Din saves you from having to make up a label on the spot. “We’ve met.”

The curtness of his delivery throws you off. Your eyebrows furrow, flicking a quick glance between the two men, sensing a frosty tension that wasn’t there mere seconds ago.

“Yes,” Bane says, something in the drawl of the word you can’t determine. But it definitely isn’t pleasant. “We have.”

Curiosity and wariness fizzle uncomfortably in your stomach. Here and now isn’t the time or place to ask questions. Too many eyes. Too many cameras. 

The whole thing feels very…sharp. One wrong move and someone will wind up scarred forever. The jackrabbiting beat of your heart doesn’t offer any comfort to the situation either.

A hand lightly grasping your elbow is almost enough to have you biting through your bottom lip. Jerking your head to your side, you meet Fennec’s even gaze. A calm port in this brewing storm. 

“Walk with me?” It’s phrased as a request, but you and the woman both know it isn’t one. “There are a few details I need to discuss with you.”

You nod, and follow after Fennec with your head bowed, focusing on the taps of her boots against the stone floor. She leads you to another private room, a small nook empty except for a pair of Gamorrean security guards standing near a door which opens up to the courtyard swarming with people waiting for the big news to be announced. You suck in a breath, feeling like for the first time since you arrived your lungs stretch to their fullest capacity. 

“So, what is it?” you ask. “What details do we need to talk about?”

Fennec leans back against the wall. “Before you go give your speech, I need to make sure we’re on the same page regarding our future partnership and procedure going forward.”

You try your best, but you can’t stop the incredulous arching of your eyebrow. “Are you checking that I read the fine print of the contract?”

And something interesting happens then. Fennec’s jaw quirks, the faintest, most miniscule display of unease. “Well, it’s just–”

“Page 3 paragraph 2 explicitly states that responsibility for the day to day practical affairs of the Fett race team is handled by me,” you cut in, pointing your index finger at your chest. The bottle of pills in your pocket rattles with the movement, drawing Fennec’s eyes there for a split second before your sharp glare has them recentering on your face once more.

“That’s correct,” she agrees. There’s a carefulness to her voice you’ve heard before many times in your own tone. Used when the topic of conversation is a potentially explosive one that could result in tempers flying. “Day to day stuff, that’s your job. But in regard to broader decisions that may or may not affect the wider company…” Her tongue runs over her lower lip, buying a pause to plan her next words, before she eventually comes out with, “There’s going to have to be some give and take with the gotra.”

“The gotra,” you repeat, audibly clumsy and unfamiliar coming out of your mouth. 

“Senior creatives, Lightning.” Her expression is back to annoyingly neutral. “Just so everybody involved is comfortable.”

“Well, color me confused, Fennec.” You draw yourself up to full height, arms crossing over your chest. You might not be as intimidating as Cad Bane, but no one survives long in the racing world without a bit of iron in their spine and fire in their stare. “Because up until this exact moment, I was comfortable.”

“Look out there,” Fennec says, gesturing with a tilt of her head towards the courtyard, an MC standing on stage addressing the crowd. The same one you’ll be giving a speech to only a handful of minutes from now. “What do you see?”

Your eyes drift over each of the figures. There’s an air about them, sensed even from where you stand, suggesting they’ve never changed a tire in their lives, let alone picked up a hydrospanner. They’re pencil pushers, not grease monkeys. 

“You know what I see?” Fennec asks rhetorically when you say nothing, pointing a nail painted onyx black at the door. “A machine. Thousands of parts moving hopefully in harmony because it’s my job to make it so. And it’s my job to guide you through it.” The nail’s aimed at you now. You swallow, your mouth dry. “I am here to help you, Lightning Bolt. But we have to trust each other.”

A crack splits open your chest, aching and inflamed, upon the realization that Din was right. Controlling people is their specialty. You press your lips together into a thin line, knowing the assurance Fennec wants but you’re reluctant to give it. Trusting others has never been easy for you. It’s something that must be fairly earned, not handed out carelessly. That’s how you spare yourself unnecessary pain. 

The presenter’s wrapping up his opening welcome, you can hear the applause like distant thunder. You pull out your pill bottle, mechanically opening it and popping two into your mouth, all too aware of Fennec watching the entire process. The meds taste like ash on your tongue, scraping the tender inside of your throat, but they’ll serve their purpose of keeping you numb onstage. 

Tucking the bottle back away, you start to turn for the door. “Excuse me, Fennec.”

“Lightning,” she holds up a hand, reaching for your shoulder then quickly backtracking, awkwardly hovering in front of you. “Do not go on that stage if you don’t trust me.”

You stare her down. “I said, excuse me.”

Hearing the firmness in your tone, Fennec sighs, her shoulders slumping marginally. She yields and moves out of your way.

The walk up to the stage, the shaking of hands and greetings along the way–none of it truly registers. You’re just going through the motions. Like you’re on autopilot. Like…like someone else is pulling the strings.

“Hello everyone,” you say into the microphone, voice steady and emotions tightly wound in the depths of your chest. You introduce yourself with a bright, picture perfect smile. “Most of you probably know me better as Lightning Bolt though. And like my cars, I’ll make this fast.”

The crowd ripples with laughter, softening the edges of your smile into a slightly more genuine one. Sometimes there’s no reaction, just blank stares or, worse, eye rolls. Speeches have about a fifty-fifty risk of making you feel like you’re flying high or that you’ve just struck concrete face first. You never quite know what to expect until after your first attempt of cracking the ice.

This time, you’re soaring.

“I was just a youngling when my mother told me the luckiest souls are those who know what they want to do. Because they’ll never work a day in their lives.” The crowd shifts a little and you catch a glimpse of Fennec and Bane standing together with other authoritative-looking figures, including a massive black-furred Wookiee–the gotra you were warned about, you assume. It’s the man further behind them though, beskar gleaming like there’s a spotlight trained directly on him, that has your heart leaping. “But I’ve come to learn there’s a precious few in the galaxy who find something that they have to do with their lives. An obsession they can’t shake. Pushing them to their farthest corners.”

You’re hyper-aware of the hundreds of eyes on you–of Din’s eyes on you, sunlight turning the dark brown into liquid gold smoldering in a forge–and you rapidly try to organize your thoughts as memorized words spill from your lips because time is running out and you have to make a decision.

