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violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months

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Vice.

Synopsis - Everyone on the team has their vices. It just so happens that yours is sat across the table looking at you.

Pairing - Luke Alvez x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. luke has a gorgeous filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 1.6k

Author's Note - my baby my baby my BAAAAAABY!! I have been in love with this man for years and years and I can't believe I haven't written more for him. if you ever have a luke request, please send it to me. love him with my whole heart <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

Vice - a weakness of character or behaviour; a bad habit. "Cigars happen to be my father's vice."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Italian food."

The entire team laughs, faces illuminated by the warm yellow lights in Rossi's backyard.

"Yeah, no shit," Tara retorts, looking pointedly at Dave. "Doesn't take a behavioural analyst to figure that one out."

"Look, you asked the question, I answered."

He reclines back in his chair and takes a sip of his wine, looking around the table.

"Okay Tara, you go. What's your vice?"

She chuckles to herself before confessing.

"Super steamy period romances."

Everyone bursts into more laughter.

"Wait, what?"

"What kind?"

She's clutching at her sides as she answers.

"All kinds! Movies, books, TV shows. If it has corsets and sex, I'm in."

Your cheeks are aching from smiling so hard. You're not sure who first raised the initial question, but it's really allowed you to get to know each other a little bit deeper.

"Okay, enough about me. Simmons, what's your vice?"

"I have six kids. I don't have time for a vice."

He sounds serious, but he's grinning as he says it.

"I think the six kids are a result of an old vice."

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, several glasses of wine almost obliterating your verbal filter. Your team howl with laughter.

"No comment," Matt wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. "Golfing is a safer option now. No risk of unplanned surprises."

"I had to change mine after kids, too," JJ chimes in. "I used to smoke cigarettes after bad cases, but I can't anymore. What kinda mom would I be if I lectured the boys about the dangers of nicotine, and then got caught chain smoking in the backyard?"

"A cool one," you shrug, yelping when she jokingly punches you in the arm.

"What about you, hotshot?" she asks, the whole team turning their attention to you. "What's your vice?"

You desperately avoid any eye contact, trying to play it cool. You just know Luke has that glint in his eye as he looks at you pointedly.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Oh, fuck," you groan, fingers threading into the dark curls of his hair.

"Shhh, honey," he murmurs, lifting his head from between your legs to look up at you. "You and I both know how much trouble we'll be in if we get caught."

He dives back in, tongue gliding and flicking all the spots that make you keen. You slap one hand over your mouth, the other grappling to hold onto the leather beneath you.

"Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" he taunts, condescension dripping from his tone. "The thrill turns you on, doesn't it, baby? The risk of getting caught only makes you hotter."

You whine against your palm, bucking your hips to urge him to keep going.

"What do you want, princesa? Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

He loves this. Loves hearing you beg. Loves having you relinquish complete control and let him take care of you. Loves that he can turn you, the most independent, headstrong woman he knows, into a whining, needy mess.

"Fingers," you croak out. "Make me come, Luke, please."

He grins up at you like the cat who got the cream, self satisfied smirk never leaving his lips.

"Okay, baby," he soothes. "Since you asked so pretty."

He slides two fingers into you with embarrassing ease, crooking them in the way he knows you like.

"Oh, sweet girl, what would the team think? Huh? What do you think they'd say if they saw you like this, letting me finger fuck you in the backseat of my car in the parking garage?"

He's muttering lowly, under his breath, but you hear him clear as day. He loves to patronise you, tease you, get under your skin. In everyday life, he treats you with the utmost respect. In bed, not so much. You love it.

"Couldn't even wait until we got home. Poor baby, just had to take the edge off."

His eyes meet yours, like a magnetic force. His gaze is so dark, it has you squirming in place.

"It was the shirt," you choke out. "Fucking shirt."

"Hmm?" he hums against you, the vibrations pulling you closer to the edge.

"Your shirt," you moan as his thumb finds your clit. "Makes your arms look so, fuck, so big."

Oh, you shouldn't have said that. You can practically see his ego inflating.

"I'll let you wear it tomorrow morning, if you want. If you can still walk by then, that is."

You're right on the precipice, orgasm almost within reach. If he keeps talking to you like this, you'll be at the finish line in no time.

"Oh, I've got a better idea. Why don't I fuck you in it?"

The idea makes your head spin, sending you straight into your climax. Sharp white heat licks up your spine, curling your toes and arching your back. Your grip tightens in his hair and he groans, low and honeyed.

"That's it, baby," he's murmuring. "Ride it out. Good girl."

You finally relax, melting into the leather seats. Luke crawls from his position to lean over you, resting his body onto yours. He kisses you gently at first, then dirtier as you come back to yourself.

"My place or yours?" he whispers against your lips.

"Yours is closer."

"Mine it is."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Hello? Earth to Hotshot?"

JJ nudges you playfully, grinning at you from ear to ear.

"What you thinking about?"

"Nothing," you stutter, clearing your throat. "Nothing at all."

You make the mistake of lifting your gaze from your lap. There, staring at you from across the table, is Luke Alvez. You almost wish you could slap that smug smirk off of his face.

"Come on, girl!" Tara hollers.

"Everyone has a vice," Spencer begins. "You have to. Especially in our line of work. We have to have some kind of outlet. Some sort of release."

Release. You almost choke on your wine, patting yourself on the chest.

"Yeah, no. I, uh, I like British reality TV. I guess that's mine."

The team laugh, everyone teasing you relentlessly. You risk a glance at Luke, and regret it immediately. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and chuckles, knowing look in his eye. You're petrified for a moment that he can read your mind.

"Okay then Spence. Your turn," you prompt, desperate to take the attention off yourself.

Spencer starts rambling about quantum physics, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

Relief.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Yeah, this is what you needed, isn't it baby?"

You try to respond, but Luke's huge hands wrapped around your throat are making it a little difficult.

"My poor sweet girl, just needed some relief huh? You sick of being in charge all the time? You want me to take care of you?"

His tone is low and melted, the timbre of it settling into your bones. All you can do is whine and nod your head in response.

His hips repeatedly snap into yours, his body melded to you. He's completely smothering you with his weight, but you don't mind. You like the closeness.

You lean up to kiss him, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. He's swallowing your moans, leaning his head forward to rest against yours.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty," he groans. "You gonna come for me, mama? Give me what I want?"

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes. Please, baby. Please."

"Who am I to deny you when you beg so fucking sweet?"

The hand that's not around your throat snakes between your sweat slicked bodies to rub circles on your clit, throwing you over the edge.

Your back arches, hips writhing on Luke's soft cotton sheets. You're squeezing him so tight he's seeing stars.

"Oh fuck baby, oh fuck."

Luke goes boneless, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. He releases his grip on your throat and wraps both arms around you, pressing you together impossibly closer.

"We get better at this every time," he chuckles.

You smack him jokingly, before bursting into laughter. Soon, the two of you are crying happy tears, revelling in the afterglow.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"I'm gonna get a refill. Anyone need anything from the kitchen?"

You stand from your seat and make your way inside, taking note of the replies.

"I'll help you," Luke says, rising to join you. Neither of you see the way everyone at the table looks at each other knowingly.

You're barely through the door when you feel him against you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He presses a kiss onto your shoulder, murmuring in your ear.

"I'm your vice, aren't I?"

You shake your head, breathing out a laugh.

"In your dreams, Alvez."

He nips at your neck before continuing.

"Admit it. I'm your dirty little bad habit that you just can't kick."

You turn in his arms to face him, running your fingers through his hair.

"Talk the talk all you want, Luke. You and I both know this works both ways."

Your quirk your brow at him, and he leans in and kisses you chastely.

"Old habits die hard, huh?" he grins.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," you smirk back.

Outside, the team decide they'll continue to let you both lie to them for a little while longer. It's more fun for everyone that way.

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winterrrnight · 1 month

Note

Hey can you do after care with rafe? I feel like he would be so sweet and gentle after being so rough and mean!💗

hii nonnie! thank you for your request <3 since I don't write full on smut, this only focuses on the aftercare part!! I also didn't include the rough/mean part cause to be honest that's not my thing! hope you enjoy reading 💗 let me know your thoughts if you feel like 💗

aftercare

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: rafe is a total softie after an intimate night with you.

WARNINGS: allusions to sex but absolutely no sexual content, no allusions to rafe being rough (because I don't write that), a lot of fluff!!

EDITH SPEAKS: since I've been experimenting around a lot with my writing lately, this ask in my inbox really caught my attention so I decided to work on it! please reblog and comment your feedback <3 🏩

navigation || join my taglist || requests

Rafe’s hands clutch onto the ends of the duvet as he pulls them to your neck, covering you under the warm duvet completely as he lies next to you.

“Better?” He asks softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. You can already feel your eyelids heavy as the tiredness starts to kick in. You softly smile at Rafe and nod your head.

“Yes…” you say softly, and he smiles back at you.

“Okay… do you need anything? Water, tea, maybe something to eat?” He asks gently, moving his hand to brush out any strands of your hair falling in your eyes.

You shake your head, not really feeling like wanting anything. “No, I’m okay,” you say softly, closing your eyes just for a moment, as the warm duvet spreads comfort all throughout you. You can’t help but let out a yawn, bringing a hand to your mouth as you let it out. Rafe only chuckles at that, getting comfortable under the duvet himself.

You are quick to wrap your arms around his shoulders and gently pull him closer to you, letting him rest his head on your chest as you slowly weave your fingers through his hair in sleepy motions, those starting to make him sleepy too. He can’t help but nuzzle against your chest, your body heat along with the warmth of the duvet warming him up quickly.

The moonlight shines in through the pale curtains, and you keep your eyes closed, your fingers gently threading to Rafe’s hair. You momentarily open your eyes to see Rafe looking up, his gaze fixed at nothing particular.

“May I ask what’s on your mind?” You ask softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He softly smiles when he hears your quiet voice, involuntarily pressing himself closer to you, his arm draped across your waist as his fingers trace gentle shapes at your side.

“Just…” he takes a deep inhale, “how good of a time I had with you tonight,” he whispers. You can’t help but feel a soft warmth spread in your cheeks, and a smile tugs on your lips.

“I had a great time with you too baby,” you whisper back. “You were… wonderful,”

“I was?” He asks gently, looking up in your eyes. You let your smile widen as you nod.

“Yes, yes you were…” you murmur, leaning down to him to kiss him gently on his lips. It’s a soft peck, and he can’t help but chase your lips, deepening the kiss a bit, his hand coming to rest on your cheek. His thumb gently strokes the soft skin of your cheek, and your fingers remain wounded in his hair, the strands silky against your fingertips.

You smile against his lips as you slowly pull apart, his fingers gently resting on your shoulders as his fingertips circle over the skin, making you sigh softly at the feeling it stimulates.

He tilts his face up to litter light kisses along your cheek, trailing down to your jawline and the side of your neck, whispering sweet little nothings to you, and you find yourself just immersing yourself in the feeling as much as you can, fluttering your eyes closed as the tiredness starts to take over you completely, his presence only elevating the feeling of comfort in you.

As Rafe notices you’re almost asleep, he smiles softly at the pretty sight in front of him and presses a final kiss to your jaw. “Sleep well baby…” he mutters, snuggling his head against your chest and finding himself falling into a deep slumber too.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

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inlovewithpandora · 9 months

Text

- Party Girl -

Pairing: Protective!Miles!42 x fem!drunk!reader

Request: [ anonymous ] Protective 42 Miles when his girl calls him high or drunk (she's at a party and he didn't know) so he goes to pick her up and some dude is trying to get at her?

Synopsis: When Miles gets a post notification that you posted something on your story he assumes it’s a selfie of you but that idea flies out the window when he sees a bottle of alcohol in your hand.

Content: Aged!up Miles, fluff, angst (if you squint hard enough), established relationship (bf & gf), mention of alcohol/drinking, reader being under the influence

Author’s Note: Thank you for sending this request in! I hope you enjoy and that it meets your expectations! This was a really good request and I enjoyed writing it because I’ve been wanting to write drunk!reader for a while. Let me know what you think by sending an anonymous ask or comment if you feel comfortable!

Word Count: 1.1k

Glossary: Princesa - Princess

Extra: Requests are open! Please read rules before requesting! || Likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated❤️!

Links: Navigation || Atsv Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

As Miles lays across his bed, closing the text thread with one of his friends, he gets a notification from Instagram saying that you added something to your story. He assumes it’s one of your normal posts, a boomerang of yourself, a picture of you and him, or a daily quote with a song playing, but when he opens your story, it turns out to surprisingly be the complete opposite.

It is a picture of a bottle of Pink Whitney in your hand. His face scrunches up at the sight, wondering why you have a bottle of alcohol. He clicks over to see what else you’ve posted and he’s met with the sight of you pouring the bottle of alcohol into your mouth and his ears are filled with the sound of your friends cheering you on and loud music playing in the background.

To say Miles was baffled would be an understatement. You’ve never been a person who liked to drink or party, you would always rather stay home or invite Miles over so both of you could spend time together, thus to see this side of you, he’s caught him off guard. He immediately goes to your text thread and his fingers begin to rapidly type away.

—

Watching your friends dance with each other while pouring yourself another drink for the night, you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket. You reach for your phone and check your messages.

You forgot that you didn’t tell Miles that you were coming to the party since your friends told you about it so last minute. You put your cup down and try to text him back, but you can barely see the words let alone coordinate your fingers properly to type out the sentence you want, so you decide to call him.

Once you press the call button, it only rings one time before you hear Miles' voice. “Princesa, are you okay?” He asks, making sure that you are okay before he starts bombarding you with different questions.

“I’m fine, baby! I’m just-” you hiccup, “having fun!” He can tell that you are drunk by your slurring words and the slowed pace you are talking in. As you try to focus on hearing Miles talking, your attention span plummets and you begin to hype up your friend.

Miles knows the alcohol is coursing through your veins and is making you zone out and he’s trying his best to be patient and keep your focus on him so he could figure out where you are.

“Bae, I need you to focus and tell me-” He starts carefully before you interrupt him. “You know you didn’t tell me hi when you picked up the phone, that’s so rude, Miles. You didn’t say it in your texts either.”

“My fault. Hey, baby. Now can you please tell me where you are?”

“If you say it a little nicer I’ll tell you where I’m at.” You say in a singsong tone which makes Miles groan under his breath and rub his temples. After he says it in a tone you approve of, you finally proceed to tell him the address of the party you’re at.

He immediately gets out of bed, puts his shoes on, grabs his keys, and makes his way out of the door.

