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mageofmadness · 4 months ago

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CALEB + MC X ONLYFANS PT. 1

(1.2k)‧.ᵎᵎ 📷 ༘ ⋆｡ nsfw [18+] includes: fem!reader. jealous!caleb. sex work, dildos, and explicit sexual content. jerking off caleb will get pervier trust continuation of my other post ! i'd suggest reading that first c:

caleb, of course, says yes.

he could be six feet under the ground, and anything you ask of him, he’ll find a way to make it happen, let alone something like this. what is he meant to do…say no? is he supposed to let you go find someone else to help you? you had given him plenty of outs, saying it might be awkward (to which he vehemently assured you it would not be) or it might be too much or uncomfortable because you’re still a virgin (to which caleb had thought: what the fuck, oh my god).

absolutely not. the thought of someone else having you made his blood boil hot for a whole different reason. you came to him, and him alone, so after you lose a bit of steam, probably taking in caleb’s wide eyes and lack of response as horror or something equally wrong, he very quickly, very loudly, very nonchalantly, says, “of course, pips. anything you need help with, i’m your guy.”

“i’m glad you came to me. we’ll figure it out together.”

later that night, caleb sighs as he sits down at his computer. he stares at the black screen before booting it up, listening to it whirr in the early morning hours. you’re fast asleep in the other room, and his bedroom door is locked. lights off. he’s an expert in all things you, but it still takes him a minute to hunt you down online. scrubbing at his eyes as he reminds himself that this is strictly work. something like that. he wants to help in the best way possible, so he needs to know what they’re working with. caleb’s a hot blooded male, he’s seen a lot of porn in his life.

he crowds closer to the screen as he makes an account, eyes scanning over sex being sold by the dozen. for how often he catches your eye and thinks about fucking you, he’s going into this blind. he’s never crossed that line and has kept it very close to his chest. the front page and what he sees before him is all just bodies. it doesn't do it for him, never really has. it’s legs and cheek and ass but the moment he finds your account amongst lists of others, all beginners luck, caleb closes his eyes.

“appledumpling324.” he curses. “well, that’s fucking cute.”

how you got away with all of this under his nose is an entirely different conversation that needs to be had.

your page finally loads, and he immediately minimizes the the browser. he almost knocks over his pen holder, cursing as he lowers his screen. caleb sits back in his desk chair, closes his computer completely, and actually, doesn’t say a thing. he scrubs two firm hands over his eyes.

by god.

he’s doing this to help. it means nothing more. it’s him or someone else. you don’t need him to shoot a load off the first time he sees the back of your thighs and what your ass looks like in whatever they’re calling underwear nowadays. a very modest black, they’re simple but hug your hips perfectly and that’s where caleb would grab first.

“fuck this.”

it shows you were online not four hours ago. caleb reads the amount of followers you have, quickly calculating, and his eye twitches. you’re popular. he’s going to have a fucking stroke. he’s a fucking idiot. what the fuck is going on and what is he doing?

it takes a strong man, of which caleb is, to look at what is before him objectively.

yes, he can see it’s all solo content. yes, he can see where others would really like something more. caleb also sees about nine million other guys very politely, he notes, begging for the chance to fuck you. showering you in vain compliments and he wants to laugh because what about your heart? and all that nonsense. these people don’t know you, they could never know you an ounce of the way caleb does, but jealousy is still simmering at he punches at his keyboard. scrolling. getting a beautiful view of your lace covered cunt one second and then you on your knees, camera pointed chin down as you deep throat a baby pink dildo, the next.

the first video he clicks on seems innocent enough, yet caleb’s made the rookie mistake of venturing onto a porn site without checking his volume first.

to his horror, your voice comes through first. the camera work a bit shaky, your face is never shown, he notes with something like approval and pride, but by the time he gets his headphones on and steadies his beating heart, he can only hear the sweetest whimpers. soft, pleasurable moans he’s be able to recognize anywhere. caleb might as well be drooling on his shirt, unable to believe what he’s seeing by the way of you spread out in your bed, the one he shares with you all of the time, face hidden but legs open and that underwear.

caleb’s folded that particular pair of underwear a thousand times and now he’s watching you slip them off as you position yourself over that same baby blue dildo of which he has never seen in this home.

caleb’s favorite color is blue. his cock twitches in his sweatpants. he’s not an idiot, he’s just madly in love with you and has never found a convenient time to let you know.

a sharp intake of breath makes his eyes focus again, and he clicks out of the video right before your cunt swallows the fake cock whole.

caleb scrolls to the next video and then the next. they’re all amateur, very low quality in the sense that they’re personal. they’ve got an air of innocence to them that belies the you that caleb sees every day and he cannot even deny that while his hand is still outside of his sweats, he’s been palming his cock this entire time.

in the end, caleb doesn’t even remember why he’s been scrolling through video after video. he’s lost the original plot, the reason he’s found himself in this situation in the first place, and he’s telling himself this is fine because he’s helping and hasn’t busted all over his fist yet. he’s resisted the urge to go wake you up and ask for answers, to figure out why he feels such a sense of…deceit. betrayal. he doesn’t know but caleb gives up. he finally slips a hand into his sweatpants and hisses as he pulls his cock free. gasping at his own touch, his fist is quick. fast. he’s not going to last because the same video has been playing on repeat for god knows how long.

you in the shower. the shower caleb had been in not hours ago.

with caleb’s body wash in the background, the video is his favorite, he already knows. the way your hands run under the water, caleb knows he could make you feel so much better. he could just do so much, if only you’d let him and this must be cruel punishment. recompense for a past life.

he’s not sure, but caleb comes over his fist with jerky hips. “f–fucking…ah, hah. fuck. sweetheart.” his voice is strained, and he bites down on his sleeve too late, whimpering as his mind drifts to you asleep only a room away.

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ 110.79.140 166.63.63

#my wrxting 💿 ོ⁩`.#love and deepspace caleb #caleb x reader #lads caleb #caleb x mc #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads #caleb smut #lads smut #lads x mc #love and deep space #lads mc

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mostlyghoestly · 2 months ago

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Hey, I saw you were asking for ideas for a Motorheads fic. Maybe an enemies to lovers with Ray or something like that would be great. I hope you consider it 🙏

Burnout | Ray Young

Requested by: Anonymous

The garage reeked of gasoline, burnt rubber, and testosterone-soaked ego — in other words, it was exactly the kind of place you hated. Or, more specifically, it was exactly the kind of place Ray haunted like a smug, leather-clad ghost.

“Didn’t think you had the guts to show up after last week,” Ray drawled, leaning against his cherry-red ‘69 Chevelle like he owned the pavement it sat on. His hair was damp from the humid night air, curling against his temple, those grey-green eyes carrying that same infuriating glint they always did when he spotted you.

You scowled, shouldering your helmet bag and refusing to give him the satisfaction of a flinch. “Didn’t realize you were the one handing out permission slips now, Ray.”

The smirk that tugged at his lips made their stomach flip — and not in a way they’d ever admit out loud. Ray always looked like he was seconds away from saying something that would make you wanna slap him or kiss him, and you had spent too long pretending neither option crossed their mind. “You’re gonna eat asphalt tonight,” he promised, tapping the side of his car as he passed by. “Hope you brought something faster than that sad excuse for a Charger.”

Your fingers tightened around the strap of their bag. Ray had been a thorn in their side since they rolled into town six months ago, gunning for a spot in the underground street racing scene. From the first night — when your Charger had smoked him by a hair and he’d followed it up with a half-smile and a comment about beginner’s luck — they’d been locked in a relentless back and forth.

“You talk a big game for someone who’s lost to me twice,” You shot back.

“That was charity.”

“And this is me not giving a damn.” You shouldered past him, catching the faint scent of his cologne — something sharp, woodsy, and unfairly good. It lingered too long, like it always did.

The lineup for the night’s race was scrawled across the whiteboard by the cashier’s booth, and Y/N felt a satisfied jolt when they saw it.

Final heat: Ray vs. Y/N.

Of course. A low whistle sounded behind you. “Guess it’s our lucky night.”

“Your luck’s about to run out,” You muttered.

The first couple heats flew by in a blur of noise and color — a growl of engines, the acrid bite of tire smoke curling into the humid night. The crowd was thick, rowdy, and drunk on adrenaline and cheap beer. You hung back, watching, focusing, cataloging every curve of the asphalt and the shine of oil spots in the lamplight. It wasn’t just about speed out here. It was about knowing when to push, when to hold, and when to gamble everything on one sharp turn.

Ray, of course, treated every race like a game of chicken. The man was reckless in a way you could never decide if you loathed or secretly admired.

By the time their turn came, the crowd was buzzing, wordless tension stretching like a rubber band. Ray met you by the starting line, helmet tucked under one arm. His eyes lingered a little too long, gaze dropping from your face to your racing suit, then back up, like he was trying to memorize the way the dim garage lights hit your face.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked, voice low, almost sincere.

You arched a brow. “Getting cold feet, asshole?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a second, the bravado cracked. There was something raw in his expression, something that made your pulse stutter.

“Never,” he murmured.

The starter raised his arm. Engines revved — a throaty chorus of defiance. The world narrowed to the strip ahead, the pulse in your ears, and the buzz in your chest that had nothing to do with the race and everything to do with the man at your side.

Then the flag dropped.

The Charger shot forward, tires shrieking as it gripped the asphalt. Your fingers clenched the wheel, every nerve ending alight. Ray’s Chevelle stayed neck and neck, the two cars weaving dangerously close. The crowd blurred to nothing, the night air a hot, sticky pressure against their skin. You took the first turn hard, drifting close enough to graze a cone. Ray was right there, matching them, reckless bastard, his car hugging the curve like it had a death wish.

“Come on,” You whispered to no one. Straightaway. Half a second ahead. Then the Chevelle surged forward, nosing ahead by a fender. You cursed under your breath, jaw clenched. You gunned it, engine roaring, adrenaline spiking as you caught him again, side by side, metal nearly kissing metal.

