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kedsandtubesocks · 4 months

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game changer

MLB pitcher!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: back from your first semester of grad school your parents lovingly drag you out to celebrate with an old family friend - but what unfolds there (and after) cracks you wide open

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, dad’s friend!Joel, unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but is a drinking aged adult & Joel is in his early 50’s), light use of gendered language, yearning & flirting, some light angst, brief alcohol consumption, masturbation (f), smutty thoughts, heavy makeout, spicy themes, allusions to smut (p in v), Joel’s dirty talk, one use of “good girl,” one light ass smack, reserved but soft!Joel, start of secret relationship, lots of baseball talk

word count: 9.1k (I’m sorry)

a/n: i know, i know another non-typical AU for Joel but I blame my sports girlie heart & baseball season so here we are lol big thank you to @swiftispunk for always putting up with my sports ramblings LMAO im so sorry Han ily, special thanks to @burntheedges @undercoverpena @tightjeansjavi @msjarvis because this truly wouldn’t be here without y’all - you don’t know how much you babes mean to me & I can’t thank y’all enough…now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You barely have any solid memories of Joel Miller, even if he was your dad’s oldest friend. And if you were being honest, you remember his brother Tommy more who smiled so warmly and seemed to radiate warmth.

Now you stand before Joel Miller’s face on the side of the Globe Life field along with the rest of the Texas Rangers professional baseball team.

It’s a cool evening in Arlington. Everyone seems to bask in the weather that feels perfect for a night of baseball.

Home from your first grad school semester, you didn’t think you’d be going to a game. But your parents explained how good the tickets were, and that even if you didn’t care about the game, you could just enjoy the stadium. So with the promise of free food and a nice night out, you were sold.

Now you’re here.

“Yesterday Joel said to head to the side entrance, that’s where we can check in.” Your dad eagerly explains and stunned you simply follow along like a confused duckling.

The sea of jerseys sweeps you into a sports wave until you’re deposited in a new space. Your jaw almost drops.

The VIP suites sit at the very side edge of the field, and it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.

The seats are incredible. Everything feels deluxe but comfortable. Someone calls out to your mom, and soon enough the rest of the Miller family approaches.

Tommy’s married now and his wife Maria is lovely, so is their baby. Joel’s daughters, Sarah and Ellie, are older. Time sucker punches you in the gut seeing how much time has passed, but you warmly greet everyone. You realize how long it really has been since you saw any of them.

You greet everyone warmly and appreciate all their surprised welcome seeing you back.

“Joel’s glad y’all were finally able to make it. Been talking about it since yesterday.” Tommy explains.

“Yeah us too! Just worked out that we all could come out and enjoy this with someone back home now.” You mom teases, but it’s warm.

Even though you were cities away, the new workload just kept you so busy.

You’re grateful to be here too. Even though your mind still swirls trying to grasp all of this.

You knew your dad’s friend made it big as a professional baseball player. Joel and his family left Austin to move to Arlington after he signed for the Rangers. So you rarely saw them. But with your mom’s job recently relocating here, your dad talked non stop about maybe seeing more of the games. It never really clicked that your family knew a professional sports athlete. Plus you never cared too much for sports to even look more into it.

Now as the game starts with a wild explosive and electric opening, you feel like you’ve slipped into another reality.

Then Joel’s entrance arrives, and your heart jumps out of your chest. The stadium erupts in a wild frenzy. The music for his arrival is western themed, grand and epic.

“All of this is because the league calls him Cowboy Miller.” Your dad explains.

The nickname was given to him not just because of his very southern twang, but Joel’s cold demeanor on the mound along with his wild style of pitching. All this led to him being deemed a Cowboy.

You understand why.

A serious air of power radiates from Joel while he approaches the mound.

Wearing a jersey with the number two on it, he’s older, more distinguished than the last time you remember him. Grays pepper his beard and the shadow of his baseball cap highlights the wrinkles flowing across his face.

He’s handsome, utterly gorgeous. His shoulders look broad, pure striking mountains, in his white jersey.

It’s like your mind finally registers and settles into the reality he’s a man, a full grown and incredible man.

And he really is incredible.

Even though he’s older for a pitcher, he still possesses dazzling talent. You even clap loudly when he strikes one of the batters out.

Your eyes never leave him. Joel sternly staring down the batter is terrifying. His legs look strong as he whips the ball fast to the home plate. Your eyes can’t help but flicker to his ass when he walks back to the dugout.

He’s gorgeous.

But cold reality crashes into you when your dad brightly yells. Joel is your dad’s friend, and that thought sours the bubbling feelings in your chest.

So you try focusing on the game, which actually turns out to be rather fun. The vibe of the stadium, along with the atmosphere of the game itself, is easy to melt into.

At one point someone gets a hit off Joel and he has to run to cover first. He’s surprisingly fast. Seeing him catch the ball, get the out, is so impressive and hot as fuck.

After that the Rangers switch pitchers.

As he leaves the mound, the stadium cheers at Joel’s exit. Very politely he nods, raising his hand in a quick goodbye to everyone. Then he scans the crowd.

It’s admirable seeing how he instantly finds where his family is. Joel’s roughed face melts soft with a small crooked grin hearing the applause they give him. He even spots your dad proudly cheering.

Joel’s eyes then lock with yours. Still walking towards the dugout, his face stays on you while his focus narrows in a cloudy confusion like he’s trying to recognize you.

Then his eyes go wide as realization sinks in.

You weakly grin back. It’s all you can do before Joel is fully gone from your line sight. Your heart thumps erratically within its cage.

The Rangers unfortunately lose by three. Once the game ends, you decide to swing by the merch store.

“Guess the game made you a fan huh?” You mom perks up noticing you eyeing the jerseys.

You shrug easily with an eased grin.

After this the Rangers have a five game stretch at home.

You only know because after the game you check for all things about the team, about Joel. You haven’t brought yourself to look at any videos of Joel yet. But you did discover from the team's instagram that he has one too.

Early the next morning, still lounging in bed, you scroll through Joel’s instagram page. It seems very professional, like it’s run by a social media manager primarily using it to promote Joel without being too personal.

You’re not paying attention, still a bit too focused on your phone, when a knock comes at the door.

Your face scrunches up confused. Then terror sucker punches you when you see who’s at the door.

No way.

Opening the door Joel stares at you, but this time wearing striking thick black rimmed glasses. They make him incredibly distinguished. Instead of seeming like a professional baseball player you’re reminded of a studious professor. And without a baseball cap on, you’re given sight of his soft glorious curls and the light gray streaks dancing among them.

He’s knockout beautiful.

Of course, you’re still in your mismatched lounge clothes and barely look like you’ve left bed.

He says your name, greeting you with a curt nod. You swiftly greet him with an awkward hello.

“Are you going for like a Clark Kent thing?” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

Joel’s face scrunches up as he sighs.

“Gotta take a break from my contacts s’all.” He admits with a grumpy reply.

But it’s his thick twang, the familiar southern accent - that sweeps you breathless.

“How do they even let you pitch?” You lightly tease, and

Joel rolls his eyes.

“Good to see ya too.” He rumbles, finally greeting you.

Now realizing he’s still standing in your doorway, you let him in.

Joel explains how he wanted to come by, visit your folks, catch up, and thank them for getting to stop by.

You’re the one early thanking him.

“The tickets were incredible. And you did amazing the other night.” You add sincerely.

“Oh, yeah thanks. Glad we won.” Joel nods.

“So they let you just roam around?” You ask slightly stunned still seeing him here in your family kitchen.

Joel scoffs. “Ain’t gotta be at the stadium till later.”

“So, was uh…surprised to see ya at the game.” His tone now reeks of trying to just make small talk.

Weakly you grin back explaining it was a nice change from your days on campus.

“So…back from school, huh.” That awkward thick small talk tone of his gets worse especially as he asks how’s it going and what you’re doing.

For being a talented professional pitcher, right now he simply seems like just some guy…

Just your dad’s pal.

The thought brings a strange acidic taste in your mouth.

You explain school is going good and how you’re here just visiting until the next semester starts up again.

Politely he asks what you’re going to school for. You tell him about your program, explaining all the classes you’re taking and even about the undergrad classes you help TA for.

Joel nods, quiet. You wonder if this sounds boring to a man who professionally plays baseball everyday.

“You’re damn smart.” He then whistles low, and his compliment jumpstarts your heart.

“Haven’t read a book since… shit can’t even remember when.” Joel muses.

“What? They don’t have you take baseball quizzes for pitching?” You joke, but it falls flat. Joel just gives you a dull look.

However his lips twitch faintly, like he’s fighting a grin, and it makes you grin.

“Though, I’ve heard you could maybe work on your slider pitch.” You add.

From the clips you’ve seen and the comments you’ve read, that's the one thing others have commented on, along with how unbearably handsome he is. ESPN even named him one of sports top most eligible bachelors.

“Oh?” Joel’s eyebrows rise up fast. Crossing his hands over his chest, Joel turns towards you more.

“Suddenly you’re a sports analyst now, huh?” The way his voice perks up confidently, matching your edge of playfulness, causes something to get stuck in your throat.

“Y’gonna start telling me how to pitch too? Just like your old man used to.” Joel adds still with that same tone and even chuckles.

But his words slice through you. Swallowing hard, you steel yourself tight.

Thankfully the sound of the front door unlocking arrives. Your parents are home.

“You’re fantastic, Joel. Glad I got to see it live.” You tell him earnestly looking him straight in the eye, as if to stare him down and remind him unwavering you’re a grown adult. Even if you’re in lounge shorts and holey t-shirt, you try holding your head high with as much grace as you can.

With that you head to tell your parents Joel is here then quietly slip back to your room.

Eventually your mom knocks on your door and pops her head in.

“There’s another game tonight. Wanna go?” She offers.

You decline, explaining you want to rest and catch up with a few shows you’ve been neglecting. Thankfully neither of your parents pressure you to join them.

With the house to yourself, you now search for as many videos of Joel you can.

Even slowly starting to understand baseball at a base level, you realize Joel ��Cowboy’ Miller really is spectacular. You hear about his time playing for The University of Texas and how adored he is by his alma mater.

Then heat crawls up your chest when you see clips of him drenched in sweat, heavily breathing, or even licking his lingers to help with the ball grip.

You quickly turn the videos off before you get yourself worked up.

This has to be just a simple infatuated infestation. You simply need to try to shake it off.

The last home game the Rangers play the Minnesota Twins and Joel isn’t pitching. You again decide to sit this game out. You just have to detox yourself of Joel Miller.

Until you’re invited to a dinner cookout at his home. You thought about maybe playing sick, but with how hungry you are, you see this just as an opportunity to get a nice meal.

Your dad casually mentions Joel’s house has a pool, a nice bonus. He just forgot to mention how huge the Miller house would be.

Though gorgeously grand, it’s still surprisingly cozy. In the backyard you spot Joel at the grill and it makes your head spin. The weathered old burnt orange Texas longhorn shirt he wears looks cozy and casual, sits on him beautifully highlighting his shoulders.

You slip into the pool hoping it will cool you off. But your eyes always find Joel who now laughs with your dad.

Joel’s eyes suddenly flicker to yours, catching you staring red handed. Immediately you sink back into the water.

There’s more people here than expected and you feel a bit out of place. After drying off, you decide to head inside for a drink.

The soft Texas evening illuminates the home in a gentle glow. The music from outside floats in a soft hum making the room feel like it’s underwater.

Ellie told you the house was free for you to roam and from the quick tour she gave, you caught a glimpse of something you want to see more.

So letting yourself maybe take another peek, you walk back to the small alcove carved in the wall. It’s honestly a rather quiet achievement exhibition compared to other grand trophy rooms you’ve imagined.

There are honestly more pictures of Sarah and Ellie, along with Tommy and the rest of the Miller clan, decorating the main hallway of the house. All of it suits Joel.

His UT longhorn jersey is framed on the wall. There are a few awards clustered together, a couple of magazine covers where he looks so dashing in his uniform.

But what makes your heart float are the framed drawings of Joel with a baseball on the mound that range from adorable scribbles to a rather good pencil sketch. These had to be Ellie and Sarah’s work.

“If you’re thinkin’ about stealin’ somethin’ maybe go for the jersey. I can always get another one.”

Joel’s drawl trickles out, and you almost jump out of your skin. Turning to the side he walks to where you are. You hate how exposed you feel just being caught in his gaze and also obviously browsing in his home.

“Nah, I was hoping for a World Series ring to steal and sell but.” You shrug playful, knowing now he’s gone to the Series but never won.

Joel makes a low hissing sound like he’s injured.

“Damn, y’hit low.” He chuckles low.

You grin triumphantly.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get a ring someday.” You say simply.

“Sound sure about that.” He replies.

“Cause it’s true.” You nod. “You’re pretty great.”

Even with your limited knowledge of baseball, it’s easy to see how great he is. Joel is incredibly talented, a shining star stitched in accomplishment. Yet you can tell hasn’t let it go to his head. He’s anchored by his loved ones, and it’s admirable. You even tell him that.

“I…thanks.” He stumbles for a moment, deep dark eyes a bit cloudy as he searches your face with his voice thick and rumbled.

“What game has been your favorite?” You suddenly ask, wanting to know more about him.

His eyebrows furrow and his deep eyes glaze over a bit distant, creating a face of thought that looks adorable.

Then he nods with a soft grin remembering.

“One of the first games the girls gotta go to.” He paints a picture of seeing his daughters, sitting with their uncle Tommy, wearing too large adorable Texas Rangers jerseys.

“One of the best games I ever played.” He adds gently.

He really is a rare beauty of a man with a gilded heart of gold.

“And you? Your folks talk about ya nonstop. Tell me about grad school. And none of that simple ‘it’s good’ crap.” The quick playful mimic he does of your voice makes you laugh warm and bright.

So you tell him about your favorite moments from lecture and the fondness you have for simply embracing subjects you love so much.

Joel stares fully focused on you. You swear his eyes twinkle like stars might be sowed right in his deep earth depths.

He opens his mouth, eager to continue the conversation. Until the kitchen comes alive with more people entering inside. The bubble breaks, but electricity still brews under your skin.

The next day the Rangers have a game at Globe Life Field you go.

Even if Joel isn’t pitching, you want to experience this world he loves so much. You’re however surprised to find Joel is starting.

Your dad explains how one of the pitchers planned for today had to rest. So Joel will simply be the opener before the rest of the bullpen steps in.

Your heart doesn’t rage wildly as it did like seeing him the first time. Now you feel almost drawn to Joel. You focus on his stance on the mound, so disciplined and almost hauntingly serious.

The Arizona Diamondbacks batter hits the ball solid. It flies straight at Joel, and fear sinks its fangs into you.

Until with fast reflexes Cowboy Miller catches the ball eased. You and the stadium erupt wild.

The Rangers win one to four. On the high of the game, you head to the jerseys again in the shop.

“You should get one!” Your mom urges.

Your fingers itch, almost begging you to grab the jersey that says Miller on it. But something continues to hold you back.

On the drive back home, you now see all the great reaction clips and memes of the game. There's a particular one of Joel catching the ball that includes a great western music overlay, like he’s a hero in an old cowboy movie.

Feeling brave, you send the reel to his Instagram profile. You even add underneath the message “now you just gotta work on that slider pitch.”

You send it. Think, hell at worst the poor social media manager will see it and not even give it the time or day. He must get so many messages anyway.

When you get home, you see the message has been read.

But also, a new profile has followed you.

JM_8712

The profile also sent you a message.

JM_8712: ain’t nothing wrong with my slider

No way.

This can’t be who you think it is. You message back saying this possibly can’t be the real Joel Miller because he doesn’t seem like the type to even know how to send a gif.

JM_8712: think ur so funny huh

The account sends a simple gif of someone rolling their eyes.

Then another message flies in.

JM_8712: ur dad get those damn nachos he kept bitchin about with Tommy?

It feels like one of Joel’s changeup pitches knocks you out.

Because it’s really him messaging you. When you even go to double check the blank profile just to make sure, it barely follows more than twenty people and you spot Ellie and Sarah’s accounts among those profiles.

Warmth unfolds from your chest, dangerous and electric. This is Joel’s personal private account.

Unknowingly this all kicks off something you never thought would have ever started. You and Joel start talking.

The messages flow between you and him, back and forth, at first just talking about the games. Then, when the Rangers leave to travel, the messaging increases.

Joel sends you pictures of the places he travels, the food he eats, the vacant stadiums he gets to enjoy.

You devour it all with a greedy eagerness. However it dawns on you that you’re sliding down a slope too slippery to stop.

For the rest of the summer you earnestly check your messages on the app.

One evening, on a stormy delayed game against the Dodgers, your messages don’t send through. The weather is getting worse in Los Angeles.

“They’re gonna reschedule the game. Storm’s not letting up.” Your dad comments glumly.

You just hope Joel is alright.

Instagram finally alerts you of a message and your heart jumps.

Joel.

JM_8712: sorry connections shit

Then he simply sends you his phone number.

You wonder if you’re seeing things.

Trying to keep calm you text the number a simple message asking if he’s alright.

When your text alert chimes, it rattles your brain.

Yeah im good thanks

Then another message follows. It’s a photo from the locker, bags packed like he’s ready to leave.

Looks like room service for tonight

It’s Joel. You’re texting Joel right now.

It feels like a step deeper into a current you never want to leave.

Texting seems to shift the energy between you and him, a transmutation you never could have imagined.

You text Joel good morning and he tells you good night. You and him bond over a love of music. He’s got incredible taste while also complimenting yours. You stay up late on game days when pitched and now feel your throat dry up knowing you’re getting to know the man on the mound.

The desire brewing more for Joel mixes with the summer heat and melts the days away. Soon enough summer dwindles away, and your new semester approaches.

The drive back to your apartment is a good couple of hours. Funny enough Joel is also traveling today for a game. Stopping for gas midway, your phone goes off.

You think at first it must be one of your parents.

But instead it’s Joel.

You scramble to answer.

“Hey,” his voice sounds incredibly richer and deep on the phone.

“Y’doin’ alright?” Joel asks hesitant.

That catches you off guard.

“Oh yeah, just finished putting in gas actually. