#fic: zest

[penvisions]

zest {a sequel series masterlist}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: With the passage of time, Joel Miller had shifted from ‘chef’ to something more. Your once hidden relationship a secret now out in the open. After a break in which you finished your degree and managed to land your dream job of teaching at the collegiate level, Joel had thrown himself into his work at the restaurant where you met. Back together and in far better mental places in your life, you both are caught off guard by the sudden news of being prospective parents.

But things are always gonna get hectic because, of course, how else would things go with the two of you involved? It’d been that way for nearly two years after all.

Word Count: undetermined

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, c'mon reader and joel have potty mouths, protective joel, reader is canonically midsize, pregnant reader, surprise pregnancy, reader goes through nicotine withdrawal, smoking, cigarettes, nicotine use, cannabis, marijuana, cbd, edibles, pregnancy complications (not serious or life-threatening), lots of feelings, lots of emotions, complicated family dynamic, reader has family issues, reader has religious guilt, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, reader canonically has an eating disorder, therapy. much more to be added to each individual chapter!

A/N: THEY'RE BACK, BABY! our rough 'n tumble couple are back and better than ever. cannot wait to see where they take me on this sequel series journey that should be about the same amount of chapters as the original {garnish} one. i've been sitting on this idea since the lovely @tuquoquebrute came to be with a one-shot request for these two and they took over in the best way ♡♡

main series:

garnish {masterlist}

precursor to {zest}:

i wish i never met you

{zest} chapters:

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter four || chapter five || chapter six chapter seven || chapter eight || chapter nine || chapter ten

navigation || masterlist

taglist: @hiddenbabynyc @jessthebaker @clevergirl74 @anavatazes @samiamproductions @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute @sarap-77 @koshkaj-blog @corazondebeskar-reads @ozarkthedog @littlemisspascal @endlessthxxghts @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @sawymredfox

#dev writes #fic: garnish #fic: zest #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us au #tlou au #restaurant au #chef joel miller #chef! joel miller #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #chef joel miller by darling #pregancy #fluff #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #archive of our own #ao3

[italiansteebie]

*** I got my tongue pierced today, and the interaction I had with the piercer inspired this lil thing. (The sexy part and the "good boy girl" part both happened to me, however I left due to being extremely flustered as soon as the transaction finished)

piercer!Eddie and client!Steve when Steve goes in to Eddie's shop to get his tongue pierced Eddie has him rinse his mouth out with listerine before getting started and everything is fine and normal.

and Steve sits while continuing to swish and the spits in back into the disposable cup, avoiding eye contact with Eddie who has been staring at him this whole time, but not in a creepy way (in a omg this guy is so hot way)- anyways Eddie has been staring at Steve, and watches his spit the mouth wash back into the cup and the only thing Eddie's brain comes up with to say is "sexy."

Steve smirks slightly and then flatly says "thank you." from that moment on things are quiet between the two of them until Eddie has finished the piercing and wipes the drool off Steve's face and says a simple "good boy," before standing and finishing the transaction.

only then does Eddie realize what he's done, turning around to apologize only to find Steve half hard in his jeans.

things aren't quiet for much longer, although there still isn't much talking, save for the "ah, ah, pretty boy. no oral for at least two weeks while your piercing heals. luckily for us, my mouth is free. and so are your hands."

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie ficlet #meet ugly #steddie fic #piercer Eddie munson #piercing shop au #Steve gets a tongue piercing #extremely light Dom/sub dynamics #sub steve harrington #dom eddie munson #light dom/sub #Steve Harrington get a piercing #piercer!Eddie munson #steddie fluff #steddie meet cute #lemon zest

[hippolotamus]

Tagged by the always lovely and talented @jesuisici33 @diazsdimples @wikiangela (do go check their snippets for all manner of *feels*)

Speaking of feels, have some more (prev snippets here)

Their kiss becomes increasingly urgent and messy. As if they both recognize the window of time is closing. That whatever they’ve shared disappears when Eddie leaves this bed.   Fat, wet tears begin rolling down Buck’s cheeks, splashing onto his tongue. He hardly recognizes what’s happening before Eddie is cradling his face between his palms, shushing him like a child.  “Buck, hey, look at me.” Eddie soothes him, brushing the dampness away. “Tell me what’s going on.” “‘M fine,” Buck lies, swiping his forearm across his face and trying to turn away so Eddie can’t see.

no pressure tagging @daffi-990 @tizniz @thekristen999 @disasterbuckdiaz @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @giddyupbuck @watchyourbuck @elvensorceress @honestlydarkprincess @monsterrae1 @spotsandsocks @gayedmundodiaz @indestructibleheart @lemonzestywrites @buddierights @barbiediaz @buckaroosheart @eowon @apothecarose @wildlife4life @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @heartshapedvows @fortheloveofbuddie @loserdiaz @statueinthestone @singlethread @ladydorian05 @steadfastsaturnsrings @weewootruck @spaceprincessem @vanillahigh00 @chaosandwolves @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @your-catfish-friend and anyone else who wants to share 😘

#it was supposed to be all zest and minimal feels #then *some* feels #but now... #it's zesty it's feelsy it's all the things #it might even be complete by friday #hippo writes #buddie wip #fic: honey when you call my name

[sunsafewriting]

AU.

Miss Silva seems to have an uncanny sense for when Beatrice and her father will be at the Governor’s manor; she hasn’t missed any of their last three visits, always managing to find some reason to be in the foyer. Beatrice doesn’t quite believe that she’s as invested in painting the grandfather clock as she claims to be, given that she never appears to make any progress. 

On this occasion, Beatrice takes up her post closer to the front door than usual, to accommodate how Miss Silva is nearer to Beatrice’s regular position than she ought to be. From here, Beatrice can see Miss Silva’s back, the intricate curl of her hair, and the three half-hearted lines on her canvas that only the most generous of critics might perceive to be clock-shaped. 

Beatrice, who is rendered nothing but generous in regard to Miss Silva, would insist on its resemblance, even if held at gunpoint. 

For all of thirty seconds, Miss Silva puts in a decent performance of her role as artist, swirling her brush through a dab of paint, before she gives up and turns to face Beatrice. 

“So,” Miss Silva starts. 

“Yes, Miss Silva?”

“Ava,” she corrects, immediately. “I know I’ve already insisted.”

“It would be overly familiar of me to address you in such a fashion,” Beatrice replies, as she always does. 

Miss Silva sighs, loud and put-upon. “Alright. I suppose I wouldn’t want you to lose your stripes for the grievous crime of using my name. But if you can’t call me Ava, can you do something else for me?”

Beatrice nods, even though it’s dangerous, even though Miss Silva could ask her for anything.

Perhaps she nods because Miss Silva could ask her for anything. 

“Can you think of me as Ava, just in your head?” Miss Silva requests. “Even if you never say it.” 

Beatrice considers this. A truly honourable person wouldn’t agree; decorum should govern the thought as well as the action. But Beatrice is already expected to tell Miss Silva no so often that it gets harder every time, and surely this is a small enough concession that no real harm can come of it. 

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Beatrice agrees. 

Ava grins at her so brightly that Beatrice finds herself both badly needing to look away and entirely unable to do it. “Good,” she replies. “Thank you, Officer .” 