Why is it, whenever you find yourself faced with making one of the hardest choices of your life, Din can be found at the bleeding center? Why do they always involve him?

“I’m one of ‘em.” You remind yourself to take a breath, that you have to breathe even as it feels like your insides are being crushed. “And I know one man who feels exactly the same.”

Din hasn’t blinked, staring at you like he always does in your dreams, and just like in those dreams all you want is to reach out and touch him. 

“His name…”

He’s your weakness. Always has been, always will be. 

“His name is Boba Fett.”

Time seems to stand still, captured in ice, chilling you to the bone, and Din’s eyes have widened, you can see it from here, see how he can’t believe what you’ve just said.

And you–you taste the name like poison. You’ve never even met the Daimyo, unable to cut out a hole in his schedule big enough for a face to face conversation with you. He didn’t even come out of his palace to make an appearance at his own damn car launch. You can’t pull your words out of the air though, can’t erase them from anyone’s minds because the ice shatters with roaring applause. 

You might smile, your lips are numb so it’s hard to tell. You want to say: Forgive me, love. Forgive me for surrendering to them. Maybe you would if not for the threat of the gotra hanging above your head like a knife. 

Some things must be hidden behind closed doors. And sometimes…sometimes you must put your career first above all else.

Averting your gaze back to Fennec, you nod at her as you pitch your voice over the cheers. “And together, we’ll make history. We’re going to build and race the fastest car the BEC’s ever seen. I personally guarantee it.”

You step back from the podium and wave both hands, pretending it’s excitement twisting your guts into knots. You might’ve fallen for it, if not for the last second guilty glance at the back of the crowd, stomach dropping at the lack of familiar brown eyes and beskar. 

Funny, how quickly soaring can switch to plummeting when one flies too close to the sun.

And all you can do now is brace for the inevitable impact, hoping you made the right choice.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #my fic #pedrostories

[kitsune024]

Crossovers

Doctor Who

run, boy, run (the Umbrella Effect) by @ford-ye-fiji I Part 1-13 I Series Completed Crack Treated Seriously, AU - Fusion, Time Travel, Number Five | The Boy is So Done, Action/Adventure, Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Two unlikely allies, familiar in more ways than they can imagine, join forces in a series of happy accidents. And then things get really complicated very fast.

The Walking Dead

From One Apocalypse to Another by y_oruko I Chapters: 17/? I Crack Treated Seriously, BAMF Five | The Boy, BAMF Rick, AU- Canon Divergence, Five has beef with almost everyone, Eventual Found Family, The Walking Dead Season 5

Five lost his siblings to the void of time when he recklessly tried bringing them all to travel back in time. It bit him in the ass and threw him into a world where apparently zombies were real. The universe sure loved to screw him over. Rick didn't know what to expect when he followed the priest into a church, but it's certainly not a homicidal teenager.

The Four Horsemen by @silverwolf3432 I Chapters: 24/30 I Five | The Boy/Original Female Character - Dolores, Whump, Original Character Death(s), Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Torture

Instead of waiting 28 years, the Handler plucks a 15-year-old boy from the rubble of the Apocalypse and trains him to be a killer. So Five knows. He knows what it’s like to live through hell, to be broken down and made back up again, to be stripped of everything. He understands and he can relate to the torture Reginald Hargreeves put his siblings through after he disappears, even if they claim he never could. He knows because he went through it too. Because before he worked alone, there was Dolores. Because before he was the best, they were the best. Because before it was just Five, they were the Four Horsemen.

The Five Whistle by @i-logophile I Chapters: 1/1 I one shot Hurt Five | The Boy, Creepy The Handler, AU- Canon Divergence, Episode: s02e05 Valhalla

“What the hell was that?” Five tried to demand, but his breathlessness ruined the effect. The Handler grinned. “What? This little thing?” she asked, pulling a long, thin device from within the folds of her coat. “This is just a little something I had cooked up back at Headquarters just for you.” She twisted the end of the device. In response, the fabric of space released an unearthly howl of agony, making Five’s legs collapse beneath him. Then it stopped, and a shadow fell over him. “Now about that assignment,” The Handler said, gazing down at him with a predatory grin. – After the Hargreeves’ disaster of a family meeting, Five is still pacing the alley outside of Elliott’s when he’s confronted by The Handler. She presents her offer, but since it’s not his only option just yet, Five declines. However, The Handler isn’t so easily denied, and she decides to use a little something from the Commission to convince Five to rethink his decision.

The Lonely Lodger Inn by @i-logophile I Chapters: 1/1 I one shot Blood and Violence, Gore, BAMF Five | The Boy, Feral Five | The Boy, Episode: s02e07 Öga for Öga

"Ben, are you crazy?! We just watched Número Cinco go fucking apeshit on a room full of random people and—” “What if he had a good reason for it?” Ben interrupted, crossing his arms. “What if they were bad guys or something? Ever think of that?” Klaus scoffed. “‘Bad guys’? Really, Ben? We’re not thirteen anymore.” “Exactly, so use your brain, moron. Why would Five just go around murdering people in the ’60s?” “Oh, I don’t know, because he’s fucking psycho?! He’s probably all screwed up from time travel or something! Who knows what kind of shit—” “Klaus.” “What?” “He can hear you.” -- Or, what if the Board meeting was somewhere in Dallas, and one of Five’s siblings stumbled upon the massacre as it was taking place?

Crocodile Tears by @i-logophile I Chapters: 1/1 I one shot Five | The Boy Cries- but it’s “pretend”, Kidnapping, Drugging, Angst, hurt/some comfort, Post-Season/Series 02, The Commission. Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug

A plan took shape in Five’s mind. It wasn’t one he particularly liked, and it would be unequivocally humiliating, but with the Commission coming and their powers shot to hell for the foreseeable future, Five couldn’t think of any other option. Didn’t change the fact that he despised crying. -- Five pretends to cry to get an enemy to lower their guard—emphasis on “pretend.” His siblings don’t catch on. After getting over their shock, they become unnecessarily distressed and proceed to flutter around Five like neurotic chickens. Oh, and some people die, but that was kind of the plan all along.

Can you hug me as I go? by maddienole I Chapters: 10/10 I Completed Five | The Boy Whump, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Flashbacks, AU- Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

What if the FBI captured Five instead of Vanya? 2x7 canon divergence.

Misfortunes with The Sea by @euoniatz I Chapters: 6/6 I Completed Dark Five | The Boy, BAMF Five | The Boy, AU - Canon Divergence, Number Six | Ben Hargreeves Lives - eventually, The Sparrow Academy, Hurt No Comfort, Whump

Five doesn’t hold back anymore, doesn't think he could limit himself again now even if he wanted to. His eyes glow, never to be denied again, and the space around him shifts as if someone is pinching and pulling reality by force. The Boy tries not to laugh, but he feels incredible on a level he has always, during the sad expanse of his life, thought impossible. * When the Hargreeves return from the 60s, Five is already at the end of his rope. He swears off killing, only to find their deceased father in the living room, disapproving as ever. Add six mediocre replacements and a ghost coming back to haunt them and you've got yourself a desperate time traveler whose grip on reality is slipping. Five is willing to sacrifice his own humanity for the sake of his siblings, but is his humanity really the most important thing he could lose? How much power can he afford to let loose before he loses control himself? Will his family even want him after everything is settled?

#tua five #fic rec #fanfic rec #ao3fic #five hargreeves #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves fanfiction #tua #tua fanfic

[biblicallyaccuratechicken]

@toytanks I had to ok

Have a list of every MCR song (that I've heard of) and how it relates to Billford, which I definitely do not ship and if you've ever seen any proof to the contrary noo you didn't

I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love

(fuckk even the album name is Billford-coded)

Romance -- no lyrics, but I do think that the fact that they only played the part in minor and not the major one does feel like Billford

Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough for the Two of Us -- post-betrayal Billford. There are two distinct parts to this song; the one that comes first is Bill, and the other is Ford.

Vampires Will Never Hurt You -- honestly this kinda feels like the opposite of Billford to me, it's more like Ford x Jheselbraum.

Drowning Lessons -- One Of Us AU? It still doesn't feel quite right to me though

Our Lady of Sorrows -- it definitely feels like Billford, particularly from Bill's perspective, but some of the lyrics make me think more of Fiddauthor (kill me right now)

Headfirst For Halos -- it feels like Bill starting to catch feelings for Ford and partying trying to forget but still gushing about him lmao

Skylines and Turnstiles -- it just kinda feels like Billford, I can't explain it.

Early Sunsets Over Monroeville -- to me it kinda feels like around the time Ford found out about the betrayal. Like, the narrative of being really close and sharing happy memories and dreams, and then suddenly your lover is a monster you have to destroy

This Is The Best Day Ever -- perhaps, if Ford was a shape like Bill, and Bill destroyed his dimension for Ford's sake.

Cubicles -- lmao I can see Bill sulking about Ford to this song

Demolition Lovers -- this song was definitely on the soundtrack of the most toxic relationship I've ever been in, so I know for a FACT that this is 100% a Billford song.

Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge

Helena -- I could see this being from Ford's point of view, during Wierdmageddon. Some of it feels like One Of Us AU.

Give 'Em Hell, Kid -- on the other hand, this one is definitely Bill during Ford's exile

To The End -- the level of toxicity is definitely there, but since it's a pretty clear narrative, I'll call it vibes-only-Billford

You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison -- it is, again, mostly vibes-only, but I can also see post-betrayal Ford feeling this way if they happened to hook up during that time

I'm Not Okay (I Promise) -- I really don't think this fits them at all, but the one clip of Frankie going "you have something on your face" and then violently taking a fallen eyelash from the cheerleader's face before absolutely booking it is something I could see happening between them and it cracks me up

The Ghost of You -- this feels like either post-betrayal Bill or if they became a couple and Ford died of old age

The Jetset Life Is Gonna Kill You -- This is just Billford. I. What do you want from me.

Interlude -- not really Billford. I'll say it. Yeah, it's melancholy, but again it feels more like Ford x Jheselbraum or Fiddauthor.

Thank You For The Venom -- Billford, either perspective. It feels very reminiscent of the exile era (or even during Weirdmageddon?)

Hang 'Em High -- This also feels very much like Billford. Not sure when I'd place it to, but the vibes are there, especially One of Us AU imo.

It's Not A Fashion Statement, It's A Fucking Deathwish -- Billford. That's it that's the commentary.

Cemetery Drive -- definitely post-betrayal Billford, particularly Ford's perspective ("Is this what you always want me for?" I'm going FERAL)

I Never Told You What I Do For A Living -- Bill. Bill. Bill. Bill. Bill. You Cannot Change My Mind It Is Imbued With His Essence And The One He Is Singing To And About Is Fordsy.

Welcome To The Black Parade

The End. -- nothing obviously Billford sticks out to me, but some of the lyrics could be applied to either of their perspectives, precisely because it's so neutral

Dead! -- post-season 2 Ford about Bill (though the last lyrics are definitely something Bill would vibe with)

This Is How I Disappear -- post-betrayal, pre-season 2 Billford. Could also fit pre-betrayal, but not as much due to its “laughing at a bad thing to hide the pain I lie awake over” vibes

The Sharpest Lives -- Bill. 100%. Maybe Ford during exile. Idk I know he made some decisions he regretted later back then.

Welcome To The Black Parade -- Ford post-season 2, maybe? It doesn't scream it to me, but it could be made to fit ("your weary widow marches on etc etc)

I Don't Love You -- post-betrayal, from Bill's perspective

House of Wolves -- it's just Billford. Idk what you want me to say.

Cancer -- if Bill reincarnated as a human and couldn't be with Ford

Mama -- this one fits Bill as a character really well, as well as One Of Us AU Billford

Sleep -- post-betrayal Billford

Teenagers -- yeah I don't really see it. Some of the lyrics do have that paranoid feeling Ford has pre-exile though

Disenchanted -- definitely feels like Billford from Bill's perspective. Some of the lyrics also feel like Bill reflecting on his life as he's dying, and the bridge in particular feels like post-exile Bill

Famous Last Words -- So. Much. Billford. I can't speak.

Blood -- doesn't really strike me as Billford. I do see elements of the two of them separately though

The Black Parade: The B-Sides

My Way Home Is Through You -- heavy Billford vibes, though some of the lyrics also make me think of Ford x Jheselbraum. That's neither here nor there though, as this is a Billford-driven list of reviews.