“I’m coming to pick you up, okay? I’ll be there in fifteen. I’ll text you when I’m outside.” Miles gets in his car, puts his key in the ignition, and drives to where you are.

All in while you decide to take at least one last shot before he comes and spoils your fun.

—

When Miles pulls up to the house, he jumps out his car and walks into the party. He looks around but doesn’t locate you which makes him worry. He begins to barge through the crowd of people, trying to find you. His eyes scan the whole room and he doesn’t see you in the front, but he gets to hear your voice.

“I’m so-sorry, but I have a boyfriend that kills people.” You say in a giggly tone with slurred words as you talk to some random guy who has been asking for your number for the past few minutes.

“I don’t care about him, all I want is yo digits.” The guy presses you, pulling out his phone and handing it to you so you could type your number into it.

When Miles sees that his blood boils. He knows that the guy is trying to take advantage of you because you are under the influence. He immediately marches over to where you are and pulls you away from the guy.

“You heard what the fuck she said, she has a boyfriend.” Miles towers over the guy, yelling and pointing at him, making some threats just to make sure his point gets across that you’re taken and that he needs to leave you alone.

When the guy hears the bass in Miles’s voice and watches how his eyes slowly turn pitch black, he stutters out an apology and walks away. You just stand behind Miles, not paying attention or aware of anything that is going on until you feel him gently pull you by your arm.

“Miles! You’re here, I missed you!” You plant millions of messy kisses on his face before throwing your arms around his shoulders and hugging him. He is about to ask if you are okay, but by that greeting, he already knows you are totally fine.

“Let’s go home princesa and then you can tell me all about your night.” He grabs your hand and begins to escort you out of the party, but along the way your feet get wobbly due to the heels you're wearing. You let go of his hand and begin to fumble with the strings of your heels so you can take them off. However due to the alcohol, your hand-eye coordination isn’t the best.

Miles notices you struggling, so he decides to pick you up bridal style and walk out. The walking distance between the party to his car is short, but it gives you enough time to fall asleep in his arms, your head resting on his chest and your small snores ringing through his ears.

Once he makes it to the car, he somehow manages to open the door and carefully place you inside without waking you up. He closes the door gently and walks to the driver's side and gets in. When he places the key into the ignition, he looks over at you and thinks about how he can’t get over how adorable you look sleeping. He leans over and kisses your forehead then begins driving to your apartment.

He knows that he is going to have plenty of questions for you in the morning, but for tonight he is going to let you sleep the alcohol out of your system.

I hope you enjoyed❤️!

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Editor - @justmemyselfandthemoon

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#❖ — 🕸️: 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑬 𝑴𝒀 𝑱𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑨𝑵’𝑺?.!#❖ — 🕷️: 𝑰𝑻’𝑺 𝑨 𝑴𝑬𝑻𝑨𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑹 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑪𝑨𝑷𝑰𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑴.!#earth 42 miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles morales x you #miles morales #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles #atsv miles #atsv x reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x you #spiderman atsv #atsv x black reader #astv x fem!reader #astv x reader

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withleeknow · 4 months

Text

thirteen percent.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; mentions of drinking, cursing, hella unedited and tbh i kinda gave up toward the end but i wanted to post smth lmao word count: 1.2k note: inspired by the events of friday night in which i had 1.3 bottle of soju and promptly passed out while unmuted all night in my discord server lmfao

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

the first thing you do when you wake up is scowl.

at the sun. at the sky. at the cars and at the people going about their day on the street below. at soonie and doongie when you find them just peacefully existing in their respective corners of the room.

at minho who's looking at you from the doorway with an amused expression on his face.

"look who's finally up," he says, approaching the bed with a glass of water in his hands. "it's almost 1pm, heathen."

you groan, covering your face with your hands as you try to sink further into the mattress. "why are you so loud today?"

"this is my normal volume?"

"your normal volume is loud."

"hmm, could this be because last night you knocked back an entire bottle of soju and then some and therefore you have a raging headache right now?"

you blink, still delirious from the night before. it's obvious that the alcohol hasn't completely left your system and minho is right. there's a pounding in your head and you wish it would stop.

you ignore his sassy quip, trying to recall what happened. "how did i get home?"

it was supposed to be a cozy night in with your friends. you'd been looking forward to last night for weeks because all of you had been so busy with your respective lives, and a fun girl's night was desperately needed. to catch up, to gossip about your partners, to escape your tiresome realities for a few hours.

and of course, to unwind and drink. not to the point of being blackout drunk; just to de-stress a little.

"how do you think?" minho asks, holding out the water for you until you muster enough strength to sit up and take it from him. he watches as you greedily gulp down the liquid to satiate your dry throat, giving him back the empty glass when you're done and lying back down again. he sets the glass on your bedside table before he joins you under the covers. "boyfriend of the year went out in the middle of the night to drag your ass home."

"you took me home?"

"i just said boyfriend of the year, didn't i?"

despite his smartass attitude, minho still snakes an arm around your body to pull you close to him, until your head is lying on his chest while he strokes your hair gently.

"it was just soju. plum soju!" you try to justify your actions, throwing a leg over his and snuggling further into the warmth of his body. "only thirteen percent!"

minho scoffs. "that's how they get you. the fun flavors make you think that you're gonna be fine if you do just a couple more shots. next thing you know, you're sending your boyfriend gibberish messages at 2am."

to emphasize his point, minho shows you his phone, goes straight to the text thread you two share.

you mostly sent him nonsense, seemingly a lot of keyboard smashes and blurry drunken selfies of you and your friends. then came the last few messages.

you: oh naue why rom sponnign you: i wsntto go homrr you: mimo tskeeee me homeee

"oh." you purse your lips. "drunk me was a moment."

"no, she was a lot of moments actually. you stayed up for almost two hours after i brought you home."

"doing what?"

your boyfriend looks down at you, an unimpressed look on his face before he rolls his eyes and sighs, recanting the story of how you exhausted him just hours prior.

"stop squirming," minho said, trying to keep your head from lolling to the side as he wiped at your face with a cotton pad doused in micellar water.

but you kept giggling, kept trying to hold his cheeks so you could kiss him. "mimo, you're so pretty. my pretty, pr-" hiccup! "pretty mimo."

it took him thirty whole minutes just to take your makeup off, then another forty five to go through your skincare routine.

it was an entire struggle to get you out of your clothes and into your sleepwear because apparently, the feeling of him tugging your blouse over your head and sliding your jeans down your legs tickled that amorous part of your brain - your horndog side, if you will.

you instantly latched onto him, climbing on top of him to sit on his lap, attempting to trail kisses along his neck when all minho was trying to do was put your t-shirt on.

"not now," he scolded you lightly, pushing you away by your shoulders before he held your arms up just long enough to slip the shirt over your body.

"whyyy not?"

"mostly because you're about ten seconds away from passing out."

but that wasn't something that your intoxicated brain could comprehend. all you understood was that your boyfriend didn't want to have sex with you, that he was rejecting you.

you went quiet all of a sudden, your lips pouting, your eyes turning glassy before you practically sob, "you don't want me anymore."

minho could only sigh.

"what now?" he had finally managed to get your restless ass into bed, thinking you'd surely knock out within seconds of hitting the sheets. but when he returned to the bedroom five minutes later, having cleared away your clothes to be put in the washer in the morning, minho found you lying on your side, your eyes glued to your phone, your face illuminated by the blue light coming from the device. "why aren't you sleeping?"

you were going through your camera roll, watching your old videos like they were your favorite tv show. videos of you and him, videos of him and the cats, or just random videos of him that you took when you thought he wasn't paying attention.

it was cute how you were so immersed, how you kept giggling and making heart eyes at the version of minho captured on your phone. it made him smile, just standing there and watching you like that.

it was beyond endearing, but it was also fucking 4:18am.

minho snatched the device away from you and put it somewhere you couldn't reach before he settled into bed with you.

"i miss my mimo," you whined. "give me back my mimo."

he knew there was no use in telling you that you didn't need to miss him when he, the object of your affection himself, was lying next to you. instead, he just yanked you closer, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and holding you tightly so you couldn't move, hoping that it would eventually lull you to dreamland.

"your mimo is right here. now go to sleep, you menace."

"and not to mention you kept-"

"nope." you put a hand over minho's mouth so he would shut up. "i've heard enough."

he pushes your hand away. "i deserve compensation for what i had to go through last night."

"the satisfaction of taking care of your wonderful girlfriend wasn't enough for you?"

"no," he says. then, you both just stare at each another for a few minutes.

"fine," you relent. "i'll make it up to you with one hundred kisses."

"i want a cat tower."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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ugh-yoongi · 5 months

Note

hi! would it be alright if i asked what your favorite namjoon fics are? thank you and have a great day 💗🥹

hello nonnie, it is always okay to ask me for fic recs! <3

most of these works contain mature themes/content. please heed tags and do not engage with any explicit work if you are a minor!

i know there are a bunch i've forgotten, so please reblog and share your own work and your faves!

also, please note: there are a lot of fics on these lists that are posted to ao3. it has recently come out that a volunteer was removed from their position for being pro-palestine (you can find the twt thread here). i am in the process of looking for a better alternative, but until then, it is unfortunately probably the best way to share these stories. while i personally won't be posting to or reading on ao3 for the time being, how you choose to engage going forward is completely up to you! i just wanted to make sure i was being transparent.

namjoon x reader

anything by @effortandmore

anything by @hamsterclaw

anything by @miscelunaaa

1-year anniversary by @johobi

omerta by @anotherbtswriter

hammer it home series by @gukslut

hey, it's me & leave no trace behind by @yoongiphoria

love bytes by @stutterfly

real magic & park and ride by @here2bbtstrash

house of cards & guilty by @xjoonchildx

lacuna by @eoieopda

dream team by @bangtanintotheroom (feat. hobi)

cyanide on my bedsheets by @jimilter

laundry day by @snackhobi

bloom by @hobidreams

the snow globe effect by @gukyi

you've got a friend in me by @wwilloww

pronoia by @junghelioseok

limbo by @beahae

love hard by @raplinesmoon

swiss miss by @here4kpopfics (feat. seokjin)

my feet to follow, and my heart to hold by @daechwitatamic

a fine line by @moni-logues

roommates with benefits

as always, mxm fics under the cut!

member x member

softer than steel (namseok)

frustrations in late foucault (namseok)

the universe needs more you (namseok)

in your atmosphere (namseok)

why don't you figure (my heart) out (namseok)

i'm on fire (rap line)

delta (rap line)

꽃꽂이. kkotkkoji (namjin)

you have 1 new message (namjin)

beta tau sigma (namjin)

white rabbit (namjin)

local dumbass idiot helps sexy criminal and then writes sad bird poems instead of just saying Yes Seokjin I Like You Too (namjin)

easy (namjin)

and they were roommates (namjin)

burn me like an ember (namjin)

the understood boundaries of self (namjin)

more walls (collected along the way) [namjin]

imprints & magnitude (namjin)

salt water (namjinkook)

disgruntledofficebrat [active] (namkook)

you can leave the cape on (namkook)

108 degrees (namkook)

the whole of the moon (namkook)

travelogue with a frat boy (namkook)

it's a color that i can't describe (namkook)

how much to give and how much to take (namkook)

the courage of stars (namkook)

come take it (if you want a piece of me) [namkook]

a feel so sweet (namgikook)

objects in mirror are closer than they appear (namgi)

green carnation (namgi)

the added bonus (namgi)

tear you apart (namgi)

different when i'm with you (namgi)

adrift (namgi)

i'll fuck you if you let me, baby (namgi)

sleepless in (namgi)

恋の予感 (namgi)

take it or leave it (namgi)

baby, but we will (namgi)

verified amateurs [online now] (namgi)

cyrano more like cyraNO (namgi)

record it for later (namgi)

into the red morning (taejoon)

don't call it love (taejoon)

i am red with love (taejoon)

the bad thing (minimoni)

you were more than just light (minimoni)

wish we'd fall in love (minimoni)

but i want it anyway (minimoni)

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon fanfic #namjoon fic recs #fic rec

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joelalorian · 1 month

Text

Fall Into Me - Chapter Five: My Whole World Came Alive

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling and pining for each other, and finally some progress. Tommy keeps it real. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad. Emily is modeled after my sister and JB is based on my dad, who used to try setting me up with his younger work buddies when I was in my 20s :)

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you all for reading! Comments and reblogs make me weep with gratefulness.

Some of the tags aren't working in the taglist - if you're not getting the notifications, please check your settings to make sure you are taggable. Thx!

Chapter Four | Main Masterlist

Sitting in Phil’s Icehouse with juicy burgers and drinks – you insisted Joel try a mimosa – conversation flowed between the two of you. Joel found his lips twitching into a smile at nearly every word that came out of your mouth. He was fascinated with the stories you shared of your college years, and he listened, completely enraptured, to your plans for the future. Every bit of your lunch together felt like a date. He wondered if you felt the same, yet he couldn’t find the courage to ask outright.

“Yeah, so, I have a meeting at Sarah’s school this week for a possible position. Remember that interview I mentioned a few weeks back? It went really well and now they want me to meet with the teacher who’s retiring and the principal,” you explained, sipping at your mimosa. “I’m pretty excited.”

Joel’s eyes lit up. He’d forgotten that you were looking at a position at Sarah’s school. “Wow, that’s great, darlin’. This would be for a science teacher position, right?”

“Yep. Middle grade science.” The beaming smile you flashed him nearly blinded Joel. “Wanna know the best part? If I get this job, I’ll have the same hours as Sarah, give or take a bit, so I can continue with the school drop-off and pickup for you. She might have to stay later with me somedays, but it’ll still work.”

Nodding, Joel’s mind was flashing lightyears forward, picturing you calling his house home and taking Sarah to school with you, coming home to have dinner together, watching TV in the evenings. Heart thudding in his chest at just the thought of you living together, Joel shook himself. He had to slow his mind down, put the brakes on those kinds of thoughts until after you were actually dating him, at least.

“You could be Sarah’s science teacher in a few years, huh?” Joel asked, focusing once again on listening to you instead of drifting off into daydreams.

“Could be, yeah,” you laughed. “I imagine she’d be my favorite student.”

He beamed at that. Conversation shifted to other things and soon your meals were finished.

“We should do this again,” you said, glassy eyes meeting his across the table, lips curved in a gentle smile. “I really enjoyed spending time with you, Joel.”

Fighting the urge to grab your hand and entangle your fingers, Joel smiled back. “Yeah, me too.” He wanted to kick himself for not saying more, for not asking you out for a real date. He just couldn’t find his words.

How was it that you made him so nervous?

Joel spent the next week in some kind of weird liminal space between a dream and reality, between agonizing confusion and utter happiness. Lunch with you on Sunday felt like a date – he asked you with the intention of it being a date, even if you didn’t know that yet. He spent the week thinking about that lunch, how you teased each other, laughed, shared stories of your past. How your gazes locked for longer than necessary, touches lingered, the smiles never fell from your faces.

It was wonderful, yet nothing was said of what it all meant – which was his fault, probably. Hence the roller coaster of feelings throughout the week.

He could tell you felt it, too. Doing as Tommy suggested, he started paying close attention to how you acted around him, how you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. It was all starting to come together. He could finally see what Tommy was talking about.

You liked him. You really liked him, Joel Miller, overworked single father.

It was a wonderful feeling, knowing that someone liked him. It’d been way too long since he felt that way, that spark of hope for something more.

For the first time in a long time, he slept well the night before and woke early, eager to face the day and see you before heading off to work. He was already out front, filling a birdfeeder Sarah asked for, when you arrived.

“Good mornin’, darlin’,” he greeted, pulling the car door open for you once you parked in the driveway. His heart skipped a beat at the way you smiled up at him, taking his hand to help you out of the car. Your touch electric on his roughened palm.

“Hiya, Joel.” Your voice washed over him, warm as honey and twice as sweet. “Whatcha doing out here?’

Gesturing to the red barn-style feeder Sarah picked, he finished filling it with the wild bird seed the clerk insisted birds loved. “Just fillin’ our new birdfeeder.”

“Oh, what a cute feeder!” You admired the intricate features as it hung from the post Joel installed. “Sarah has been talking nonstop about birds this week. Hopefully we’ll see some good ones.”

“Hope so,” Joel hummed in return. “Don’t know much about birds personally, but I’m sure Sarah’ll teach me.” Your smile brightened at his sheepish grin.

“I have a bird guide I could give her to help identify all the different types that visit the feeder.” Your face lit up with excitement. “I even have binoculars from when I took an ornithology class in undergrad. I’ll bring them when I pick up Sarah this afternoon.”

“Orna what now?” Joel questioned. He had no idea what kind of class you were talking about, but he loved how smart you were.

“Ornithology,” you repeated, drawing out each syllable with a soft giggle. “It’s the study of birds. It was a really cool class. We had field trips around campus once a week to go bird watching. I got pretty good at naming the different species that we saw, but it’s been a while.”

In awe of you, Joel’s eyes crinkled with the strength of his grin. “Would you, uh, maybe want to go on an adventure with us tomorrow?” he asked, stumbling a bit over his words, a nervous energy welling up in his gut as he once again sort of asked you out. “We could go for a hike in the county park, and you could teach us about birds.”

You gazed at him, lips pursed in thought, for long enough that Joel began to fidget, brimming with recurring doubt. Did he misinterpret the signs after all? He wouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t any good at this stuff anymore. You responded before he could spiral back into the land of self-doubt. “That sounds great, Joel. I’d love to.”

A visceral relief washed through him. “It’s a date then,” he said, his voice deep and rough while his dark chocolate eyes locked with yours. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as your eyebrows rose in surprise. Too quickly, doubt clouded your pretty eyes, and you laughed it off like he was teasing you. Joel sighed. He would be more direct next time. He’d get the hang of asking a woman on a date again someday. Hopefully.

“We’ll have to go early, is that okay? Birds are more active in the early morning hours,” you explained, heading for the door to find Sarah.

“That’s fine. We’ll make a day of it, grab lunch somewhere when we’re done.” Joel followed you into the house, already plotting out conversations in his head on how to properly ask you on a date.

The rest of the day went by in a blur for Joel and before he knew it, the job was finished, and it was only mid-afternoon when he arrived home. You pulled into the driveway with Sarah shortly after him and he came down from taking a shower to find the pair of you on the living room floor playing a racing video game.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah exclaimed as he kissed the top of her head and took a seat on the couch. It didn’t take long before Sarah asked him to play as well and the three of you were taking turns racing against each other, laughing when one of you crashed.

There were moments, when your gaze would connect with Joel’s and he’d swear you shared the same thought – this was how it could be if you were together, a family.

“Do you want to stay for pizza? Tommy and your dad are coming over,” Joel asked when Sarah’s attention focused elsewhere.

“We have an early morning ahead of us, Miller. Don’t be up late partying with the guys,” you replied with a smile that reached your twinkling eyes. “I’ll stay for a bit, but then I need to go dig out the old binoculars and get my beauty sleep.”

“You’re already beautiful,” he murmured, watching your eyes widen as you smile demurely.

“You say the sweetest things, Joel.” Your voice held a teasing tone that drove Joel nuts. How was he ever going to convince you that he was serious?

Shortly thereafter, Tommy arrived, pizza and beer in hand. “Come on, Millers! I come bearing gifts. JB here yet?”

“I’m right here, ya troglodyte,” your dad called from the front yard, stepping up the porch steps as Tommy whirled around.

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“A troglodyte. Learned it from Spud and thought it fitting since you don’t close doors behind you.” He winked at you as he teased the younger Miller brother. Placing a kiss on your cheek, he added, “Hey Spud, haven’t seen you in a bit. Must be working too hard. Miller! You workin’ my daughter too hard?”

Joel spluttered. He was too busy gazing at you to pay much attention to JB and feared he got busted. “I hardly think so,” he grumbled, fighting the blush he knew rose to his cheeks.

“Ah, in the same ol’ grumpy mood, I see. Maybe this’ll help.” Your dad placed a 12-pack of Joel’s favorite beer on the coffee table before taking a seat in the recliner he always chose at Joel’s place.

The five of you sat around the living room, eating pizza with beer for the men and sodas for you and Sarah. The conversation revolved mainly around construction work, and you ended up taking your leave before the sun dipped below the horizon. Your dad followed not long after, eager to relax in his own well-worn recliner.

“Alright, nugget. It’s time for bed. We have an early morning tomorrow,” Joel said, swinging the young girl over his shoulder much to her delight. “Say goodnight to Uncle Tommy.”

“G’night Uncle Tommy,” Sarah squealed as Joel tickled her sides.

“G’night nugget.”

Always a good kid, Sarah went right to bed after brushing her teeth, but not before pestering Joel about why they had to get up early on a Saturday. Pressing a loving kiss to her forehead, Joel tucked her in. “We’re going on a surprise adventure. Now, to sleep with you.”

Returning to the living room, Tommy handed him another beer as the brothers watched Sportscenter. “Have you made any progress yet?” Tommy asked.

Matching dark eyes met as Joel shrugged. He knew his brother was talking about you. “Some, I guess. Told ya I took her to lunch on Sunday and that felt a lot like a date. I asked her to go on a hike with me and Sarah tomorrow. I told her it was a date after she agreed, but she thought I was jokin’.” He paused, taking a long pull from the bottle of beer. “Then, this afternoon, I told her she was beautiful and again she thought I was teasing.”

Swirling the bottle of beer in his hand, Tommy shook his head and chuckled. “She’s givin’ you a run for your money, brother. Good on her.”

“Good on her,” Joel mocked, but his tone quickly turned to pleading. “I need more advice. Surely you got something up your sleeve for women like her.”

“Nah, brother. The only way to get someone like her is to be yourself and keep chipping away. It’s clear she has as much self-doubt as you do, so it’ll take her time to believe you’re for real.” Tommy eyed his brother a moment as he mulled over the situation. “Though, I will say this. You need to start bein’ direct – come right out and ask her on a date, for fuck’s sake. Enough hinting at shit. It’s clearly gettin’ you nowhere.”

You arrived on the Millers’ doorstep bright and early the next morning, two travel mugs of coffee and a container of chocolate milk in hand. A pair of binoculars and Sibley’s Guide to Birds were tucked away in the bag you wore over your shoulder.

“Wakey, wakey, Millers! The early bird gets the worm!”

Joel and Sarah were perched at the breakfast bar when you let yourself in, both looking half awake and less than enthusiastic about being up so early on a Saturday.

“Too damn cheerful for this early,” Joel grumbled half-heartedly. His pitiful smile looked more like a grimace, yet you found it adorable. It made you ache to run your fingers through his hair until you drew a real smile from his lips.

“Don’t gimme that. This was your idea, Joel Miller!” you sassed in return, patting his broad shoulders. “Let’s go!”

Herding cats, that was the perfect analogy to describe the next fifteen minutes as you tried to get the Millers moving and into Joel’s truck. Just when you’d get one heading for the door, the other would disappear. Finally, you managed to wrangle them both into the truck and you were well on your way to the preserve. The ride didn’t take long, Sarah peppering you with questions about birds she found in your guidebook as Joel drove. By the time Joel pulled into a parking spot at the entrance to the trails, everyone was wide awake and ready to hike.

The morning was crisp and refreshing as you zipped up your jacket and looked around. You’d never been to this preserve before and wanted to find a trail map, but the mini-Miller was too anxious to wait for that.

“I can hear the birds chirping already, Daddy! Come on!” Sarah exclaimed, charging toward the first trail excitedly.

Joel beamed as Sarah took off, turning to you before following her. “Ready?” He reached out a hand, palm up and fingers splayed, inviting you to grasp it.

Your eyes trailed from his outstretched hand to his heavy gaze, uncertain of what to make of the signals Joel gave off. The feelings you harbored for the man grew stronger each day, yet you couldn’t quite get a read on whether he shared even a fraction of those feelings. Somedays, you thought he did. Yet others, you figured he thought you had a crush on him and found amusing. Your heart sunk on those days, causing the doubt to linger every time he did something to make you think otherwise.

The moment carried on too long, you realized, as Joel’s warm eyes began to shutter, the tender smile starting to slip. Bolstering your nerves, you plunged ahead and grasped his large hand in yours, tangling your fingers with his thicker ones. His hand was warm, skin roughened from years of working with his hands, and it felt wonderful against your smoother skin.

Heat flashed up your chest and neck as Joel led you down the trail to catch up with Sarah. A broad smile never left your lips as you walked.

“I meant it, you know,” Joel’s deep, gruff voice rumbled from deep in his chest and you glanced up to meet his gaze. “What I said yesterday, about this being a date. If that’s something you’re interested in.”

Heart thumping wildly, your mouth opened and closed a few times before you found your words. “Are you sure? I mean, yes. Yes, I’m interested.” You winced at how flustered you sounded, tripping over your words. And, worse yet, why was your voice so squeaky?

“Never been surer in my life,” Joel confirmed, his gaze searing your skin as he watched you, taking in every minute change in expression. His hand squeezed yours gently, steadying the butterflies in your stomach.

“I would really like that,” you replied breathlessly, relieved to finally have confirmation that the moments between you and Joel weren’t all in your head. You were on Cloud 9 until reality smacked you in the face. “But what about my dad?”

Sarah popped around a copse of live oaks, startling you both from. “Come on, you slow pokes! The birdies aren’t gonna wait all day for us to find them!” Not trusting you both to follow her on your own, the little girl latched on to your hand and pulled you along the trail. “You need to help me find the birds,” Sarah reminded you.

Joel’s hand still clasped in yours, you dragged him behind you, grinning over your shoulder at him. “I’m liking this date already, Joel.”

He beamed back at you. The three of you walked in silence for a bit, listening to the sounds of nature around you. When you spotted a bird blind, you handed Sarah the binoculars and the guidebook, challenging her to identify as many birds as she could from that spot. Joel stood next to you, watching Sarah enjoy the activity.

“Let’s see where this goes first before we worry about your dad,” he murmured. “I’d like to take you on a few dates first, okay?”

It made sense and you nodded, pleased at the way things were working out. Your hand remained in Joel’s throughout the birding adventure and though Sarah never mentioned it, her smile grew wide at the sight.

tbc

p.s. we should start building up to the good stuff in the next chapter.

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

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heart2beom · 1 year

Text

a lost bet!

pairing: frenemy!beomgyu x reader

genre: fluff, comedy

summary: you lose a bet to beomgyu and out of everything you'd think he'd ask of you -- money, to pour freezing water on yourself out in the snow, hell, you thought it'd be more likely for him to ask you to jump off a cliff and survive than telling you to take him out on a date.

word count: 2.2k

notes: cheesy stuff but if you read it till the end, a heart is always appreciated :') if you read it and liked it, please reblog ˃̵ᴗ˂̵

there are people who would be described as two peas in a pot, the half of the other, siblings from another mother -- the idea that they complete each other, that they work so well together that they must be of the same thread.

to describe your relationship with beomgyu, those metaphors would never even have came up in the light of day because you guys just don't work. you like what he likes and he likes what you like. you do what he does, and he does what you do. for heavensake, you've known each other since highschool and you still ended up in the same dream university, in the same dream careers, in the same fast food job! and that is exactly why you don't work. the arguments that fester from being just a little too similar got extreme back when you were teenagers, terribly extreme you couldn't even blame it on hormones.

girls who'd be interested in beomgyu every three weeks would come up to you at the randomest times to ask if there was anything going on between you two and the first couple girls, your friends would die of laughter because of how inaccurate the assumption was. "her and beomgyu? beomgyu with the long hair? him and y/n? the y/n that's standing next to us right now?"

it was safe to say that after a while, the entire engineering major knew you and beomgyu would never happen. and you were content with that.

that is until that day happened, the day you lost the bet.

you were feeling lots of things before he'd decide on a what you'd do - fear, fear was a big one.

"hey, go easy on me." you reluctantly said quietly.

"huh?" he put a hand behind his ear, "what'd you say?"

it was embarrassing enough that you couldn't complete the software in time when you're known in the major for being the fastest, but it was even worse to give beomgyu the satisfaction of you being scared. you already caught a smirk on his face, fucker.

"i said...go easy on me you prick."

"okay okay here, since you're begging, i'll give you a deal." he folded his arms, acting like he was thinking of this on the spot. "i'll go easy on you if you don't ask any questions about my dare." and that was when you knew that he had this planned out - you took the bait anyway, just of the small chance you might avoid jumping off a cliff.

"okay, i accept the deal, whats the dare?"

"take me, choi beomgyu..." he was elongating every vowel and you'd hate to admit it but every time he does it, as annoying as it is, it does manage to do its job and keeps you on your toes to want to know what he'd say next.

but the long pause that day was way more annoying than usual.

"just say it!", you yelled.

"on a date!" he yelled immediately in response. "jesus christ you're so impatient."

beomgyu saw you open your mouth to say something and he anticipated it so he quickly shut you up with a finger on your lips.

"no questions, remember?", you rolled your eyes and snatched his finger off your lip. "here are the rules. one, you're paying for everything-"

"broke ass." you cursed under your breath and he caught it.

"who's working three shifts again?" well, that got you quiet. "two, it has to be the best date i've ever been on. like spectacular, jaw dropping, 5 star restaurant. you know i'm a wanted, highly desirable man. and three, if you break the rules, you'll have to try again. but hey, i trust you'll get it on the first try. i'm going to go easy on you."

and that is how you find yourself on the 9th try of trying to woo beomgyu with a date and finally get the dare over with. i'm going to go easy on you? bullshit.

the first three times, it was aggravating to know that you failed and had to go on another date. the next four to eight times, you viewed it as another assignment to overcome - like a game? that period was ambitious (hello, you literally drove four hours for one of the dates once) so when even those failed, you entered your nine times to how many the fuck you know times. you've never went on this many dates with someone you weren't even in a relationship with.

and by now you'd figured that beomgyu was just freeloading off of you. that asshole. you would totally do something like that..

like it was the devil's calling, beomgyu came through the door of the desserted cafe that you part timed at.

"hey! welcome to bist-- beomgyu." you said his name grimly, staring at him walk over to your register.

"oh my god, i did not know you worked here! fancy seeing you partner!"

"beomgyu, you literally used to work with me-- you know what? no. i just took the last order. we're closing the store."

he looked at his wrist, like he was reading a watch but when he dropped his hand down, there was indeed, no real watch.

"it's seven on a thursday, you aren't fooling me."

you groan dramatically like a child, frustrated. "what do you want beomgyu? i can't afford to hear your voice one more time this week, i'm serious i think i need to get myself checked out before i'm driven to insanity." you mumbled as he looked up at the menu, his iris going left and right trying to decipher which one would be the cheapest, and not taste like total shit. "can i get a...hmm...this is a lot of options..."

"a triple shot soy decaf vanilla latte with whipped cream?", you filled in.

"no not--wait, hold on. that sounds really good."

"because it is good." you said rolling your eyes playfully, this time.

"is it cheap?"

"the cheapest." you said, cracking a smirk. it was times like these where you remember that you and beomgyu are still the friends part of the frenemy title you both chose to adopt.

a more genuine fond smile warmed up on beomgyu's face, because he had the same exact thought.

"well its not technically the cheapest--" he started.

"don't ruin the moment beomgyu." you said heading to the backroom.

"i'm just saying, you were being deceitful! also there was no moment!" you heard beomgyu call out. secretly, you let out a quick chuckle to that.

when you finally got him his order, you expected him to leave...but of course, you thought too highly of him. because there he was, elbows on the counter, sipping his coffee (milkshake) really..really loudly. it was like his sole purpose was to annoy the fuck out of you.

"do you want me to direct you to a table mr. choi?" you said in your fake nice voice sarcastically as your back was turned from him to wash the tools that you used.

"y/n i have a question."

"answer mines first."

"when is the next date--i mean, like, your next, um..attempt? try? what are we calling it?"

you exhale, you knew he was going to mention it.

"it's today. surprise!" you turned around with a terrifying toothy smile, doing jazz hands.

"you just decided this last minute didn't you?" you shook your head, still keeping up a smile. "also stop smiling like that oh my god."

and the smile was dropped. "okay, so what if i decided just now? you know, the cheapest dates are the best dates."

"literally nobody has ever said that." he said, taking another sip of his drink, shaking his head slowly disapprovingly.

"no, yeah you're right i don't know why i just did." you said, very much perplexed those words came out of your mouth -- you'll call it your first stage of insanity.

"look, i'm going to be completely honest, i don't think you'll ever top the paris hot balloon date with that cute foreign chick."

you scoffed, coming closer to the counter with your arms crossed. "um pfft, i thought we collectively, we as in the whole world by the way, agreed that you made that date up."

"you're the only one who thinks it didn't happen, i literally showed you pictures! and it's not that hard to believe, i am universally hot stuff." he shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. "wait hey, i think i still have the pictures, let me show you."

his eyes were narrowed, scrolling on his phone.

"okay okay, enough. also don't call yourself hot stuff again." you covered his phone screen and he looks up at you confused. "lets say it did happen.."

"it did happen!"

"...if you knew i wasn't going to top your extravagant paris date, why'd you even add the second rule?"

for the first time, beomgyu didn't have an immediate response. he was quiet, way too quiet.

"look, you can just tell me you were trying to freeload off of me." beomgyu looks taken back, his face scrunched up, so you add more to clarify, "i would be pissed but you don't have to be all secretive about it. i can get over it if you pay me four hundred dollars in cash--"

"let's say i was freeloading off you, which by the way, i should've thought of that--"

"correction, you were freeloading off of me."

beomgyu ignores you. "you know what, i just thought of something. there is one way you could top the hot balloon paris date."

your interest was piqued but you try not to show how your ears perked up, and clear your throat. "what is it?"

despite your attempt to seem disinterested, when beomgyu motions to bring your head closer so he can whisper something, you don't hesitate.

"i don't know, maybe it'll be too hard on you...like it takes a lot of courage--"

"just say it!" you yelled impatiently.

"say i liiike you beomgyu-ah~" he said with what you think is a pout, and top of that you'd bet a hundred bucks that he was fluttering his long lashes too.

you pull your head away. "beomgyu."

he shrugged. "i'm giving you a very easy task, take it or leave it."

you exhale, its true. it isn't that bad. "i'm not doing the aegyo though."

"thats the entire point! just don't do it at all then."

"oh, okay. bye, it wasn't pleasant seeing you beomgyu, as always." you waved him away and start untying your apron to leave your shift, but beomgyu was still there. because you've heard the third groan in a row.

you, however, didn't notice that he came to the back in the register area until you felt his hand touching your struggling ones that were trying to untie your apron for the past..three minutes now.

you dropped them to your sides, feeling a little awkward at the sudden proximity.

"were you actually going to close?" he asked as you felt beomgyu trying to untangle the knot.

"no that was a lie, i'm leaving because my shift ended."

"huh. you know i was about to apologize for bothering you. and i never apologize."

"who said you weren't bothering me anyway? in fact, you've been bothering me this whole month more than normal."

you looked back to beomgyu, "why'd you stop? can you try to untie it faster?"

"alright alright, jesus."

the rest of the time that he spent untying the knot, it was quiet. oddly.

"done. i have to go now though, homework and stuff." he said backing away.

you stopped him by holding his wrist back. "hey, are you mad? it's kind of weird, i've never seen you mad."

he looked back at you with a raised brow. you rolled your eyes, correcting yourself. "okay, well i've never seen you mad this month"

you let go of his wrist because hes fully turned to face you, with his arm crossed.

"maybe, maybe i wasn't mad because i didn't see hanging out with you to be the biggest nuisance in the world."

"well..you're mad now."

"say i like you."

"huh?"

"you don't have to do the aegyo, i'm exempting it because i am a very nice friend."

okay, so now you're lost. you don't know what's going on, at all. but hey at least you'll get a perk of ending the dare!

do you...want to end the dare?

okay, what the actual fuck. why are you having that thought?

"i like you beomgyu-ah." you mumbled reluctantly in the most monotone, robotic voice ever. and his previous sorta serious face morphs into a fit of laughter.. KNEE slapping laughter.

"god you should've--you should've seen your face!" he said pointing at you while he uses his other hand to hold his stomach. like an elementary bully ad.

and the fit of laughter continued.

"was that whole im mad act fake? you're...ugh." you groaned. another day, another beomgyu being a total dick.

you took beomgyu by the wrist again to push him out of the back. "bye! it's time for you to leave!" you said loudly.

"alright alright i'm leaving--ow!"

you had to go through seeing him laughing all the way to the exit door, but hey, at least he was gone. you sigh, relieved.

but then you hear the ding again.

"i like you too by the way" beomgyu shouted out. and then left again.

typical annoying, irritating, choi beomgyu. leaving you to make an analysis of what he meant by saying that... for the entire night.

#txt x reader #txt fluff #txt oneshots #txt fanfic #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu #soobin #yeonjun #taehyun #hueningkai #txt fics #beomgyu drabbles #txt drabbles

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proxima-writes · 10 months

Text

the last great american dynasty

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 6.8k (whoops)

summary:

Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up.

He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream

author's note:

inspo board this work is inspired by taylor swift's song "the last great american dynasty" and is part of the folklore album anthology! if you enjoy, please consider reblogging/commenting and make sure to check out the other works by the amazing collaborators on this project.

tags/warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n, work contains journal entries as part of the plot, porn with plot, pre-outbreak!joel, grandma is a named OFC, sassy reader, dirty talk, teasing, praise, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paint as a flirting mechanism, mild enemies to lovers, pet names. let me know if there are any missing!

August 20, 1948

I have arrived in Texas. I am uncertain where to go or what to do. For so long I’ve answered only to George, but now I am my own woman and the world before me has suddenly become much bigger, seemingly overnight.

I just hope it will be good for me.

-R

PRESENT DAY

If there’s one thing you never expected, it’s to inherit a mansion from a grandmother that you’ve never spoken to. As far as you were aware that kind of thing only happened in movies, so receiving a phone call from an estate lawyer that had been trying to locate you for a whole year since this mystery woman’s passing was a complete shock.

Now you find yourself with a car full of your belongings driving cross country to a sleepy suburb of Austin, Texas. The first stop is the lawyer’s office, where a secretary eyes you warily as you sit in the lobby of the lush office suite, fingers toying with a loose thread on the t-shirt you’d been wearing for the last eight-hour leg of your road trip.

A voice calls your name from a door just past the secretary’s desk, an older man with white hair and a deeply wrinkled face smiling kindly at you. You stand, shaking his hand as you pass by him into his office. He gestures to the wingback chairs that face his impressive dark wood desk. You take in the diplomas on the wall and the floor to ceiling bookshelves lined with thick, leather bound tomes.

“I appreciate you comin’ all the way out here so quickly. You were quite the tough one to find,” the man says with a chuckle. He pulls out a thick envelope, cream colored with swooping, swirling handwriting across the front reading your name. “Your grandmother was a dear friend of mine. She established a trust in your name not long after you were born.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I’m still a little confused. I didn’t even know I had a grandmother,” you admit quietly. He nods solemnly.

“She never told me all the details, but there had been a falling out between her and her daughter. They kept their distance after that.” When you don’t say anything, mind too busy racing with the questions that you suppose only your mom can answer now, he continues. “Would you like the review the details of the trust?”

“Um, sure. I guess that’s why I’m here, after all.”

He slips a piece of paper from the folder, sliding it across the desk. The same swirling handwriting fills the page.

My Dearest,

You may not know me, but I’ve watched you grow in photographs and letters since you were born. You mean the world to me, even if I could not fit in the world that your mother created for you. I respected that choice, hurt though it may have. She had her own path to forge, just as I did, and just as you will. I am eternally grateful for the parts of her life she did share after she left.

In the event of my passing, I leave my estate to you in its entirety. I built my true happiness in those walls, and I hope you can do the same.

-R

You read the letter twice, eyes stinging with tears. A tissue box slides across the desk, and you pluck two sheets out gratefully.

“In this envelope are the more official documents. The deed transfer that will need your signature, beneficiary statements for her banking and savings accounts, things like that. My office will handle all the paperwork filing,” the man says. A few more forms are laid out on the desk, and you lean forward to read them.

“Holy shit,” you snap, eyes wide as you swipe the beneficiary statement from the wood. “There must be too many zeroes in this, right? Or a rogue comma? That can’t be the right amount.”

“I assure you that’s the correct amount,” he says with a laugh. “And if you’ll sign down there, it’ll be transferred to your name and designated account.”

Your mouth goes dry as you read through the rest of the documents. In addition to the sizeable amount of money about to hit your bank account, there’s a five-bedroom house being transferred into your name, as well as a safety deposit box. You sign each form where directed, sliding them back over to the lawyer.

“I believe this is yours,” he says, holding a house key out to you. He drops it into your open palm. “Good luck.”

“I wish they would just put that place up for sale already,” Joel grumbles from the passenger seat of his brother’s truck as they drive by the out-of-place 1920s Victorian home on their way to a job site.

“You’ve been sayin’ that for the past year since that poor old woman passed,” Tommy says with a laugh. “Give it up, brother. Your dream house is just goin’ to rot away before your eyes.”

“Don’t you say that,” Joel replies. He doesn’t need Tommy speaking his fear into the universe.

The house has already been showing signs of falling apart in the last ten years Joel has lived in the neighborhood. The roof needs work, the shutters need replacing, the lawn is overgrown, and there’s a sizable hole in the wrap-around porch that seems to get bigger over time.

He’s wanted that house since the first time he saw it while he was house hunting ten years ago, a then three-year-old Sarah on his hip as he toured a nice little house that was available in the neighborhood at the time. While the home he’s built with his daughter through long days of hard work is nothing to scoff at, he’s always dreamed of something with more character and story.

He just hopes he’ll get his chance.

You stare up at the old house in front of you, shielding your eyes from the late afternoon sun. It’s a beautiful house, though there’s no denying its seen better days – two stories with large bay windows on both floors, white wood siding and chipped red shutters that are clinging to their rusty hardware, a large wrap around porch that has vines encroaching on the banisters, a lawn overgrown with weeds. You tentatively climb the steps of the porch, peeking nervously into the large hole in the wood to the left of the front door.

“That’s private property,” a gruff voice calls out, making you jump. You turn, finding a man standing on the sidewalk with his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You ain’t supposed to be snoopin’ around.”

“Actually—”

“Why don’t you just head home, sweetheart, and I won’t have to call the cops,” the stranger says, cutting you off. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“This is—”

The man huffs, arms dropping as he digs in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a cell phone. “Seriously, I’ll give you until the count of three. We don’t need trouble around this neighborhood, alright?”

The nerve, you think, narrowing your eyes at the man. Since he clearly doesn’t want to hear what you have to say, you decide to take a different route. You reach into the pocket of your shorts, pulling out the key that the lawyer had given you earlier that day. You take a sideways step closer to the door, keeping your eyes on the man as you pointedly insert the key into the lock and opening the heavy wood door.

His mouth drops open in surprise and you smile at him.

“You were saying?”

Joel had seen the car parked in the driveway of the empty house when Tommy dropped him off after work. He’d quickly checked on Sarah, newly thirteen and fiercely independent, finding her working on her homework at the kitchen table, before making his way across the street.

He hadn’t expected to find a gorgeous woman snooping around the old house, curves hugged in denim shorts and a tank top that made his mouth water. He also hadn’t expected the woman to produce a key from the pocket of those sinfully tight shorts.