“You’re welcome, Miss Silva.”

Ava rolls her eyes. “Of course, there’s no way for me to check that you’re keeping your word.” 

She draws nearer to Beatrice, coming to stand in front of her, and Beatrice cannot move without disobeying her father’s orders, cannot move without the consequence of being further from Ava. 

Beatrice swallows. “That’s true, Miss Silva.” 

“Think something about me,” Ava instructs, gaze fixed on Beatrice’s face. “And I’ll know. I’ll be able to tell.”

Beatrice is incapable of thinking anything at all. Her mind is fiercely blank — blank as the steadfast alternative to all the other images that are trying to beg themselves into existence. 

Ava , she chants in her head, desperate to pass this test, even if it is imaginary. Ava, Ava, Ava. 

Ava smiles. “That’s good enough for now,” she says. 

#i have an EXCUSE for starting a new story this time!! #it's a bday present and pirates were requested #new updates for other stories are on their way!!! i have everything half written because i hippity hop around mentally i am so sorry #but i am filled with zest and energy for all my projects and i will post more soon!!! #avatrice #sunsafewriting #ava x beatrice #avatrice fic #avatrice fanfic #beatrice x ava

[rainbowintheskyf1]

finding the zest in life, one cocktail at a time

teen and up audiences, 3.5k words, sebastian vettel/kimi räikkönen

Four times Seb tries to get an oblivious Kimi into bed by ordering the most filthy named cocktails and the one time Kimi finally gets the clue.

cheers!🍸i hope you’ll enjoy this silly little simi piece!

#my fic #simi fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #sebastian vettel #kimi räikkonën #kimi raikkonen #simi #the cocktail fic #finding the zest in life one cocktail at a time

[generic-sonic-fan]

listen to me girl I am the only correct one about omega he is not cold and "robotic" he is hot-blooded and emotional and alive!!!

He walks into the kitchen, sees Shadow threatening to guzzle a bottle of tabasco, and he does not shake his head and say "illogical meatbag"- he stomps in and yells "DRINK IT, COWARD".

#omega's the fastest litmus test for whether a team dark fic is good or bad honestly #because you aren't writing him right if you don't write him with an absolute zest for life #this robot thrives on chaos. absolutely thrives on it #he is by FAR the most unhinged team dark member!! #god I love this dude so much #e123 omega #e-123 omega

[weenwrites]

Hey hey Ween! Hope you're doing well! I couldn't help but notice over time it feels like your ah..Spice? Zest maybe? Has gone down over time. I hope nothing on here has like, bummed you out or made you less into writing. That's not to say that I expect someone to act the same forever ya know. But yeah I'm basically just wanting to check on you. 👍

Hi! I really appreciate the gesture! My answer's below.

If you mean that my passion/enthusiasm for writing has dulled down recently (or over the past few months), it has, and the whole AI debacle has worsened the deterioration process.

But even with that going on, I still enjoy writing for other people, though my ability to be able to consistently write and queue up fics has deceased because of how repetitive, unrewarding, and taken-for-granted the work can sometimes feel (also life and education also get in the way but, eh).

However, the people like you who have sent in words of thanks and compliments about my writing make it more enjoyable for me to run this blog and write requests, so thank you once again!

On the other hand regarding negative experiences, the worst I've ever had so far is just when people don't even bother to look at/follow my rules. It's infuriating whenever someone sends in a request and it's so, painfully clear that they didn't even to bother to look any further down my rules post, but I'm just happy I haven't received any harassment or any homophobic asks.

Even with all of these in mind I still want to write and maintain this blog, even if it takes me a billion years to unprivate all of my works one by one and then post them to pillowfort. I'll just be a little slow to do so.

#asks #wolfkid22 #[ initially i thought this was talking about cooking or something ] #[ and i was thinking “huh??? what?????? what are you talking about??? what spice??? what zest??” ] #[ “there isn't anything like that in my writing??? at least i don't think???? does my writing have a particular taste or something???" ] #[ but anyways fun fact: i've written 100k plus words for this blog. ] #[ the word document i'm using to store all my fics lags severely whenever i open it up. ]

[cameronsactivities]

Le Chien de Nicholas Carraway

hello great gatsby fandom! i wrote some fanfic about nick's dog

Summary:

"I had a dog — at least I had him for a few days until he ran away" - The Great Gatsby (Chapter 1)

Nick's dog is then never mentioned again in the book. A delve into what may have happened to the dog. It hates Nick with a burning passion, but accidentally plays a little bit of matchmaker.

#the great gatsby #tgg #great gatsby #nick carraway #jay gatsby #natsby #fanfiction #ao3 fic #nick's dog #f scott fitzgerald #fun times #lots of zest

[bibereangelum]

my latest marauders fandom observations have been the following. 1) People put too much weight into ship politics. 2) Demand for better representation of women in fics, still consume m/m content *only* 3) Apparently people are reading Drarry fic and pretending it's Jegulus? girl idk.

#mike rambles #it's actually a very boring community once you realize people only want one thing #that thing is jegulus fic but most of those fics are mediocre #bc surprise it's hard 2 flesh out the character they only value for being a snarky twink #of course drarry fic is good as fuck #most of it was written b4 u guys got on the internet #I think the jegulus girlies are starved bc a lot of those fics are just #painfully mediocre #no zest to them at all bc we can't get past sunshine x grump stereotyping #if only someone could fix that -looks at the people writing these fics look at the people writing these- #also y'all treat women TERRIBLY #and you're not reading the wlw fics i know y'all aren't bc not a single one of you got recs

[treeprince]

[remembers the days when i could leave 2k word comments on fic]

[finding myself still eeking out the word count but in corporate email speak]

oh so this is where all my writing motivation has gone

#this message brought to u by me reading the comments i left on several fics a few years ago #back when all my energy and zest for life wasnt being sucked out of me thru a silly straw by my need to pay bills #sighs #some day that will be me again #sooner than i think i hope #personal

[penvisions]

zest {chapter 1}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Changes are sudden, lifestyles are altered, and important questions bubble up but through it all, you have Joel by your side.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: canon typical language, c'mon reader and joel have potty mouths, age gap (joel is mid 40’s / reader is late 20’s -early 30’s, protective joel, reader is canonically midsize, pregnant reader, surprise pregnancy, reader goes through nicotine withdrawal, smoking, cigarettes, nicotine use, lots of feelings, lots of emotions, complicated family dynamic, reader has family issues, death of a loved one, mention of life-threatening cancer, reader has religious guilt, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, reader canonically has an eating disorder, mentions of therapy, references to time apart from each other, adult content, smut, piv, unprotected piv be safe y'all!), talk of marriage, adult conversations, joel and reader are down bad for each other.

REMINDER: this is a sequel series, the previous series can be found here {garnish}

A/N: THEY'RE BACK, BABY! ♡♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || masterlist || ko-fi

It’s the perfect spring day: sun shining in a warm but not hot brightness, a gentle breeze rustling the trees as you zip past them, an iced coffee, and the singing figure of Ellie in the passenger seat all make the first half of the day melt away. The amber of your sunglasses allows for everything to be swathed in the honeyed hue and you smile to yourself as you recall a rather heated comment from Joel ‘that every goddamn show feels so creative ‘n artsy when they slap the same tones over Mexico’ and then a softer set of words as he had cuddled closer to you on the couch ‘it’s not really like that, I’ve been there, darlin’, trust me’.

