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loliwrites · 14 days

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Yard Work | The One You Need

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader summary: drabble from the “The One You Need” universe warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, fluff, allusions to a blowjob, body worship [arms], terms of endearment [sweetheart], female reader, reader wears a bikini, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 1.5k series masterlist a/n: for @joelmillerisapunk’s ppcu body worship writing challenge. all about joel miller and them delicious arms

Summer in Austin wasn’t so bad when there was a chaise lounge chair to sprawl out on, on the deck with the sun beating its rays down upon you. It also wasn’t too bad when you had a hot neighbor who, on a fairly regular basis, gave you the best sex of your life, and who also coincidentally did all the manual labor around the house for you. Because while you were sprawled out in a bikini on a less than hotel style chaise, nursing a beer which was quickly losing its cool and condensating on the glass, Joel was out in your backyard, mowing the lawn.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

“Your fuckin’ grass is gettin’ so long, it’s bringing down the value of my house,” Joel pointed out while in bed that morning. All he had to do was look out your window and see the jungle being created by your lack of a gardener.

“Whoever should I get to tidy it up?” You only smirked, leaning over and straddling his body with yours. Surely, soft kisses down his chest would do the trick.

“A gardener,”

Your pouted, lips pressed to his sternum, and continued your way down to his stomach, adding your tongue to the mix for safe measure. If he was going to play hard to get, you could play a little harder. By the time you reached the waistband of his boxer-briefs, you could see the outline of his shaft, now half-hard. “What kind of payment would you like, Mr. Gardener?” You batted your eyelashes up at him while your fingertips coyly tucked beneath his waistband and pulled back just enough for his length to spring out and fall back against his waist.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He grinned and set his hand on the back of your head, adding just a hint of pressure, “get to work.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

His old, gasoline push mower was capable enough for handling the size of your suburban backyard. A riding lawn mower might’ve been more efficient – or at least one of those new-fangled electric mowers that self-propelled. But this old Toro lawn mower, surely from the 90s, was reliable. Just like the man using it.

You paid for it first but now seeing him work, it definitely felt like you’d short changed him. He was putting on quite the show without even knowing it. Midway through your rather unkempt backyard, Joel let the gas lawn mower come to a stop. You’d paid him extra attention when the grumbling of the machine quieted, and found that he was reaching for the hem of his t-shirt. Hands tucked beneath it, he raised the lower half up and dragged it across his forehead, wiping away the sweat. The softness of his belly on partial display. And then as if realizing he was insane for keeping the shirt on in this heat in the first place, pulled the garment over his head. He tucked a corner of it into the back pocket of his jeans, letting the rest of it fly and whip behind him like a flag.

Then, nudging sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, you ogled at the way he bent over and hooked his fingers around the plastic grip of the pull cord. His long arm stretched fully, and then with a quick yank back, he tugged the cord upward. His bicep and tricep flexed simultaneously, the cuts of the muscles showing in his skin. That glorious machine. You could’ve kissed it on the spot. Old. Reliable. But temperamental. It didn’t roar to life with the first pull. His arm outstretched again. The sinewy tendons in his forearm became visible as he grabbed for the cord again. Then another pull back. Every muscle in his arm seemed to work in tandem, from his forearm right up to his shoulder.

Now the mower roared to life. And the man behind it, ready to get the job done, put some force behind it and got the machine moving again. Cutting down the grass you weren’t sure you’d let get out of control just so you could have this very moment. You pushed your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose and laid back in your chaise, satisfied to revert to the mental image you had of him in your fantasies while the noise of the mower continued on. It wasn’t just that idea of being in the arms of a man. In your experience, there weren’t too many men worth being in the arms of. Though on the surface, the ogling of his arms – those beautiful, strong arms – was nothing but a bit of objectification, the truth dug so much deeper.

Because it was the time you stopped at a job site after Joel had left his lunch at home. Surely he could’ve bought something, but he’d worked so hard on prepping a full lunch for it to go to waste in the insulated lunchbox forgotten on the kitchen counter. And at the job site, you spotted him with a long two by four propped on his shoulder, arm flexed to keep it steady as he walked it into the framed house. And the way you reached forward and set your free hand on his upper arm; fingers grazing along the cut of his bicep. How he pivoted his head and looked back at you. An instant smile spread across his face. The wrinkles by his eyes accentuated.

It was also the time you’d had that terrible date. The one that ended on your front porch, hoping this guy would leave without incident despite him being a little more forward than you would’ve liked. How when he tried to push his way in, Joel materialized there. Only finding out later that night that he’d tucked his handgun into the back of his waistband. Just incase. But before that, when the boy, having grown disenchanted with the idea of bedding you walked off, how Joel used his frame to block you. His arms hung almost comfortably at his sides. Big. Muscular. Even later that night, when you followed behind him with your hand in his back pocket as he cleared your house of any potential burglars. How his arms felt like the ultimate protection. As if nothing would be able to touch you as long as you stayed behind them. Behind him.

His arms were a great source of power. But they were also capable of such gentleness. More than you’d ever known. The same arms that were capable of carrying two by fours upon them were equally capable of wrapping around your waist and pulling you back into the cradle of his chest. The arms that had offered their formidable protection were the same ones that you often linked your hand around as you walked through the neighborhood in the evenings.

Then somewhere between the mental image of you curled up against him on the couch watching tv, and being caged beneath his arms in bed, you felt a weight settle over you and came to the awareness that the lawn mower had quieted down. You blinked a couple times to get your eyes used to the new brightness despite your sunglasses, and found Joel on top of you – hips nestled between your legs; his back pressed against your abdomen, and his head rested against your sternum.

With a smile, you pressed your lips to the top of his head and trailed your hands down from his shoulders to his biceps. “I don’t pay hourly,” you smiled again and tucked your hands around his torso.

“You’re a bad employer,” he smirked and took a deep breath. “Jus’ needed a break and you looked comfortable,”

You nodded, practically to yourself and gently dragged your fingernails over his skin. Then, because they just looked so tempting, you trailed your fingers back to his arms. Starting as far down as you could reach since his hands were curled around your legs and hooked over your shins, you settled with the crook of his elbow. The vein there protruded from beneath the thin skin, and you followed up back into his bicep, where the muscle flexed beneath your touch.

Joel tilted his head back with a deep inhale. On the exhale, he released a moan that made you think he might just leave your lawn half-completed. And while you definitely would want to see his muscles flexing as he jostled you around in bed, and then again when he’d surely curl his hand around your throat, you also wanted your backyard to look semi respectable – at least the HOA would want you to.

“That lawn’s not gonna mow itself,”

“Five minutes,” he mumbled. The sound of that made you think his eyes were long closed, “restin’ my eyelids.”

“We both know if you wait five minutes, you’re never gonna get back to it. And if you don’t get back to it, how are you gonna get your next blowjob for completion?”

He started to rile almost immediately. Enough that his arms now jostled you in trying to sit up and get away as quickly as possible. Then with speed you were sure his joints fought against, he ran across the grass, back to the mower, and bent forward for the pull cord again.

That wonderful, glorious, pull cord.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #the one you need #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #tlou fanfiction #neighbor!joel #ppcu fanfiction #joel miller fluff #body worship #joelmillerisapunk

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bucket-hat-tea · 6 months

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Some more quotes from Joel's Hermitcraft Season 10 Ep 8 video when he was talking to Hermits:

Joel: "Oh no, I know you're going to push me down there, Scar. I watch your videos, Scar. I know what happens."

That is adorable... moving on...

Etho: "Don't you guys throw like your poop out of the window still?"

EXCUSE ME?! What..?

Scar: "Did you grow up in the closet?" (To joel)

Followed by Joel saying: "What does that mean? Oh, like Harry Potter. I thought you were insinuating something else there, Scar!"

Etho: "That was the best Gem interaction... nice and short!"

Wow. (Like Bdubs, because he is short! Who said that???/jk)

Etho: "I am Bdub's and Scar's dad, apparently."

Who knew?!

Talking about calling Joel's lawn mower Tony*

Joel: "What you doing today, Joel? Going to ride Tony! Ride Tony all around."

Gem using the Impulse custom horn "Ohhh my gawd."

Reblogable

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft season 10 #mcyt #reblogable #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #geminitay #ethoslab #bdoubelo100 #harry potter #impulsesv

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itgetsdark-x · 9 months

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Burning Inside

Summary: The day was roasting hot, the kind of heat that makes you wish you lived in Antarctica and Joel was even hotter. He may not give you what you want but he’ll give you the best ride of your life.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI plssss!! Thigh riding, use of ‘good girl’ and generic praises, degrading / degradation kink. Pretty tame smut tbh.

Characters: Joel Miller x (f) reader

Word Count: 1.5k

It was a baking hot day, the kind of heat that makes your skin prickle with a constant sheen of sweat. Typical Texan day, Joel would say which would usually cause you to roll your eyes.

You were laid out on your back deck in a garden lounger, you had a small pink sundress on and you were fanning yourself with an old magazine; nothing, not even lying in the shade could protect you from the heat today, it was unbearable.

Your skin felt too tight, your dress felt like it clung to you uncomfortably and you just wanted to tell the sun to fuck off and never return.

“Gotcha a beer, sweetheart.” Joel smiled, placing the beer down on the table between the two loungers.

“Thanks.” You huffed and watched as he went back to the garden, to finish mowing the luscious green lawn.

You watched the older male, your partner, as he mowed the lawn; he was wearing a pair of old jeans and had discarded his t-shirt a while ago as beads of sweat trickled down his broad chest. You felt yourself near salivating as you watched him work, the way his arms would flex with each pass of the mower or the way his chest would move as he pushed the machine forward.

You were aching between your thighs already and you whined softly as you rubbed your legs together and sipped at your cold drink. You licked your lips as Joel finished up the mowing and gladly sucked back the rest of your cold bear before you pressed the bottle to your neck, the beads of condensation dripping down your baking flesh.

Joel groaned as he sank into the chair next to you and grabbed his own beer to take a long swig; you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank, small beads of glistening sweat making a path you wanted to follow. Down, down, down, until it fell onto his chest, his salt and pepper hair catching it.

You couldn’t help the way your soft tongue darted out to wet your lips, it was involuntary as you watched Joel’s chest breathe when he closed his eyes. You wanted to reach out, touch him; you wanted your lips all over him to taste the salty sweat that decorated his tanned skin.

“You okay, darlin’?” He asked, peering at you with one of his opened eyes, his brow quirked up in question.

“I’m too fuckin’ hot and you look fuckin’ hot. All wound up tight.” You whined, your voice mimicking that of a petulant child as you rubbed your thighs together tightly.

You shifted in your seat and watched as Joel breathed out a short laugh, his chest catching your gaze once more.

“Want you.” You huffed, trailing a hand down your body to cup your mound, just anything to stave off the throbbing you were feeling in your panties.

“So goddamn needy, all the time. ‘M tired.” He mumbled and closed his eyes, his features oozing with smugness.

“Joel…” you whined, looking at him with pleading eyes but the older male remained stubborn and kept his eyes firmly closed. “‘M not playing, please. I need you.”

“Yeah?” He opened his eyes and smirked at you. “You need me, baby girl? Hmm, need my cock to give you that relief?” He cooed.

You bit onto your bottom lip and nodded eagerly, shifting in your seat to grind pathetically against your hand.

“Please.” You breathed.

Joel tutted and shook his head in disagreement.

“Tsk tsk.” He said softly. “You’ve been a needy little girl, been watching you practically drooling over me all day. You haven’t helped me, just watched and undressed me with your eyes.” He said lowly.

You bit on your bottom lip again and whined at him, a soft and needy noise ripping from the back of your throat. You removed your hand from yourself and gripped Joel’s thigh tightly.

He looked at you and shook his head again, removing your hand from his thigh.

“Nu-uh, not a chance baby girl. You wanna act like a horny little bitch in heat? You can rut against my thigh like one.” He smirked and patted at his thick thigh once.

You swallowed roughly, all moisture from your mouth being sucked away in an instant. You could feel your wet panties sticking to your throbbing cunt and you stood from your chair with wobbly legs.

“Please, just want your fingers or something. Please don’t make me do this.” You begged, voice high and needy.

Joel barked out a laugh and took ahold of your hips, bringing you down so you were straddling one of his impossibly thick thighs. He gripped tightly at your flesh of your hips, his hands dipped under your sundress and he dragged your hips back and forth.

“That’s it, atta girl.” He cooed condescendingly as your mouth gaped in pleasure.

Soft whimpers fell from your lips; somewhere in the back of your pleasure-clouded mind thought about the chance of your neighbours being able to see you in the hot evening sun. The logical side of your brain told you to stop, get dressed and take it inside but the horny, Joel-clouded side of your brain couldn’t stop your hips from rutting against the rough fabric of his jeans, even if you had tried.

“F-feels good. Need more.” You muttered, your head lulling forward to nuzzle into the sweaty crook of Joel’s neck. Your lips brushed against the salty liquid and you couldn’t help the way your tongue reached out to lick at the tender skin as you ground your hips down onto his thigh.

You could feel how your soaked panties were bunching into your slit as you moved your hips back and forth, with each delicious drag, the damp cotton dragged against your swollen clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Told you baby girl, act like a little bitch, get treated like one.” He growled lowly, his hands still pawing roughly at your fleshy hips. “Now why don’t you be a good girl and cum, and don’t make too much noise. Don’t want the neighbours catching you… again.” He smirked.

You nodded against Joel’s shoulder and your hands gripped tightly at each of his shoulders for leverage; you rocked your hips back and forth quicker. You knew it wasn’t gonna be long until you were coming on done, right on the thigh of your boyfriend.

“Please.” You sobbed, tears pricking at your eyes in frustration; as good as it felt, you wanted more, you neededmore.

Joel laughed and shook his head, stubborn as he always was. “Nope.” He smirked and dragged your hips down harder against his thigh as you felt his muscles flex under you.

You gasped at the new sensation of his muscular thigh and whined loudly, the noise seeming like a scream against the tranquil sound of your suburban garden.

“Joel, please.” You begged again, knowing your words would just fall on stubborn ears, no matter how hard you pleaded with him.

“Oh look at you baby girl…” he cooed, bending his head, albeit awkwardly to kiss your forehead. “So fuckin’ needy for me, aren’t you? Always so eager and needy for it. It’s so cute.” He purred.

You whined again, nodding at him as your wet cunt dragged across his thigh, your fingernails digging roughly into his tanned skin.

“My needy little baby.” He laughed. “Maybe if you’re really good for me, I’ll take you inside and fuck you. Or, maybe I could just fuck you right here after you’ve cum… you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Like it if I buried my cock into your tight little cunt, right here for anyone to watch. I bet you want the neighbours to catch us, catch you being such a good girl for me.”

Joel’s words drove you mad, each one sending shocks through your core and as you nodded, you felt the white hot heat in your stomach erupt aggressively and suddenly.

“Joel, I—“ you managed to squeak out as you came.

Your eyes were screwed shut, your thighs squeezed at Joel’s leg as you felt a gush of wetness soak the fabric underneath you. Your thighs shook aggressively as you rocked against him with fervour.

“Good girl.” He praised simply, smiling as you collapsed against him.

“Too fuckin’ hot.” You mumbled as your shaking legs relaxed once again. “Need a cool shower and a nap.” You grumbled.

“Oh, so you’re done now?” He asked with a raised brow. “What if I wasn’t done with you?”

As he finished his sentence, you could feel Joel’s hard length flex in his jeans and you whined, your walls fluttering around nothing.

“Can’t move.” You huffed.

“It’s fine baby girl, I can wait for you to recharge.” He teased, brushing a sweaty strand of hair away from your face before he kissed you softly with a contented hum.

—

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel x reader

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tabl3 · 3 months

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lil things about the team:

kaz's hair grows really fast. he often has bree or chase cut it because it needs to be too often to pay for a barber, and has to shave his face at least once a day

oliver and kaz teach the others about a lot of real-world things because all three of them have only been living in it for a maximum of 4 years

whenever the team watches horror movies - bree acts like she doesn't get scared but can't close her eyes in the shower for a week, kaz and oliver scream the whole time, skylar cheers for the kills, and chase criticizes how unrealistic they are

kaz never bothered chase's touch aversion, but oliver and skylar never really did either when they all became friends (even still they're both extremely respectful of it which was whiplash vs his family lol)

all 3 of the trio are huge huggers, even though oli is more emo now than when he was younger lmao. they also use physical touch often in the day to day, like touching shoulders, high fives, etc. bree and chase were never used to physical affection before tasha and leo came, but they've just gotten used to the influx of it

chase and oliver are the only tea drinkers (sometimes the girls too but usually not). they go to tea shops in the city often :)

chase sings in the shower. he doesn't know that whoever is in the boys' room can hear him (all four of them have recorded it before)

speaking of: chase is an amazing singer and can play almost anything perfectly due to his bionics. bree is also a good singer. kaz can't sing even a little but plays the guitar (sometimes with chase). skylar can sing, but she doesn't care for the more musically inclined hobbies. oliver can play the flute and piano bc he had lessons for most of his life

kaz and skylar are great with kids. they volunteered at after school programs whenever they didn't need to go to mighty med back in Philly. oli can't stand children lol

kaz and bree or kaz and skylar play wrestle often. kaz and bree due to growing up with brothers and skylar just bc she thinks it's fun

skylar spends most of her time on the roof. chase will join her if he thinks she needs the company

kaz and oliver have at least half a dozen secret handshakes

chase will make clothes that bree designs for her. he acts like he's put upon but loves seeing how happy his sister gets when they're finished

whenever bree asks skylar what lipstick to wear, skylar chooses the one that will look the best on her cheek after bree smooches it

tasha tried very briefly to set chase and skylar up bc she loves skylar until chase told her she was gay. when bree came out tasha moved to cupid-ing them

oliver stole a lollipop at the checkout when he was 5 and still feels guilty about it

skylar keeps an arsenal of calderan weapons in her closet

literally none of them sit in a chair properly (chase gets close)

chase falls asleep downstairs at his desk often. whoever stumbles across him carries him up (normally kaz or skylar)

chase and bree are bad at saying sorry. the other three understand that and the ways that they convey they're sorry

kaz is really good at using chopsticks. no one else can

chase is great at styling hair

bree and chase will sometimes share a capsule when they miss their family

oliver enjoys studying his medical textbooks

bree has accidentally punched all of them because of her glitches (chase has gotten so good at predicting it that she usually hits a shield)

kaz doesn't own a single pair of matching socks

skylar tells dad jokes

oliver is the team's moral compass and voice of reason. after him it's probably skylar or chase, but those two are willing to do whatever is necessary

kaz sometimes sleepwalks. he'll stand over oliver's bed and scare the shit out of him lmao

bree crashed a riding lawn mower into the family's fence

if chase is too tired he'll just eat coffee beans

chase is bi/trans/demisexual, bree is pan, kaz is gay, skylar is lesbian, oliver is hetero/trans/asexual. they let bree do their makeup and go to centium city's pride together :)

chase fell first when they met in mighty med, but kaz fell a whole hell of a lot harder

oliver knocks on any closed door to not be traumatized lol

the cats really like oliver

bree and kaz were banned from energy drinks

kaz was dropped out of a window as a child (he was fine lol)

kaz and oliver never talk about their siblings. the only ones kaz will mention are katie and kyle, while oliver never brings up his older brother

bree hates berry sodas with a passion

skylar rollerskates around the penthouse a lot

chase often has to cover for the team's mistakes. he's a single mom who works two jobs

kaz is a really good hacker

oliver sleeps with a stuffed animal

kaz often gets caught staring at chase with puppy eyes, in total disbelief that they're together. oliver and skylar make fun of him for that lol

skyalr throws great birthday parties

chase keeps snacks on him for bree's fast metabolism, water for oliver's quick dehydration, and bandaids for kaz inevitably tripping and falling when they go out

#lab rats #mighty med #lref #elite force #lab rats elite force #disney #chase davenport #bree davenport #kaz #kaz mm #kaz lref #skylar storm #oliver #oliver mm #oliver lref #kase #chaz #brylar

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 months

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now i’m craving streetkid chris waaaaa

if you have some time and energy, could you be persuaded to perhaps write some streetkid chris with jake and the safehouse? i’ve never stopped needing comfort for him

CW: Heavily internalized ableism, referenced past dubcon and noncon, some internal dehumanization, referenced drug use

(Street kid Chris au pieces here and here)

He sobers up, more or less, on the bus ride out of the center of the city, his forehead resting against the cool glass window. It's all a blur that moves through and around him, steel and concrete shifting to grass and trees and little houses placed next to each other like a child's toys.

Baldur hides a smile, imagining a giant toddler hand lining the houses up one by one by one by one, picking doll families to live in the little doll houses. Giant baby god giving this family a dog and this family a goldfish and that one a pretty boy like Baldur to do everything they say-

A laugh catches in his throat, dies there with the chill of sudden grief. What is his Sir doing? Is he at home with some new pet, playing games? Was Baldur replaced that quickly?

Of course he was. He was never special, never really very good even. Pretty, until he got too old. Stupid statue-boy trying and trying to hold still and never winning any of Sir's games. Sir would've ordered someone else right away.

He's probably forgotten about Baldur by now.

His throat tightens even more, heat stinging his eyes, but Baldur fights it back. The only thing worse than his wrong words and his wrong hands is when he cries, of course. Sir always says-

But Sir doesn't want him any longer, isn't there to tell him never to cry and then play games and hurt him until he does it anyway.

"Hey." Kauri, sitting next to him, must catch something in the shift of movement in his throat when he swallows or the stare of his glassy green eyes. "What's up, buttercup? You need some water? I know coming down always makes me so thirsty I could scream."

Baldur shakes his head, curling up as best he can, pulling his knees to his chin with his heels pressed against the edge of the seat, pushing the dirty soles of his shoes against the cushioned fabric. "No thank you," He whispers. "I... I'm fine."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard that before - or I guess I should say that I've said that before. And you know what, Chris? Never once was I actually fine. So. Here." Kauri holds a bottle of water out, shaking it a little as if trying to lure a stray cat with a can of tuna. "Come on, have a drink. It'll help hold off the headache, I swear."

Baldur's fingers are shaking when he takes the bottle, and it takes three tries to get the cap open, but the water is cool and clean on his tongue and down his throat, and before he realizes it the bottle is half empty, his chest feels cold on the inside as the water trickles through him, and he's gasping for breath.

Kauri's smile is soft, gentle, only a little sad. "There we go. Keep working on it, okay? Hydration is the best defense against hangovers, not that I ever take my own advice. But it is still excellent advice."

By the bus reaches a stop that Kauri declares is theirs, he's had all the water and it's an empty bottle he stashes in his backpack. He can refill it at the first sink he sees, have something he doesn't have to beg for or fuck for to drink later on.

Baldur steps off the bus and into a neighborhood right out of TV.

Houses line the street on either side, and Baldur stares at old trees that rise over his head, dappling the ground with shade that blocks some of the heat of the sun. The air smells like grass, and there's a drone from somewhere nearby that he realizes must be a lawn mower, a sound he's only heard from Sir's windows while watching the landscapers work far, far below.

There's a fence around the yard next to them - a white fence, even, with chips of peeling paint. Baldur moves to it, reaching out and letting his fingertips brush the rough wood, one nail scratching at a bit of paint coming free. He doesn't hear himself humming, low and tuneless, repeating over and over, until Kauri pops back into view in the corner of his eye.

"You never seen a fence before?" Kauri teases, but then Baldur flinches back and away and watches Kauri's smile falter, briefly, before it determinedly returns. "Sorry. I scared you, huh?"

"I'm fine," Baldur says too fast, realizing too late that he isn't answering the question Kauri asked - either of them. The blush heats his cheeks and he turns away, jamming his hands in his pockets as hard as he can, hunching his shoulders. "Fine. I'm... I'm fine."

The word sounds good in his mouth. Soothes his mind. He opens his mouth to say it again, fine fine fine - but Baldur catches himself this time. He can't repeat words he hears, that's wrong. Can't stammer, that's wrong. Can't move, or sway, or use his hands - wrong.

All wrong.

"Right. Well, come on. The house is this way." Kauri walks a little ways away, then looks back over his shoulder. Baldur hurries to catch up, keeping himself hunched. The weight of his backpack is familiar and comforting, all his things in there. The usual headache when the pills wear off teases around the edge of his mind, but it doesn't take hold. Maybe Kauri was right about the water.