“You were saying?” You ask, lips curved in a smirk and eyebrows raised at him. When Joel doesn’t immediately reply, still too stunned that you have access to the house, you turn and walk through the door, shutting it behind you.

He finally shakes himself of his shock, bounding up the steps and knocking on the door. You pull it back open.

“I’ll buy it from you,” Joel says immediately.

“Excuse me?” You reply, your hands moving to your hips. “It’s not for sale.”

“Come on, what’s a girl like you need all this space for?” Your mouth drops open, pretty lips stretched wide in surprise and Joel struggles to keep his thoughts from drifting to sinful places.

“A girl like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re young, that’s all. You don’t need a house this big and this much of a project!”

“What makes you think I don’t have a big ol’ family I’m moving in here? Four kids and a loving husband?!”

Joel blinks. “You got four kids and a lovin’ husband?”

“No, but that’s besides the point.” You roll your eyes, jabbing a finger at his chest. “It’s not for sale. Now get off my porch before I call the cops on you.”

With that final word, the door shuts in Joel’s face again, the sound of your retreating footsteps signaling the end of the discussion.

November 12, 1948

There’s a gentleman who comes into the diner every Tuesday. He always sits in one of my booths, with his perfect hair and suit and handsome face distracting me until he leaves. Some of the other waitresses try talking to him but he doesn’t pay them any mind. They’ve whispered to me before that he comes from money - oil, or something, not that it matters.

His name is William, and I think he’s trying to steal my heart.

-R

“So, let me get this straight. First, you threatened to call the police on this woman. Then, rather than introducin’ yourself or welcomin’ her to the neighborhood or even apologizin’, you just go straight to tellin’ her she doesn’t need a house that big and that you wanna buy it from her. Did I hear that right?” Tommy says, watching Joel as he throws together dinner the following evening.

“Yeah, that sums it up,” Sarah says. Joel huffs.

“Well, when you put it like that.” He sips his beer as his daughter and brother share a look. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothin’,” they say in tandem. Joel narrows his eyes as Sarah breaks out in giggles. Tommy stands, heading to Joel’s pantry and rifling through the shelves until he finds an unopened bottle of whiskey buried in the back.

“What are you doin’ with that?” Joel asks.

“Welcomin’ your new neighbor like the gentleman I am. Sarah, watch the pasta while I show your dad how it’s done,” Tommy replies, heading for the front door, Joel trailing behind him.

Tommy crosses the street with quick steps, eyeing the porch dubiously as he knocks on the door. Joel stands beside him, hands shoved in his pockets as he curses under his breath about his brother’s stupid antics.

You open the door, dressed this time in a pretty sundress that makes Joel’s mouth go dry. Tommy flashes you a grin and Joel can’t help the annoyance he feels when his brother’s eyes trail over your body.

“Hey there! I’m Tommy Miller, you may have met my dumbass brother over here the other day. I’m certain he didn’t make the best impression, so I just wanted to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood,” he says, holding the whiskey out to you.

You introduce yourself, ignoring Joel. “Thank you so much, Tommy. Would you like to come in?”

“Sure thing,” his traitorous brother replies, stepping over the threshold. When Joel makes a move to follow, you give him a pointed look before shutting the door in his face.

“You want a beer, Tommy?” You ask the handsome man in your kitchen. You can’t help but be impressed by the genetics of the Miller family, both men tall and tan and handsome as hell. Sure, one of them could use a lesson on manners, but you’ll admit that since your confrontation your mind has drifted to thoughts of brown eyes and soft dark hair that belong to the brother you left on the porch out of spite.

“Yes, please,” Tommy says politely. You open the dated refrigerator and grab two beer bottles, popping the caps against the countertop and handing one to him. “This sure is a nice place.”

“Thanks. I just inherited it from my grandma,” you explain. “It’s a little…dated.”

He chuckles. “We call it ‘character’ in contractin’.”

“That what you guys do, then? Contracting?”

“Sure is. Miller Brothers Contracting and Construction.” Tommy scratches at the label on the bottle before saying, “Look, I know my brother can come off the wrong way. He didn’t get the social genes. But he’s a good guy, and he’s loved this house since the first time he saw it. Always wanted to buy it, fix it up, raise his little girl here. Maybe add to his family one day.”

You look around the rundown kitchen. You’ve only been here a day and you know you’ve got your work cut out for you. The electrical and plumbing are all outdated, the appliances need replacing, the floors need to be refurbished, and that’s just the first floor. You could use some help with it all, and maybe the grumpy contractor next door who cares about the house could help you with it all.

“I appreciate that he loves the house but…I never met my grandma. Never even knew who she was or that she was even alive, and it’s the only connection I have to her. I don’t know if this is going to be my forever but…I want to at least give it a shot.”

Tommy smiles. “We could help with that.”

It feels like ages before Tommy’s stepping back out onto the porch, a beer in his hand that makes Joel frown.

“Y’all were havin’ drinks while I sat out here like an ass?” He asks incredulously. Tommy throws an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“Yes, and if you don’t quit your whinin’ I’m not goin’ to tell you about our lovely conversation,” the younger man says as he walks with Joel back to his house.

In the kitchen, Sarah is pouring the pasta sauce and ground beef over the noodles. Joel takes over and waves her away, mumbling his thanks as he mixes the ingredients together. He sets up two plates, setting one in front of his daughter and sitting down with the other. Tommy makes an affronted sound before fixing his own plate.

“So?” Joel asks. Tommy slurps at his food.

“Was the lady nice?” Sarah asks.

“No,” Joel replies at the same time Tommy says, “Yes.”

Joel glares at Tommy. “You gonna tell me what she said or what?”

“She ain’t sellin’,” Tommy finally says. “But, she wants to fix the place up. Offered our services so you could get your grubby fuckin’ hands in there.”

“Language,” Joel says, eyes flicking to Sarah. The girl rolls her eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. Better start callin’ the guys. From what I saw we’re dealin’ with electrical from the 50s, plumbing from who knows when, not to mention the HVAC and roof will need to be upgraded, too.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin before grinning at Joel. “You up for the challenge?”

“Hell yeah.”

August 23, 1949

William and I have just been married.

I know, I know. I can’t believe it either. But he is truly the light of my life.

The wedding was charming, if a little gauche. I’m still not abreast of all these new societal expectations that surround a man like William, but I’m willing to try. Today he will be taking me around to view houses in the more opulent neighborhoods, the type of homes I used to gawk at but one of them will be mine.

I must be dreaming.

-R

Joel and Tommy start working on the house right away. Every day there’s a line of pick-up trucks parked on the curb and the sounds of construction start early in the morning and continue into the late evening. The electrician and plumber come through first, updating the wiring and pipes through the whole house. The roofers and HVAC come through next, replacing the crumbling shingles and dated central unit with a split system for each level of the house.

It’s not until the big projects are done that you get to have fun with the place, which is how you found yourself methodically painting the front door a muted lime green early one morning.

“What do you think you’re doin’?”

You sigh. Despite Tommy’s assurances that Joel is a great guy beneath the grumpy control freak exterior, you’ve continued to only get the side of the man that grates your nerves.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m painting the door.”

“You can’t paint the door that color,” Joel says, heavy footsteps stomping up your newly repaired porch.

“Says who?” You retort. You smear another stroke of paint over the sanded wood.

“Me, for one. The historical society, for two.” He pulls the brush from your hand and holds it above his head and out of your reach. The movement drags his shirt up, exposing a strip of tan belly with a trail of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. “Why are you bein’ a pain in the ass?”

“I was put on this earth simply to make your life more difficult, Joel Miller. Isn’t that obvious?” You reply sarcastically. He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like you got that right. “What are you even doing over here? It’s Saturday.”

“We’re goin’ to the store. You gotta start pickin’ stuff out for the bathrooms and kitchen,” he says, tossing the paint brush into the tray. “And then we’re gettin’ a new color to cover this up.”

Joel leaves the porch and you follow behind him to the black pick-up truck idling by the sidewalk. He opens the passenger door for you and you raise your eyebrow at the gesture but climb inside.

January 3, 1950

Our New Year’s party is the talk of the town. There were so many people in the house I began to lose count. William had so much champagne ordered I swear we could fill an entire swimming pool with it all.

The ladies at the club have already begun to ask when we would host our next event. I can’t wait to plan another.

-R

“Can you please focus?” Joel begs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He’s laid out three tile combinations, one for each bathroom in the home, and he needs you to look at them but you keep getting distracted.

“You’re no fun,” you huff. You examine the tiles, pointing to a turquoise blue one he’s picked for the shower in the master. “I love that.”

He looks at you in surprise. “Well, I’ll be damned. She can be reasoned with.”

You giggle and Joel can’t help the smile it prompts from him, the sound of your laugh so sweet compared to your sharp tongue.

“I like the white and blue combinations for upstairs, but in that powder room I want a pink theme,” you tell him. Your eyes search the displays, landing on a blush pink glass subway tile option. “Like this!”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Joel replies without thinking, taking the sample from you and comparing it next to the floor tile he’d chosen for that bathroom. When he glances at you, you’re giving him a confused look. “What?”

“Nothing,” you reply, shaking your head. “What about the kitchen?”

“What were you thinking for in there?”

“Green cabinets. White and black backsplash, the kind with the little hexagons that look like flowers. I gotta pick out appliances now that the electrical can sustain newer ones, too.” You pause. “And how do you feel about wallpaper?”

“It’s the devil,” Joel replies.

Your grin is downright mischievous. “Excellent.”

February 2, 1956

William had a heart attack. It scared me so badly that I haven’t let him out of my sight since. The doctor said he’s been working too hard, drinking too much, and not sleeping enough. Maybe the parties have started to be too much for him.

I’ve been feeling unlike myself. Tired, nauseated. Hopefully my heart isn’t troubled, too.

-R

Joel places a hefty order for all the items you’ve picked out today from nearly every aisle of the store - tile for the bathrooms and kitchen, vanities and plumbing fixtures, countertops, lighting, and appliances. While he’s preoccupied with calculations and measurements and pricing things out, you pick out paint and wallpaper for the projects you’ll be able to do on your own.

He finds you a while later, a cart full of paint buckets and supplies. To your surprise, he grins.

“More paint, huh? You pick a new one for the door?” He asks. You smile back at him, butterflies erupting in your tummy.

“Yep. Does navy blue suffice, your highness? I thought we could paint the trim the same color.”

Joel nods. “Good choice. Look, I’ve kept you here so long for all the orderin’. You wanna get lunch?”

“Careful, Joel. I’m like a stray cat - once you start feeding me, I might never leave,” you reply with a laugh. You push your heavy cart of paint towards the exit.

You miss the soft smile he gives to your retreating figure.

September 23, 1956

Our daughter is here. She’s the sweetest little thing, though she can screech like a banshee when she sees fit. William is so besotted, he keeps looking between the two of us with stars in his eyes like he can’t believe how lucky he is.

I love them both with my whole heart and soul.

-R

Joel takes you to a retro family diner with black-and-white checkerboard flooring and red vinyl accents with a vintage jukebox in the corner. You’re delighted by the themed menu, eyes immediately zeroing in on the classic malt shakes and french fries.

Over lunch, Joel actually opens up to you. He tells you about going into construction right out of high school and dragging Tommy into it when he’d gotten back from serving his tour with the Army. He talks about his daughter, Sarah, and you can’t help the smile that stretches your lips as you watch his eyes light up while he talks about his little girl. She’s at a sleepover this weekend, which gave him the extra time to visit the home improvement store this morning.

In turn, you tell him about getting the call from the lawyer one afternoon that changed your life forever. How you’d packed up everything you owned and driven across the country to find out that you had a grandmother that your mother never told you about that left you her entire estate.

“Wow. That’s…wow,” Joel says when you’ve paused to take a sip of your chocolate shake.

“Excuse me?” A voice asks. You both look up at the elderly woman dressed in a t-shirt with the restaurant’s logo and pressed slacks. She smiles. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and ever since you sat down I’ve been wrackin’ my brain tryin’ to place your face and it’s just hit me.”

She holds out a framed black and white photo of six waitresses standing beneath the same sign that’s still out front, all of them grinning at the camera. There’s one face, however, that looks familiar despite you never having seen her.

“Her name was Rebecca. We used to work together. That’s me, right there,” she says, pointing to the girl standing to the woman’s left. “Rolled up to town at eighteen, fresh off a divorce and hardly a penny to her name. My daddy, god rest his soul, he owned the restaurant and gave her a job when she’d come through lookin’ for work.”

“Wow,” you murmur. “This is insane. Do you have any other pictures?”

She gives you a sympathetic smile. “‘Fraid not, darlin’. Just the one. But I know she kept a lot of journals. Was always scribblin’ in one and spent what little extra cash she had makin’ sure she had a new notebook ready. Maybe they’re still around?”

July 16, 1958

William…

William is gone. My light, my love, my world. The doctor said his heart just…stopped. In his sleep, right beside me.

I have to continue to live with a hole in my own heart, the piece that William stole years ago gone with him.

But I have to be strong for our daughter. Our brave girl, my little bird.

-R

When Joel brings you back to the house, you stare up at the facade, wondering if the journals the woman had spoken about could still be inside. Lost in thought, your eyes land on the little window that sits above the bay windows on the second floor, where the master bedroom is. You’ve been sleeping in that room for months now and you know there’s no window there that you can see from the inside.

“Hey, Joel?” You call out, eyes still fixed on the little window like it might disappear if you look away. “This place is only two stories. How come there’s a window there?”

He looks up at the roof. “Huh. Might be decorative?”

“Or it might be a secret room,” you tell him.

“Okay, Sherlock. Let’s go see.”

You lead him upstairs to the master bedroom, most of your grandma’s furniture still present save for the bed that you replaced upon arriving. You stare up at the ceiling, but it’s smooth - no trap doors to be found.

“If I were a secret door, where would I hide?” You ask.

Joel, who’d been poking his head into the walk-in closet, replies, “Probably the closet.”

There’s a creak of old hinges as Joel reaches up high and tugs the brass pull handle fixed in the ceiling. A descending ladder falls to the ground and you both stare at each other in surprise.

“I’ll go grab a flashlight,” Joel offers, sprinting from the room. You stare up at the hole in the ceiling, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

He returns quickly. “I’ll go up first.”

“Ever the gentleman,” you tease, watching as he ascends the ladder, your eyes shamelessly fixed to his ass as he climbs. You hear the click of the flashlight and see the sweep of the beam through the opening in the ceiling. “Anything?”

“Lots of suitcases. Hang on, let me grab one of the small ones,” he calls down. There’s the sound of something being dragged across the floor before he’s slowly lowering a leather suitcase into your hands.

It’s surprisingly heavy and you drag it by the handle to the bedroom, kneeling on the ground to pop the latches and open the dusty lid. Inside are stacks of leather bound notebooks, edges of the pages yellow with age.

“I’ll be damned,” Joel says, wiping his palms against his jeans. “We found the journals.”

Joel drags the suitcase downstairs, setting it in the living room for you while you order pizza and open a bottle of wine for the occasion. You sit beside each other on the couch and he hands you a journal that you carefully open.

May 17, 1974

We had another argument last night. She claims that I’ve been too overbearing, too protective, too stifling, but what else is a mother meant to do?

-R

May 18, 1974

Her bed was cold and empty this morning. Her piggy bank smashed to bits on the floor and her drawers cleared. Despite my tight grip, my little bird has flown away.

It appears that history does repeat itself. Imagine that.

-R

“Holy shit,” you say, sitting back on the couch with your glass of wine in one hand and one of your grandma’s journals in the other. “She ran away.”

“Who did?” Joel asks, biting into a slice of pizza.

“My mom. She just…packed up and disappeared.” You glance at him. “Guess that’s why I never knew about her.”

“Maybe you should stop uncoverin’ dark family secrets for the night,” Joel suggests. “You know, the dining room could stand to be painted.”

You glance over to the room in question. Joel must have set down the drop cloth on the floor while you’d been engrossed in your discovery.

“Sure. Why not,” you acquiesce.

October 29, 1976

I’ve received an envelope of photographs in the mail, pictures of my daughter holding a little baby. She’s written notes on the back of each one. I’m a grandmother.

My daughter looks happy. Healthy. That’s all I can ask. She didn’t provide a return address.

As for the baby…I love her so much. She takes my breath away. I keep one of the photos on me at all times.

-R

Joel turns on the radio while he works, humming along to the classic rock station selections. He’s been working on painting the wall near the wood molding while he left you with a paint roller to cover the middle of the wall. He looks up at you occasionally, admiring the way your muscles work as you wash the wall with color.

You must sense that he’s watching, turning your head over your shoulder and looking at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he says. You smile at him, setting the roller in the tray. He can’t help but look at your ass in your tight leggings as you bend over.

You straighten up, walking over to him. There’s a glint in your eye that has Joel on high alert.

“You got a little something on your face,” you tell him.

“No, I don’t,” he counters. He’s a master at painting. He knows damn well he doesn’t have a drop on him.

“Yeah, you do,” you argue. You reach out, and your fingers smooth across his forehead. “Right there!”

Joel’s mouth drops open in surprise and he lets out a bark of laughter, bringing his fingers up to his forehead. When he pulls his hand away, they’re stained blue and you’re grinning at him like a mad woman.

“Yeah? Well, you got some right—“ He smears his paintbrush across your chest and you try to step back, but it’s too late. “—there,” he finishes.

You rush back to the paint tray and dip your hands in the liquid, brandishing your palms like weapons. He starts to advance on you, smirking as you back up.

“Stay back,” you command. Joel laughs, dodging your swinging arms as he charges, dropping low to press a shoulder into your belly, dragging you down to the ground in a heap of limbs.

He presses his body to yours as he reaches an arm out to the paint tray, covering his own hand in paint. Your eyes go wide and you squirm beneath him, your paint covered palms reaching up under his shirt to press the cold liquid to his ribs. He flinches away, giving you enough room to scramble out from under him.

Joel grabs your arm, paint smearing on your skin as he tugs you back down. You wrestle together, paint getting everywhere as he lets you straddle his waist. His hands grip your hips, fingers pressing tightly as he stares up into your face.

“You win,” he murmurs, voice low. Your lashes flutter, hips canting over the obvious bulge in his jeans. He groans, hands urging you to do it again.

“What’s my prize?”

Joel slips his fingers beneath the hem of your tank top, dragging the paint stained material up and over your head and tossing it aside. His gaze burns across your newly exposed skin.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He says, a hand sliding up your belly to palm one of your breasts. Your head drops back as you moan.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply. He chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as his eyes grow darker, his gaze more heated. “Come on, Miller. What’s my prize?”

With a growl Joel sits up, wrapping an arm around your low back and twisting your bodies until you’re on your back, staring up at him as his lips stretch in a devious smirk. His fingers curl into the waistband of your leggings, sliding the fabric down your legs. His touch paints your skin blue as he does.

His hands press your thighs apart, opening you up. Your cheeks heat as he stares down at you like he’s trying to commit every curve of you to his memory. Finally, he leans in and you can feel his breath ghosting over your heated flesh.

Joel’s tongue traces through your slick folds, a broad stroke that has you gasping and arching your back. He hums against your sensitive flesh as he repeats the languid motion, his stubble catching on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

You reach your hands down to tangle in his hair, paint catching on the strands as you tug and pull. He groans against you, tongue moving faster as he circles your clit before pulling it between his lips. A hand leaves your thigh, the one not coated in paint, and two thick fingers press to your entrance, sliding inside of you as you gasp out Joel’s name.

“Christ,” he groans as he presses in deep before withdrawing slowly, curling his digits against your front wall, “you’re so fuckin’ wet, pretty girl. That for me?”

“Uh huh,” you reply, breathless as you work your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. Joel watches you, his lips and chin shiny from his efforts. “Joel, please!”

“Please what?” His hand moves faster, fingers pressing harder as his lips spread in a lascivious grin that makes your toes curl. “Come on, baby, ask me real nice and I’ll give you anythin’. Ain’t that right? You know damn well you’ve had me wrapped around your sassy little finger since the moment we met, don’t you?”

You whine, nodding your head quickly. “Knew you were a glutton for punishment.”

“Could say that again,” he says, chuckling as he lands a smash to the outside of your thigh with his free hand. “Now, come on, baby. Follow directions. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna cum, Joel. Please!”

“Good girl,” he growls, lowering his lips to your pussy to lick at your clit. He hums as he lavishes the sensitive bud with attention and it’s the final push you need over the razor's edge you’d been teetering on since he started. You press your thighs against his head as your nerves light up and your muscles go tight with pleasure, his movements slowing as he works you through your release.

Your muscles go limp, head dropping back to the floor with a thunk. Joel sits up, crawling up your body and trailing kisses across your tummy and chest in the patches of skin not covered by paint. He grips your chin, holding you steady as his lips press to yours in a kiss so deep you worry you’re at risk of drowning.

Your hands fumble with his belt, pulling the leather free of the loops in a frenzy. He stands quickly, freeing himself of his jeans and boxers in one motion before reaching behind his head to tug his shirt off while you admire his labor-toned body.

Joel drops to his knees, pressing his hips to yours and dragging the thick head of his cock through your sensitive pussy, bumping your clit and making you both groan in tandem. His forearms rest on the floor beside your head as he teases you like this, slow drags of his length through your wetness, the tantalizing catch of him at your aching hole. You tilt your hips slightly, hoping he gets the hint, and he chuckles.

“You know the drill, baby,” he says, breathless with his own desire. “Just say the word.”

“Fuck me, Joel, please.”

His cock slips inside of you with little resistance, the stretch of him making you gasp. His eyes remain fixed to yours as he bottoms out and you smile up at him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

Joel gives a small, experimental thrust that makes your eyes roll back with pleasure. He does it again, a sharper snap of his hips making you cry out and dig your nails into his shoulder. He builds his own rhythm, one that has your hips chasing his on every pull from your body, one that has you chanting his name and staring up at him like he’s a god and you’re simply a sacrifice on his altar.

He sits back on his heels, the angle changing as your hips get lifted onto his lap. His hands wrap around your waist, fingertips pressing tightly to your ribs as he uses your body for his pleasure, pounding into you roughly.

“Cum for me again,” he demands, bringing a thumb to your clit in quick circles. “Come on, sweetheart, want you to cum on my cock. Was so pretty on my fingers.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at the near overstimulation but you nod, wanting to give this man whatever he wants if it means he’ll keep touching you, holding you, looking at you.

You cum again with a shout of his name and he groans, deep and visceral as he presses in deep, holding your hips to his as his cock pulses inside of you with his release.

Joel slowly lowers your hips to the ground, withdrawing from your body as he does. He flops gracelessly to the floor beside you, sweat damp chest heaving with exertion. His head turns to yours, grin wide and eyes bright.

“You’re covered in paint,” he comments, reaching out to run his hand across a streak on your collarbone.

“So are you,” you reply, mimicking the gesture against his ribs.

“What do you say to a shower?”

You smirk at him before jumping up and racing to the doorway.

“I’d say last one there doesn’t get the hot water!”

You can hear his curse as you rush up the stairs, making it halfway before a strong arm wraps around you and stops you in your tracks, your laughter echoing through the house.

June 27, 1993

The neighborhood has changed so vastly. Much of the older homes have been torn down and replaced with less handsome architecture. The residents grow younger while I continue to age. Just last week a handsome young man and his darling daughter moved in down the street. He looks exhausted. I remember those days.

Not all the neighbors are lovely. Harold next door has an annoying dog that barks at all hours. He prances her around like a show pony, when she’s just a yappy little creature.

-R

ONE YEAR LATER

The house is finally finished. All the tile has been laid, everything has been painted, appliances delivered, holes repaired, fixtures installed, and wallpaper glued. You go downstairs for coffee in the morning, you take it to the parlor room you’ve made into a study. Floor to ceiling bookshelves display every journal you’d unearthed from the hiding place in the attic, each one read through cover to cover.

When you finally told your mom about what you’d been up to, her surprise and hurt could be felt even through the phone. You mailed one of her mother’s journals to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said the next time you spoke. “So much time had passed and I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken.”

You don’t begrudge her decisions. Your grandma left you her story, and through that you’ve been able to know her.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs precede Joel’s appearance in the study, his hair messy from sleep and his eyes half shut. He drops beside you on the couch, grabbing your coffee from your hands and taking a sip of it.

“Is it everything you’ve always wanted?” You ask him, tilting your head to his shoulder. You still remember the way he’d been desperate to buy the house from you and you laugh at how the world works, given that he now wakes up in bed beside you and is tasked with the lawn maintenance every weekend. He presses a kiss to your head.

“It’s even better.”

June 29, 1993

I don’t think the dog will be bothering the neighborhood again anytime soon.

Turns out he doesn’t hold as much pride for the dog when she’s been dyed lime green.

Imagine that.

-R

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #tlou fic #taylor swift folklore #folklore anthology #joel miller folklore

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agi-ppangx · 7 months

Text

💭the moon witnesses us

han jisung x fem!reader

an: fluff with han requested by my lovely 🐺 anonnie<3 i tried to make it as soft as i could so i hope you'll like it hehe~

“you look cute when you’re tired,” you blurted out, looking fondly at jisung. he scoffed at that, but because of the vague light coming from the streetlamp near you you didn’t notice the blush creeping into his face. you two had been dating for a little over a month and as a late bloomer everything going around being a couple made you nervous - kissing him? your face was red as a tomato; cuddling under one blanket? why was it suddenly so hot in the room? let’s just say that dating wasn’t your strong point.

but you wanted to try, because jisung was a special person to you - he was kind and respectful and he made you laugh a lot. he understood your struggles and made you feel safe and loved, so you wanted to reciprocate those feelings towards him.

“‘m not tired, i’m just resting my eyelids,” he mumbled and you giggled at that, because in fact, he sounded pretty exhausted to you. you silently brought your hand and lingered it just above jisung’s head which was resting on your lap. you hesitated - would it be too much at this state of your relationship? he probably wouldn’t mind anyway, but still you were overthinking everything you did. you simply didn’t want to make him upset or overstep his boundaries, but at the same time you knew you couldn’t be scared for the rest of your life. so you gently placed your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair and it seemed as if he literally melted under your touch. “god, this feels nice,” he whispered, not opening his eyes. you exhaled loudly, happy that your action didn’t startle him nor made him upset. “yeah, does it feel good?” you teased a bit and he let out a faint “mhm”, getting lost in the feeling. “i can’t believe you’re mine,” he then whispered and it made you stop in your tracks. you didn’t know how to respond, getting shy all of a sudden. he finally opened his eyes and looked at you, smiling slightly. he got up and positioned himself so he was facing you, but you dropped your head, too shy to make eye contact with him. “you look cute when you’re embarrassed,” he paraphrased your words and you whined, hiding your face in the palms of your hands. he gently took your arms into his and removed them from your face, so he could see you completely. “hey, please look at me.” you shook your head, giggling. “stop teasing me, i’m trying to be romantic here!” he laughed and you finally looked up at him. the moonlight was reflected in the river behind him, illuminating his figure and making him look ethereal. he leaned over and placed a featherlike peck on your lips, but you decided to go a step further and deepened the kiss, surprising jisung. he didn’t mind, wrapping his arms around you, like a blanket that was supposed to protect you from the world. after a while of making out, he broke the kiss, but didn’t move his face out of yours, your foreheads touching. “i like you, my girlfriend,” he said, pecking your nose. “i like you too, my boyfriend,” you replied, kissing him on the lips once again. and that night only the moon was a witness of your soft make out session by the han river.

taglist: @lynlyndoll @iyenbread @flooo71 @skz-streamer @inniescandy-01

let me know if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist🩶

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

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navybrat817 · 1 year

Note

Sooooo let’s talk about this NSFW prompt: I want to see those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock. 💋🤤

Love this. And I imagine it's the same Bucky and reader we see in this little thot.

Insatiable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You and Bucky can't get enough of each other. Word Count: Almost 1.4k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (m. receiving, talk of f. receiving), implied vaginal sex (wrap it before you tap it), talk of anal, possessive behavior, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: A little something for Sinday. Hope you lovelies like it! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Header by yours truly. Banner and divider by the lovely @sgt-seabass. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky often felt pented up after a mission. For the longest time, a mission being completed ended with him being wiped or put back on ice. Now when he completed a job, he got to go home. It was something he was still getting used to.

Thankfully, he had you waiting for him.

The perfect person to help him work through whatever he couldn't leave on the battlefield.

I’ll always make it home to you.

“Bucky,” you sighed when he walked through the door. You must have been waiting for him, which he appreciated. “You okay? You're not hurt?”

It was always the same question. If he was okay and if he was hurt. If he was anything other than okay, you gave him a thorough once over to help however you could.

“I’m okay,” he promised.

You surprised him by shoving him against the door and pressing your lips against his the moment he got to your place. He happily allowed you to kiss him before he turned the tables and turned your bodies so your back met the door, swallowing down your whimper as he began to grind against you. He was gone a day later than he expected and you must have been just as pent up.

He would take care of that.

"I missed you," you gasped as his lips moved down to your neck.

"Missed you, too. Missed you so fucking much," he whispered, gripping your hips possessively as the gentle kisses turned into small bites. He wanted to leave his mark on you, let everyone know just who you belonged to. "Gonna fuck you all night long. You'll keep my cock nice and wet while I keep you full, won't you?"

“Please,” you whined, reaching up to thread your fingers through his hair. You yanked hard enough for him to moan. Unlike the pain he received before, you only inflicted pleasure. He loved you for it. “Fuck me.”

With fucking pleasure.

“Oh, I will. But you need to do something for me first.”

"Don't you dare tease me."

Love it when you’re feisty.

"Or what?" he asked, moving his lips up and pressing them beneath your ear. "Is that why you shoved me against the door? Thought you'd be in charge and do what you want with me and my cock?"

"Bucky," you whined as he smirked against your skin. "Don't be an ass."

"So impatient. Speaking of ass, I may just fuck yours tonight."

He stood up straight, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief as he took in your expression. You hadn't given him that yet and he wouldn't take it without your permission. He couldn't resist bringing it up though. If he could wash away the sins his hands brought with the salvation of your body, he'd be sure to use you thoroughly and completely to cleanse himself.

He'd give you the same with his body.

“Will you even fit?” you asked as he played with the hem of the shirt you were wearing. His shirt. “You might split me open.”

You know how to stroke my ego as well as my cock.

“I’ll fit,” he said, sliding his hand under the fabric. You trembled against the vibranium as he moved up to cup your breast. “I’m made for you.”

The rough gravel of his voice wasn’t enough to hide the emotion that seeped in. He wasn’t just insatiable for your body, but for you as a whole. Even when he worried he’d be too much or somewhat clingy, you never made him feel that way. You embraced his need and matched it with your own.

“You going soft on me, Bucky?” you asked with a tender smile.

“Do I feel soft?” he replied, making sure you felt the outline of his cock as he pressed you further into the door. The wet spot you left on the front of his pants made him twitch and he wondered why he wasn’t buried to the hilt.

“You know what I meant,” you whimpered as he pinched your nipple.

“Yeah, I do. And I’ll show how much I love you after I wreck you,” he promised.

Being able to take care of you when you fell apart was just one small way he could repay you for giving him a chance.

"I love you, too," you whispered.

Love you so much. Do you have any idea that you own my heart and soul?

“Wasn’t there something I needed to do for your first?” you asked, your breaths coming in short pants as the weight of your breast settled against his palm.

“Oh, yeah,” he smiled as he backed up to give you enough room. He had almost forgotten. “I want to see those pretty little lips wrapped around my cock.”

You dropped to your knees without another word or protest, grinning as you opened his pants. He tried to get himself cleaned up as best as he could before he showed up. You liked when he was considerate.

"Thought you wanted to fuck me all night long," you teased, your breath ghosting over him as you pulled his underwear down.

"I do, doll, so badly. Just need to fuck your throat first and then I'll eat your pussy 'til you cry. Then I'll fuck you."

“Promises, promises.”

He wasn't at all embarrassed by the sound he let out when you wrapped your hand around him. His own grip was too rough on himself at times, but yours was just right. The teasing flick of your tongue before you closed your mouth over the head had him growling, a warning that he was close to sliding as deep into your mouth as he could go.

You could take it.

"So pretty when you suck my cock," he praised as you hollowed out your cheeks. "Wish you could see how well you take me."

Probably won't let me record you and fuck your ass tonight. One thing at a time.

You moaned as you bobbed your head, your hand gripping the base to pump into time with your mouth. On your knees like this, taking his cock like you were born for it, he wondered how he got so lucky. Whatever the reason, he refused to give you up.

He bore the scars of what he was forced to do, but he also had a chance to be happy.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself,” he ordered when he sensed you slipping a hand between your thighs. “I’m the only one touching my pussy tonight.”

I’m the only one getting you off tonight.

You whimpered, but complied as you kept moving your head.

"Fuck, just like that," he groaned when your hand moved to his thigh, letting him slip to the back of your throat as he began to thrust. Your nose brushed his curls as tears filled your eyes. The sight almost made him come. He didn't care if he'd last much longer. He'd more than make up for it. “Almost there. So fucking gorgeous. Keep taking my cock.”

His hips bucked when you made a choking sound and he nearly stopped. He refused to hurt you to get himself off. The light slap you gave his thigh told him you were fine, gripping his ass with your other hand to keep him against your face. Between that and the sweet moan you let out when a tear fell was enough to make him lose control.

Bucky moaned your name as he spilled his load down your throat. He kept himself in long enough to finish before he pulled your head away, watching a string of saliva mixed with his release stick between himself and your bottom lip. The debauched look made him shoot another short stream onto your lips and chin.

Dirty. Beautiful. Mine.

He caught his breath as you did the same, bracing his hand against the door as he held himself up. Your tongue darted out to lick his cock again before you licked your lips. He dropped to his knees and gripped your face, pulling you in for a filthy kiss. Tasting himself didn't sit right with him because he hadn't made you come yet.

He had to fix that.

"Thank you," he whispered, putting a hand between your legs. "Now open up so I can have a taste."

I might just have to call these thots for Bucky and this reader "Addicted to Love". Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #addicted to love #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan

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plussizefantasia · 6 months

Text

Ancient Races

Flufftober Day 28: Witches

Emmett Cullen x witch!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

AN: I think I've said this a lot but this is one of my favorites that I've written for Flufftober. Emmett has got to be my favorite himbo and the fact that he's a vampire really only makes it better.

I'm still looking for more requests for when I come back if you have any ideas please let me know. Reblogs and Feedback are always appreciated. See y'all tomorrow.

divider credit @royallaesthetics

Magic has been running through your family’s veins for centuries. Generation after generation of bright young witches who had powers beyond the scope of the rest of humanity. You were taught by your mother, and she hers and so on and so on. When you were five, your father got a job as the deputy sheriff in the small town of Forks Washington. Your mother didn’t argue and so within the month, you were in a new house.

Thinking about it now, you were sure that there had to be some kind of destiny out there, a deity of fate that pulled the strings of existence. There had to be some magnificent tapestry where all the threads of life were woven together just so as to create a beautiful picture. There was no other explanation for how things seemed to work out.

You met Emmet on his first day back at Forks High, this would be his fourth time going to this high school but it had been close to fifty years since he last stepped through their doors. The building looked different but not by much. You were walking into the building, with your arms full of books, looking like the textbook definition of a nerd. Emmett had been walking backward, not really watching where he was going and talking to Edward and Jasper. The two of you had collided. Your books fell to the ground, but you were pulled into his large chest. And thus, the best friendship you had ever had began.

There was only one problem, you couldn’t tell him about anything about your magical abilities. At first, it wasn’t a very big deal you weren’t spending a whole lot of time together and he was easily persuaded into meeting on days when you didn’t have lessons with your mother. As the two of you got closer though, it became more and more difficult to hide.

When you turned 17, you started having a bit more difficulty controlling your magic. It tended to burst out of you when you were feeling strong emotions, especially anger. You didn’t have a huge temper but it was known to flare occasionally. You got good at lying. And every time you lied to Emmett your heart broke a little bit more.

It had gotten to the point where you no longer cared about the rules of secrecy or the laws that your kind was bound by. You just wanted him back, you wanted to be yourself with Emmett because if you were being completely honest with yourself, he was no longer just your best friend. You were in love with him, and the thought of losing him because you had to keep hiding things was heartbreaking.

You had no idea that Emmett was feeling the very same way. When he had bumped into you that fateful day three years ago, his eternal existence shifted. You became the center of his world. He craved being near you, having you in his sight, and hearing your heartbeat. Knowing that you were safe and happy became his only goal. He tried so hard to let you take the pace, holding himself back from fully unleashing his feelings on you. But deep down he knew that he wouldn’t be able to last forever. So here he was, begging Carlsie for advice on how to tell you. He didn’t want to enter into a relationship with you that was shadowed by secrets.

If he was going to have you, he would have you being himself, with everything out in the open.

“Carlisle, I’m telling you. She’s everything to me. I cannot move on without her in my life. She needs to know everything.”

“Son, I know that you think that but-”

“No. Carlisle, she's my mate I know it.”

“Okay. I believe you. If you’re going to tell her you’ll need to make sure that she stays calm. I know that you love her, but humans are unpredictable. We cannot risk getting exposed.”

“I know. She’ll take it well I know she will.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” Carlisle asked. Pulling his adopted son into his arms for a brief but strong hug. Emmett didn’t need any more convincing than that, he hopped in his car and immediately made his way over to your house.

You were upstairs in your room pacing a hole into your carpet trying to think of ways you could tell the boy you loved that you not only wanted to spend the rest of your life with him but that you were also a witch with emotionally charged powers who was going to live much longer than the average human. Your pacing was interrupted by several loud and fast knocks on your front door.

You raced down the staircase to see who was at the door and when it swung open you were met with the sight of an extremely flustered Emmett Cullen.

“Em, what are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” He asked instead of answering you.

“Of course,” you stepped aside and he pished past you, “What’s going on Em? You’re kind of freaking me out.”

“I have something really important to tell you and I need you to not panic.”

“Saying that is not going to make me not panic.” You deadpanned. “But I also have something important to tell you so maybe we can take turns?” You suggested. Grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the large couch that took up a majority of the floor in your living room.

“Take turns, yeah.” He muttered to himself. The two of you were sitting close, things touching and staring at each other. Waiting for the other one to make the first move.

“Okay, here goes nothing. I’m, I’m a witch.” Your eyes bounced between your lap where your hands were folded, Emmett’s face to gauge his reaction, and the clock on the wall to count the seconds of silence that ensued.

Finally, “Oh thank god.” Emmett breathed out.

“What?” You were buffering. What did he say?

“No, I. That makes sharing my things a whole lot easier.”

“I’m sorry, Emmett how does me telling you that I belong to an ancient race of magic-wielding women make whatever you have to share easier.”

“Because I’m trying to tell you that I’m also a part of an ancient race. Except my race is immortal creatures of the night that feast on human blood.”

You broke into a series of giggles.

“Go figures. The first boy I fall in love with and he’s a vampire.”

“You love me?”

You froze. You definitely did not mean to just blurt that out, let alone in the middle of a self-deprecating moment of sarcasm.

“Well, if we’re sharing…” You trailed off.

“I love you too.” Emmett’s smile was so wide you were actually convinced that his face would start to split in half. “Is it weird to say that I’m really relieved right now?” He asked

“Depends on why you’re relieved I think.”

“I was convinced that when I told you you’d never want to see me again. But now I know that isn’t going to happen and I’m just so happy.”

“I’m happy too, Em. I was so tired of keeping secrets from you. It hurt when I lied to you and I thought it was just because you were my best friend but it was so much more than that.”

“C’mere” Emmett grabbed you by the waist and hauled you onto his lap. “You were made for me. I’m never going to let you go.” He whispered into the small space between your faces. You pushed forward and gently placed your lips onto his. Pulling away way too soon for either of your liking. You moved your head to rest on his shoulder, your face pressed against his neck.

“We’ll have forever.”

“Forever sounds good to me.”

You laughed softly once more and pressed a kiss lightly to the skin of his neck. Forever sounded pretty good to you too.

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ravixen · 8 months

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hello! i just read you svt forgetting about date thread and its so good! Would like to request for the remaining members reactions if possible 🥹 thank you!!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

svt + forgetting your date (pt 3)

➔ reaction || requested

➔ warnings: none || 0.9k words ➔ notes: general, fluff ; yep! excited to get this series completed and out of the way. if you liked the reactions, please reblog :) for any new followers, please make sure to read my pinned post.

SEUNGCHEOL: he often jokes that money can solve the world's biggest problems, and for the most part, it's true...when the problem is jeonghan's desire for fancy items. but when the problem is him not showing up to a date that he planned? he doesn't think expensive gifts will placate you, especially when he wakes up to missed calls and text messages that quickly go from confused to annoyed. he's in the middle of typing an excuse when you call one more time, and he answers with a sheepish laugh of your name. "um, I can be on the way in like 10, 15 minutes? it doesn't take me long to get ready." he's already rolling out of bed and pulling clothes out of the closet, but you sigh into the phone and that stops him in his tracks. "we've already missed the train," you say, and with a start, he realizes just how late he is. "even if you somehow make it here within the hour and we catch the next one, the lines will probably be too long. wouldn't be worth it." oh, this sucks. he's the one who got you all excited about a first-come, first-serve festival a few hours away, and he didn't deliver. "let's get breakfast and come up with a new plan then. we can't go there, but we have all day to do whatever you want."

SOONYOUNG: his ambition, an attractive trait on its own, comes with the tendency to over-estimate his capabilities. for example: when he got drunk during lee youngji's show and immediately headed to practice after. at the time, you watched the video of his tipsy dancing with an amused smile. his work ethic was admirable...and kind of funny in a way. now? you don't think it's very funny at all. you tap your foot as you stare at your text thread, where two hours ago he said that work was wrapping up and that he had time to freshen up before coming to your date. well, he's late. right when you were about to text him for an update, he calls you. "hey!" there's a muffled crash and a mumbled swear before his voice is back. "I'm so, so sorry. the shoot ended, but they asked for a short interview and I thought we had time. and we did! but I think I fell asleep and forgot to set an alarm and—" he huffs, zipping something up. "I can make it there in twenty minutes!" you check the time, frowning. "with traffic, it's probably closer to half an hour. why don't we re-schedule, soonyoung? I'll just go home." "no, but you cleared your schedule for today! why don't we meet up somewhere halfway, hm? I want to see you at least."

WONWOO: he's a runner (he's a track star), and he uses those long legs to book it down the street, trying his best to ignore the judgmental glances of passing strangers. faintly, he can make out your figure in front of the restaurant, your phone in hand as you scroll. when he skids to a stop in front of you, you don't look impressed, but that's better than looking angry, he supposes. he doubles over with his hands on his knees, taking gasping breaths and spitting out excuses for his lateness. the only thing you say in return is, "they gave up our dinner reservation," which makes his heart sink because you made the reservation months ago. with how popular it is, he had to bring out the celebrity card, and even then, he barely got on the list. "do you want to try the place across the street?" he offers his hand and a weak smile that you only glance at. "and spend the entire time knowing that we could've been over here instead? no, thanks." you show him your screen. "let's go here." it's closer to the apartment, thus in the direction he just came from, but he'd take driving back over you giving him the cold shoulder all night.

JIHOON: "you stood me up," you say when he finally picks up the phone. and then you laugh and tell him that it's not a big deal—it's just a maplestory date, after all—but he hears the disappointment in your voice and he knows that it was more than simply meeting up in a silly video game. it was about making time for each other for the first time in forever, about being on call for as long as you can, about laughing as you watch him fall off the platform for the nth time in a row. it was about the fact that he made a promise and broke it for such a stupid reason. he looks at the time. "when are you planning to sleep?" he asks, already opening the game launcher and sliding on his headphones. "I don't have anything tomorrow. why?" he hums. "let's go farm those rare items you wanted." it must've been the right thing to say because you gasp, "really? it's going to be such a waste of time, though...are you sure?" of course he's sure. being with you, regardless of what you're doing, is rarely a waste of time. plus you were venting the other day about how no one wanted to help you farm. "load up. I'm waiting."

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toomanyfandomsimfanvergent · 1 year

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Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

This is what won the poll!

Summary: Tony finds out Peter has been sneaking in and out of your room.

Warnings/Tags: kissing, fluffy, fluff, minor angst, barely even angst, dad! tony x reader, Peter Parker x reader (romantically), established relationship,

Rating: PG-13

Peter snuggles into your chest. He took every opportunity he could to sneak up to your room. Anytime Tony would get suddenly busy, or need to do something solo, Peter snuck off.

This was what led to your current predicament. Not that you were complaining, you loved it when Peter had a second to spare.

Peter wouldn't have to sneak around...bjt your dad has a very strict 'no dating heros' policy. It made sense, he always used the amount of times he has missed dates with your mom or out her in danger as an excuse.

But, you didn't care. You couldn't help that you fell in love with Peter. And Peter couldn't help the fact that he fell in love with you. Or that he was spiderman. It just happened.

You ignore the thoughts of what would happen if your dad found out and focus on peters soft snores. He finally fell asleep.

You thread your fingers through his brown curls as he sleeps. He was adorable every day, but even cuter when he sleeps.

He lets out a quiet groan as he snuggles even deeper into your warmth. God, he was so fucking cute.

You close your eyes and allow sleep to overtake you. You could forget about your dad long enough to enjoy a nice nap with your lover.

----------------------------------------------------------

"What did I say?" Your dad lectures. You had been asleep for, maybe five minutes, and your dad walks in. That led to you and Peter being drug to his office.

Your dad grips the edge of his desk and groans. He was pissed. He had one rule, one simple rule, and you both broke it.

"I'm sorry," you say. Your dad rolls his eyes, he knows that's complete bullshit.

You weren't sorry that you were dating Peter. You were only sorry that you and Peter had gotten caught.

"Why? Why couldn't you listen to me. Just this once," your dad lectures. "This isn't going to end well," he points between you and Peter. And then he lingers on your hands that are clasped together.

"It wi-" Peter begins to say. He is promptly cut off by your dad.

"It wont. What happens when you miss your kids birthday party because Spider-Man is needed?" Tony asks "You know how many times I have let down Yn or pepper? All because of ironman," he reminds.

You think about all of the times something had happened and your dad had to leave. It hurt. You didn't even want to think about doing that to another person. Not knowing if their dad was going to come home alive.

"What's your solution?" Tony asks.

"I'm not going to be spiderman forever. I'll retire the suit before we have kids," Peter suggests.

"Not every superhero is like you dad. Not every one of them is going to never retire," you point out.

"You." Tony says, the words are stuck in his throat, ",have my blessing," he grumbles. He couldn't keep you to apart and he knew it. you had Stark blood, being stubborn was a second nature

You and Peter smile before thanking your dad.

You could be together.

--------------------------------------------------------

Do you guys want me to start doing polls for what to post next? Comment or send an ask with your answer.

My requests are open.

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed.

#peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader fluff #peter parker x reader angst #peter parker x y/n #mcu fandom #MCU fanfic

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

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So for the devil and the angle ;) I think there should be a time when reader is with/has been with, a guy and it was just awful and they mock her (and also make her feel better *ahem*!!)

I realise I'm not sure if they're physical or ghostly or in the mind!!

But thats the humble offering

A/N: sdfghjkl THE HUMBLE OFFERING! what am I, a norse god!?!? long may I reign (I know that's not what you say to gods, but you get the picture)

also, i lowkey wrote half of this first where it was afterwards and they were just going to town with her, but then I got this idea and it was too good not to start all over...

Word count: 584

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlist

“Oh my god, what was that?” Eddie mocked your faked moan, nearly bursting out a laugh as he watched you from on top of the desk on the opposite side of your friend’s room, “are you seriously trying to make this guy feel better? Make him think that what he’s doing is actually making you feel good? That’s actually kind of cute.”

Your shoulders tensed up at the forceful rhythm Jonathan kept his hips to, though none of his clumsy efforts would even be possible if you hadn’t stealthily sneaked a dollop of your own spit down to prepare yourself before he had begun. There were many things about your predicament that you were beginning to regret, however, your position, the regret of that snuck up on you like a thief in the night. You’d thought that being on your hands and knees, unable to look at your friend, would make it all easier and it did, for a time, but then you opened your eyes and saw them. Saw how they had moved and were now just sitting there, watching you.

“Seriously, you know that we can’t do anything about this, right?” Eddie went on as the novelty started to wear off for him, “that you are the only human we can touch. You trying to piss me off, to piss us off? Do you really want me to rip this thread that tethers me to you, just so that I can get my hands on this guy? Strangle him till I feel his last fucking breath? You wanna see me get jealous? Get angry? Because I can, just you wait, if you keep going like this, whoring yourself out, I promise you’ll regret it, I’ll make sure of that-”

“Eddie, that’s enough!” Steve finally snapped, having previously just gone completely silent, either averting his gaze entirely or flashing you the most heartbreaking of puppy dog eyes, “are you okay?” he asked sincerely, and after you offered him a discreet nod, he took a step forward and kneeled down on the floor right in front of you, “sweetheart, you don’t have to do this,” his pleading voice shook you to your very core, “you can stop, it’s not too late. This doesn’t have to be something you see till the end,” as he gently grasped your scrunched up expression in his hands, you saw the edges of his face quiver in despair, “please, I don’t want you to feel this way, I never want you to feel this way.”

“Dude, you know how stubborn she is, she’s not gonna back down, wouldn’t hurt her friend’s feelings like that,” Eddie growled, then gave up completely, “fuck, at least just give her a hand!”

Steve’s eyes washed over your lightly distressed expression, as he gently caressed the side of your cheek, “do you want that, honey? You want me to help you?” sounding painfully desperate in his powerlessness. It wasn’t something that you had to think about for long, because as the next of Jonathan’s unskilful manoeuvres jolted your whole body with painful stings, you felt your head nod in the angel’s grasp. “Alright, okay, just look at me, sweetheart,” he didn’t hesitate to let one of his hands slide down your body and stop between your tense thighs, just above where your friend’s cock was awkwardly hammering into you, “feel me, not him,” he planted a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose and leaned his forehead against yours, “just me… just us…”

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melit0n · 4 months

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EUCLID ANALYSIS.

Told you guys it was coming, didn't I? I apologise that this has taken a bit longer than expected, my mental health hit me like a bullet train, but I do hope it's sufficient.

Part one -> You're already here!

Part two -> Line by line analysis part 1

Part three -> Line by line analysis part 2

Part four -> Musical/intrumental notes

Part five -> The Night in Sleep Token

Part six -> Conclusion

Please note this is a general analysis. Although I do go into theories, both my own and others, this is just general thoughts. Also note when I speak of Vessel, I mean Vessel as a character, not the person, unless I specifically state so.

Tagline: @rilllvri @a-s-levynn @fivewholeminutes @euclidsvessel @tonguetyd @moonchild-in-blue @kkarmatic @branches-in-a-flood

+ Some people were worried about spam liking/reblogging the last time I did one of these big analysis posts, and I want to say please don't worry about that! I get happy when I see the same users pop up liking and reblogging my work, because it means you're interested in this enough to go through the whole thing. Feel completely free to add your own thoughts, correct any errors I've made etc. As per usual, my DMs are completely open to anybody wanting to discuss ST <3

Let's start off with the basics. ‘Euclid’ is the anglicised version of the Greek name Eukleídes (Εὐκλείδης), mainly known via the ancient Greek mathematician Euclid of Alexandria, who is seen as the ‘father of geometry’, and most famous for his work on symmetry. Its general definition is something or someone who is renowned and or glorious (A) and the lesser known definition is something that is a copy of the same (B) (taken from Euclid’s ideas on symmetry), which we’ll come back to in a bit.

However, there is another Euclid in history that we’ll be referencing; Euclid of Megara. This Euclid, similar to our mathematician, was an ancient Greek Socratic (having been a pupil of Socrates) philosopher. I’ll be taking part of a text out of his Wikipedia article since his ideas have been explained thoroughly there.

(we'll be coming back to him soon)

First off, this is an incredibly interesting choice of name for a song. Outside of someone's maths and philosophy class, this name doesn't exist to most, so the fact it's been chosen at all is intriguing.

Vessel has shown time and time again he enjoys sometimes elaborate references in his art, an example being chemistry and biology in TPWBYT (most notable would probably be ‘Telomeres’), so, I think it would be easy to say that, whether it be a reference to Euclid the Mathematician or Euclid the philosopher, that said reference is understood and intended by Vessel.

So, let's start with our mathematician, shall we?

What I find interesting about Euclid of Alexandria is that his life and existence outside of his work on geometry is almost completely unknown. There's almost nothing known of him, as a person, other than where he spent half of his career (Alexandria; Egypt, hence his title), where he may have studied (Platonic academy) and a general idea of when he lived (around 300BC). What is known about this insanely famous man who created the foundations of symmetry is incredibly barebones. People take Euclid at face value for his work, just like Vessel (both as an artist, and a character).

Further, we, as listeners, don't have much of an understanding of who Vessel is other than being a mouthpiece of a deity known as Sleep, someone once human now grasping at the threads of humanity and someone sharing some of his struggles in life (both with Sleep and unknown people). Like Euclid, he is barebones, we take him at face value; a vessel. He is both a mouthpiece for Sleep, a mouthpiece for his own emotions (obviously) and a mouthpiece for us. His experiences transcend being just his, due to his anonymity, therefore allowing us to connect and express our own experiences. It's music for the sake of music; expression.

Now, having talked through Euclid as a person, it's time to talk about Euclid and his symmetry. Symmetry in shapes is 'reflections, rotations, translations, and combinations of these basic operations. Under an isometric transformation, a geometric object is said to be symmetric if, after transformation, the object is indistinguishable from the object before the transformation- a copy of the same’. So, of course, this means shapes like squares, rectangles, parallelograms and circles. Circles are a representation of infinity, wholeness, unity and loops. What does Euclid do? Loop itself (starts and ends with B major, which also happens to be the same chord that TNDNBTG starts with), and loops the three albums together, musically and lyrically.

Now, onto Euclid of Megara.

Euclid was born in Megara, Athens and was a follower of Socrates (sneaking into Athens to hear him speak, and he was also present during his death). He is most known for his philosophy that good is the knowledge of simply being and that the opposite of good does not exist, aka evil. The Good is described to be a perfect, eternal, and changeless Form, existing outside space and time. A form of Heaven without a God.

This idea could be linked lore-wise with Sleep Token; Sleep could, in a way, be The Good literally. Bliss. Further, with the idea that there is no actual opposite of good, then how can anything be bad? How can Sleep, as a deity, have bad intentions if there is no actual evil?

So far, with these two notable figures in mind, we can perceive Euclid as one of two ways (and there are more ways to come). Euclid can be seen as quite literally being a form of symmetry; a parallel that Vessel lays his life on because it brings all of the produced albums, all of his stories, together. Or, we can think of Euclid as Vessel. This brings me to @euclidsvessel's post on their theory on Euclid; what if Euclid was Vessel’s name before he became a vessel?

The theory that Euclid could be Vessel’s old name is not only extremely insightful, but very plausible as well. They explained their points very well in their original post, and I don't want to repeat what they’ve already said, so I do implore you to go read that! It's not detrimental to needing to understand this post, but I highly recommend it. Despite this, I am here to both support their argument and bring my own comparison. Take a look at the cover art for Euclid:

Let me repeat the lesser-known definition of Euclid; a copy of the same. A clone. A replacement. Held in the right hand is the decapitated head of Vessel's old (2nd gen.) mask. Specifically, the one that covers his mouth; the version that relinquishes the most amount of humanity. The album art is a representation of change portrayed in a symbolically gory way. Beheading, depending on the era you’re working from, symbolises both vengeance as well as a form of purification. By cutting off the head, you remove any ‘unholy’ thoughts. It's also among one of the most horrific and humiliating ways of killing someone (since it was typically done publicly, and sometimes the heads were placed on spikes of battlements as a warning).

Furthermore, there's a theory that's popped up a couple of times, lore-wise, that Vessel is not the first person to be turned into a vessel of Sleep, and he certainly won't be the last. So, considering the literal album art illustrates a replacement of Vessel, I’d say that theory is pretty much confirmed. In conclusion, the album art can either be interpreted as how Vessel will eventually be discarded and replaced by another vessel, or how Vessel himself will change, for better or for worse; clawing out of his own skin to become “someone new”.

So, to compare the idea of Euclid being Vessel’s old name, and to create the third perception of what or rather, who, Euclid is, what if Euclid will be the eventual replacement for Vessel?

#I would like to mention that the idea of a 'Euclid class object's floated around Reddit theories for Euclid as well #said objects are 'anomalies that are either insufficiently understood or inherently unpredictable'#I didn't include this because it's from SCP and I thought it highly unlikely that it could be a refrence to that #but then again; a lot of the lyrics refrence hardware and un-understandable things so I thought I'd say something about it #masaive thank you to Nine for spurring me on to continue writing this and eventually post it with their theory post #just a very big thank you to everybody on ST Tumblr who post any analysis bits because you all inspire me #with that said #I hope these will be interesting for you all <3 #sleep token #st #mel's rambles #euclid #euclid sleep token #sleep token analysis #vessel #vessel sleep token #tmbte #sleep token tmbte #hiding in here that I felt a bit like Hamilton writing these #'John Jay got sick after writing five...James Madison wrote twenty nine...Hamilton wrote the oTHER FIFTY ONE'#apologies to anybody who reads that lmao

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