“What’re you all gooey lookin’ for, Sabrosa?” Ellie pauses to catch her breath between songs from the newest pop punk album from a band you first enjoyed in your teenage years. Unable to resist the temptation of adding it to your already laden down basket at the bookstore last week when you and the young girl had ditched Joel to run errands. “Ew, gross, don’t think about my dad while I’m sitting right next to you.”

“Oh hush,” You stuck your tongue out at her. Getting a kick out of how casually she sounded. It hadn’t ever been awkward between you two, or her and Sarah despite the six or so years between your birthdays. But then again, Sarah had let you into the secret of the older guy she had started seeing in her graduate program the last time she had been in town visiting… “It’s nothing dirty, just one of his many rants about my choice in television.”

“Lemme guess….oh! The washed-out way they show Mexico, huh? Cause you were watching…oh fuck, what’s that show called…”

“Breaking Bad.” Was the supplied answer from your lips as you turned on the turn signal and began to slow down to turn into the parking lot for the restaurant. It wasn’t operating hours quite yet, too early yet for the dinner crowd Joel preferred to cater to. But Ellie had a shift, and you were dropping her off after classes. She wasn’t in either of the ones you teach, having completed the two semester course you had started off with. But you both had a class that ended around the same time, living so close to the university, she liked being able to walk but then catch a ride with you. Tradition, the word rang in your head. Routine, followed it and you smiled wider at the way your life had fleshed out.

“That’s the one!” She exclaimed as she unbuckled the seatbelt and leaned back in her chair. “Man, I really don’t have the energy for work today, but the old man said we have a full reservation list and then open seating at the bar.”

“Gonna be that way for a while, the article about him came out only two months ago. Everyone’s clamoring for a chance to try the ‘bursting flavors’ and ‘exciting combinations’ of the renowned Chef Joel Miller.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s hot shit right now, at least the restaurant is.” Reaching for her coffee in an imitation of you, she sipped at the whip cream, caramel whatever it is she had gotten. Coffee wasn’t her favorite, so she always got the espresso taken out, a glorified milkshake Joel had teased her once. “Proud of him, though. The restaurant was in shambles when he bought it from the previous owners, some shitty Italian place that never cleaned anything.”

“He’s done good.” You quietly agree, sipping from your own overly complicated drink. That was another tradition of yours and hers, to make your way through the menu at the coffee shops on campus, always pausing to get the special of the month. Joel claimed he didn’t understand the need for so much stuff mixed in with coffee, but you caught him stealing sips of yours if he were to come across it unattended around the house or when you were out and about with him and treated yourself.

“There’s my girls.” Joel chimes as you input your code into the gate for the employee parking and round the side of the building. His voice filtering in through the open windows as you pull into a spot and cut the engine. He’s leaned against the back of the building, cigarette in hand. “Was wondering what took you so long.”

“Accident on the main road, had to detour.” You appease as he approaches to open the door for you and pressed a greeting kiss to your cheek as you roll up the windows. He does the same for Ellie as she sidles up beside him for a side hug before trotting off to the door and disappearing through it. He let’s you pluck the lit cigarette from his fingers as you shoulder your bag and close the door. His hand goes around your waist to walk alongside you toward the building.

“As long as you two are safe, that’s all that matters. Today’s special is spaghetti all nerano, wanna do some grading here and try a plate?” He takes the smoking roll back from your offered hand and takes the last drag before tossing it into the pale beside the door. Opening it and leading you through it with a hand hovering over your lower back.

“That sounds yummy, I’m starving.” You toss him a smile over your shoulder before greeting everyone with a wave.

It’s well into the third hour of service and you never got the chance to leave once the doors opened. The bar had been struggling, Millie having taken over as manager and Mary trying to appease the picky impatient customers who all want a taste of the raved over menu and a glimpse at the alluring Chef Miller.

Picking up a shaker and twisting a bottle of vodka in your grip, you glance at the ticket that just printed and adjust the amount you free pour into it. Mary had been looked so guilty as she approached you’re the table where you do your work on a regular basis, the question of if you were willing to help out getting drinks started for those waiting on tables barely out of her mouth before you were nodding and cleaning up your stuff. It was now safely tucked away in the office and you were moving at a fast pace behind the bar to keep up with everything. Millie stepped down to let you take the reigns, knowing she would only get in your way. Ellie could be seen picking up and dropping off glasses at the well as often as Millie as she acted as barback.

The restaurant was buzzing, excited conversation and pleasant atmosphere making you remember the tingling high of getting off from a busy shift with a wad of cash tucked into your pocket. Just as you place a strainer over the shaker and begin to pour the contents over six shot glasses the door to the kitchen swings open and Joel walks through. You’re too busy, so you shift the chilled shots to the mat over the well and place the corresponding tickets beside them. Moving onto the next drink, you rinse out the shaker with the star sink in place.

His eyes catch yours through the crowd of people when you look up as Ellie comes up to take the shots and then watching as she delivers them, the sound of the shaker loud in your ear as you hold it over your head. His steps don’t falter as he approaches the table, he was delivering the plate to, but you could see something flash over his face. He’s back behind the door as you move to lodge the shaker open.

The night goes by quickly, taking orders for those lucky enough to snag a spot at the bar but hadn’t been able to make a reservation. Shoving each cash tip into a pint glass for the girls and even taking a few business cards from people interested in hosting parties in the space. You’ll be sure to pass those along to Mary, even if some of them requested you as the bartender. You didn’t mind, missing the atmosphere and good moments you had experienced in the setting. Ellie is taking back the remaining dishes from the last few tables, Millie is out back smoking after helping to clean up the bar top when Joel ambles from the kitchen once again.

He's got his chef’s coat unbuttoned and loose around the shirt underneath, the glint of his belt buckle catching the fairy lights around the bar. His steel curls are slicked back, but you could see the frizz and fluffiness where they rested over the back of his neck. He had been saying he needed a haircut, but you had made a sound in the back of your throat that made him put it off.

His eyes are trained on you as you move the trash cans full of empty bottles to line up beside the drink pick up area. You’re about to return behind the bar with a wink thrown over your shoulder when he snakes his hands around your waist and pulls you to him. He smells amazing, the perfect mix of savory spices, smoke, and Joel.

“Playin’ restaurant, huh? Thought you went home and passed out.” He leans down to kiss your jawline.

“Nah, Mary asked for my help when Millie got swamped.” You breath out, hands coming up to rest on his chest and push should he get a little too enthusiastic in you still being here.

“Not your responsibility.” His eyes hold no real heat or command, you know it’s born from a place of worry, of not wanting you to stretch yourself too thin.

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t mind.” You cradle his cheek in one hand and play with the collar of his open coat with the other. His eyes glance down, the glitter from your lotion catching the light on your neck and chest.

“Hmm, you looked good. Dress looks good on you, shakin’ those drinks and-“

“Dad, holy crap, it was so busy tonight. Some dude tipped me like fifty percent because he was trying to impress his date!” Ellie plops down on a stool with her server’s book. She doesn’t even look up from where she begins to go over the receipts. “Wait until everyone leaves to start doing that or better yet, wait until you’re home to do that.”