For a wild, unhinged moment, your eyes met through your side windows — Ray’s mouth open in a shout, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, and that goddamn spark in his eyes like this was the only thing in the world worth living for.

Your stomach flipped. You pushed it, sliding into the final curve harder than they should’ve. The Charger fishtailed, barely correcting in time. Ray took the inside, cutting dangerously close — and for a split second, you swore you saw his gaze flick over, not with smugness, but with something sharp and worried.

Then the finish line. A blur of light, color, roaring sound. You didn’t even wait for the flag to drop. You knew. Ray had won. By a fraction. Afterward, the crowd swarmed them, cheering and jeering, someone shoving a drink into Ray’s hand. You stayed back, pulse still racing, trying to swallow the bitter taste of second place.

Ray found them anyway. “Hell of a run,” he said, coming up beside them, damp hair curling at the ends, face flushed with exertion. He nudged your shoulder with his. “Couldn’t let you win again.”

“Yeah, well,” You muttered. “Was feeling generous.”

Ray huffed a laugh. “Right.” A beat of silence stretched between them, weirdly charged.

“You ever gonna stop hating me?” Ray asked, voice lower now, losing some of its cocky edge.

You snorted. “Depends. You ever gonna stop acting like an arrogant dick?” He grinned, but it was softer now, the kind of grin that made Y/N’s stomach knot in frustrating, complicated ways.

“Not a chance,” he said. Then, quieter, “But maybe I’ve been a dick because you drive me a little crazy.” You blinked, thrown off-balance.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” they muttered, but it came out weaker than intended. Ray took a slow step closer. “Too late for that.” There was heat in the air, and not just from the cars. The kind of heat born from too many close calls, too many nights spent circling each other like twin storms. A history of fights that were just excuses to get close, races that felt more like foreplay. You swallowed hard. “Are we still enemies?”

His grin turned wicked. “We can be. If you’re into that.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t move away. In fact, when Ray leaned in, something reckless in you tilted forward to meet him. The kiss was inevitable — messy, heated, teeth grazing, hands grabbing at racing suits and greasy shirts like they’d been dying to tear each other apart for months. The taste of adrenaline and cheap beer on Ray’s tongue, the scrape of his fingers against the back of your neck.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Ray pressed his forehead to yours. “Next race,” he murmured, “I’m still gonna beat you.”

“Over my dead body,” You shot back.

Ray grinned. “Deal.” And somehow, it felt less like enemies and more like the start of something dangerously good.

#motorheads #motorheads x reader #motorhead x reader #motorheads imagines #motorhead #curtis young x reader #ray young x reader #logan maddox x reader #zac torres x reader #caitlyn torres x reader

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fortunxa · 1 year ago

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Jinx with a drummer!reader

H E A D C A N O N S

╰┈➤ requested

Jinx x gn!reader

cw: mildly suggestive themes

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Jinx would absolutely think that playing the drums is easy at first.

She thought it was cool, but she wasn’t overly impressed.

That was until she heard you play.

Cue her raised eyebrows and curious smirk.

She tries it for herself just to make sure, but once she realizes that her playing doesn’t sound even remotely close to yours, that seals the deal.

This made her have a more analytical approach while watching you play. She wanted to understand the complexity of playing the drums.

She started noticing the rhythm and coordination, the timekeeping, the patterns and techniques, and it fascinated her.

She definitely appreciated your skill more after that.

Jinx would randomly come over, take a seat on the stool, and start hitting your drums as a way to relieve her tension.

She likes how the percussions drown out the voices, similar to her bombs.

So you let her, but a part of you would be worried about her damaging the set with how angry she could get.

She actually cracked your cymbal once and almost cried.

– “I didn’t mean to! I swear, I didn’t mean to!”

You had to comfort and reassure her that it happens sometimes, even to you.

She helped you repair it, of course, but she still gifted you a replacement for good measure.

After this, Jinx wanted you to teach her how to play. She said she was just itching to pick up a new skill, but she mostly wanted to learn how to properly care for your drum set so she could keep using it without the fear of damaging it.

She listens attentively while you show her the basics.

With her newfound understanding, she’s actually not half bad for a beginner. She picked up the rhythm quickly, and she already had natural coordination.

But this just inflated her ego.

– “Ha! Told you it was easy.”

She doesn’t mean what she says, she just loves to tease you.

You keep your worn-out drumsticks for her to snap in half when she gets upset.

The sight of you playing the drums turns her on.

The way you sit on your stool, looking so laid-back and confident. The way your arms tense ever so slightly as you play so effortlessly, lost in your own world.

It’s over if you start spinning your drumstick between your fingers.

Whenever she catches you lying on your stomach, she will pounce and start “drumming” on your backside.

You’ve become used to it after a while, so you just continue whatever you were doing and let her do her thing.

She will sometimes sit on your lap while you play, not caring if it distracts you. She just wants to be close.

Or she will straddle your lap and start kissing your neck, smirking to herself as she hears your playing falter while you get lost in the sensation.

– “Don’t mind me. Continue,” she’d murmur against your neck.

– “You’re such a tease.”

Jinx was slightly jealous when you told her about your small band. She wanted you all to herself, after all.

But, surprisingly, she didn’t try to pull you away from it either. She knew how much being able to express yourself through your music meant to you.

So, she settled on being there for you during your rehearsals.

She was, of course, analyzing the band’s dynamics, too, and taking notes of how the other members treat you.

Each glance, touch, and praise from them ignited her jealousy, but she remained collected, wanting to trust you.

But she’ll remind you, in more ways than one, that you’re hers after the rehearsal.

Jinx was the one to convince Silco to let your small band play at The Last Drop.

She wanted you to get some recognition, and she also wanted to show you off.

Silco protested at first, wanting only the best of the best to play at the bar, but her relentless arguments finally made him crack.

She obviously helped you transport your drum set and get set up.

The night of your first gig, you were nervous—and that’s putting it lightly. You didn’t want to disappoint the Eye of Zaun, after all.

But Jinx kept reassuring you, and when it was time for you to play, she was right there in the front row.

The patrons’ curious eyes had your heart thudding in your chest, but once you caught a glimpse of her soft and comforting gaze, nothing else mattered.

You let go of your inhibitions and started the show, quickly getting lost in your own world.

Seeing you let go of your fear and allowing yourself to enjoy the moment was beautiful to witness, and her eyes glimmered with pride as she tucked her lower lip between her teeth.

She didn’t care for the other band members. Her focus was solely on you. She knew that you were the one setting the tempo.

Her cheers could be heard over the hectic atmosphere of The Last Drop. The usually mysterious ‘loose cannon’ aggressively bobbing her head to the music was definitely a sight to see.

Once the gig was over, she ran up to you and kissed you passionately, unable to contain her excitement anymore.

Silco was impressed with how well you did and allowed you to continue playing from time to time.

Some things never change, and Jinx is always there to support you.

She also became your personal stylist, helping you put together outfits for each show.

– “You’re famous now, you have to look the part!”

You were definitely not famous—recognizable at best—but you appreciated her gesture.

She had Silco buy you a drum set to keep at The Last Drop so you didn’t have to worry about transporting your own each time.

He deducted it from your pay behind her back, but you didn’t have the heart to tell her.

She definitely marked your new drum set with her signature drawings.

She has a stash of drumsticks in her hideout in case you run out, and she’s so pleased with herself when it proves to be helpful.

She often asks you to play random sounds.

– “Oh! Oh! Play ‘ba dum tss’.”

And she laughs once you do as if it’s the funniest thing ever.

She gets her own private shows while she tinkers, and it always amazes you how she can maintain her focus while you play.

Whenever you mess up or get frustrated while learning a new song, Jinx is right there to comfort you.

She understands the pain of trial and error and what it’s like to not feel up to par, so she’s determined to chase those thoughts away from your mind.

– “You’re amazing, toots. Don’t ever doubt that. You’ll master it in no time, I know it.”

She would help you crack the pattern, and the both of you jump up and down in excitement once you finally learn it.

It’s safe to say that Jinx is your number one supporter.

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lottiematthewsdefender · 5 months ago

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Parent!Lottie teaching your daughter how to play the guitar

Warning ! None

Pairing ! Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

Your baby was grown now, well.. not grown but an age Lottie wished her baby girl wouldn’t reach to since she wanted her to be a baby forever, but now she’s six years old.

Lottie was on the couch watching some random movie that was on, when your daughter came up to her.

“Mama, can I learn how to play guitar?! Mom said you were really good at it!”

Lottie smiled at her daughter, "Of course you can, sweetheart. I'd love to teach you how to play the guitar." Lottie paused the movie and patted the spot next to her on the couch, "Come sit down here. Let's start with the basics."

Your daughter sat down next to her on the couch, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Now, the first thing you need to know about playing the guitar is how to hold it properly," Lottie began, teaching the correct position with her hands. "You want to hold it like this, with your left hand on the neck and your right hand on the fretboard."

Lottie's daughter tried to copy her mom’s hand positions, her small fingers trying to reach the strings. "It's a bit hard at first, but you'll get used to it soon."

Lottie saw that the guitar was too big for your daughter to handle properly. "Hmm, it looks like this guitar might be a bit big for you right now," Lottie said, thinking for a moment. "Let me go get my old guitar. It's much smaller, it'll be much more easier for you to hold and play."

Lottie got up from the couch and headed to her room to go get her old guitar, that she use to use when she was the same age as your daughter.

Lottie came back carrying a smaller guitar. "Here we go, sweetheart. This guitar should be the right size for you."

Your daughter's eyes widened with excitement as she took the guitar from her mom’s hand. "It's so small!" she exclaimed, her fingers dancing across the strings.

It was a colorful guitar, clearly meant for a kid whos a beginner. Lottie kept it because she didn’t want to sell it because of all the memories that were attached to it.

The old guitar that Lottie handed to her daughter was a vibrant shade of blue, with painted flowers and butterflies decorating it. "It was my first guitar," she said. "I learned how to play on this guitar.”

The daughter's eyes widened as she looked at the colorful guitar. "It's so pretty!" she exclaimed, her fingers tracing the painted design.

Lottie chuckled at her daughter's enthusiasm. "Now, let's start with some basic chords. Place your fingers here and here." Lottie took her daughter's hand and helped her form the first chord on the guitar. "This one is called a C chord. Watch how I do it first, and then you try it."

The daughter did her best to copy Lottie’s hand positions, small fingers trembling slightly as she tried to form the C chord. She picks at the string with a red pick Lottie gave her, but it sounded distorted. “Mama it doesn’t sound good..”

"That's okay, sweetheart," Lottie reassured her. "It takes practice to make it sound just right. Let's try it again, and I'll adjust your hand position as we go."

Soon you came home from work, and saw Lottie and your daughter on the couch together, and your daughter actually sounded better then when she started.

You leaned against the doorway, watching as Lottie guided your daughter through the basics of playing the guitar and learning a new song.

Your daughter then turned around after hearing the footsteps of you coming closer. “Mommy!” She excitedly spoke. “Mama taught me the guitar! Look look!”

She begun to play a simple song, her fingers dancing around the guitar, it sounded good for a little kid who just learned today. But then all of a sudden she stopped and looked down at the guitar to think. “I forgot the rest..” she said a bit disappointed.

“It’s okay baby, it sounded really good, you know your mother actually taught me that song too? But I completely sucked so I quit.” You said with a laughter as you settled in.

“That’s not true! You were just.. challenged..!” Lottie said, trying to make you feel better about how much you sucked the first time you learned how to play guitar.

It was clear your daughter got Lottie’s musical talent. She looked so much like Lottie, it was so cute, it was like having a miniature version of her.

"I’m going to start on dinner," you say, smiling as you listened to your daughter play random chords trying to see what sounds good.

Lottie nodded in agreement. "That sounds good. We'll keep playing some music while we wait."

You headed into the kitchen, leaving Lottie and your daughter to continue their guitar lesson while you focused on preparing dinner.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fandom #yellowjackets s3 #yellowjackets season 3 #yellowjackets showtime #yellowjackets spoiler #lottie yellowjackets #wlw yearning #lottie mathews x reader #adult lottie #adult lottie matthews #teen lottie #boyfriend lottie #lottie mathews #lottie matthews

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therandompagesblog · 7 months ago

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Hunting Your Soul Chapter 2 🫀Y/N🫀

Trigger Warnings: Stalking, Haunting, Elderly vulnerability

My Grandmother always said that things crept in the dark. She believed in creatures that preyed on the living and consumed our souls. A devoted supernaturalist, she embraced everything from out-of-body experiences to fanged predators of the night. Her beliefs fascinated me. Sure, vampires were entertaining in fantasy novels, but in reality, they were morally ambiguous killers with heightened emotions. Werewolves? Just humans cursed to become wolves that hunted the living. That was my take on it, anyway. Despite my scepticism, I was intrigued. I lived in a quaint town called Bude on the English coast. It boasted a lovely beach, frequented year-round, and a rich history steeped in the supernatural, thanks to its perpetually grey skies. Coincidence? Perhaps. Bude's eerie reputation inspired countless horror stories, much to the amusement of locals. The influx of tourists, especially around Halloween, boosted the economy. The downside? It took nearly two hours to drive to the nearest city, Exeter. That was where I was heading, intent on visiting a new library to find supernatural books for my grandmother.

The library loomed ahead, a stark white building with towering windows, a beacon of knowledge in the dimming light. Inside, the scent of old paper and forgotten dreams enveloped me. Shelves towered around me, groaning under the weight of countless volumes. My fingers brushed the spines as I searched for the elusive "Supernatural" section. I found myself chuckling at some of the titles: "The Vampire's Guide to Etiquette," "Werewolf Yoga for Beginners," and "Witches' Brew for Dummies." Absurd, yes, but strangely intriguing. The pages held a certain allure, a promise of the unknown, the forbidden. I imagined myself immersed in these fantastical worlds, battling vampires in moonlit graveyards, outwitting cunning witches, and experiencing the thrill of the hunt alongside a pack of werewolves. Of course, I knew the reality was far grimmer. Vampires were not romantic figures, but bloodthirsty predators. Werewolves were not noble creatures of the wild, but savage beasts driven by primal urges. But the allure of the unknown, the thrill of the forbidden, was undeniable. It was a dangerous fascination, a siren song that whispered promises of adventure and danger. As I finally unearthed a stack of dusty tomes, a strange sensation washed over me. A prickle of unease, a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. I glanced around, heart pounding. The library, once a haven of quiet contemplation, now seemed to hold a sinister energy. Shadows danced in the corners, whispering secrets in the language of the night. A low growl, guttural and menacing, echoed from the depths of the library. I froze, every sense on high alert. My breath hitched in my throat as I searched for the source of the sound. Nothing. Silence. Just the eerie creaking of the old building settling under the weight of the night. I realised then I should probably stop listening to my sweet grandmother. My mind was now playing mind tricks on me and I was now starting to believe in the eerie haunting horrors of the supernatural. I quickly packed up the books and scanned them out before heading back to my car. Walking back to my car. I could have sworn the air had changed. The calmness of the wind smelled different. It smelled heavy. I picked up my pace as I twisted and turned down the streets. Listening to the unusual sounds in the air. I could have sworn I heard something animalistic behind me. I could have sworn I heard its footsteps but maybe I was paranoid. It was the evening after all. Once I was in my car I drove straight to my grandmothers to drop off the books. Whatever was out there I wasn't going to stick around for it. I wasn't going to be killed out in Exeter. My poor grandmother wouldn't be able to get my body. She didn't drive. Bless her heart. She was old and could barely lift things. Partly because she was slightly too lazy but at her age I think it's acceptable. "Here you are Grandmother. I got you some new and obscure book." I called out as I headed into the living room to see Grandmother on a step ladder trying to fix a light. "Grandmother are you mad! What if you fell." Sometimes this woman surprised me when she wanted to. "Don't be foolish." She huffed "I wanted to read my book and the bulb blew. Can't always rely on you can I Duck." "Now now grandmother! You can always rely on me." I chided. She waved her hand and asked me to put the books down so she could see them. Satisfied enough she took them all to her room while I was left with the stories of Monica. A creepy story about Monica summoning a demon and having paranormal activity. It was a good read for now while it distracted me from what was outside.

🫀🫀

This was not how I imagined spending my Sunday morning up in the attic. Grandmother asked me to get some photos down as she decided she wanted to redecorate the entirety of the living room. She wanted photos from her trip to Venice on her walls rather than me and my siblings. It was cute but the attic wasn't. The attic was filled with cobwebs and spiders. I was ready to give up on finding these photos as crawled across the attic going through different boxes until I found the right one. Aha, there it is! I grabbed the dusty old box and dragged it towards me when I heard a knock on the door. I cursed myself as I realised I was the only one in the house as my grandmother had gone to meet her friend Avis for coffee. I slowly climbed down the steps with the box and tried to steady myself as I was about to hit the ground when a knock came from the door again. "One second," I called out with a huff. Slightly sweating from carrying a box. I headed down to the stairs to open the front door to see no one was there. I looked out and around but the street was quiet. Empty. "Weird," I mumbled. I was about to shut the door when I noticed a small box on the floor. My name was written across it beautifully. That was unusual to me. I didn't live here. I only visited every other day to help my grandmother out when my parents were working. I took the parcel inside and opened it to see a note: to enlighten your mind little petal. C I frowned at the note before looking into the box to see two books inside about vampires. One was Dracula and the other was on The Crimes of Vampires. I rolled my eyes and looked into the box again to see if there was anything else. Weird. So weird. I didn't know how to feel about all of this. I didn't know who the person was that sent me this or why. It felt creepy. Sinister. It could be harmless but in this world, you didn't know. All I knew was they would eventually show themselves when they were ready to.

18+ Taglist for those who are not turning back

@catlove83 @itsyourleilei @whatudowhennooneseesyou @leeknot @estella-novella @fackeraccount @eastjonowhere @cocofia143 @jennibahng @noerinspace @sleepingmissingprincess @ye0lkkot @hiitsmebbygrl16 @shhimhereforsmut @jaeminie-cricket @stayceebs97 @ritiiiiiii @chlodavids @beautystarry @hyunjinhoexxx @hash2013 @jeonginontopforever @catnipchannie

#stray kids #skz smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan railway #Straykids railway #bang chan vampire #Straykids vampire #straykids vampire au idea

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canadianfangirl-95 · 21 days ago

Text

A Daisy through Concrete

Modern AU no outbreak 36 y/o Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You’re elated when you finally have a house to lease with your two children after a grueling year in your parents guest bedroom, post-divorce. Excited for a new chapter to your story, you’re even more excited when the Adlers introduce you to their neighbour, Joel.

Series Warnings and Information: 18 + minors DNI, eventual smut, some rough sex, divorce, swearing, drinking, drug addiction, car-crash death, absentee mother/father, emergency c-section due to babies heart-rate falling discussed, if you can handle a show like How I met Your Mother or similar, you can handle this. You are responsible for the content you interact with.

Masterlist

Chapter 3- WC 5800+

Something Great

Joels words ring through your head again as you finish putting together the kids backpacks for school and daycare on Monday. Honestly, you can’t remember more than five minutes where you didn’t think about the way he looked at you, the way he talked to you, the way he called you Daisy. It felt so personal for someone who seemed so distant, and yet here he was. Making a map of your mind. Finding a place to call home between your trauma and your aspirations. A possibility. Exciting yes but also terrifying. You know you flirted, of course you did. How could you not with him? With his kind Southern charm and sweethearts. You can’t help but love the way he interacts with his kid and yours. It seems silly though. Is the attraction between you both out of boredom and pure geographical location? If you lived across the street rather than right next door, would he had even batted an eye in your direction? Or yours at him?

His truck is already gone by the time you are loading the kids into the van on this drizzly Spring morning. Your raincoat doing its best to cover your freshly cared for hair. “Come on Jay!” You lament as he pats along in his green dinosaur rain boots, splashing in every puddle he can find along the way.

After dropping Jay off at daycare and Mel at her before and after school program, you finally pull into your parking lot at work. Taking the same spot you always do, to go sit in the same chair that you always do. You think about how as a child, a seating plan or direction of anything like that felt like chains. It always seemed so agonizing to have to sit in one assigned spot, but now, if you were to have to park somewhere else, or sit somewhere else, well, it’d probably be the tipping point to throw you into a spiral. Life seemed so easy and simple, and now, you feel like you’re adrift on a small raft in the ocean. Bobbing up and down, just hoping, that the same parking spot will be available everyday, so you don’t have to make another choice. Hoping that just one thing would stay the same.

Pulling out the wheely chair at your desk, you plop your computer bag next to the framed photo of you and the kids. You know, the one you had to precariously cut your ex out of. Rubbing your temple with your left hand as you scroll through the collection of emails you received throughout the weekend. Your coffee slowly cooling on the desk beside you.

The sound of rolling wheels sounds behind you as someone clears their throat.

“So,” your friend Ashley begins behind you. You turn in your chair and nod at her to continue. “How was the dinner with the neighbourhood DILF?” She says sarcastically with a batting of her lashes.

You shake your head, “Never, ever should’ve let you look him up on Facebook.”

“No, you should not have.” She confirms with a wink.

Letting out a sigh, you turn to grab your coffee before returning your attention back to her. “It was very nice. He barbequed, it was simple, kids had fun.” You say nonchalantly.

She eyes you with suspicion, “That’s it? Just hot dogs and kids’ entertainment? Nothing else happened?”

Shrugging, you take a sip from your coffee, “Nothing else happened.” You confirm.

Ashley squints one more time before beginning to shuffle her chair backwards, “I’m watching you.” She says with a humorously devious tone, “And your little DILF too.”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle at her humor. She was definitely one of your biggest rocks through your divorce and she is desperate to get you back into the dating world.

Later that week, you’ve been able to wave and smile at Joel a few more times, and his smile seems to get brighter each and every time you see him. The sun has set, and the kids are safe asleep in their beds as you’re cleaning the ensuite washroom. Turning the tap to add water to your cleaning rag, but no water comes out. You hear a chugging noise coming from below the sink. Opening up the cupboards, you take a look at the plumping and curse. “Shit. Okay, ensuite sink, ensuite sink.” You chant to yourself as you try to remember the Adlers instructions. “When the ensuite sink acts up, I have to call…..” The thought suddenly comes to you, and you look through the door towards the bedroom window. “Joel.” You whisper. The thought of him in your space seems so intimate and sudden. You look in the mirror. Hair is normal, makeup is whatever, a hoodie and leggings. It’ll do. You quickly head downstairs to grab the list of phone numbers the Adlers left you. Finding Joels, you hold your breath as it begins to ring.

His deep voice comes through the receiver, “Miller Construction, Joel speaking.”

You stutter, “H-hi, um, Joel. It’s me, your neighbour.” You rub your forehead with the heel of your palm with embarrassment at your half-ass introduction.

His voice sounds surprised, “Oh hey, what’s up?”

“Um, I hope it’s not too late, but the ensuite sink is doing that thing that the Adlers were talking about. It’s not a matter of life or death anything and it can totally wait till tomorrow, or even the weekend, or next week-,” your rambling is cut by a soft chuckle on the other end of the line.

“I’ll be right there, Daisy. Just give me a couple minutes to grab my toolbox.”

“Okay, uh, thanks.” You hang up and wince at your nervousness, yet warmth blooms in your chest at his use of the nickname again.

Standing shyly by the door, you finally hear his knock. Opening it up, a little quicker than you’d prefer, you’re met with Joel Miller. Grey t-shirt, tan work pants, work boots and a heavy toolbox clutched between his fingers. His smile stretches as soon as you open the door. “Hey.” You say, leaning against the door like 2000s rom-com college girl talking to her crush from the lacrosse team.

“Hey, how’s your evening?” He asks politely, the sun wrinkles by his eyes showing as he smiles.

Shrugging, you reply. “Not so bad, this little mishap did interrupt my bathroom deep clean, so can’t complain too much.”

“Nope, can’t complain about that. I’ll take pretty much anything to get out of cleaning the bathroom.” He says before grunting as he passes the toolbox to his other hand.

You come to the realization that he is probably uncomfortable just standing there with that heavy toolbox in his hands. “Um, so right this way.” You say, standing aside and gesturing him to enter.

He nods and then passes you. The scent of his oaky cologne still clinging to him from his workday, or perhaps he reapplied after you called. You follow him up the stairs, his ass filling out the pants in a way that makes your eyes bulge and want to look away, yet you can’t quite bring yourself to.

When he gets to the door of your room, he stands to the side awkwardly with a tight-lipped smile to allow you to pass him and follows you through to the bathroom. Joel groans as he kneels down in front of the sink and places the toolbox onto the tile floor. It makes a thud sound as it hits the floor, he leans forward to begin inspecting the pipes.

“Yeah, same thing as always. Doesn’t take long for me to fix and I’ve done it so many times I’d say I’m a professional at it.” He says with a joking smile, his eyes gleaming as he looks up at you.

You fold your arms across your chest and lean against the counter. “So, this will be a regular occurrence then?”

He takes out a few tools from his box and begins to work on the plumping under the sink. The way he grunts when he turns the wrench makes you want to whimper, and seeing his biceps flex in his shirt sleeve dries your mouth. “Eh, it’s not so bad. But I could slot you in for a weekly check up if you’d like.” He says with a smirk.

You chuckle, “Yeah sure, I’ll throw it on the calendar. Thursday night, standing invitation for Joel to come clean my pipes.”

His eyebrows pop up in surprise and he grins, “Sure would make us the talk of the neighbourhood if anyone else were to see that calendar huh?”

“I’d say so.” You place your hands on the counter and gently shuffle yourself up to perch yourself on the edge, your feet dangling beneath you. “So, how was your week?”

As he works, he shrugs. “Not bad, got a big job done which is nice. We’re gonna take tomorrow off, give the guys a break considering all the long days we’ve had at that place.” He shifts to roll over and lay flat on his back, his head inside the cabinets. His arms reach up to begin working from the new angle and the hem of his shirt raises, revealing a soft but solid stomach with a slight treasure trail.

Your lashes flutter and you quickly look away before your body and mind betray you. “Oh, that’s nice of you.” You say hurriedly before looking back at his body. You can’t help but imagine what it’d feel like underneath you. How sturdy and solid he’d feel between your thighs; damn it’s been a long time since you had sex.

“How about you?”

“Um, it was fine. My job is pretty routine work, not a lot of surprises.” You say casually, a flat tone so as to not arouse suspicion of the incredibly horny state that you’re in.

Joel gives one last grunt as he pushes a wrench tight on a bolt and then his hands fall, “There, that should do it.” He scoots back to raise off the floor and slowly rises to his feet. Placing his tools back in the toolbox, he stands up straight and reaches for the faucet. Turning the handle to one side, a smirk stretches on his face as water begins to flow from it. “Ta-da.” He says with a wink, and you grin.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” You say with a bright smile, still sitting comfortably on the counter. “What do I owe you?”

He shrugs and shakes his head, “Have a glass of wine with me again and then we’ll be even.”

Making a fake shocked face, you slide off the counter and point at him. “You drive a hard bargain Miller, but I think I can make that happen.”

He grins as he grabs his toolbox, you follow him through the door and into the bedroom. You still and click your fingers together as you remember something you wanted to ask him. He hears the sound and stops, turning to face you, and your bed. “Before you go, I was wondering if Sarah would be interested in babysitting Mel for a summer job. I imagine she’s too young for somewhere like McDonalds, but I’d be happy to pay her to watch Mel while I’m at work. Her summer care from last year is all the way across town now that we’ve moved. It’s doable but adds about 30 minutes to my commute both ways now.”

Joel nods and smiles, “That would actually be great. She uh-,” his voice trails off as his eyes seem to un-focus from you and onto something behind you. You look at him confused as you see the way he takes a deep breath to regain himself. Finally looking back at you he nods again, “Yeah I’ll definitely talk to her for you.” He slowly begins to walk backwards and gestures towards the door. “I’ll uh, see myself out.”

“Joel.” You say confused, taken aback by his sudden retreat. “Is everything okay? Is that too much to ask of her? I’m sorry I didn’t realize-,”

“No, no, not too much. Just, like I was saying I can uh-,” and his eyes betray him as they dart past you again.

Your eyebrows pull together as you catch his eyeline and follow it. Turning your head, you say, “What are you-,” and then you see it. On the nightstand, clear as day. Your hot pink vibrator. It might as well have a sign on it that says “Hey look at me! She hasn’t gotten laid in over a year!” You didn’t even think about tidying up the bedroom before he came over, you were so nervous, you had run straight downstairs to collect his phone number. Your hands immediately fly up to cover your eyes and you groan, “Oh my God.”

“,-see myself out.” He finally finishes. “See ya later.” With that he quickly ushers himself out the door.

You stand in agony as you hear his boots hit the stairs hard as he makes his descent. Walking over to the nightstand, you grab the toy and toss it in the drawer, slamming it shut. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you hear the front door closing behind him. Rolling your eyes at your own stupidity, and any chance of ever having a normal relationship with Joel ever again, your body falls into your bed. Hoping that the blankets simply swallow you whole.

Joel didn’t sleep much last night. He tossed and turned, split between two faces of yours. The one he saw when you realized what happened and how embarrassed you were. That one made his eyes squeeze shut tighter to will the image away, and the other. The one he imagines you might make when you use the toy that he saw. He couldn’t sleep, being able to imagine the way your face may contort, the way your hands may grasp the blanket he saw laid on the bed.

As he stomps down the steps, his shoulders slump low from exhaustion, he enters the kitchen to find Sarah and Tommy seated at his table eating eggs and toast. He groans when he passes. “Don’t you have food at home?”

Tommy chuckles, “Don’t got anyone to make it there.” And he winks at his niece who simply shakes her head with a smirk before taking a bite of eggs.

Joel fills an owl mug with coffee and turns to lean against the counter. “Thought we weren’t goin’ out today.”

Nodding, Tommy says with a mouth full of toast. “We ain’t, I like my routine. So here I am.”

Shaking his head, Joel takes the plate of eggs and toast Sarah has placed in the oven to keep warm and then turns it off. Taking a seat at the table, he grunts as his knees crack, and he places his dish on the table.

Sarah and Tommy eye each other, given Joels gruff appearance and puffy eyes. “What’s got you so moody?” Tommy asks.

He lets out a huff of breath and says flatly, “Nothing. ‘M fine.”

With a careful tone, Sarah leans forward on the table. “Are you still okay with me sleeping over at Jessicas tonight? If you uh, want me to stay home I can.”

Joel looks up and sees his daughters’ hopeful eyes and checks himself. Shaking his head, he confirms. “No, no, you can still go sweetheart. Don’t worry about me, like I said, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

She nods and collects her plate and cup to place back in the kitchen. Coming back around, she places a kiss to her dad’s forehead and rubs his shoulder. “Okay, well I’ll be going there straight after school so her dad will drop me off in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.” He says, offering a polite smile. “Wait, uh her dad’s Ken, right?”

“Yep. Alright, well enjoy your day off. Whatever, two guys in their 50s do on a day off.” She says jokingly before grabbing her backpack and overnight bag to head out the door to school.

Joel and Tommy yell their goodbyes between bites of food. “50s she says.” Tommy snarks, shaking his head.

Leaning back in his chair to stretch, Joel groans. “Feels like it some days. Can’t believe I’m, 36 years old and my knees already crack when I move.”

Taking another look at Joel, Tommy nods at him. “So, what’s really got your knickers in a twist?”

Rolling his eyes, Joel laments. “Just tired, didn’t sleep well.”

“Okay, then what’s making you not sleep well?” He asks further and Joel gives him a look. Tommys tongue darts out to wet his lip, “Oh, who’s making you not sleep well?”

Letting out a deep breath from his nose, his hand settles on his hip, and he shrugs. Quietly, he confirms. “Neighbour.”

Tommy’s eyebrows pop up and down, “Oh, the pretty single mom Sarah was telling me about? Something uh, goin’ on between you two?”

Shaking his head, Joel takes another sip of coffee. “No, I don’t know.” Leaning back in his chair, he rubs his tired eyes. “The thing is, I do like ‘er. I would be,” he thinks for a second before remembering the words of his too wise for her age daughter. “open. Okay? To seeing if there’s something there. But, well something did happen and now it’s kind of awkward.” He says nervously.

Tommy looks at him curiously, “What’d ya try to kiss ‘er and she said no?”

“Nah, I don’t know if I should talk about it with you. I don’t wanna embarrass her.”

“Oh, come on, I won’t tell. Maybe I can help.” Tommy pleads.

Joel eyes his brother, but his shoulders slump down, and his guard falls as he figures it’s his only shot at figuring this out. “Fine, but don’t say a damn word and I ain’t telling you everything.” He says pointing a stern finger at his younger brother. Tommy nods and continues drinking his coffee. Letting out a huff of breath, he continues. “So, last night, she called me cuz the Adlers ensuite sink was doing that clogging thing again-,”

“Ou, did she ask you to come clean her pipes?” Tommy cuts in with a devious grin.

Joel looks at him frustrated, “Are ya gonna let me get through it or are you gonna be a little shit?”

Chuckling, Tommy nods. “Sorry, yeah yeah continue.”

“Okay.” He stills for a moment as a smile creeps up his face, remembering how surprised he was when you made the very same joke. “So, I go over, all’s fine, we chat while I work. She asks me what she owes me; I told her to just have another glass of wine with me like we did when she came over. Cuz, I don’t know, that night was really nice.” His mind drifts off to your conversation back in his backyard. “There was definitely some flirting. I know I’ve been out of the game for a while, but she was definitely flirting. So anyway, we go out to her bedroom to head out once I’m done and she stops me to ask about Sarah babysitting for the summer and then-,” Joel winces and rocks his head on his shoulders.

“And then what?” Tommy asks, curious.

Shaking his head, Joel says, “I don’t wanna say the whole thing, but let’s just say, I saw something that she left out, something private, that I shouldn’t had seen and I acted like an idiot and now she’s all embarrassed.” He rubs the back of his tan neck with his hand as he recalls the events of last night.

His eyes narrow, “What’d she leave some panties out or somethin’?”

“I’m not, I don’t wanna say alright? Just what should I do? I want her to know everything’s normal between us.” Joel continues, adamant to get back on track.

Tommy smirks, “Well, damn you really have been outta the game a long time. Shit brother, the answer is right in front of you.”

Joel looks at him confused, unclear on how he missed the truth all along.

His brother rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Idiot, I swear. The wine.” He says clearly. “You told her you wanted to have a glass of wine with her again. Bring over a bottle to sit and chat, show her everything’s normal. Just pick up where you left off.”

Joel clicks his tongue as he takes in his brother’s suggestion before grinning, “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.” He says with a chuckle.

Tommy matches his expression, “And because I’m so damn good at my job, right?”

“Right.” Joel says with a smirk as he brings his coffee up to his mouth.

Unfortunately for you, your blankets did not swallow you whole and instead you had to spend your workday dealing with the agonizing fact that Joel Miller saw your vibrator. Never mind the fact that you definitely thought about him while you used it the night before. His name slipping from your lips as you climaxed. Now, the kids are in bed, it’s finally the weekend, you are hoping to just melt into the couch and distract yourself from your utter embarrassment with a rewatch of one of your favourite rom coms. You’re half-way through a bowl of chips when there’s a sudden knock at the door. Pulling your eyebrows tight, you look at your phone to see the time. It’s not particularly late, but a little late for a visitor. Standing, you dust off the crumbs of chips from your lap and pull the bottom of your shirt down from it’s raised position at your waist. Your bare feet pat to the front door, opening it, your eyes blow wide as you take in who’s on the other side.

“Hey, Daisy.” Joel says with a lop-sided smile. He raises his right hand and nods towards it. You look down and see a bottle of red wine clasped between his large fingers. “Was wonderin’ if you wanted to make good on that glass of wine we agreed on?”

You take in his sweet offer and let out a deep breath. Nodding, you step aside and usher him into the living room. He smiles as he walks past you and takes a seat on the couch, pushing over the blanket that had covered you just seconds before. You head to the kitchen for the wine glasses. Once concealed by the wall, your hands clasp onto the edge of the counter and your head falls. What if he wants to talk about last night? What if he doesn’t talk about it at all? What’s worse? Getting it all out in the open, or pretending there isn’t a huge elephant in the room? Collecting yourself and the wine glasses, you slip back into the living room and place them down on the coffee table. Taking the blanket, you roll it up in your arms and place it back in the basket near the corner. Joel watches you the whole time. The way your hands move, the way he can see your mind racing behind your eyes. He hopes he's not making you too uncomfortable and is silently damning Tommy for his idea already.

You pour he and yourself each a glass of wine, taking yours, you sit on the couch and pull your leg up and under you. Joel smiles, “Cheers.” He says, raising his glass up.

“What are we cheersing to?” You ask, bringing yours up and clinking it with his.

He takes a sip from his drink and shrugs, “I don’t know yet, hopefully something good.” His words die on his lips, and you stare at each other. That undeniable sense of something that isn’t being said but is instead lingering. A hair that keeps tickling your arm, but you can’t quite find. You feel the way his deep brown eyes make your chest flutter with anticipation. “How is your sink? Workin’ alright?” He finally asks, breaking the undeniable tension.

Your shoulders fall in relaxation, and you nod, “Yeah, thank you for that again. Saved my dad from driving across town.”

“’Course, what I’m here for.” He says with a smile.

“What did you get up to on your day off?” You ask politely, enjoying that the conversation seems to be flowing normally.

Joel leans back against the couch, his arm raising to sit along the edge of the top. His fingers just inches away from your shoulder. “Eh, nothing crazy. My brother Tommy was sitting at my table with a plate full o’ food before I even got outta bed so that was a nice surprise.” He says jokingly and you laugh. “I finally got him rid of him mid-afternoon, and uh, actually I took a nap.” He says with raised eyebrows.

Yours raise as well and you look at him impressed, “Wow. A real nap? As a parent?” You ask sarcastically and he nods with a smirk. “Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I had an honest to goodness nap.”

He smiles, “No kidding. It’s been a long time for me too.”

“Were you just seizing the opportunity or actually tired?” You ask casually, taking a sip of your wine.

Looking down at his hand holding his wine glass, his cheeks begin to warm, and he says quietly. “Just tired was all.” Looking up at you slowly, “Didn’t sleep well.”

Embarrassment begins to crawl up your neck like a squirrel up a tree and you look across the room at the tv. Sandra Bullocks frustrated face from The Proposal filling the space. Clearing your throat, you try to push the words out. “Look, Joel I-,”

“I like you, Daisy.” Joels deep voice cuts through yours quickly. Not allowing any kind of self-deprecation that you were trying to spill out. Your eyes snap up to him, and you see no discomfort, only yearning. The way his eyebrows pull together to soften his eyes. The creases on his face displaying his worry on how you may react.

Letting out a deep breath, you repeat. “You like me?”

He grins, “What I said wasn’t it?”

“I mean, yes but uh-,” you adjust on the couch cushion to look more directly at him. “Do you like me as your new neighbour, or a friend, or something else?” Your voice trails off as you look at him intently.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he shrugs, “Yeah, I like ya as a neighbour. You keep the yard and gardens tidy, quiet.” You watch as he trails on. “And, yeah, I definitely like you as a friend. You’re fun to talk to, really open which I like. The cupcakes are a plus as well.” He says, pointing a finger at you and a small smile stretches on your face.

“And, what about the something else?” You ask quietly.

Joels eyes rake you up and down and says softly. “Well, maybe that something else could be that something good we cheersed to.” Your breath hitches in your chest and your eyes fall to his lips, so plush and inviting. He continues, “Maybe that something else could be something new.” You’re so captivated by his words; you miss how he leans forward to place his wine glass safely on the coffee table. “Maybe that something else could be scary.” His hand wraps around yours that’s clutching the wine glass tightly, you look down wordless and release your grip. He takes it gently from your hand and places it on the coffee table next to his. Joels eyes return to yours, he’s somehow closer now, his arm still resting above the couch, so close but not close enough. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you watch every twitch of his lips.

“Maybe that something else could be, the most beautiful and sexy woman I have ever met.” He whispers with a breathy voice, barely able to contain himself another minute longer. You both lean forward instinctively. Your noses meeting in the middle, just grazing, teasing. Your eyes flutter open and see that he’s staring at you. So close, you can smell the wine on his breath. His cheek twitches, “Sorry, just wanted to look at you a little longer.”

A smile tugs at your cheek and then you finally close the distance. Your mouths locking into one another like they were meant to be there. His lips are as soft as you imagined and the way his scruffy beard rubs against your skin drives you wild. It starts off so sweet and gentle, moving with each other smoothly and slowly. His hand that is settled above the couch falls to rest on the back of your head, his fingers intertwining in your hair. Your hand raises to hold the side of his face, feeling his beard and pushing back to scratch the hair at the nape of his neck.

He lets out a low moan at the feeling and his tongue prods at your lips. You open and lick into his tongue with your own. Tasting him might be more intoxicating than alcohol. The making out turns more aggressive. Pushing your noses into each others faces. Hands flying to pull each other just a little bit closer than you were a second ago. You pull away just enough to raise onto your knees. He watches you in awe and pulls his thighs together as you reach one leg over them to straddle him.

Looking down at him, his eyes flick to your mouth briefly before you launch at each other again. Teeth and tongues thrashing about against one another. Your hands run up and down his strong neck and shoulders, feeling every bit of his sturdiness. Joel moans and grips your ass through your leggings, pulling you close to him in his lap.

Through the kisses, he lets out a heavy breath. “Fuck.” You begin to trail kisses down his neck, sucking the veins that are bulging beneath the skin. “You know, only reason I didn’t sleep last night, was ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And what I saw.” You still for a second before his hand raises to hold the back of your head. “Was so jealous of that damn toy.” Your panties begin to wet and stick to your skin as you raise your head back up to kiss him again. Moaning into his mouth.

Pulling back slightly, he begins his trail of kisses down your throat. Your pussy clenching with every nip and suck. With closed eyes you whisper, “Only reason it was out, ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you the night before.”

He growls. One of those primal, claimant growls. The kind that only comes from a man as touch starved as Joel. His hands and arms squeeze you tighter and you grind your hips down on his cock as it strains against his tough jeans. Joels mouth quickly returns to yours to lick into you deeply, his calloused hands scraping beneath the hem of your shirt. Teasing, wanting, just like everything else the two of you have done since you met in the Adlers backyard.

Your skin burns with need and your hands quickly grab the bottom of your shirt to start pulling it up. He feels your movement and suddenly his hands grab yours and you still. Your lips break apart and you stare at each other intensely. His breath heavy and mind racing; his hands pull yours to bring your shirt back down and you look at him confused. “Daisy, fuck I just, I don’t wanna go to fast. I wanna take my time with you, get to know you a little better.”

Your breath begins to slow and the want in your core makes you whimper. Nodding, you place your forehead against his as you both let your breath settle. “Right, you’re right.” Begrudgingly, you peel your body off of his and sit back down on the couch, pulling your shirt flat. Joel rests his head on the back of the couch as he rubs his eyes with his hands.

Looking at each other, you take in the others messed up hair and swollen lips and can’t help but laugh. “Well, then.” You say, unsure of where to go from there.

“Yeah.” Is all he can muster up at this point.

Turning on the couch, you place your hand on his shoulder, “Obviously there is some um, tension, here.” You say and he bites his lip. “So, let’s just say right now. No falling into bed together until it’s the right time.”

Nodding, he looks at you earnestly, “How do we know when the right time is?”

“Well, since we’re both pretty out of practice when it comes to dating. I guess let’s just get to know each other more, and work up that kind of physicality slowly. Start at first base, and work our way up from there.”

Joels eyebrows raise, “So, like high school?” He says with a chuckle.

Letting out a laugh, you nod. “Yeah, just like high school. But without the guilt of getting caught.” You say and you both still for a moment. “Um, actually, I don’t think I want the kids or my parents knowing just yet. It’s been a hard year and I just, I feel like it needs to be a little more solid before we tell them.” Your face contorts nervously.

He lets out a huff of breath from his nose, “Yeah, and Sarah hasn’t seen me date, since you know who.” He gives you a nervous look, “Probably shouldn’t get her too excited just yet.”

“So,” You begin, “it will be just like high school. Except instead of sneaking around behind our parents back, it’ll be our children’s?” You say amusingly and he chuckles.

“I guess so. Could make it a little sexier, you know?” He says seductively before leaning in and capturing your mouth in another devastating kiss.

You lose yourself in his scent before snapping out of it and pushing him away, “Hey now. Remember the rules, slow.” You say, pointing a finger at him. He rolls back onto the back of the couch cushions and groans.

“Fine.” He says with a wink. “Since I gotta keep my hands to myself for the remainder of the night, what do you wanna do?”

Looking over at the tv, you shrug. “Finish the rest of this movie and our glasses?”

He squints his eyes at the tv, “This The Proposal?”

Your mouth drops in surprise, “Joel Miller, are you a rom-com fan?”

Smirking, he shakes his head. “Nah, more of a Sandra Bullock fan. Tommy and I have seen Speed more times that I can count.”

“Sandy B, always a good choice.” You grab the remote and un-pause the movie, taking your wine glass back from the coffee table to take another sip.

Before it reaches your lips, Joel holds his out to you with bright and stary eyes and you smile. Biting your lip, you softly clink your glass with his. “Cheers.” You whisper.

“Cheers, to something good.” He says with a smile.

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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bwat5-blog · 6 months ago

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Beginners Guide To Making A Point: Arcane

**Spoilers For Arcane**

Good morning my friends. Have you or someone you know been victimized by one of the mean folks like myself ripping apart your takes on the show Arcane? Well today there is hope. I’m here to share the sinister secrets of our trade that allow us to commit such dastardly deeds. So the next time one of us comes knocking, you will be ready!

All too often, I see kind and gentle folks like you innocently trying to make statements like the ones below:

1. Caitlyn Kiramman murdered kids!

2. Caitlyn never showed any remorse!

3. Caitlyn lost her mom and acted like that was a justification for her crimes!

4. Caitlyn looked down and didn’t love Vi!

Now you aren’t doing anything wrong. Just sharing your take on this story and what happens. But then someone like me will come along and reblog with some snarky title and something like this:

1. There is no evidence of that whatsoever in any single moment of the show

2. I’d run down the various moments where she does show remorse

3. I’d list the long series of traumatic incidents that severely impact her mental state leading to her eventual fall into Ambessa’s clutches

4. Id explain that there are three moments and three moments only when she ever says a negative thing about Zaunites.

A- she calls the people who attacked the memorial animals immediately afterward. And lets be clear, they were.

B- She says Vi and Jinx share blood during her lowest and darkest moment.

C- She says something regarding the depravity of Zaun or something when talking to Singed after the Stillwater massacre. Of course I’d use the whole quote.

Then I would point out that she saved Vi’s life twice, spared Jinx after all she’d done to Cait in season 1 because Vi asked her to, started a war by trying to save Vander, and gave Vi the choice to free Jinx knowing full well Vi may leave and never return.

And you’d have a bunch of mean comments that hurt your feelings and people making fun of you and so on. But! I’m gonna show you how I do it and help you make your next case in a way people like me can’t attack. First we need to discuss one very simple rule

If you can’t back it up with content, it didn’t happen:

Now this one sounds simple. But it can be tricky to master. Let me give you an example-

Example: “Caitlyn murdered innocent Zaunites with The Grey!”

Okay. Now I know in your mind you see this and think, “well yea? I mean we saw the sketches of people who grew up surrounded by it their whole lives having problems. And Jayce suggests Viktor’s condition may have been caused by it. She exposed people to it that means she killed them”.

There is not in a single second of any frame, evidence that anyone died from exposure during the strike team’s operations. In fact we see several characters who were exposed, Caitlyn included, who are fine later. And I know, what you are thinking:

“But OP we don’t know if there were long term latent complications!”

Correct. And unless Riot and Fortiche tell us we never will. Vi could have CTE, Jinx could have untold issues from being infused with Shimmer, Sevika could have lung cancer. It’s all speculative. So if it didn’t happen, it isn’t good for analysis.

Going a tad bit deeper

Now this one does go even further. Let’s use this example:

Example- “Caitlyn never apologized!”

Now I see this one a lot. And I get it. She never says sorry out loud. So if you misunderstand the rule that means she doesn’t. But you notice it says “if you can’t back it up with the content”.

So while Caitlyn never speaks the words, we know she :

1. starts a war to save Vander

2. takes no action when Jinx has her back to her and instead rushes to save a wounded Vi

3. keeps Jinx in the Kiramman bunker rather than Stillwater and forgoes judgement until Vi wakes

4. has several bits of dialogue expressing her regret and self-hate

5. lets Vi make the choice to free Jinx, shows Vi love and acceptance when she feels she lost everyone

6. is quite clearly remorseful touching the place where she hit Vi.

These are quite clear signs of her remorse. So what does that mean? It means that even if it isn’t explicitly shown I can back it up with clear examples that are content driven. None of that is speculative. It is all clear and on screen.

And some of these are harder, like this one:

“Ekko clearly didn’t dispute the use of The Grey”:

We didn’t see Ekko. We didn’t hear from him during the strike team’s mission about what they were doing. So how can I say that?

1. We know he was in Zaun

2. He’s the firelight commander and has been battling Silco/shimmer for years for his people

3. He fights for the people of Zaun

These are all indisputable. And I can source each of these details directly from content. So sometimes you have to dig alittle deeper. But you can still support your ideas with plain on screen evidence.

*An Important Note*

We must also be careful not only to be sure we only use detail we can back up, but that we don’t exclude detail that does not support us. A great example for this is this one:

EXAMPLE: Caitlyn lost her mom and acts like that single loss justifies a full on dictatorship.

Now someone like me would come along and list the multiple times Jinx almost killed Caitlyn, the total eradication of Caitlyn’s faith in the pre-existing system after Marcus tried to murder her, the deaths of many of her peers in front of her, her abduction and possible torture at Jinx’s hands, listening to Jinx try and convince Vi to murder her, sparing Jinx at Vi’s pleading then watching Jinx murder her mother.

Now I’ve come and used all those details you left out and made you look silly. No one wants that! So be sure to include everything relevant. If its a good take it will survive it.

Conclusion:

So, using this guide hopefully you can craft your next analysis with the detail and content and avoid interactions with unpleasant folks like me. Just remember! Let’s leave the imagination in fanfics and keep the analysis to the content itself. Don’t worry though, if you lose track I’m here to help you out.

#arcane #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #jinx arcane #caitvi #arcane season 2 spoilers #arcane season 1 #vi and jinx

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hob28 · 1 year ago

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yashseo18 · 2 months ago

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mediocrecowboyhat · 7 months ago

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Set in sand - Chapter 4

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Word count: 4081

Disclaimer: This is based on the side quest "Geology for Beginners" so the reader is from the future and aware of some things that happen, but not everything. The reader will also have she/her pronouns and this fanfiction follows the story of RDR2. Also English is not my first language so pls forgive me for any grammatical mistakes!

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well)

"Let me clear those cans for you, Mr. Pearson.", you tell the cook as you sweep the empty food cans into a sack.

The man lifts his eyebrows slightly in surprise, but the expression leaves his face as fast as it had appeared. With a gruff 'thank you' that he mumbles into his mustache, he turns away to continue his work.

Do you genuinely want to clean the camp up a bit? Yes. Do you have any ulterior motive with this? Absolutely.

Lately the cogs and gears in your mind have been turning and replaying the recent events that took place in Valentine and back in Colter. It's not an exaggeration to say that you downright suck at handling weapons and the wolf pack and the drunk man are just two of many reasons why you should start getting better at it.

Some of the people in the camp turn their heads in your direction as you haul the sack over your shoulder and make your way off the cliff towards the river. The clanking of the metal you're carrying is probably alarming the entire wildlife and everyone who passes by.

What you need is a nice, secluded spot so no one interrupts you and you know just the place. One of the boys has mentioned a clearing off road close by the river. The sound of the rushing water is going to drown out any noise you'll be creating.

After a 20 minute walk you reach your destination and start lining up the cans on a rock.

Okay, let's do this.

You squint your eyes to get a better aim and raise the revolver with both hands. You've seen Arthur shoot with just one arm before, but there is no way you'd be able to pull that off. It would look kind of badass though.

After firing a couple shots, you step closer to the targets to inspect your results and surprise! None of the bullets came even close to the cans and you shake your head in frustration.

So you try it again.

And again.

And again...

"Fucking shit!", you hiss under your breath and hurl the gun at the makeshift targets with an irritated noise emanating from your throat. Of course you miss that as well.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you supposed to shoot at the targets and not around 'em?", a male voice behind you says and you turn around.

You let out an offended huff as Arthur hitches up his horse on one of the trees and you pick up your revolver from the ground.

"Easy for you to say.", you mumble and aim for the cans.

Suddenly you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders and the unexpected contact sends a startled shiver down your spine.

"Relax your shoulders a bit. You ain't gonna hit nothin' if you're stiff as a plank.", he says in a low voice. "Take a deep breath in and then breathe out. Once there's no more air in your lungs, shoot."

You can't imagine how much of a difference that's going to make, but you decide to take his advice anyways. After pushing all the air out of your lungs, you let your shoulders relax and pull the trigger.

Well, you might not have hit the target, but the bullet got definitely a bit closer this time. The corner of your mouth curl up into a thrilled grin and Arthur nods in your direction.

"That wasn't too bad. If ya keep up like this we might just make a fine gunslinger out of ya."

You let out an amused chuckle at his comment.

"Sure. I'm just happy if I manage to not accidentally put a bullet in my own head."

"That doesn't sound too ideal, no. I prefer ya alive."

The outlaw walks over to a tree and leans his back against it while lighting a cigarette. It doesn't look like he's in a hurry to leave anytime soon, so you keep on practicing.

None of the food cans are being knocked off, but at least you manage to hit the rock they're lined up on. That counts as a victory in your book if anyone asks.

"So, what are you doing out here?", you ask Arthur after emptying your cattleman of ammunition.

"I saw you leave camp with a suspicious amount of trash and thought I'd look into it.", he answers teasingly and pushes himself off the treetrunk. "I'm kiddin'. Strauss sent me to collect some debt."

Upon hearing the word 'debt', you snap your head up to look at him. Is he on his way to Thomas Downes right now? Or worse. Maybe he's already on his way back.

Silently you curse yourself out for not paying closer attention to the outlaw's activities, but it's not like you can follow him around the place 24/7.

"And who is the poor soul who owes us money?", you ask and try your hardest to sound casual.

"Some guy called Wróbel."

It feels like a great weight has been lifted from your shoulders when you hear the name and you bite back a relieved sigh. For a second there you really thought you have fucked it all up.

"Can I join you?"

The look Arthur gives you makes it seem like you asked him to shoot you between the eyes.

"Ah, I don't know about that. Collectin' money from people...it can get nasty and I wouldn't want you to get caught up in some crossfire."

"I can take care of myself.", you answer in a matter of fact way and raise the revolver for him to see.

At that he simply let's out a snort.

"You couldn't kill a mouse if it was blind, deaf and had no legs."

You make no effort to mask your offense, but decide to fight him no further on this topic. Yes, you want to go with him and help, but you're not stupid. You're aware that you'd be putting yourself and possibly him in danger unnecessarily.

With a sigh, you slide the gun back into the holster of your belt and start collecting the cans to put them back into the sack. It would be a good idea to hide it between some rocks and make this area your designated spot for shooting practice.

The thought of having to carry your makeshift targets from camp to here and then back again didn't fill you with much joy.

"I should head back I think.", you say to Arthur after cleaning up the space and he motions towards his horse.

"Let me give ya a ride home."

At that you shake your head. "Oh, you don't have to go out of your way to bring me home. You were heading out to the opposite direction and the walk isn't that long."

But it doesn't look like you can convince him to let you go by yourself.

"I don't mind the small detour. Come on."

With a soft smile on your lips, you hoist yourself up onto the back of the horse. Shortly after that Arthur jumps onto the saddle as well and the two of you start going.

It's a bit of a struggle to not slide off during the ride so you make sure to hold onto Arthur's jacket tightly. You just hope you're not squeezing him too hard. Not that that would hurt a mountain of a man such as him, but still.

Surprisingly enough, he is, this time, the one to break the silence between you. "You seem to fit in with everyone just fine."

He's right. Before your journey you were worried sick about what the others in the gang might think of you. You are no outlaw and have zero experience and knowledge about that line of work.

Sure, Arthur has talked about some members almost fondly in his journal, but that doesn't change what these people are at the end of the day. Criminals and criminals aren't known to be the welcoming kind.

"Because everyone is so nice.", you answer with a hint of disbelief in your voice. "Or most of the people are nice."

The comment at the end stole a quiet cackle from the man.

"If you think we're nice then I don't wanna meet the people you kept around before you met us."

Now it's your turn to laugh.

"Oh, you know what they say. Bad company is better than no company."

"I think that saying goes a little different.", he argues in a playful spirit.

The awkwardness that was always hanging in the air when you two first met has disappeared completely by now. It's safe to say that Arthur is one of the few people in the gang you feel fully comfortable with.

Funny, how fast you're starting to feel safe around him as well considering that he has killed, robbed and injured countless folks, but that's something that oddly enough never comes to mind when you're with him.

With some other gang members your brain and body automatically become more vigilant when you find yourself in their proximity. Not with him though.

The ride back to camp comes sooner to an end than you would have liked and you carefully slide off the horse. That one time you got off you almost fell face first into the ground and you'd prefer to avoid that. At least infront of people.

"Thanks, Arthur."

"Ah, as I said I don't mind a small detour.", he says with a wave of his hand.

"I don't only mean the ride."

The corners of his mouth lift for a split second before he tips his black hat in your direction and trots away with his horse. As you look after him, you don't notice a certain blonde woman join your side.

A knowing smirk is displayed on her freckled face and she playfully pokes your shoulder. "Look who's sweet on Arthur."

Heat shoots into your face and you hastily shake your head.

"Sweet on him? Who? Me? No." You're really not doing yourself any favors with how awful that denial sounded.

Karen on the other hand finds your embarrassment more than entertaining and she let's out a loud, hearty laugh.

"Relax! I'm just teasin' ya."

Knowing that she isn't being serious with her accusation does calm you down a bit. It's just that you don't want these people to get the wrong idea. Besides, you're not here to date anyone.

Catching feelings during your stay here would complicate things too much. You don't belong here and you're not here to stay.

Much to your own relief Karen stops teasing you immediately after and asks you to join her for a cup of coffee while you chat about your day. That's when your eyes fall on Sadie who's sitting on a log at the edge of camp.

Even in that distance you can't overlook how puffy and red her eyes are. Poor thing has been crying nearly everyday and Miss Grimshaw has started to give her a harsh time for not "contributing enough".

What does that woman expect from her? It's not like one can simply stop mourning over their spouse over night. Then an idea begins to form in your head and you walk over to Sadie after your talk with Karen.

"Hey.", you softly make your presence known to not startle the woman. People here seem to have the tendency to sneak up on others on a regular basis. "I wanted to ask you if you'd like to go run some errands with me."

She lifts her head to look at you, a thoughtful expression on her face as if she's considering your offer.

"I'm not too sure if I'm in the mood for shoppin'.", she answers. Only now do you take actual notice of her deep southern drawl.

With one casual movement of your hand you slide your coat aside to reveal your weapon belt and the weapon attached to it. If you remember correctly from the journal, Sadie is one unrestrained force of nature.

You might not have anything too exciting planned for the two of you, but your shopping destination might pique her interest.

"I need some bullets."

For the first time since you've met her, something flickers in her gaze as her eyes fall on the revolver. It's hard to tell what it means.

"I'll help ya prepare the wagon." With these words she stands up from the log and together you starting getting the horses and everything else ready.

Sadie is kind enough to take over the reigns which is something you're extremely grateful for. You don't feel confident enough in your driving skills to get out of the forest unscathed just yet.

"I had no idea you owned a gun.", she breaks the silence and your fingers trace over the leather of the belt.

"A friend gave it to me. For protection."

"And do you know how to use it?"

A bitter chuckle escapes your throat as you think about the unscathed cans back at your practice spot.

"Not at all."

She let's out an amused noise and shoots you a quick look. "I can teach ya if ya want."

Your eyes widen as you watch her from the side. "You'd really help me?"

"Of course. I can handle a gun. My husband and I-" The words get caught up in her throat as if she's choking on them.

Her eyes are fixed on the road and you can tell that the memories of her late husband still lay heavy on her. Of course they do.

You decide that it's better to not push the topic and instead place your hand on her shoulder. For the remainder of the ride you just sit in silence, but it's not awkward. It's actually kind of nice.

By the time you arrive at Valentine the sun is already setting and you hurry to the gunsmith. Thankfully Francis has given you a gun from the 1890s instead of a modern one. Otherwise you wouldn't be able to buy ammunition and goddamn, do you need it.

While you pay for a pack of bullets you catch Sadie inspect a rifle in the corner of your eyes. It looks so familiar in her hands and you're really starting to look forward to the shooting lessons with her.

It's a nice chance to build a connection with her and maybe, hopefully distract her for at least a short while. She needs a break.

"I'll head out and check the general store while we're here. Do you wanna come?"

She lowers the rifle and thinks for a moment before answering. "No, I'll look around a bit longer."

"Okay, see you at the wagon then.", you say as you exit the shop.

On your way to the general store you pass the saloon and it sounds like a whole commotion is going on in there. Any other time you'd just walk by, not paying it any mind, but there is an all too familiar voice booming through the entrance.

With your interest piqued, you step through the double swinging doors and find a very drunk, very confused looking Arthur.

"Lenny!"

Lenny is here too?

The outlaw spins around, screaming for the young man from the top of his lungs and visibly upsetting the other customers with the noise. Then his eyes fall on you and they light up in recognition while a wide grin begins to spread on his flushed face.

"Hey! When did ya get here?", he yells excitedly and walks over to you with swaying steps.

"How many drinks did you have?", you ask as you watch him struggle to keep his balance.

"A couple."

Another voice that you recognize chimes in. "Arthur! Where have you been? I was lookin' all over for you."

Lenny comes stumbling along with the same big smile on his face like Arthur. He too reacts absolutely thrilled at your presence and gives your shoulder a friendly pat.

Chuckling, you shake your head. "I shall leave you boys to it then."

"No, you should stay!", protests Lenny almost immediately which earns an eager nod from Arthur. It's so odd to see the latter man this...let's say bouncy to put it mildly.

"Sorry, I can't. Sadie is waiting for me outside."

You don't even give them the opportunity to try to talk you into staying some longer. With a quick pat on their shoulder, you swiftly start to leave. However their night is going to end, a voice in the back of your mind tells you to not get involved.

Sadie tilts her head in a puzzled manner when you return back to her and climb onto the wagon. "You didn't buy anythin'?"

"Nah, I got distracted, but it's okay. It wasn't important anyways.", you answer as you shake your head.

You bite back a chuckle when you remember the look on Arthur's face once he spotted you in the saloon. He looked so genuinely happy to see you.

The mental image stirs something up deep within you, but it vanishes before you could identify the feeling.

---

The midday sun is high in the sun and beating down on you. Pearls of swear are starting to form on your forehead and you wipe them away with the sleeve of your blouse.

Mr. Pearson had asked you to help him cut up some vegetables for the stew which you happily agreed to. It's a job where you can think and daydream by yourself without having to focus too much on the task at hand.

Even now you're lost in your thoughts until a mix of groaning and grunting abruptly rips you out of your mind palace. You look up to see where the noise is coming from and lock eyes with Arthur.

His expression is sour and his face is paler than ever. By the looks of it it must have been a long night yesterday. Lenny is following closely behind him and doesn't look any better.

"Seems like you boys had fun last night.", you comment with a smirk und Arthur takes a seat on a folding chair close to the cooking station.

"I don't even remember most of it.", he grumbles and runs his hand over his face. "I feel like shit."

"And you look like it too.", you reply and he let's out a bitter snort.

"Thanks."

You hand him a water flask which he gratefully accepts and chugs almost everything in one go.

"Why did you guys go out drinking anyways?" Curiosity is laying heavy in your voice. Sure, they drink a beer or two, but Arthur and Lenny don't really strike you as the type to get this piss drunk on a random occasion.

"Lenny came back from Strawberry all anxious yesterday, because Micah got arrested."

Everything within you basically gags at the mere mention of that two faced snake. Saying that the reminder of him alone makes you feel uncomfortable in ways you have never felt before is a blatant understatement.

"There's talk of hangin' him."

"Here's hoping.", you answer which earns you a cackle from Arthur.

"That's exactly what I told Dutch."

He hands you back the water flask and pushes himself up from the chair with a pained grunt. "I gotta head out though."

You follow his movement with widened eyes and raised eyebrows. "But you just got here. Shouldn't you rest a bit?"

"Nah, I gotta meet up with the boys to rescue Sean. We got a lead on where he is."

That name rings a bell. You haven't met him yet, but you know that he's been taken by some bountyhunters after that mysterious riverboat job everyone keeps referencing.

"Okay, just make sure to come back in one piece.", you yell after him and he simply lifts his hand to indicate that he heard you.

---

Arthur, Sean, Javier and Charles arrive late during the evening and loud cheering echoes through the camp. They have all missed him very much. Especially Karen who looks like she's going to tear up any moment.

"I had no idea you were so sweet on him.", you comment which earns you a slap on the shoulder.

"Oh, shut it.", she says through chuckles, but doesn't deny it.

The Irishman's return turns into a warm welcoming party. Drinks are being shared and the sound of Javier's guitar and laughter fills the air. The sight of Karen being practically glued to Sean's side steals an amused smirk from you.

Tilly who's sitting next to you at the fireplace sways her body from side to side in sync with the guitar's melody and she passes a whisky bottle to you. With a mumbled 'thank you' you take a swig from it and feel the warmth from the alcohol spread in your chest.

You're starting to really enjoy the gang's energy and the strong sense of community in this camp. It's starting to almost feel like a big family to you instead of just a bunch of random people who have happened to end up being grouped up together.

"Would you like to dance with me, Arthur?"

Mary-Beth stands up from a chair and straightens her blue skirt. He thinks for a second before he nods and places his hand on her waist. "Sure, why not."

You watch them with a soft smile and laugh quietly to yourself at the view. Arthur with his massive stature is moving in a rather clumsy and rough manner, but the grin on his face shows how much fun he's having.

It's so nice to see him like this.

"Why don't you go ask him to dance with you too?", Tilly asks and rips you out of your thoughts. You blink a couple times at her in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

Her lips curl up in a playful way and she nudges your shoulder with hers.

"You know exactly what I mean."

You awkwardly cough into your fist at her statement and shake your head. "It's nothing like that, Tilly."

The look on her face makes it more than obvious that she doesn't believe a word youre saying, but drops the topic much to your relief. To avoid any further embarrassment you decide to let your gaze wander somewhere else and stifle a yawn.

Maybe it's time to head to bed.

Some of the others have gone to sleep as well by now so it wouldn't be too weird of you to leave the party.

Before you get up from the log, you hand the whisky bottle back to Tilly and excuse yourself as you walk towards the tent that you're sharing with the other girls. A strained grunt leaves your lips and you stretch your back.

Sitting on that thing all evening and night has fucked with both your back and ass and now you feel as stiff as a catholic nun.

"Goin' to sleep already?"

With a startled noise you turn around to meet a particular pair of blue eyes and you let out an irritated huff. "Can you stop sneaking up to me all the time?"

"Im not sneakin'. It ain't my fault you're so jumpy."

"Sure."

Your discontent doesn't last long. Actually, now that you think about it you never manage to hold a grudge against the outlaw for too long. He doesn't always get on your nerves of course, but when he does the aggravation never stays for longer than half a minute or so.

"Weren't you dancing just now?", you ask and peek over his shoulder to see where he left Mary-Beth.

"Ah, I thought I should stop makin' a fool of myself."

"Well, I thought you looked quite adorable.", you point out, gaining a snort from the outlaw.

Arthur scratches his bearded cheek and nods to himself, looking as if he doesn't know what to say anymore. The same goes for you and you feel like you're going to fall asleep standing so you decide that it would be best to call it a day now.

You break the long stretched silence and motion towards your bedroll. "I should really get some sleep now though."

"Yea, 'course. Well, uh...goodnight then."

"Goodnight, Arthur."

You shoot him a warm smile and he tips his cowboy hat in your direction before joining the other again.

For some reason you can't shake off the feeling that there was more that he had wanted to tell you.

Taglist: @shackspossum

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 arthur morgan x reader

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