Kill All Your Friends -- Billford. It feels like both of their perspectives, but some of the verses feel like Weirdmageddon-era Bill.

Heaven Help Us --definitely a Billford song. Again, it could be from either of their perspectives, but I'm feelin a lot of Bill from a few of the lyrics. Ford has his moments in the sun too, though

Danger Days: The True Lives of The Fabulous Killjoys

(listen a lot of these are about love so ofc they're gonna be Billford that's just how my idealistic brain works ok I mean who said that I don't ship Billford hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha)

I am counting Look Alive Sunshine as part of Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na) because it's true ok -- it kinda feels like the two of them coping with their separation during the exile era and it cracks me up to hell and back

Bulletproof Heart -- Bill trying to convince Ford to join him during Weirdmageddon and it's working

SING -- this is definitely how Bill sees himself. In a Billford context, I can see this also as him trying to convince Ford

Planetary (Go!) -- wow, our first 100% pre-betrayal Billford song! It tastes like candy and battery acid and stardust

The Only Hope For Me Is You -- this could easily apply, with its galactic imagery and love-song-esque feeling. I could see this being Ford, having been by Bill's side after Weirdamageddon for many years, telling him "This isn't the answer, we only need each other"

Party Poison -- HHHHHHHHH it feels like Billford in that it feels like the two of them interacting. Lyrically, it mostly makes me think of Ford during Weirdmageddon trying to stop the party, but MCR are musical geniuses so it also feels like the party itself. This one turned me into a little geek ngl it's one of their songs that gets the biggest primal reaction out of me.

Save Yourself, I'll Hold Them Back -- gonna be honest, this one, more than anything else, reminded me of Dipper and Wendy's time together during Weirdmageddon. It does feel very much like Bill though in the sense that it bleeds anarchy and lasers

S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W -- again, this was part of the soundtrack of my toxic relationship, so I really want it to be Billford but if I'm being honest it's just hard to see.

Summertime -- This does feel like Billford, in a more fluffy way than any of the others. "Terrified of what I'd be [...] Could you stop the noise" feels a lot like Ford as he met Bill. Really, this whole song is more Ford-sung than Bill, but I could also see most of the lyrics being sung by Bill (it just depends on his back story, which as of now we can only speculate)

DESTROYA -- I definitely would put this on a Billford playlist, but imo this is another vibes-only one. Like, the denial of God and the "we're in this together" and stuff is there, but lyrically it just doesn't quiiite hit the mark for me

The Kids From Yesterday -- much like Planetary (Go!), this one feels like pre-betrayal, stardust and citric acid, Billford

Vampire Money -- this seems like Bill's initial ideal of how Billford would turn out lol. Also, Bill partying and pretending he's okay without Ford during the exile. Also, Ford partying and pretending he's okay without Bill during the exile. Also, Ford being mad at Bill during the exile. Also-

We Don't Need Another Song About California -- this does feel like Ford talking to Bill, and it also has Billford vibes

(i know there are others but i haven't heard them that often so i wouldn't be a good judge so! moving on...)

Conventional Weapons

(I hope to God these are all Billford cause they're some of my favorites)

Boy Division -- I can very easily see this as Billford, and like Bill is bein dramatic to Ford about what happened at Weirdmageddon cause you know he's not letting that little "murder" go even though it was incredibly justified and Ford has way more reason to be mad but he's just patiently sitting through it and waiting for Bill to let him talk

Tomorrow's Money -- despite the actual point of this song, it also feels like Bill talking to Ford post-season 2 at some points

AMBULANCE -- oh this is very Billford. Yessiree, this is the good shit, especially One Of Us AU

Gun. -- This is definitely from Ford's perspective. What are you obsessing over a gun for? To kill this dream demon? Why are you so worried about having a son? Hm? So in other words, you're obsessing over this dream demon and sad you can't have a family with him? Is that it? Pretty gay tbh

The World Is Ugly -- This is an us-vs-them love song. This was made for them.

The Light Behind Your Eyes -- Bill sad about losing/leaving Ford cause he's just one more in a string of people dear to him but especially Ford because it's been so long since someone was that close and he wishes now that he could've done things differently but alas

Kiss the Ring -- I'm sorry, it's mostly just Weirdamageddon-era Bill. Some of it is like Ford replying to him, but otherwise there's not really all that much Billford in it

Make Room!!!! -- yeah again, it's mostly just Weirdmageddon Bill, though in this one he is doing a lot of ogling Ford I think

Surrender The Night -- oh Billford 100%. Dreams, secrets, surrender, everything. It's just Them, and you can't change my mind

Burn Bright -- this feels like the idealized version of Billford we you all have in our your heads, y'know? Like, we you want them to go on these adventures together and be steamy about it a good amount of the time, and that's what this is. This is them being anarchist murder hoboes together and I love that for them <3 and that's that ig

#this took me way too long #hvmw svop #•••---••• #i swear i'm normal and not extra and not a ford kinnie and not a billford shipper i swear don't tell on me to mom please #codecracking

[blairsanne]

WIPS game

Stolen from @lordoftherazzles's open tag

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

My non-abandoned WIPs:

Across Time - Expanded

Alternate Arrangement

Anders roleplay

Anders vs Ty x Reader

Anders x Dawn

Anders x Reader x Mitchell

Another Johnson

Barnaby - Try Therapy

Blankets - Fili

Boonies (Will)

Cheering Up

Chels

Cold

Dawn x Ty

Feral (Anders)

Ford Lampton - I followed you

Freki

Godswap

GOS - Avi & Anders

Harbour

Iolaus x OC

Jon

Keeping a Promise

Lofn

Marco

MLC - Part 1

One(s)

Pirate AU - Thorin's Crew

Pretend to be Nice

Reader's birthday

Soulmates

Starved (Ford Lampton)

The Bad Seed S2 HC

The wrong Mr. Johnson

Under the Vines

Warm - Ty x Reader

Wolfy

Zinny

An Unexpected Blue Wizard

Ansel & Adele [original fiction]

Clariana, Princess of Torven [original fiction]

I don't know that I have 41 people to tag, so open tag.

No pressure tags: @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @residentdormouse @fandomfaery @middleearthpixie @midearthwritings @sketch-and-write-lover @i-am-still-bb @lakritzwolf @lazysaturdayonthebeach @lathalea @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @silvermoon-scrolls @legolaslovely @the-poldarkian and all the lovely people I'm forgetting.

#wips #wip game #tag game

[pinesfamilyguidetotheweird]

In regards to Stained Hands, I imagine there is a conversation that happens with the Stans while out at sea. Ford coming to terms with how drastically peaceful it is compared to traversing the multi-verse and occasionally feeling past the numbed emotions that came from a heightened fighting instinct. Be alone with your thoughts long enough and your brother would pick up on it.. not only from the unease in the air but the all too familiar need for survival. We saw Stan ready to beat the shit out of Rico and his goons.. it might be fair to say that he would try to give some solace to his troubled twin. That he had to do what he needed to live. Its never pretty. But he's alive.

Yes. Yes, yes, yes…Yes!

As far as I can tell, I’m not sure if the idea of Ford having survivors guilt was touched upon. Or, at the very least, was as prominent as Feral Ford.

…Or maybe it was with the Guilty Ford AU on AO3. idk 😂

I feel there were times that Ford had found companions he could rely on during his temporary stay, only to lose them more often than not either from something outside of his control or a fault of his own.

Ford is very fortunate to have a caring brother, who is happy to be his anchor when Ford’s thoughts and emotions turn treacherous like the seas around them during a storm

#gravity falls #stanford pines #grunkle ford #ford pines #stanley pines #grunkle stan #gravity falls thoughts #ask #ask answered

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

august help rat and i are going absolutely feral over running minds au . i didnt even know anything abt fnaf before this but i have been CONVERTED homestly . i need to ficify it so bad . God . oh right thats why im here i was wondering if you have like any writing tips ?? because i have Zero Clue what im doing and you are By Far the best writer out of everyone i know Shoves microphone in your face whats your advice to someone who has like never written ever . actually i have an unrelated actually pretty decent quarter-ish of a fanfic sitting in my notes app but i barely remember how i Did That so it doesn't count i dont remember what wizardry i performed to materialize all those Words

OKAY OKAY OKAY ive figured it alllll out. its honestly not much but it's My process. LETS A GO

august's shitass guide to all things fanfiction and planning (which is near nonexistant!) 🔥

i will be using my current nano project for this because honestly this is the epitamy of writing i have right now and i love talkin about it. sooooo GOOOO

1: Bare Basics

the tagline. the who when what where why. why are u writing this fanfic. for me its the Talking: i want my angel and demon to talk about Feelings, so im gonna make them talk about FEELINGS. this is personal fulfillment. it might take a while to get there, but i want them to TALK. for you, i suppose would be for ford and michael to meet and go on whimscal adventures. basics!

2: How To Get There

so how are we making aziraphale and crowley talk. how are we getting ford and michael afton smushed together in the multiverse. you, of course, have told me how that works. now is it important enought to flesh that out before the rest or just needs to be explained in a quick flashback? your pick, but since my topic is so vague, i definitely need context before it. that, my friend, is up to you. nothing much more to it. if u dont know how to start a fic, just explain how we got to what's intriguing about it (the crossover :))

3: Notes.

now is where the process BEGINS. what happens in the story. i usually start with miscellanous bullet points--everything i want to happen, no matter the order it'll happen, in a little page. here's a picture of one of my pages ib my notebook, with things i want to happen in my titanic fic (handwriting reveal?!??!) (TEA, IF UR READING THIS SOMEHOW, DONT LOOK AT THE IMAGES🫵🫵🫵) (SORY FOR HURRIED SCRIBLES, I WAS TRYNA REMEMBER IT ALL)

there's literally no order. just stuff that need to be there, there. even if its as simple as the au coming to fruition, or even just one conversation, PUT IT THERE. its all the appeal. what you're doing this for. dontforget....

4: Outlines

now, before i tell you how to do this, there really isn't a way. here's a picture of my timeline for the fic mentioned earlier (not the titanic fic) (TEA AND OTHER READERS OF THE SERIES, ALSO DO NOT LOOK TYYYY ❤️❤️)

see? complicated as fuck. it doesnt have to be that way tho, obviously: each chapter or one shot could be as simple as "michael is fucking ZAPPED, and meets ford" it just has to be something to work with. (i, on the other hand, need extensive help. so. there's the thing above. theres eve more its just online)

there really isn't too much other than that in the planning department. understand why you're doing it, know how to get there, and PLAN. detail it out. idk if this is an adequet explanation actually. if u need more specifics i can try again, but is what i got. do what works for you, work at ur pace, and such like. it doesnt have to be at this level, or even close. have fucking fun, dude. if u need morehelp, pls ask, or even consult blogs that help out specifcally for that stuff. GOOD LUCK!!!!! <3

#oh i hope its okay. pleaseeeeee #hath are perceived #the guys (with a z!) #be heard

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

Bored, so here's a list of some of my favorite Gravity Falls fics, in no particular order. (Note: these are all about the Stan twins)

-per aspera by parsnipit (a collection of hurt/comfort. Each chapter has content warnings at the very start. Stan O War II era.)

-Sea Grunk Dump by Zeragii (I will admit, the title is a little misleading, as this is actually a oneshot. Hurt/comfort. Stan has a bad time with a wound caused by an anomaly. Stan O War II era)

-I Think I Saw You by Fordanoia (Ongoing fic with lots of angst. There is some violence. Summary: "Stan comes to Gravity Falls, but when Ford doesn’t show up he has to go looking for him. Amidst, a strange house and a mysterious presence he tries to figure out what exactly is going on and where Ford disappeared to." Bill betrayal era)

-The entire Salad Fruit AU series by Elisheva67 (Ford turns into a dragon. Sometimes. Stan is also there. Fluff, but also angst. Also, no Bill! Yay! Gravity Falls pre-Bill era. Cause. Again, no Bill.)

-Haul Away Bro by scribefindegil (Ford and Stan get trapped inside a crashed spaceship. Sea shanties save the day. Fluff. Stan O War II era)

-A Little Bit Lost by impish_nature (Feral! Ford AU. Ford's having a rough time and Stan helps him. Hurt/comfort. Post-portal era)

-Jump In Front of Trains All Day and Stay Alive by Voidfish (Ford has a rough time with his injuries and self-depricates. Stan tries to help. Hurt/comfort. Post-Weirdmaggedon era.)

-hide and seek by parsnipit (More Feral! Ford AU. Can you tell I like that one. Mostly Stan's POV. Hurt/comfort. Stan O War II era)

-Better Kept Secret by BadonKaDunk (Oh, wow, look, more Feral! Ford. Hurt/comfort. Both POVs! Stan won't stop harrassing Ford about his time in the portal. Then some other stuff happens. Stan O War II era.)

-Repercussions by impish_nature (Hurt/comfort. Stan has memory lapses. Explores an interesting possibility with Ford. Stan O War II era.)

-Þetta Reddast by GradboidFarmer (Pure fluff. Stan POV. He has a day. Also, Ford is sick. Stan O War II era.)

-Siren Song by azhdarchidaen (Ford has to save Stan from sirens. He's not affected by them because he's ace (aroace, but that's just me). Hurt/comfort? Idk. Stan O War II era)

Everything from untrustworthyglitch really, but specifically:

-none of those phds is an md, you dumb idiot (Hurt/comfort, more Feral! Ford. Ford has a translator, and it breaks. The translator is my favorite headcanon ever. Stan O War II era.)

-who even knows what holiday we're celebrating here (Hurt/comfort. Holiday times with the Pines. Also, Ford has a bad time. Stan doesn't have the best time either. Stan O War II era)

-old man world tour: california edition (hurt/comfort. Stan breaks his arm, so him and Ford head to California to visit the niblings. Stan O War II era.)

Anyway, reminder to read the fic tags for warnings! Because I am apparently very bad at writing good descriptions for these.

I decided not to include some fics because they were a bit too heavy or violent. Let me know if I should make a separate post for those.

I was also considering making a list of my least favorite fics, but I can only think of two.

Also, please feel free to recommend me fics! I'm always looking to grow my collection.

#ford #stan #stan twins #fanfiction #gravity falls #gravity falls au

[btsrunmylife]

Invisible String, 9: Ghost Stories

summary: Sometimes the hardest thing in life is letting yourself be seen.

pairing: yoongi x f!reader

rating: explicit 🔞

genre: social media au, angst, fluff, romance

chapter word count: 1.7k + text conversations

chapter warnings: mentions of a sexual predator/rapist. mentions of public sex/audio porn/phone sex????? idk how to categorize this lmao.

permanent tag list (open):  @yoongiofmine​ @xianav​ @lilacdreams-00 @emmmui​ @vantxx95​ @cursedblood707​ @hqtetsurou​​ @geauxlsu79 @lyra0cassiopeia @halesandy​​ @lunaoceanchild @annoyingtimemachinee​​ @babycoffeefire​​ @darlinggod-sweetvillain​​ @yu-justme​​ @rageyoudamnednerd​​ @bubblytaetae​​ @aurel1ia @valhallawhispers​​ @somelazysundays​​ @cuteipat​​ @dahliasbouqet​​ @funkylittlebisexuall​​ @wrmnssoul​​ @saweetspoiled @infatuatedghost​​

series taglist (open): @feral-daisy​ @pamzn​​ @jeonsy98 @secretlycrazyhummingbird @nabiolive

back | series masterlist

You manage to distract yourself on Saturday with Anaya, making sure your friend doesn’t get too drunk while (unsuccessfully) trying to take someone home.

You manage to sneak off early the next morning, once you’re sure she’s not actually dying like she complains she is, to try (and fail) to wade through homework. So caught up in the Sunday homework rush, you don’t have much time to think about Yoongi, but by the time Monday morning rolls around, you’re nervous all over again. Your first class of the day is with Yoongi -- a class you don’t necessarily hate, but dread having at 8am on a Monday.

“Why couldn’t this class be available at, I don’t know, 3pm?” one of your classmates gripes as he collapses into his seat.

“It was,” one of his friends responds. “It just filled up too fast.”

Ah, yes, the dreaded dash to sign up for the classes you need before they’re full of all the other students who also need them.

Apparently, no one else wanted to think about psychology and why the mind functions the way it does so early in the morning either.

Yoongi is no exception, dragging his feet and looking like he’d just rolled out of bed on his way into the classroom. He probably had, if the way he slumps into a seat across the room and buries his face in his arms is anything to go by.

You glance at the seat beside you, where he usually sits, but it’s currently taken due to his sleep-addled tardiness. You sigh and sink down in your seat. Maybe him being late is purposeful. Maybe he really is avoiding you.

Maybe you ruined everything.

~*~*~

Disappointingly (but also thankfully), Yoongi doesn’t end up calling into your show that night. You do get other callers though, calling in to share their own experiences and research findings. It’s interesting, you think, each time you talk to someone new about this niche interest you’ve found. There are so many people lurking around campus, so full of different beliefs and stories, and each time you uncover one you feel like you’ve found a hidden gem.

Tonight, you don’t receive any calls that are particularly surprising — just a couple of guys talking about a haunting at a manor out in California, said to be the home of a ghost in his late 20s, cursed to spend an eternity with a demon that haunts the property. You’re not sure of the validity of anything they say, but you appreciate the late night ghost story nevertheless.

“And, ladies, if any of you are listening tonight, I just want to remind you to be on the lookout for a black Ford F-150 that’s been making its way around campus. There have been multiple reports about this truck lurking, but no word about who it belongs to. With the increase in sexual assault cases, I just want to advise everyone to stay vigilant and travel in groups if you can. Let’s keep each other safe, okay? With that, I’m signing off. Stay spooky, Bellgrove.”

You end the broadcast with a sigh, relaxing back in your chair and running a hand through your hair. Overall, it was a good night. A good number of callers, a good amount of school work done during the rock music you play in between segments, and a healthy amount of ghost stories shared.

Yeah, you’re satisfied.

Grabbing your school bag, you kill the lights and make your way out of the studio, making sure the door is locked on your way out. You know the evening custodian will be coming through to do his rounds, but you like to make sure it’s locked anyway. There’s too much expensive equipment in there to leave it open for just anyone.

The first few times you’d done your show, one of the grad students from the Communications Department had sat in with you, showing you the equipment and how everything worked. Once sure you knew what you were doing, he hadn’t bothered to come back since.

You weren’t lying to Yoongi about the graveyard shift being unpopular.

You like it better this way though. You enjoy the time alone to get your stuff done and focus all of your attention on whoever happens to be listening that day. And you don’t have to worry that someone else is counting the minutes for your show to end.

As you step out into the dark evening, the shrill tone of your phone ringing nearly makes you jump out of your skin, hands fumbling in your pockets to quiet and answer the damn thing.

“Yoongi?” you squeak.

“Why does your voice sound like that?” is the first thing out of his mouth and you scowl.

“You just scared the shit out of me!” you bite defensively, taking a furtive glance around and reaching for the keychain that dangles from your bag. You cradle the pepper spray you keep attached to it in your hand, the cool plastic pressing comfortingly into your palm.

He snorts. “Are you always so jumpy after your show?”

“Am I always so jumpy after telling ghost stories all night and walking home alone in the dark with a supposed rapist on the loose?” you repeat shrilly.

“Whoa, hey, okay. Those are fair points. Why are you walking home alone? Didn’t you just tell your listeners to travel in groups?”

You shrug, kicking at a rock on the ground and sending it skittering into the grass. If it wasn’t so late, you’d take your time on your walk home, take advantage of the peace and quiet. Unfortunately, the only light you have is the streetlights and talking about being alone – and, therefore, an easy target – is giving you the creeps. You pick up the pace as you make it to the sidewalk. “What else am I supposed to do? Have Anaya walk alone in the dark to meet up with me?”

He’s silent for a moment, then gives a contemplative hum. “Where are you right now?”

You glance at a flickering street lamp. “Walking down Main Street. I just left the studio.”

“The studio is over by the communications buildings, right?”

You give a noncommittal hum, taking another cautionary glance around. You don’t want to get too distracted by the phone call. You’ve probably watched too many murder docuseries at this point to not be a little paranoid, but you figure now would be the best time for someone to sneak up and attack you.

Being on the phone can only actually do so much.

“Why?”

A scuffle happens on the other side of the phone, a quiet mumble. “Because we just got out of practice. If you wait a few minutes, we can bring you home.”

You pause, skeptical. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Jin, Tae, Guk, and I,” he answers, as if you should already know. To be fair, you probably should have put that together.

“Are we going to pick up your pretty friend or what?” comes a voice in the background, someone you assume to be the driver.

Yoongi sighs. “I don’t know, Jin.” He turns his attention back to you. “Ghost?”

On one hand, you really don’t want them to go out of their way to come pick you up and give you a ride home. On the other hand, it’s late and you’re tired and paranoid from a night of discussing murders and demons.

You swerve on the sidewalk, heading back the way you came. “Meet you at the studio?”

“You got it,” Yoongi drawls, ending the call.

You sigh and use your student I.D. to get back into the building you’d just exited, offering a half-hearted smile to the custodian, Carl, who glances up from mopping the floor.

“Waiting for someone?” he questions, eyes sweeping over you as you stand, looking out the glass door.

“Yeah, a friend’s coming to pick me up. Didn’t want me walking alone in the dark.”

The man smiles, a small and subtle thing. “Smart friend.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

He chuckles, turning back to the floors.

It doesn’t take long for the car’s headlights to swing into the parking lot, casting the building in a golden glow when it pulls into a parking space. You smile and wave to Carl, who offers a grunt at your departure, watching as you step back out into the night. He continues to watch until Yoongi opens the back door of the car with a smile, waving you over.

You give one last wave to Carl and then cram yourself into the back, in between Yoongi and a man with dark brown hair and a bunny grin. The man nods in hello, introducing himself as Jungkook once you’re settled.

“We bringing her home or is she coming with us?” one of the men asks, glancing into the rearview mirror to meet Yoongi’s gaze.

Yoongi looks at you expectantly.

“Where are you going?” you question, trying to ignore the fact that your thighs are pressed so tightly to the men on either side of you. If you focus too much, you’re pretty sure you’ll combust into flames. There are too many attractive men in this car and practically sitting on top of two out of four of them is doing way too many things to your imagination.

“Just to Jin’s for a few hours,” Yoongi shrugs, nodding toward the driver. “I can walk you home later if you want.”

You feel a bit blindsided. It’s true that you got a lot of work done in between segments tonight, but you still have a lot of work that needs to get done. On top of that, you have another 8am class tomorrow, the only class you don’t have with Yoongi this semester, and you really don’t want to be out too late.

But the teenager in you is getting way too excited by the prospect of spending more time with Yoongi.

You must take too long to think about it because Jin clears his throat and Yoongi shifts in his seat, thigh brushing against yours and making your heart stumble in your chest. You look at him in slight alarm, not at all surprised to find a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You swallow, feigning nonchalance as you mumble, “I guess I could hang out for a few hours.”

Yoongi’s smirk grows and he presses his thigh more firmly to yours. “Great.”

next

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smau #bts x reader #bts social media au #min yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi smau #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #suga smau #suga fanfiction #min yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic

[georgi-girl]

GF AU Idea

Here’s an au that’s probably been made already, but I have my own version of it. Partly based on the Feral Ford au and the fanfic Watching Always on ao3.

Stanley doesn’t immediately leave after getting Fords’ postcard. While waiting for him, Ford is possessed by Bill who tries to use his body to activate the portal. Ford wakes up just in time to get sucked inside. Stan arrives to an empty house. After months of searching, Ford is declared dead. Since Stan is literally Ford’s closest living relative, the place goes to him (much to the ire of their dad, who wastes away in a nursing home)

Stan opens the shack, goes on searches to the woods, and finds the machine in the basement. He scraps it for parts and uses the remains to build upgrades for the Shack (he still gets his brand from leaning against the panel). He gets married twice (once to a drag Queen, once to a tree spirit)

Meanwhile, Ford’s time in the portal is a lot less swashbuckling than in canon. He spends many years as a “guest” in Bills’ realm (which is about as awful as you expect) but while there, he learns to hijack the mind scape and see through all the eyes that Bill sees through. That way he sees his family mourn him, he sees Stan mourn him, and he becomes filled with all these tender brotherly feelings that he thought were gone forever. (he may or may not still get a metal plate in his head)

First season goes a lot like it does in canon, with a few changes (particularly in Headhunters, Carpet Diem, and Dreamscapes) but the second season is a total roller coaster, for everybody.

Stan shares Journels 1 and 2 with Dipper, who’s ecstatic to learn he’s related to the mysterious Author and performs all these rituals to try to contact his spirit. 

Mabel adopts a more Kosher diet for the sake of her beloved Waddles. 

Pacifica gets an official crush on Dipper and tries to ask him out; first by following bad advice given by Gideon, then by following good advice given by Wendy.

Soos and his gf Melody have their own couple’s adventure at the Woodstick Festival. 

The Society of the Blind Eye is a somewhat bigger threat. 

I don’t know yet how Ford comes back, (maybe MkGucket builds a portal in his sleep) but when he does come back, Stan is utterly wreaked, blubbering that this can’t be happening. Ford strokes his face and says that he (Ford) isn’t the same weak little boy that Stan always had to take care of. And from now on, Ford will be the one taking care of the family.

Fords’ personality often switches between cool survivalist to feral doomsday prepper. When not hunting monsters, he’s bringing home bizarre foods and concocting strange medicines.  If you’ve seen Orphan Black and are familiar with the character of Helena, you’ll get a good idea of what he’s like.

And don’t count out the kids. They have some intense storylines too. At one point, Mabel tearfully tells Dipper that she doesn’t want to grow up if it means growing apart from him. Dipper (equally tearful) promises her they will never grow apart.

At some point, Dipper and Mabel’s parents may show up. I have some great headcanons for them.

#gravity falls #au #alternate universe #canon divergence

[thicctails]

Under The Falls

(new AU?? we’ll see)

Lore dump under the cut

Sooooo this idea has been rattling around inside my brain for a bit, and now that I don’t feel like I’m going to keel over and die from the yearly Every Kid Ever Is Bringing Sickness Into The House season Ontario is experiencing, I’ve finally got some art done for it!

So, in this au, the Pines family aren’t humans, but a very rare subspecies of Merfolk/Sirens. They can’t lure sailors to their deaths with songs like sirens or swim nearly as fast as merfolk, but instead can use their magic to appear human. They must frequently rehydrate, but even that can be lessened with practice. The timeline has been fucked with here as well (Let’s pretend Shermie was older than Stanley and Stanford by, like, quite a bit, around 16-17 years maybe. Not outrageous, its around the same age gap I have to my younger sibling ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) so we get Mullet Stan and younger, more Feral Ford when the twins are born.

Now, adults of this species have mastery over their magic, but children do not. Therefore, the kids must stay in the water until they can control their magic enough to appear human enough to pass as normal. Well, one day, someone slips up and is seen by the wrong person, an enthusiastic monster hunter that would love to add some new additions to their collection...

...leaving two very little Pines to fend for themselves, at least until their Grunkles, who catch wind of the slaughter a day or two after it happened (people obviously knew the Pines family, so their disappearance raised alarm bells. Everyone assumes that the family was just doing cosplay or having an early Halloween party and some psycho murdered them. The only reason Dipper and Mabel weren’t discovered is because no one outside of the family knew they existed), put aside their issues to deal with this crisis situation. With Stanford so enthralled in his dangerous work and Stanley... well, Stanley’s situation is definitely not child-friendly, the two decide to co-exist to raise the twins. Stan converts part of Ford’s house into the Mystery Shack as a way to earn extra money, and as an excuse for the twin’s appearance as they age. What? Mermaid kids? Nah, just costumes for that wacky tourist trap.

Maybe Bill gets involved as well, intending to lead the kids astray, but ends up getting attached to the weird little meatbags lol. They’re an endless source of chaos and entertainment, and him hanging around them pisses Ford and Stanley off to no end, which delights him. 

#gravity falls #gf au #Under The Falls au #gravity falls dipper #gravity falls mabel #gravity falls ford #gravity falls stan #merfolk au #siren au #bill cipher

[sonxflight]

Might put some HCs for Ryou's yet another crossover AU as well (ft. me other gremlin aka @plxsmius and, again, @nerdynanny's feral scientists):

✧ The descendant of the man who had the name Katsuhiko as the crowned emperor, with a big part of his ancestor's biography remaining obscure. Unbeknownst to him, he's actually a reincarnation of this very same ancestor, while there are certain ghosts who are aware of this and what actually happened to Katsuhiko, namely Clockwork. In addition, Katsuhiko's katana sword is Sakai's family regalia which he was trained to wield since relatively early age.

✧ Spent a share of his childhood in Japan before travelling the world with his family and settling down in America. Is an incredibly talented physician who once attended the college with Jack, Maddie, Vlad and Ford.

✧ With Maddie insisting, willingly took the role of a godfather to Jasmine and Danny alongside with Ford and Vlad, and showed oneself being a reliable babysitter during siblings' childhood years. In addition, is an uncle-in-law to Dipper and Mabel.

✧ Due to the specifics of his mentality, is fully acceptant of otherworldly creatures being a natural part of the world. Treats ghosts with respect and prefers to reason with them when it's possible rather than throwing a punch basically this but for ghosts lmao.

✧ Was the first to discover the portal accident granted Vlad his ghost powers and has been keeping it a secret alongside with Ford. Found out about Danny becoming the second human/ghost hybrid earlier than Vlad, simply due to being attentive to his godson's and Phantom's at times way too similar mannerisms and behavior.

✧ Is often to have an argument with Vlad in regards to Danny. Supports their godson when it comes to the pursuing of his dreams and just wants Danny's life to be as peaceful as possible, while Vlad believes Danny needs to toughen up and show this teeth more frequently in order to become more withstanding of both the human world and the ghost zone's unpredictable environment.

✧ Is very much 🔪🔪🔪 alongside with Vlad when it comes to Bill and his attempts to get back at Ford. Despite any of their arguing and butting heads, him and Vlad make one hell of battle partners when it comes to protecting people they care deeply about.

#✧ 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕠 𝕚 𝕛𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕖𝕪 𝕠𝕟 ✧ ║ headcanons #✧ 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 ✧ ║ verse

[alextwdgf01]

Sneak peek scene from chapter 7 of Feral Adventures. (Coming some time soon)

#Alextwdgf01 #My art #My fic #Gravity Falls #Feral Ford au #Werewolf Stan au #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Stan twins #Stan Pines #Ford Pines #Feral Ford Pines #Werewolf Stan Pines #Fanart #Digital art #Art #Digital flat #Flat color