“One day you’re gonna meet someone and it’s gonna be hard to keep your hands to yourself.” You only giggle at the typical parent response from Joel. Ellie wasn’t a touchy-feely person, but you were sure she would be with the right person, you’d seen her flirty interactions with girls while out with you and your friends, tagging along for the free drinks and to have safe company. She was pretty smooth if she didn’t get into her head too much, soft touches to shoulders and waists, though she steadfastly refused to dance. With anyone, no matter the setting.

“Gross,” She begins to fill out the printed shift report before organizing the receipts in order and then asks you for the stapler. Detangling yourself from the man, you do make it back behind the bar. That’s when she notices the pint glass. “Holy shit! You made all that?”

“Huh? Oh, no. The restaurant did. Here.” You hand the wad of bills over to Joel. With your own shift report and stapled receipts. He uses two nimble fingers to extract the shift report but leaves the cash in your hand. Frowning, you track the report as it’s tucked into his back pocket along with Ellie’s. Her own cash tips secure in her booklet.

“Also gonna see about getting some of the petty cash from the safe for the hours you worked.” He begins to take the full bags from the trash cans, tying the ends together tight.

“Joel.”

“You worked, you get paid.” He doesn’t look up as he reaches into the bottom for the rolls sitting inside and begins to place new ones over the lips of the plastic.

“I’m your girlfriend. Who used to work here. I was just helping out.”

“Nope, not gonna fly, darlin’. It’s yours.” He slides the empties cans back around the bar for you to put back in their designated places.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.” Ellie reaches for it and you let her swipe it from your hand. Only for Joel to set her with a look. “Oooor not.” She says as she puts it down atop the clean bar top.

“Joel!”

“Can’t hear you, Sabrosa, gotta make sure the kitchen duties were done.”

“Seriously, I’ll take it if you don’t want it.” You quirk an eyebrow at the younger girl, but Millie bounces up and says everyone was going out for a bite at the taco truck parked a few blocks down. They have a spot in a lot that has picnic tables and offer late night service. Ellie takes off, ensuring you she’ll text either you or Joel when she’s back at the townhouse afterwards. She’d been staying the second bedroom there more and more, as you found yourself splitting your time pretty evenly between it and Joel’s. He would join you sometimes, but certain nights either you needed you own space or he did and that was okay.

Sighing, you lock the patron door behind her and turn the sign from open to closed.

As you’re double checking everything is shut down properly, you open the washer to let the last load of glasses air dry, the steam billowing out. Turning when you hear the swing of the kitchen door again, Joel has his chef’s coat tossed over his shoulder and his backpack over the other. His eyes zone in on the cash and then a smirk takes over his face. You turn your attention back to the washer and ensure it’s off before you round the bar top and makes sure it was swept underneath the stools. You’re about to ask him which car you were gonna take home when you spot a crumpled napkin you must’ve missed.

As you bend down to pick it up, you feel thick fingers sneak beneath the skirt of your dress. You don’t think anything of it until you feel Joel tuck a bill from the stack into the band of your panties. Knuckles grazing against your slit as he moves to the other hip and does the same. You shoot up, the napkin forgotten as you try to turn around.

“Nu-uh,” His palms come to rest on your lower back and shoulders, bending you over one of the stools as the heat of his body looms close. He whispers something about having to scrub the video cameras set up around the dining room before you hear the clink of his belt being undone and feel him move your panties to the side. You throb at the feel of the cooler air circulating around the room, a gasp leaving your lips as he gently runs the head of his cock over your folds, arousal from you both making it such a smooth motion.

As he reaches over your back for something, he fills you up, the stretch of his girth feeling like a reward for the hectic shift completed. But you know the night would’ve ended like this either way.

A moan rips from your chest as he grabs a hold of whatever he had been trying to get, hips flush with yours. He chuckles, pleased with himself before his hands sneak around to cup your breasts as they threaten to spill out from your dress at the prone position. His fingers tuck more bills into your underwear, beneath the straps over your shoulders, into the already full cups to peak out over the swell of your chest. He even tucks one into the mess of your hair thrown up into a clip at the back of your head before his hands secure around your waist and he begins to thrust.

That’s the last memory you have of both smoking and drinking, only a few days before you had anxiously waited for a piece of plastic to tell you your fate. It was now a month since finding out, Joel making sure to go with you to get confirming bloodwork and a full physical. The headaches from missing both finally having abated. Joel on the other hand, he was sneaking cigarettes, you could smell the lingering smoke on him when would come home and you were still up. It didn’t really bother you, knowing he indulged for far longer than you had in the bad habit. But you missed the social aspect of the act, of seeking out the designated spots around campus and chatting, of sitting out on the back patio with Tommy as he enjoyed one on the evenings he stopped by with his own little family for dinner.

But it was all worth it, you mused as you poured yourself a cup of steaming water into what was once your coffee mug. Tea was something you indulged in now, the cupboard filled with the different types you were trying to work your way through to see what would help with the onslaught of nausea and also appealed to your tastebuds. You preferred the fruity ones, just like you did with your cocktails, hence the nickname Ellie had graced you with that stuck.

Jingling keys and heavy footsteps signaled you to Joel’s return, the sun still shining on the calm afternoon. He had been gone when you showed up at his house, a cookout planned for the day. Tommy and Maria had been here an hour, the grill just about ready for the first of many things to be cooked and the pool was sparkling as it awaited the arrival of Sarah and Ellie. You had spent the morning cleaning it of debris and adding a few treatment drops. The whole family getting together. It was good, it was a good feeling being surrounded by them all. You and Maria hitting it off even more over the news of what was to come. Her own child now nearing two, she had given birth while you and Joel were split. But you had sent a care package and visited her in the hospital with her favorite takeout.

It was so domestic, so full a life…it made you wonder why you hadn’t been able to experience it as a child yourself.

“Missed ya, darlin’.” Joel steps up behind you and embraces you. Kissing your temple, you feel the frown mar his lips as you don’t respond. “Everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, turning in his hold and wrapping your arms around his chest. He smells like cinnamon and the grill brick he used while closing up the restaurant after a brunch shift and you breathe him in as you press your face into his broad chest.

“Gotta shower, wanna join me?’

“The girls will be here soon.” You hold him tighter, missing your own family even if it had never been the same as his own. Dinner once a month with your own father, no visits offered or initiated, grandparents raising you since you were young. A mother who had passed early due to complications from cancer she hadn’t known she had until she was pregnant with you herself. “Wanna make sure everything is ready for them.”

He peppers kisses into your hair before pulling away and disappearing upstairs.

The afternoon continues, the smell of grilling meat and roasting vegetables lilting into the air alongside ruckus laughter and bad jokes. Everyone is comfortable around the patio and the in the pool, food served and consumed. Just a few bites left of everything, Joel ensuring you that he would heed your cravings and what you felt like you could stomach, not worried about leftovers lately.

“So when do we get to meet the rest of the Sabrosa clan?” Tommy askes around the lip of his beer bottle. He’s across from you at the table, Joel off by the grill as he messes with something he hadn’t let you sneak a peak at.

“Oh, um…you don’t?” Caught off guard, the bite of food falls from your plastic fork frozen halfway to your mouth.

“No siblings or nothin?”

“Um, well-“ Clearing your throat you take the bite and chew it contemplatively. Honesty or the thinly veiled truth? Your mind is working hard, something Maria must hear in her seat beside you at the patio table. She shoots Tommy a look you catch out of the corner of your eye, trying to keep calm so the child in dozing in her arms doesn’t stir. “I’ve got two half-siblings, but we don’t keep in contact much.”

“They gonna be at the wedding?”

“What wedding?” “Oh my god, dad! You proposed and didn’t tell us!” Ellie and Sarah holler from where they’re in the pool, one of them resting on a floating device and the other is practicing her laps to get more comfortable in the water. Joel turns from where he was ensuring the grill was off and brings over the s’mores dip he had just let melt to perfection. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the gooey swirl of marshmallow and dark chocolate, of the rye biscuits he must’ve whipped up at work steaming beside it in a single use tin. Set up with a divider in the middle.

“Haven’t proposed to ‘er yet, quit it.” He sits it down atop a trivet, but no one makes a move to reach for it until he gives the go ahead. But he doesn’t until he’s got one of the dark biscuits covered in the dip and set in front of you. Then it was fair game as the girls begin to swim across the length of the pool, or well Sarah tries to glide her floaty across while Ellie does. Tommy readies one for Maria before making his own, quirking an eyebrow at you as he watches the pull of the dip.

“But your dad is gonna walk you down the aisle, right?” Tommy presses on, not catching onto the awkward way you were shifting in your seat or how you had placed your fork down to rest on the edge of your paper plate. The dessert untouched. But you don’t get to think of an answer before one is flying from your emotionless face.

“Can’t, he’s dead.”

Silence falls over the once happy and jovial backyard, the splash of Sarah slipping from her floating longue echoing.

“Tommy.” Joel’s voice is firm as he pins his brother with a mild glare. Maria is equally unpleased with her husband’s penchant for talking without thinking, not reading the room. He yelps as she kicks his shin underneath the table.

“It’s okay, wasn’t much of a father when he was alive anyway.” You reach for the mocktail you had made a pitcher of for you and the girls to enjoy. No one says anything as you pour yourself another and take a sip from it. Not liking the tension that had crept into the atmosphere, you gather up your nearly empty plate and stack it atop Maria’s to take inside, making more room for the messy dessert. Slinking away, you feel Maria reach out a hand to trail down your arm, comforting you before you’re gone back into the house.

“You dumbfuck.” Ellie mutters under her breath, earning a glare from Joel over his shoulder for her language. But he doesn’t disagree. You do, but it wasn’t his fault. How was Tommy supposed to know he had picked the one subject you had nothing good to say about?

“Shit, I- holy shit.” Tommy’s voice follows you before he yelps a second time as Joel brandishes the still warm tongs from serving biscuits.  

“Way to shove your foot in your mouth, we were havin’ a good time.”

“I didn’t know! I thought she was just quiet about her family not that she didn’t have any.”

“Tommy, you’re the father of my child and my husband but you are seriously so stupid sometimes.”

“Dad, she-she doesn’t have any family?” Sarah is tearing up, affected by the sudden realization of why you never brought anyone around except for a friend every once in a while. She could understand not having a mother, as her own was so distant, only showing up when she needed something or felt lonely in the life she created for herself. But to not have a dad? That was all she knew and she couldn’t fathom how her life would have been without him in it;.

“She’s got us, baby girl.” Joel goes to run a hand over her shoulder and press a kiss to the fluff of her kinky curls as she stands beside the pool set into the ground outside the patio. He wraps the towel she brought out around her and rubs it across her shoulders before lifting his hands. “We’re her family, pretty good deal, huh?”

“Dad….”

“She’ll be okay, I promise.”

The laid back vibe from the afternoon returns once everyone piles into the living room to watch the season finale of an admittedly awful reality tv show. But everyone was hooked and harmless bets were made on who would cause the most drama and how things would end. You’re a little subdued, but you make comments along with everyone else and laugh at the absurdity of what happens on the screen.

Stepping out of the bath you had decided to soak in, you startle when you see Joel sat on the small bench in the master bathroom across from the vanity as you pull back the shower curtain. He’s already changed into his sleep pants, his freckled and bronzed chest on display through the steam.

“Darlin’, why didn’t you tell me your dad was passed?”

“Because it doesn’t matter.” You stand in front of him, taking in the way he watches you through the mirror as you press a bead of toothpaste onto your toothbrush and wet it before popping it into your mouth. A heavy silence fills the room, tangling with the rose scented steam from the bubble bar you had used. The pink water swirling down the sink a near silent hum.

“It-uh, kinda does. Makes me feel…like a whole wedding would be…”

“You don’t have to ask me. We don’t have to get married if it’s going to be a problem.” Shoving down the worries and residual guilt of being raised in a certain religious culture at the thought of having a child out of wedlock, having a child as a single woman you catch the man’s gaze through the mirror. The burn of embarrassment simmers beneath your skin, shame for feeling such embarrassment sparkling behind it, creating a swirl of emotions you hadn’t wanted to feel this close to bed with an early class. You want to marry him, to experience that with him, to live life together as husband and wife, but it feels perfunctory when you didn’t even believe in the reasoning behind why you felt that way. He’s frowning, his brows knit close together, something off in the depths of his brown eyes.

“It’s not a problem…right?” You see the worry flickering through him, in the way his eyes shift and the way he clenches his fists in his lap. “I just…you know you’re a part of the Millers. Have been since the moment you caught my attention, but baby…I don’t want you to feel lonely if it’s my family and your friends.”

“Are you insinuating because I don’t have a family of my own, I’m somehow missing something?” Anger flared hot and sticky in you, washing out the embarrassment. The heat from your bath making it so much worse and you cross the room to pull the door open. Back at the vanity, you ignore his gaze and rinse out your mouth before moving on to clean and moisturize your face. He’s quiet behind you, knowing he phrased his sentiment wrong and this…this communication was new for you both. Still hard sometimes as you both realize how deep some things run and how different you could be.

“You know I’m not.” The gaze he has trained on you reminds you of the way he would watch you through the kitchen, tensions high as you both couldn’t seem to get your heads out of the dirt and just be honest with each other. A time that had passed, allowing for the present to bloom.

“Then a wedding wouldn’t be a problem. But it’s kind of moot, you haven’t proposed.” You don’t anticipate the slight edge to the words as they leave your lips, but they slice through the air. You feel shame overtake the waning anger, making your face hot underneath your massaging hands. The burn of tears threaten to ruin the routine you just completed and you hiccup as your hands flatten atop the vanity, head hanging between your shoulders. You do not like this, but you have no idea where it’s coming from. It really doesn’t bother you that he hasn’t asked. You know he has the intention to, the agreement of a visit to town hall and then a small party to celebrate. Nothing fancy, nothing crazy, simple.

“Hey,” He whispers as he comes up behind you, hands resting over the quick beating of your heart, his naked chest pressed to your back, the damp towel the only thing separating you. But you can feel his own heart between your shoulder blades, strong and sturdy. Grounding you in the way you had explained you preferred when overwhelmed. “I promise I wasn’t trying to upset you, just want you to be comfortable, to have everything you deserve.”

You let him help you to dry off the rest of your body, lotion lovingly applied to your body by his hands before you slip into a nightgown and slip between the sheets beside him. You kiss an apology to his lips, needing him to know that it was just initial panic and not the real way you thought or felt. He accepts it and offers one of his own, lips pressed to your chest, right over your heart before sleep takes ahold of you both.

“I said don’t.” You warned, no humor in your voice. You had tried and failed to put on every one of your pairs of pants, jeans, leggings, and none of them were comfortable. None of them zipped, buttoned, or stretched enough underneath the slight bump that had seemingly blossomed overnight. Joel was sprawled on the bed, working his way to getting up at the late hour. He had been at the restaurant late, later than usual as they had a party stay well after service hours. He had let the staff go on time, ensuring they would get the tip out but not wanting them to have to stay once all the cleaning and side work was done. One of the many things you adored about the man, his willingness to heed situations like that in favor of his staff even if he was gruff and to the point most of the day.

“Didn’t say nothin’, darlin’.” He rumbled from beneath the sheets, tan skin looking deliciously golden paired with the pale pink set you had insisted changing from the white that had previously been curled around the mattress. You had woken up with bad cramps last month, terrified something had happened as you pulled back the covers to find blood spotting the pristine fabric. A quick trip the emergency room as he shared in your panic, albeit in a more controlled way, assured you that spotting was normal during the early months of pregnancy.

“Dress...” You muttered to yourself, hand cradling around the small bump. Joel only hummed, stretching out to alleviate his sore body, thick legs appeared from beneath the fabric. Your eyes traced the long lines of his body through the mirror atop the dresser, drinking in the sight of him and your body began to thrum with arousal. When your eyes roved up the expanse of his broad chest dusted with dark hair to his face, he was smirking at you with an eyebrow arched in a silent question of how long you would ignore his deliberate departure from the bed.

You had all but jumped him when he got home last night, papers you were grading scattered all around you on the couch and coffee table, a Josh Gates show on the television for moral encouragement. He had teased you once about your affinity for the man but you had clapped back with his borderline obsession with Anthony Bourdain, to which he simply said ‘can’t help it darlin’, the man knew his shit’.

The dinner he had brought home had been tossed to the entry way table, as you knelt down to help remove him from his shoes and pants. Mouthing at the line of him through his boxer briefs before he could even get his keys hooked on the mirror over the table. He had been prepared to find you fast asleep, a different kind of tired taking hold of you more and more, almost demanding naps during the day when you got home from campus and right before dinner if you hadn’t worked. But you had sprung up from your spot and welcomed him home, the food forgotten in favor of getting your fill of the man that had been consuming your thoughts. The thought makes his cock fill, twitching underneath the sheets as he recalls your enthusiasm.

He sees the way your eyes dilate at the movement, the hush of his hand skimming down to grip himself.

Suddenly, you’re no longer debating over the clothing flowing from the draws inside the closet or those of the dresser. You peeled the pants you had been fruitlessly trying to zip up and nearly threw yourself at him. He greedily accepts your frantic kisses, starting from his shins and all the way up neck to finally connect with his own. He groans at the taste of coffee you had allowed yourself this morning, his own cup still steaming on the bedside table. His glasses beside it, his cellphone lighting up only to be ignored.

“Does mama need some attention?” He breathes into your open mouth, large palms caressing the exposed skin of your hips. His hands graze your middle, and you shy away from him, self-conscious of the extra jiggle, the stretchmarks from rapid weight fluctuation of your years now accommodating the swell of the beginning signs of the life you two had created together. “Hey, no, c’mere.”

You’re sure he sees the flicker of emotions across your face before you school it into a cool arch of your brow, the playful smirk of your lips. Falling back on bravado that wanes far too quickly these days as your hormones ping pong all over the place. You were just as apt to burst into silent tears as you were to jump him, confusing for you and devasting for him as he tries to read your moods as well as he can. He was hoping to dislodge the habit of you seeking refuge in the townhouse you had gifted Ellie, her own budding relationship prompting her to ask for her own space just as the new stage of your life became known to them. Equal parts of respect for the more tender and tense moments sure to happen and yearning for her own space again.

“Mama needs some new clothes, wanna spoil me?” Your voice is a confident hush, hands reaching forward to urge him to shift closer, both of you on your sides and facing each other.

“Do anythin’ for you, darlin’, you know that.” His teeth sunk into the curve of your neck, tugging you back to him. That seemed to get you to forget your insecurities as he felt you pull him closer, your smaller hands so soft on his chest as they caressed his skin.

“I think I wanna go to that fancy mall, maybe get some pretty underwear that won’t make me feel like a total loser.”

“I’ll take ya anywhere you want, maybe even that big shopping center in Dallas? It’ll be just like the trip we took to Arizona. Could get a hotel, see the sights and just relax. Hear they have a mac and cheese restaurant in the arts district.” He rolls to pin you down, and you move to allow him space between your legs instinctually. Body hovering over yours as he kisses down your neck, your chest, he lets his words sink in. The bralette you had put on doing nothing to hide the perk of your nipples. He laps at them through the thin fabric, delighting in the way it makes you arch up into him. You were so sensitive to his touch lately, your body on high alert as your hormones fluctuate erratically.

“That’s a lot, Joel. Shouldn’t we-“ Your hesitant words are cut off by a searing kiss, the press of his skin against yours making it hard to keep your train of thought.

“We should do what we want, darlin’. Wanna get everything sorted to go this weekend?”

Tears are suddenly pitter pattering over the sheets, darkening the fabric where they land after rolling down the sides of your face. He pushes his weight from where it pressed you to the bed, back on your sides and you let him, unable to stem the tears.

“Oh hey, hey it’s okay,” Joel crowds close, the thin fabric separating your bodies as you bury your face in his neck and curl your legs up, knees pressing into his stomach. Hiccups startle you both as you find it suddenly hard to breath through the onslaught of emotions spiking. “Hey now, darlin’, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry,” You mumble into his skin, embarrassment flaring up hot in your cheeks and chest. You feel so silly, pulled in too many directions in so quick a succession. “I just…you’re so hot and I’m all bloated and my skin feels all tight and I really want some ice cream.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re happily spooning a sundae into your mouth with a red plastic spoon in the passenger seat of his truck. All the tears and frustration gone from you as you held tight to the treat in your hands with far too many flimsy napkins. He’s got a cigarette dangling from the hand he rests on the inside of the door, trying to keep as much smoke from wafting back into the cab as possible. Errands, today was an errand day and you smiled over at him. Pairs of sunglasses meeting, eyes hidden beneath them. He just leans over to press a kiss to your temple, not wanting to disrupt your enjoyment of the ice cream you literally cried over.

next chapter

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@pazizz

#dev writes #fic: zest #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou au #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us au #restaurant au #chef! joel miller #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #chef joel miller my darling #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller fic #smut #angst #ao3 #archive of our own #ao3 fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction

[specialofficerlemons]

With Eyes Wide Shut

Fandom: Malevolent Podcast

Summary:Arthur and John like to fool around when they get some privacy. Usually this involves John dirty talking while Arthur touches himself and John watches. Arthur thinks that John deserves a treat and closes his eyes.

Rating: E

Pairing: John/Arthur

Notes: My first finished and published Malevolent fic! I've got a bunch I'm working on, but we'll see when they actually get finished seeing as I started this one about a year ago lmao

Word Count: 1790

"I want to try something different," Arthur had said as they sat naked in front of the mirror. As per their usual routine, when they got to the motel, after they showered, Arthur dragged the mirror in front of the bed so John could see him as they played.

"Something different?" John asked.

"Yes," Arthur said.

John waited for Arthur to elucidate, but he didn't, so John sighed and accepted that he simply wasn't going to tell him. "Alright, let's try something different."

Arthur smiled at John via his reflection, then shut his eyes.

"Arthur, I can't see," John complained.

Arthur chuckled. "Yes, that's the point."

"Well what's any fun about that?" he continued.

Arthur tutted. He placed his right hand gingerly over his left. "Just…let's try this." John grumbled, but didn't say anything. Arthur lay back onto the bed now that they didn't need the mirror and lay his left hand over his chest. He breathed in deeply and let his breath out slowly. "What can you feel?" he asked.

If John had teeth he would've sucked them. "I can feel your chest," he answered tersely.

"What else?" Arthur asked, trying to be patient. "Really try to focus."

John grumbled again. He was not used to being the blind one and he didn't like it. But he paused and tried to focus. "I can feel your heart beating…and…your breathing."

"Good," Arthur praised him. He used the fingertips of his right hand to gently stroke the back of his left hand. He heard John breathe in sharply. He was using such light touches. He turned his left hand over and began to do the same thing to the palm. "How does that feel?"

"It feels…nice…" John answered. The tension and annoyance had started to leave his voice.

Arthur smiled. He turned the hand back over and began tapping gently all over the back of his hand. "Hmm?" He inquired.

"Hmm..." John hummed in approval. He sounded like he was relaxing.

After a minute or so of that, Arthur stopped the tapping and covered his left hand with his right hand, like a sensory palate cleanser. When he was satisfied that the nerves in John's hand had settled, he began stroking up and down the back of the forearm. When he stroked up the forearm he gently used the pads of his finger tips and as he stroked down he gently let the backs of his nails slide across the skin.

When he felt like John was nice and relaxed, he decided to move on to the next phase. He and John had previously mapped out where the boundaries of his sensation were, at what point John stopped feeling the arm and it became Arthur's again. He felt for that edge of his sensitive inner arm and took a bit of the tender flesh between his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger and pinched. John let out a gasp of pain and surprise, but he didn't complain or tell Arthur to stop. In fact, there was a tinge of curiosity to the sound.

Arthur alternated the gentle stroking up the arm with a pinch on the down stroke. It wasn't particularly entertaining for Arthur, but it wasn't for him. He had to remind himself to stay attentive to John, listening to the sounds he made in the event that he started to sound like he was actually starting to suffer. His goal was to hurt John a little bit, but he didn't want to really hurt him.

John had such a limited way to interface with the world. He was able to see through Arthur's eyes and, now, he could feel through the hand and some of his forearm as well as his foot. But he couldn't experience the world as fully as Arthur could, even blind.

As for the two of them, well, they enjoyed playing together, but all John could do was look at him and touch him with the one hand. Arthur wanted to give him something for a change- a way to experience more.

During a particular pinch where he also twisted the sensitive flesh, John let out a breathy sounding groan.

Feeling validated,  Arthur continued. He wasn't sure what to say, if anything. Usually, John had a lot to say to him; so many filthy things and descriptions of how he looked and what John wanted to do to his body. But Arthur didn't know if he was the type to dirty talk like John was. So, he let the silence stretch and the only sounds were their breathing, John's sounds of pleasure, and the alternating stroking and pinching of his arm.

When Arthur felt like the tension within John had peaked, he stopped and gently lay his hand over his arm. The outside of his arm was cool, but the inside was covered in hot spots from being pinched. He wondered if there would be bruises later and if John would come to regret agreeing to this, but he reasoned that if John had enjoyed what he had done to their shared arm (and it sounded like he had) that they could always deal with it later and they might as well continue.

He felt around on the bed for his discarded jacket and when he found it, reached in the pocket. The silence from John was heavy with unasked questions. Arthur hadn't forbidden him from speaking. It seemed that of his own volition, John had decided that the silence enhanced the experience. Arthur found that he rather agreed.

Inside the jacket pocket was a silk handkerchief. He turned his left hand over and draped the handkerchief in the palm. John very carefully and deliberately began to rub his fingers on the soft fabric.

Arthur smiled.

He twisted the handkerchief up into a loose strand and started to wind it through the fingers of his other hand. He twirled the handkerchief around John's fingers for a while before removing it and draping it over his whole hand again.

He placed his hand over top of John's, palms together, and give it a squeeze. John squeezed back.

Arthur tucked the handkerchief into his shirt collar so they would have easy access to it if they wanted it again. He lifted their left hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his knuckles. John let out a soft "oh" when his lips made contact with the skin that he could feel.

He kissed the back of his hand a few more times before lifting it so he could access the palm and kissing the tender flesh there. He felt John curl his fingers towards his jaw and smiled against them, kissing his fingertips. He then opened his lips and gently sucked the tips of his index and middle fingers into his mouth and sucked on them.

He could feel the hand trembling as he sucked on them. He didn't increase the pressure and he didn't pull anymore of the fingers into his mouth. He waited, gently teasing them with the tip of his tongue. He waited, content with the silence as felt the tension building in John again as it had earlier. It was only when John let out a whimper that Arthur pushed more of the fingers into mouth, also pushing a pleased sigh out of John.

Arthur had, occasionally, wondered what it would be like to felate a man. And while he knew that fingers were not the same thing as a penis, the movements did strike him as similar. He slowly pushed the fingers into his mouth and languidly pulled them back out in a steady rhythm. After a while, he pulled them out fully and moved over to the ring and pinky finger he had been neglecting. He swirled his tongue around the fingertips and engulfed them all the way down to his hand.

John was not a silent participant. His breathy sighs slowly increasing in volume and desperation until he was whining in Arthur's head.

It was here that Arthur was unsure of where to go next. John had assisted Arthur in cumming many times now, but Arthur didn't know how to return the favor. He didn't know that John could cum.

He pulled off his fingers and let a hot breath wash over his spit slicked hand and whispered "John..."

There was no great fanfare, there was screaming or cry of delight, no 'yes, yes, yes,' simply a satisfied sigh.

Arthur laid on the bed, eyes still tightly closed, feeling very uncertain. He cleared his throat. "Er, John, did you-? I mean, were you able to-?"

There was a delayed response from his partner and when he did answer his voice was slow and syrupy. "Arthur that was...I don't believe I'm capable of achieving an orgasm like you are, but it's alright. That was...that was wonderful."

Arthur's insecurities were soothed not just with John's words, but with the feeling that radiated off of them.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm? Yes John?"

"Will you open your eyes? I'd like to see you."

"Oh! Yes," Arthur answered, sitting up so he was facing the mirror again. "I had almost forgotten that I had them closed."

Nothing changed for him as he opened his eyes, blind as he had been before, but he felt John's hand immediately go to his collar where he had tucked the silk handkerchief. He felt John pull it from his clothes.

"This was an excellent touch."

Arthur was about to thank him when his nose wrinkled. "Oh God, I've got to wash our hands," he said. "The smell!" He was quickly getting up from the bed to where he remembered the small bathroom with the wash basin to be and quickly wet and lathered their hands up with soap.

"Yes, the texture once it dries isn't very pleasant either," John added.

"Well, we'll just have to keep that in mind for next time," Arthur said as he dried his hands.

"Next time?" John asked.

"Yes, maybe next time we can get a nice scented lotion or oil or something."

"Hmm..." John said. "I don't know that I've ever felt that.

"Well then we'll definitely have to get some."

"Arthur?" John asked as Arthur was drying his hands.

"Yes John?"

There was a moment of pause before John spoke. "Thank you, Arthur."

Arthur smiled as he returned to the bed. "Of course, John."

He felt his left hand timidly raise, then hesitate, then reach across his legs to where his right hand was and gently rest atop it. Arthur turned his hand over and squeezed it warmly, then raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it gently.

#malevolent podcast #john malevolent #john doe malevolent #arthur lester #my fic #jarthur #malevolent #mdni #lemon zest

[lovelesslittleloser]

I’m my opinion, one of the greatest tropes is when a character either one, desperately doesn’t want to become/do/say/etc a thing, but then later on, that becomes the precise thing they’re striving for, or two, a character comes off as normal at first and then becomes/does/says/etc a thing that was unexpected (but if you read it again you’ll see hints dotted around).

Like, a character would say, ‘no, I refuse to befriend anyone here!’ or ‘I could never fall in love with such a person!’, but then later on in the series they have a large and close-knit group of friends and the other one just proposed

Or a character looks and acts normal for a large portion of the beginning but then they pop up with the ‘why would I be bothered if you killed them?’ or ‘I’ll do anything to make you mine!’

Okay I might have made one sound more positive than the other but honestly I like them more when it’s a violent change in the direction of violence, so shut up

So pretty much what I want in a series is for it to start off normally, probably a good amount of cliches, hopefully gay but I can only wish, maybe the mc is really unfriendly and made an enemy out of some hot guy really fast idk

But then later on in the series, the longer and more gradual the change the better, I could do for like eight seasons baby, they slowly change

They get a bigger and bigger friend group, they grow more and more accustomed to violence (probably a medieval fantasy setting because of course), and they fall more and more in love with the person they used to hate. Maybe even a bit too much in love with them, if you consider that to be a thing.

Mmmmmmmmm I want it but I feel like there’s a part of the equation that just makes these types of stories, but I can’t think of it for the life of me. Comedy? Being gay and doing a lot of crime? I mean I guess if it was advertised as like ‘person gets stuck in otome game, comedy ensues’ and ended up being bloody and violent I would be a little miffed but??

I feel like a witch trying to brew up the perfect concoction and trying not to ruin it by adding too much eye of newt or something god damn

#writing prompts #writing ideas #shitpost #I mean it’s kinda a shitpost? #honestly don’t know where I was going here but eh #honestly this isn’t even me being like ‘huh oh boy it sure would be cool if some stranger on the internet did this so I could read it’ #it’s more like ‘hmm I’d like cliches that slowly turn into originality maybe a zest of violence and could you make that bl for me? thanks’ #I feel like a stereotypical white girl ordering a drink at Starbucks #but I have bad taste #is this considered bad taste? #i don’t even know anymore #honestly if you read this much you deserve a reward for dealing with my bullshit #uh #I’m writing a humans are space orcs mha fic with shinsou as the mc but instead of suffering he eventually becomes an idol in space #mei does the instruments and sfx #eventually tomura’s going to be like a bodyguard and eri’s gonna be like. half-human or something #it’s lit #but I’m not gonna post it anytime soon because then I’ll feel responsible for making it and abandon it #was this how my dad felt when he left to get the milk? #lmao imma go cry myself to sleep love you <33

[zestys-world]

In the process of writing a tomokazu fic and I didn't notice how devastating this exerpt was until my friend pointed it out to me:

"Hunched over Kazuha’s figure, Tomo cradled him to his chest. It was comfortable for a second, till Kazuha realised he couldn’t hear Tomo’s heartbeat.

Kazuha shifted to his left and still couldn’t hear it. Wait, his left wasn’t the same as Tomo’s left. He needed to find Tomo’s heart. The more he moved, the more stressed tears faded into Tomo’s clothing, and the closer Tomo held him.

Kazuha struggled against his hold– he needed to find Tomo’s heart. How else could he know if Tomo was alive? He couldn’t trust Tomo’s words– if he was a liar in life, then he’d still lie as a ghost."

#then my friend made an edit of me in jail LMAO #promoting a fic that hasnt even been written damn zest #tomokazu #tomozuha #genshin impact #kaedahara kazuha #kazuha's friend #genshin tomo #am i doing this right? eh fake it till you accidentally learn it ig #genshin fanfic

[flufftruck]

I HAVE TO REWRITE THIS NOW NOOOO😭😭😭ANYWAYS elementary/primary school au and the both have kids but not with like each other and theyre divorced i guess lmao

Today was PTA day and Robin was Lucina's school teacher. Chrom and Robin converse about parent teacher stuff but then he leans on the desk and strikes the question, "So do you want to grab lunch sometime?"

Robin quirks, "Oh, I'd love that, but unfortunately that would be against school policy since I would possibly gain a bias towards your daughter."

Chrom bit his lip, "That's fair."

"Sorry," they said sweetly, "maybe when she moves to the next school level haha." It's better to not get hung up on this anyways, a man of his manner would forget when the time came and probably could do better anyways, robin thought to themselves.

"May I speak to Lady/Sir Robin please?" Chrom asked the person working in the main office front desk.

"For what reason?"

"Oh, -I just wanted to thank them for being such an excellent teacher to my dear daughter. She's always on about how wonderful of a job they did and how they really helped her understand things she struggled on."

"...Right..." They instructed him on how to reach Robin's new classroom.

The classroom door was open, robin was facing away from the door cleaning up the room getting ready to leave. Chrom came in slowly, giving the door a rhythmic knock. Robin turned their upper half towards the door.

"So can we have that lunch now?"

#fi #chrobin #fe #i guess this time it will be neater......... #idk wtf happened i wrote the whole fic but then it just deleted half of it????????? and this i discarded it w/o thinking....im dumby #ANYWAYS LIKE I WAS SAYING sorry this is so typical lmao #the ZEST is not the same as the 1st time i wrote it IM SORRY! #anyways this is the 1st time ive done this in since big sad and im gettign all giddy when i write this is nice :)

[esta-elavaris]

Trying to decide what I’ll be reading next as part of my challenge to take on this list (whatever I’ve already read will be reread, just to be really thorough) and I’m thinking the time for a LOTR reread is drawing near u kno 👀👀

#this boromir fic is starting to live in my mind rent free #the way CTW did before I finally started writing it #i'm still determined not to start it until the novel is done #but it's going to need a hell of a lot of prep time anyway #so i don't have the same panic attacks that POTC gave me lmao #(let's be real the panic attacks will occur anyway they give my creativity that extra zest)