Kauri talks, chatting brightly. His hands move constantly, in gestures and emphasis, and Baldur keeps staring at it. Sir would have slapped his hands if he moved them so much, but Kauri doesn't even notice he does it.

The house has people there like them, Kauri explains, although not like them like them, just - other pets. Domestics, mostly. The woman who runs the house, like the shelters Baldur has stayed at but they won't make him pray.

"Trust me," Kauri reassures, "I wouldn't stay there if they did. I've traded a bed and some food for having to go to their church and let them tell me what a bad boy I am enough for one lifetime, thank you. Sinners have more fun, anyway." He winks, and Baldur blinks back at him. "The last time I stayed at one, the pastor hit on me. The very, very married pastor. Which goes to show you - when you are as good in bed as I am, even God doesn't measure up."

Baldur swallows. He should say something - something witty. Kauri seems to have things to say about everything, all of the time, but Baldur's mind is still slow from the pills, even though he's sobering up. He can't think of anything except to say, "Really?"

"Really." Kauri's smile is bright, flash of sun off the hood of a car blinding but with something about it that seems cracked, too. "Once we get there, I'll make introductions. But I promise, everybody is nice."

"... Nice," Baldur murmurs. Nobody is, not really, in his experience. Everybody takes something in return for every bit of nice they offer. Everybody sees his barcode and knows they can do whatever they want to him, and then they do. And if he's lucky it's only to make him eat food that makes him feel sick, or talk to him about how he's walking a dark path, as if there has ever been a lighter one. Or sometimes they tell him to go lay down on the bed-

"We're here!" Kauri's voice cuts into Baldur's thoughts, and he looks up.

In front of him there's a two-story house with white siding, flat-faced with windows that look down on him like eyes. There's a porch with chairs on it, and sitting in one of them is a tall, thin man with a mess of dark hair and sharp, dark almost-feline eyes. He's fiddling with something in his hands, but when he sees them he shoves whatever it was into his pocket and quickly stands.

Baldur hesitates - but Kauri moves right up the overgrown path, flat stones half-covered by grass and weeds. "Hey, Ant! I brought someone."

"I see this," The man says, in a smooth, accented voice. He sounds like velvet. Baldur looks at him, trying to think. Just a blowjob, probably. Easy. Baldur has traded those for lots of things. He barely has to do anything, once they grab his head. "Kauri-"

"Oh, wipe that worry off your face, Antoni, he's one of us." Kauri waves a hand back at Baldur, then grabs at his arm to pull him forward. "I brought him to meet Nat and Jake. Chris, this is Antoni. Antoni, this is Chris."

Antoni looks at him, then turns and silently heads back into the house.

Baldur swallows, shifting to half-hide himself behind Kauri. "... he doesn't... like me."

"Nah, Antoni's just kind of a mood killer professionally. He's a softie once you get to know him, I promise." Kauri half-drags him up the steps and through the front door, into an entryway that has a pile of coats abandoned on a coat rack, shoes on a mat. The house smells like something cooking, and Baldur's mouth waters, his stomach twisting as it remembers how to feel hungry and not just emptied-out and light. "Jake! Hey, Jake!"

"Jake's out," A woman's voice says. Baldur stares as an older woman pops her head in. She has brown hair with bits of gray in it in a braid that lays over one shoulder, a flannel shirt over a t-shirt and ancient jeans, and a soft smile ringed in laugh lines that crinkles at the corners and near her eyes.

She's beautiful.

"Who's this?" The woman looks from him to Kauri, with curiosity - not trepidation, not worry, and not anger. "You brought someone by?"

"Yeah. This is, uh, this is Chris. He's one of us. Chris, this is Nat. She feeds me sometimes."

"Love that description." Nat's voice is wry with good humor, and she steps forward, holding out her hand. "I have hobbies, too, you know. Hello, Chris. I'm Nat, and this is my house. I help runaways from WRU start over."

He stares at her outstretched hand, then back at her, before hesitantly shaking. His grip is limp compared to hers, but she doesn't say anything about it. "I-... I thought... you were... a man."

"No, that's Jake," Kauri corrects him. "He insists on having a life outside of waiting for my beautiful ass to show back up, so we'll see him later."

"... Okay." Baldur studies the woman - Nat - thoughtfully. Then he offers, "I can... do women, too."

Nat's expression changes - so subtly he can't tell what the change is. But he sees it. Baldur knows how to tell when the mood of a room goes sour, to try to protect himself. "Romantic," She murmurs. "I see. Kauri-"

"Don't say he can't come here," Kauri interrupts, bristling, and Baldur stares at him in open terror as his heart drops to his knees. He's angry at one of them. Baldur didn't know you could do that. "He's got as much a right as anybody else does, and you let me come here, and he could use the help, Nat, so don't you dare-"

"Kauri. Hey." Nat puts her hands up, as if surrendering in a fight. "That's not what I was gonna say. I was going to say, Kauri, how about you set him a place at the table for dinner. Okay?"

Kauri's jaw is set, and it takes him a moment to stop looking ready to keep up the argument that isn't even happening. "I-... yeah. Okay. Yeah, I'll do that. Just-... Nat, you know that a lot of places won't-"

"I know. It's okay, honey. It really is okay. Just go get him set up. And you." Nat smiles at Baldur, and he tries to see the mean she's hiding, but it isn't there. Too buried underneath a kind face, maybe. Baldur can't imagine there just isn't any cruelty there at all. "We take all kinds here, and you're welcome. No one touches you here, and I'd prefer if you kept your hands to yourself at first."

Those words don't mean anything. The shelters say that a lot, too, but Baldur still wakes up to a hand over his mouth and a voice whispering to him to be quiet sometimes when he sleeps in one. He'll find out the real cost of staying here at some point.

But he'll find out with food in his stomach, and that's worth something.

"Yes, ma'am," He murmurs, looking up and around at the high ceiling in the entryway, carpet-covered stairs that curve up and disappear around an angle. Bookshelves, and off to one side the corner of a living room with a TV playing.

"Just Nat is fine. Kauri?"

"Got it." Kauri gives a mocking, if still friendly, salute. It makes Baldur smile - but he hides it behind his serious face when he sees Nat look at him. "I'll get him settled in. Maybe we'll stay over tonight? If that seems like a good idea, if not-"

"It sounds great."

Baldur watches her go, heading up the stairs - that creak as she walks, giving away the house's age. Wondering what she'll want him to do later on, to pay for the food, to earn the bed he'll sleep in.

He has more pills in his pocket. He can take some, and drift through whatever staying here costs, let his body and training do all the work. He's done it before, over and over again.

He'll always have to do it again, sooner or later.

When Kauri takes his hand again, he lets himself be led.

He doesn't notice the dark-haired man, Antoni, watching him from a doorway as Baldur digs out two small pills and swallows them dry while following Kauri into the kitchen.

#streetkid au chris #streetkid chris au #I can't remember which I used #whump #whump oc #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #box boy whump #escaped whumpee #drug references #referenced dubcon #referenced noncon #conditioned behavior #drug use tw

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goldenseresinretriever · 2 months

Text

Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 5

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, violence, sports violence, medical stuff, blood probably, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut, forbidden romance, sexual harassment, suggestive language, medical inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, Snitches Get Stitches. It was originally posted in October-November 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You glance at the GPS on the screen of your car again as you scan the street ahead of you. It’s situated on a quieter side of town and half the homes have beach access. Not at all where you’d pictured a single star-athlete in his early thirties to be living. It’s not like you expected a seedy bachelor pad riddled with used condoms and syphilis, but this was a neighborhood for the settled. Cookie cutter families walk along the sidewalks pushing strollers and chatting amongst each other. Kids ride their bikes unattended, safe in their suburban utopia. You and the well-loved car that you’ve had since you were sixteen are feeling slightly out of place in this picture-perfect neighborhood as if you’re a hopeless puppy tracking mud on a freshly cleaned kitchen floor.

The GPS chimes, alerting you that you’ve reached your destination. The house on your right looks a lot like the others on the street, a cozy suburban beach house. The driveway is empty so Jake’s truck must be parked in the garage. You pull into the free space, sighing as you scan the home for any clues about its owner. There’s none to be found. Curtains shield the inside of the house from view, and there’s no furniture or decoration on the porch. The only evidence of the house even being lived in is the freshly mowed lawn. You frown hoping that Jake hired someone to do that. The idea of him pushing a mower with his knee in its current state fills you with irritation. The idea of Jake, shirtless and sweaty pushing the mower fills you with more irritation. You shake your head to clear away the image, before getting out of the car, and heading up the short path to the door. You hesitate before knocking, wondering if you should have just stayed in the car and texted him to come out. You decide against it since he has his leg to worry about plus wrangling a dog. Speaking of Pudding, you’re saved the trouble of deciding to knock as a chorus of barking alerts her owner to your presence at the door. You hear a muffled voice amongst the barks as the door swings open to reveal Jake wrestling with the collar of a Tibetan mastiff with a glassy caramel coat who’s doing her best to get away from her owner so she can give you a proper welcome.

“Pud, come on, you need to settle down. Come on girl.” He urges the giant fluffball of joy. You drop to squat in front of her.

“Hey girl, it’s nice to finally meet you.” You reach out a hand for her to sniff only to have her instantly soak it with slobber as she gives it an enthusiastic lick that lets you know that you’ve long since passed the friendship test. You laugh and fish into your purse, pulling out a ziploc bag with a dog treat in it. At the sight of the treat, Pudding begins wagging her tail so hard she almost takes out her owner. You extend it to her and her giant tongue sweeps it up easily, and you watch it disappear into her gaping maw and she looks at you expectantly, her tongue lolling. “Sorry sweet girl, I don’t have anymore.” You say with a chuckle, reaching out to ruffle the fur on her head affectionately. She noses at your hand as if to say that all is forgiven. Finally, you turn to her owner who’s been watching the two of you fondly from where he’s casually leaning on the doorframe. “Hey.” You offer him.

“Hey, Bugs, you sure clean up something pretty.” You can’t help the flush that paints your cheeks at the compliment. You’re not wearing anything fancy by any means but you suppose the t-shirt and dress shorts are a far cry from the scrubs you wear at work.

“Thanks, you too.” He’s wearing a short-sleeve button-down and shorts of his own. The brace on his knee is clearly visible and you like how honesty looks in him.

“I’m glad you like it, I picked this shirt just for you. It really makes my great tits pop, don’t you think?” He puffs out his chest for emphasis and you want to die from mortification.

“Please forget I ever said that.” You plead.

Jake looks at you incredulously. “Of course not, Bugs. I don’t think I’m ever going to forget that.” He’s wearing a shit-eating grin. You scowl.

“Come on, Lola, let’s get going or we’re going to be late.” He laughs behind you as you turn to start heading to the car.

“Hey!” You don’t turn. “Bugs, where are you going?” You turn to see him still standing in the doorway, a confused look on his face.”

“To my car? Since I’m driving us?”

“Bunny you can’t possibly think we’re all gonna fit in there with my leg and Pudding.”

You glance from the pair in the house to your car and frown as you realize he’s right. Jake and Pudding join you and Jake nods at your car. “Pull out and I’ll open the garage and you can park in there. We’ll take the truck.” You look at him, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Jake, I can’t drive your truck!” He arches an eyebrow.

“And why not?”

“Are you kidding? It’s HUGE!” He chuckles, waggling his eyebrows at you.

“I’m sure you can handle it, sweetheart.” You feel your face flush at the innuendo.

“But you told me to remind you…” You try once more even as you feel your resolve slipping and start accepting the reality that you’re going to have to drive Jake’s behemoth of a truck.

He arches an eyebrow. “Remind me of what, Bunny?”

“You told me to remind you to never let me drive your truck.” You grumble as you unlock your car, getting ready to move it into the garage. He laughs at that and you try not to preen at the sound.

“That’s my Bunny, always so responsible.” He teases, patting your head gently. “Well now you’ve reminded me but my mind’s still made up, so hop to it, Bunny, and I’ll grab my keys. He ambles back into the house as you pull back out of the driveway, idling as the garage opens and you pull into the free space next to the truck.

Jake’s waiting for you, and he extends his hand to you, holding his keys. You hide your smile at the faded hockey stick keychain as you take them from him. Then you turn to face the beast, swallowing hard. Jake places a gentle hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to the driver’s side. He pulls open the door for you and you gape at the distance from the ground to the driver’s seat. You’re about to make a fool of yourself but at least you aren’t wearing a dress. Before you can even attempt the climb, though, Jake puts his hands on your hips and lifts you into the driver’s seat effortlessly. “Oh.” It’s all you can manage as his hands disappear as quickly as they appeared. He helps you adjust your seat and the mirrors and while you still feel overwhelmed by the size of the truck compared to your little car, you start to feel slightly at ease, but that could be the warm smell of leather and the cologne you’ve come to recognize as Jake’s. Jake makes his way around the truck, opening the back door so Pudding can jump in, before getting in himself. You’ve started the car and are familiarizing yourself with the controls. You take a deep breath, sitting back for a second, your hand resting on the gear shift, ready to move it into reverse. Jake’s hand covers yours, squeezing gently.

“You’ve got this, Bunny. I trust you.” It’s those words that give you the courage to shift into reverse and back out of Jake’s driveway as he leans over to hit the garage door control above your head.

***

Thirty minutes later you’re making your way through another suburban neighborhood on the other side of town. While Jake’s neighborhood looked unassumingly middle class, however, this one is clearly home to families in a significantly higher tax bracket. It makes sense, given the fact that Maverick is a multimillionaire but it’s not like he rolls up to work in a limousine every day. Instead, he drives a beat-up Kawasaki and you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen the man wear a tie.

“Are Mav and Penny married?” Jake asks, his knees bouncing into the bottle of wine he has clutched in his left hand. You’d made a pit stop on your way, a tasteful and way too expensive flower bouquet in his other hand.

“No idea.” You say as you continue shamelessly ogling the real estate. “I don’t think I’ve seen a wedding ring, but I’ve never really looked.”

“Google doesn’t say he is.” You peek over to see the bouquet abandoned in Jake’s lap as he types into his phone, brows tight in concentration. “Have you met Penny?”

You shake your head before realizing he’s still looking at this phone. “No, I had planned to meet with her after the physicals were over to draw up individual nutrition plans for each of you. I haven’t run into her at the arena so the opportunity just hasn’t presented itself yet.” Jake nods absently, still scrolling.

“I didn’t even know we had a nutritionist.” He mutters.

“Holy shit.” He finally looks up as you murmur the words. The house ahead of you is gorgeous. It sits on top of a hill, nestled into a private culdesac. A massive yard wraps around the circular street, dotted with trees. A wide driveway leads up to what has to be a four-car garage. The house itself is a sprawling modern Victorian style complete with a circular pointed tower. It’s a house that looks both like it’s been transplanted from the northeast and right at home in Southern California. You’re both awestruck as you pull the car up the driveway and shift into park. You suddenly feel extremely underdressed as you take the bouquet from Jake’s lap and follow him up the pristinely paved walkway. As you climb up to the excessively large porch, you feel yourself relax. Up close the house is well-loved, with chipping paint and mud streaks far too old to scrub out. You smile softly at the thought of all the memories it must hold as Jake rings the doorbell.

A beautiful brunette woman answers the door, a big smile wide on her face. “Hey there! You must be Bugs and Jake. I’m Penny, it’s so nice to meet you both!” You go to shake her hand but she opts for a hug instead and she smells warm and homey in a way you can’t place. She leads the two of you through the house, taking the wine and flowers from each of you. The kitchen is a myriad of bright dishes and rich smells and you catch sight of Mav manning a grill through gorgeous wide windows overlooking a sprawling deck.

“Is there anything I can help with?” You ask as you watch Jake beeline for the back door to offer the same assistance to Maverick. Penny waves you off.

“No no, I’m pretty much done here, just getting things to the table. It’s so good to finally get to meet you, Bugs. I’ve been busy helping Ice with the administrative side of things so I haven’t been at the arena since you started. I look forward to working together.” She flashes you a motherly smile and you’re reminded of home.

“I’ve been meaning to reach out and introduce myself since I was hoping we could collaborate on getting the boys set up with individual nutrition plans but I figured it would be better to get their initial physicals out of the way so we had the most up to date information to work with. As a physician, I’m strongly against restrictive diets, especially for athletes, but so I think a more general nutrition plan would be a better approach.” Penny nods.

“Pete mentioned you’re extremely dedicated to your patients.” She gives you a conspiratorial smile as she directs her gaze out the window to where Jake and Mav are and you feel yourself flush even as your heart aches as your eyes latch on the knee brace.

“My first priority as a physician is always my patients and making sure they get the best possible care. The fact that there are physicians out there who put their own selfishness ahead of their patients kills me. Jake’s been hurt in a way that the Hippocratic oath should never have allowed.” You shake your head, your hands clenching on the chair you’re holding onto. “He put his trust in the people hired to prioritize his care and they betrayed him. I refuse to let that happen again.” Penny sets a gentle hand on your clenched one.

“He’s in good hands now.” You try to believe her, but the events from Cyclone’s office yesterday make that hard. A wet nose nudges against your hand and Pudding gazes up at you with worry in her eyes and you stroke her head softly. You’re saved from responding by Jake and Mav coming into the kitchen, arms laden with plates of meat. You dash to help them, taking a plate from Jake and giving him your best scolding look.

“SIT.” You pull out a chair, setting your hands on your hips. A thump across the room draws both your attention as Pudding sits. You snort a laugh before going back to glaring at Jake who’s still standing. “Pudding has been kind enough to prepare a visual aid, now if you don’t mind.” Jake rolls his eyes but sits all the same. “No unnecessary strain until we have a treatment plan in place, mister.” You give him a sympathetic look. You know how hard it is for athletes to give up control, this isn’t your first rodeo. “You’ll be back up and running in no time.” You say gently. “Baby steps, right?” He nods and you notice a softness in his eyes that you try not to think about any longer than you have to. You head back out with Mav to grab the last of the plates, while Jake chats with Penny as she brings dishes from the kitchen to the table.

As you’re all getting settled and starting to eat, Jake pipes up. “So how long have you two been married?” You fight the urge to snack him with the rib you’re holding. After the conversation in the car, you thought it had been evident that Penny and Mav are NOT married.

Maverick chokes on his wine and Penny laughs. “Oh, we’re not married.” Jake looks genuinely confused and you wonder if he’s maybe missing a screw.

“But all the family pictures in the hallway…” He trails off sheepishly. You’d barely been in the hallway for a minute or two, how did he notice family pictures, and get enough time to stare at them to conclude that Mav and Penny were married?

“Oh, that’s my daughter, Amelia, she’s from my first marriage,” Penny says with a chuckle. “We divorced a long while ago, before Pete and I got together.”

“And you two never got married?” Jake pushes and you wonder why he’s so curious.

“Well, that’s because, technically speaking, I’m still married.” Mav joins the conversation and Jake’s jaw drops so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t hit the table.

“You’re MARRIED?”

Maverick chuckles at Jake’s reaction. “Yup, a long time ago and we separated on good terms, but never finalized the divorce. There was never a reason to, so yeah I guess I’m still married.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly.

“Who is she?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Sorry, that was so intrusive you don’t have to answer that.”

Mav waves you off. “You probably know of her, actually. She’s an NHL coach too.” The pieces fall into place all too quickly and you find yourself blurting out.

“Dare Mitchell is your WIFE?” It’s not rocket science. There are hardly any female coaches in the NHL, and there’s only one with the last name, Mitchell.

It’s Jake’s turn to choke on his wine. “Dare Mitchell? You’re married to THE Dare Mitchell?” His eyes are wide.

Maverick chuckles.“The one and only.”

“Holy SHIT.” Jake sits back in his chair, shocked into silence. You don’t blame him. Dare Mitchell is the best of the best. She’s been coaching for the Pittsburgh Penguins for the last 30-some years and is responsible for leading them to nothing short of five Stanley Cup wins. Her nickname, Dare, stands for Definitive Authority on Rink Education, or Referee Ejection depending on who you ask. She’s a force to be reckoned with and one of your personal heroes. Sure you were a Stars fan but every self-respecting hockey feminist worshiped the ground she walked on. She’d been the first female NHL coach when she started as an assistant coach for the Philadelphia Flyers and she’d not only broken the glass ceiling but now even the most misogynistic cynic puts respect on her name.

It shouldn’t have been such a shock that she was married to Pete Mitchell. Their careers had overlapped during his brief time with the Flyers before transferring to Anaheim but most people tended to forget that part of Maverick’s career. With the exception of the event that led to his move to Anaheim in the first place. If anything had ever been public about his relationship with or marriage to his coach, that had probably been buried by the tragedy that occurred shortly after. And now they were separated apparently. You wonder when that happened. Dare Mitchell was infamous for the lack of information on her personal life. Plenty of men had jumped to labeling her as undesirable and “impossible to deal with” due to her lack of a partner and seemingly single status. When asked about it in interviews, while she typically ignored such blatantly sexist questions, she occasionally responded along the lines of placing her career first, but now you know otherwise.

“I can’t believe Dare Mitchell is your WIFE.” Jake has come back to the conversation. Mav looks mildly uncomfortable at all the attention and you feel the need to change the subject for his sake.

“So, Maverick you mentioned wanting to talk about our game plan going forward?”

“Right, yes.” He claps his hands, sitting forward and you all return to your food. “Bugs, first I want your personal assessment of Jake’s condition. I know you mentioned some of that in Cyclone’s office earlier, but I think we should go over it with Jake present.” You nod in agreement, wiping your mouth and taking a sip of wine to clear your throat.

“Jake, we talked about this briefly this morning but you need to stay off your leg as much as possible at least until we’ve gotten all the necessary scans and tests done. I’m in the process of contacting some colleagues to get those scheduled as soon as I can.” You had a sneaking suspicion of how well that was going to go but you didn’t have much time to dwell on it now, there was a bigger issue at hand. You hesitate, wondering if now is the best time to bring this up. “I wanted to ask whether you’d be comfortable with me reaching out to your former physician on the Stars to get your initial test results. I just want to see them so we can compare them and get a better picture of your situation and how it's progressed. I don’t expect them to be particularly compliant, but I’m planning to ask Zam for guidance on getting the files without having to get lawyers involved. That’s only if you’re comfortable with me doing that.” You swallow. You know Jake’s had a long day and you can’t imagine how tired he must be, you know how exhausted you feel.

He nods slowly. “Do whatever you need to do, Bugs. Like I said, I’m in your hands now. If you think it’s necessary, do it.” You give him a small smile as your heart squeezes at the faith he’s putting in you.

“Are you actually planning to sue your former physician and coach?” Mav interrupts.

“WHAT?” This is news to you.

Mav puts his hands up in surrender. “He mentioned it in Cyclone’s office when he threatened to sue you for negligence.” Jake makes a low noise that sounds like a growl at the reminder of the events earlier in the day and you flush slightly at the memory.

“Honestly, I think I kind of checked out during all that…” you say, averting your eyes to your hands where they're fiddling with a rib bone on your plate. Jake’s hand comes into view as he takes one of yours and gives it a gentle squeeze and your eyes almost pop out of your head as your brain short circuits. You’re frozen, mortified at his audacity to do that in front of two of your colleagues let alone HIS COACH. You pull your hand from his grip, in what you hope is at least a slightly dignified way, depositing both hands in your lap, clasping them tightly.

“I don’t know.” He admits. “I think it’s definitely something to consider. It depends on how much of a case I have. We’ll probably have to get that comparison between my records to know for sure. Legal stuff isn’t really my strong suit.” He shrugs.

“You should talk to Zam about it, she’ll be the best person to ask,” Mav suggests, a fond smile crossing his face at the mention of the team’s PR rep. Jake nods in agreement. “Bugs you were saying?”

“Oh right, well that means no practice for Jake. You can do upper body work but no leg stuff period. I also think we could talk to Cyclone about hiring you a driver for the foreseeable future-“

“Or you could just drive me.” Jake interrupts nonchalantly.

“What?”

He shrugs. “You drove me here tonight, why not? I don’t want you having to deal with Cyclone any more than you have to, and suggesting hiring another employee will probably piss him off.”

“What doesn’t?” Maverick mutters under his breath. “It’s not such a bad idea, though. You’ll both be working together almost exclusively since Jake can’t practice so this way you’ll always get in at the same time.” You consider throwing the rib bone at Maverick.

“See, Bugs, we’ve got Coach’s blessing, what do you say? I’ll throw in breakfast on me.” He waggles his eyebrows like he’s just made an irrefutable offer. You sigh, realizing this isn’t really up for debate anymore, and Mav has a point.

“As long as you’re ready on time. Three strikes and you’re out.” You give him a pointed look. Jake breaks into a huge grin, offering you a mock salute.

“Aye aye, cap’n.” You roll your eyes.

***

The sun has long since disappeared from the sky as you, Jake, and Pudding make your way back to the truck. You’re walking slightly behind him so you can observe his movement as he awkwardly shuffle-hops with the brace keeping his knee stiff. You have a good feeling about his scans. For an untreated grade three tear, he doesn’t seem to have too much of a problem getting around. Today was an overall success but it’s created a brand new problem. Jake may trust you now but now he’s crossing professionalism lines left and right and you can’t help the way your anxiety threatens to choke you at the idea of Cyclone getting the wrong idea. Not to mention the fact that your body seemed to have a mind of its own when it came to him. You’ve been out of the game for too long. So much so that your body reacts naturally to his touch. You’d thought you’d have no problem avoiding his advances given the precarious nature of your situation but here you were being betrayed by your own body and mind. And now he had talked you into spending even more one-on-one time together OUTSIDE of work. You needed to lay down some ground rules.

You approach the truck where Jake’s patiently waiting by the driver’s side door, holding it open for you. Your cheeks flush as he scoops you up and deposits you in the seat without a moment’s hesitation before handing you the keys and hobbling around the other side of the truck and letting Pudding into the back while you start the engine. You swallow hard, drumming your fingers on the wheel nervously as you back out of the driveway. The two of you wave to Maverick and Penny on the porch as you drive away. Not even five minutes pass when Jake breaks the silence.

“What is it?”

“What’s what?” You don’t take your eyes off the road, your fingers drumming harder.

“You’re nervous.” You finally turn to glance at him and he gives a pointed glance in the direction of your drumming fingers. You stop the motion immediately, hesitating before you say.

“We need to talk.” He nods, encouraging you to continue. “I appreciate you trusting me, Jake, I really do, but if we’re going to be spending this much time together especially with me driving you now, I need to set some ground rules.”

“What kind of rules, Bugs?” His expression is guarded when you glance at him. You sigh.

“Jake I realize things are going to be complicated because we’re simultaneously coworkers and you’re also my patient, but like I’ve told you, my first duty is always to my patients. That being said, I need you to understand that you’re my patient first and my coworker second. That relationship takes precedence for me, at least while you’re injured.”

“And what about our friendship?”

“What?” You’re caught off guard by his question.

“Where does our friendship fall into your list of priorities? I’m your coworker, I’m your patient, and I was starting to think I was your friend too.” He pauses. “Or was that an incorrect assumption?” Your heart skips and your breath catches.

“No, uh, I mean yes Jake I would say we’re friends… or at least on our way there.” You trip over your words as you struggle to focus on the road and Jake’s brazen words. “I want to be your friend.” The words escape against your better judgment and you see the faint smile that ghosts Jake’s lips. “But that’s going to have to be strictly outside of work. Look, I’m pretty sure Cyclone thinks we’re dating or halfway there because he’s kind of a paranoid control freak in case you haven’t noticed.” You give a nervous laugh. He doesn’t know the half of it. “And if he's convinced? That breaks my oath as a doctor, Jake. I won’t just lose my job, I could lose my license.” You swallow hard. “So if you could just…” you trail off, not knowing how to phrase it.

“Keep my distance.” He finishes.

“More like just keep things professional.” He chuckles at that.

“Bugs, all my previous physicians were old men. That’s never been a problem before.”

“Then pretend I’m an old man.” He barks a surprised laugh.

“Bugs.”

“Lola.” You turn to look at him as he grins and winks.

“You’re one smoking hot old man.” Your face flushes beet red and you whip your head back to the road, unable to look at him.

“Relax, Bunny, you did say you thought I had great tits this morning so I figured I’d even up the score before we go full professional mode.” You can hear his grin. You roll your eyes, your face still blazing.

You’re quiet for a while before you interrupt the silence “Thank you, Jake.” He waits so long to answer you start to wonder if he heard you.

“For what, Bunny?”

“For all of it.” You pause. “Especially for respecting my boundaries.”

“You heard me earlier. We’re a team. If you go, I go, so I can’t let you leave that easily, Bunny.” He pauses. “After all, I’m a fighter.” You smile at that.

“Yeah? Me too.” You give him a shy look and he returns it with one of pure warmth and the silence is comfortable as you drive him home.

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ecoteq · 4 months

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kisantools · 8 months

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minimickzy · 1 year

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Practice || Van Palmer Part 2

I am so sorry 😀 University has been insane with hurricanes, car accidents and the like!

dialog prompts:

"Hold my hand" "Absolutely not" "We should kiss, for like practice" "I've liked you since you hit me with a rock at recess in 1st grade." "fuck you"

Characters: Van x Reader, the whole team

Word count: 2564

That night after Kevyn dropped you off at home you were pretty drunk, and now in your room alone to face your thoughts.

You had gotten so close- so close to just knocking down the safety rails and jumping into the universe that is one Van Palmer.

You brushed your teeth, changed, chugged a glass of water to avoid a killer hangover, and then flopped face-first into your bed.

You pictured Van, looking at you- though you after you had all but confessed to her. She had to know right? Even she isn’t that dense. Or maybe she is when it comes to herself and not characters on a screen.

You huffed and rolled onto your back. This was ridiculous- you’re being ridiculous. First of all, you never even told her you were gay. And she never even hinted at knowing it. You hadn’t even told her about your own questioning thoughts when she came out to you in the 8th grade.

Still, the look on her face from the party was haunting you. That look had only been shared between you a handful of times. The only other time that it had felt that intense was a time that neither of you had talked about since it happened in the 10th grade.

You turned, looking towards your old tv on the ground next to your dresser. You could see the scene playing out in front of you from years ago.

You were studying, well watching a movie. Lottie had loaned you Can’t Buy Me Love. You both had already seen it so Van was talking through the whole thing, riffing off of the cheesy lines. When the end played, and when Roland and Cindy finally got together, Van stayed quiet.

“I wonder what that’s like.”

“What? Riding a lawn mower? It’s not all it cracked up to be.”

“No- to be kissed like that.” You wouldn’t let her change the subject.

“Oh.”

“It seems… nice.” you needed to play coy, but you knew it was kinda of obvious what you were trying to accomplish.

“I guess… But like- what if you missed? I would die of embarrassment.” you had her hooked.

“Yeah, I feel so behind. Like everyone has already kissed or done more with people in school. I don’t want to get to that point and then embarrass myself.”

Van laughed, “With your aim- I’d prepare for that.”

“Hey!” You laughed and hit her arm, leaving it closer to her than it had been before. “We should kiss, for like practice.”

Her eyes widen, but you could tell her smile took effort now. She held eye contact with you, trying to size up your motivations. You tried to hold a look of passive determination. “That’s a good idea. Practice makes perfect right?”

“Right. So how do we do this?” you felt your hands start to clam up.

“I think you should just close your eyes- and I’ll just like- do it.”

You cocked your eyebrow at her, “But then I don’t get aiming practice.”

She rolled her eyes, “Okay, I’ll go first and we’ll switch.”

You nodded before readjusting to kneel in front of her. “Let's do this.” You closed your eyes. You couldn’t say that the first kiss was anything to write home about.

Van had basically just pressed her lips against yours for a second before pulling away.

You opened one eye, giving her a questioning look. Her cheeks were already a bright red against her freckles. “That’s the best you can do, Palmer? Expecting more from a self-proclaimed “lady killer”.

A little of the stress she was holding in her posture went away with an over-dramatic sigh. “Okay, you try asshole.”

You laughed but nodded, “close your eyes.”

She obeyed and readjusted. You tried to remember how people kissed in all the rom-coms the two of you had watched. You wanted to outdo her peck and maybe make her feel that this was a practice session.

You leaned in. And instead of just pressing your lips against hers, you left them parted until you had just started to make contact before using a bit more force and closing your lips on hers.

To your pleasant surprise, Van seemed intrigued as she leaned in, following your lips as you pulled away. You couldn’t help but smile as she whispered “Wait”, her lips brushing yours as she spoke.

You let her kiss you again, this time she didn’t seem as shy, she copied you, moving her lips against yours. In no way were you in sync. It was messy and a little wetter than you’d care to admit- but honestly how could you complain?

Van broke away from you. Her eyes had the same competitive look she had during games. Neither of you said anything- just stared at each other, slightly out of breath, both pink-faced.

Then the phone rang on your dresser behind you, Natalie was calling to see if you wanted to hang out- asking if Van was with you because she hadn’t picked up her phone.

It was a bittersweet memory now but you still cherished it.

The weekend passed- this year's prom fell before the state championship game which meant you’d actually get to go this year unlike last.

Most of the team already had dates, or at least those who seemed to want one. Jackie had all but forced Shauna to go with Randy but everyone knew she had no interest in him whatsoever. Natalie was going with Kevyn, which was great because it meant that you’d have a ride. Lottie, Van, and you had played to go stag together- so at least you’d have company in your singleness.

You adjusted some details on your outfit before hearing a knock on your front door. “You look great and you're going to have a great time.” You smiled to yourself in the mirror reassuringly before heading out the door.

Van was waiting for you outside, she wore a brown tweed suit with a vest instead of a jacket. Under the vest, she had a light sage green button-down and a stripped brown tie. She looked you up and down and let out a low whistle. “Someone cleans up nice.”

You smiled and started to walk towards her, swinging your body lightly side to side, “I’m not the only one.” You wrapped your arm around her shoulder as she rested hers on the small of your back, leading you to the car. She opened the back door for you of Kevyn’s shitty car before running to the other side and letting herself in.

“You look so hot.” Natalie winked at you from the front seat.

You winked back at her and blew her a kiss. “I do it for you, honey,”

She laughed and turned back towards the road as Kevyn drove away.

As much as you enjoyed watching couples make out and guys try to impress girls with uncoordinated dancing, the excitement of prom was dying out fast. Your mind was focused on how hot, sweaty, and smelly the enclosed space had become. You stood by the double doors of the gym waiting for Van to come back. She had gone to say hi to someone in one of her classes.

You could see her talking to the girl. She was pretty enough, looked confident, and based on Van's laughter she must be funny too. When Van leaned in to place her hand on the girl's arm laughing- you felt a spark of jealousy and figured it was time that you wanted to get some air outside.

You walked out to the spot behind the school where you and the team would smoke after practice. You had no reason to really be upset- the night had been fun and you had great friends. But you couldn't deny the sting that hung on despite your best efforts. You sat on the ground, wallowing in your thoughts for at least three songs. You could still hear the music from the gym though it was muffled. Your eyes were glued to your feet, expensive dress shoes kicking at the dirt.

Two new feet appeared before yours. “Can I bum a smoke?” You rolled your eyes, not laughing for probably the first ever ever at one of Van's quips.

“Don’t have any.” She shrugged and moved to lean against the wall next to you.

“Good thing I’m always prepared.”

After a few seconds, a lighter clicked above you before a lit joint was waved in front of your face. Who were you to deny a kind gesture?

You stood up and took the joint from her fingers, bringing it to your lips and holding it before sighing the smoke out dramatically. The two of you stayed in those positions for a bit, just passing the joint back and forth.

“Why’d you leave?” She asked. You could hear her trying hard to make sure she wasn’t coming off as probing or aggressive.

You shrugged, “Wanted some air.”

She nodded and pushed off the wall. “Would you be up for a dance? We can stay out here.”

Finally meeting her eyes with a questioning look she raised her eyebrows in a smile and held out a freckled hand towards you. You bit back a smile when she started to wiggle her eyebrows. “I’d love to.” you let her take ahold of your hand as you brought your other to her shoulder.

As the songs changed over the two of you got closer and closer. Forgetting the idea of personal space. Your mood lifted as it always did when you were with Van. You leaned onto her as she threw her head back and pulled you flush against her body. The two of your bodies moved to the music, not in time but in feeling. You laughed as she spun you, returning the favor before once again ignoring the idea of personal space and clasping each other like you were afraid if you loosened your grip you’d wake up from whatever kind of dream this was.

The lights shining through the window turned to a faded blue from the bright gold, signaling the beginning of a slow song. Without needing to voice the action, Van slid her hand into yours and slowly hovered on your waist with the other. You smiled, and she gave you an odd melancholy look before signing and resting her forehead gently on yours. You shut your eyes and reached your free hand up to comb through her long red hair.

The dance inside ended but the two of you didn't stop swaying to music only you could hear. The air had begun to cool as time passed, giving you a reason to try and close the space even more between the two of you.

“Van?! (Y/N)?” You broke apart at Natalie’s yell for the two of you, she was probably looking for you to leave, Kevyn being all of your rides to the afterparty.

“Shit- I forgot we still have to go to that stupid fucking party.” Van groaned as she rolled her eyes.

“Hey, it’ll be a good time. Besides we just have to say hi and then we can leave.” You grabbed her hands and started to walk backward toward the school parking lot.

She gave you an unimpressed look but nevertheless, let you pull her along gently.

Natalie, Van, Kevyn, Lottie, Laura Lee, and you all tried to squeeze into his tiny four-person car.

“Where did you go? I was looking for you for like an hour?” Natalie asked Van, turning back from her spot on Lottie's lap in the front seat.

“You know, dances aren't my thing- just needed some fresh air.” Van shrugged, barely visible due to how you and Laura Lee were pushing into her sides.

“At least we managed to get you to come to this one. You missed Randy getting caught spiking the punch though.”

“Damn, that sounds therapeutic.”

“You should’ve seen his face. Looked like a ghost when Ms. Jackson grabbed his collar” Lottie laughed, joining the conversation. “Definitely made my night.”

Van hummed in agreement, being disengaged which wasn’t normal for her.

You nudged her shoulder but she just brushed you off for the rest of the ride.

The party was hosted by none other than Jackie at her huge ass mansion. Van had made a beeline start for the drinks in the kitchen when the car pulled to a stop. You had to practically chase her through the crowd of teens in the house.

When you caught up to her she was pouring about four shots of tequila into a cup with a splash of orange juice. Her jaw was clenched. Her whole demeanor had shifted. You placed your hand on top of hers holding the cup. “What's up? Do you want to leave?” She shook her head and avoided your eyes, glancing around the room. You sighed and she rolled her eyes before gesturing to the stairs leading upstairs.

Van led you upstairs where she knocked on every door, checking if any were unoccupied. Unsurprisingly it took a few tries.

The room y’all had found must have been one of the many guest rooms in the home. A huge bed was in the center of the room with dollhouse-like furniture around the walls.

She put her cup on a dresser before face-planting into the bed. You couldn't help the laugh that burst out of you, “Van! What’s wrong?”

You sat down on the foot of the bed as she rolled over to her back. She tilted her head down towards you before looking back to the ceiling and groaning. “It’s nothing. Like it's actually dumb and I’m just a total idiot.”

She tensed as you set your hand on her leg, “I’m sure it's not dumb. Just talk to me about it.”

She grumbled as she sat up and looked at you with the frown of an insolent child. “This is embarrassing and it may ruin everything.”

“Well Jesus, now you sound like you killed someone.”

She looked at you as if to tell you ‘Seriously?’. You nudged her to continue but she just ran her hands together and looked down.

“Van… You.. You know I love you right?” You said it as a way to try to open her up but it held the double meaning, or hope, that this is what she was talking about.

“That's the thing.” Your heart sank- could she tell how you felt? Had it upset her so much?

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“You shouldn’t be sorry! It’s my fault. I’m the one making you uncomfortable-”

“Wait-”

“I mean I’m the one that looked to far into things and-”

“Van-”

“It’s not your fault that-”

“Van!”

“-I am madly, madly, in love with you.”

“Oh my god!”

“I know- mhM!” You cut her off by literally throwing yourself onto her with so much force you landed on top of her, pinning her to the bed with your lips.

“Thank fuck this conversation was a misunderstanding because I have been into you for so long it’s been torture,” you whispered against her lips.

You could feel her smile and chuckle before telling you “I told you that I've liked you since you hit me with a rock at recess in 1st grade.”

“Fuck you.”

#yellowjackets fanfic #van palmer x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #van palmer #vanessa palmer #vanessa palmer x reader #jesus lol

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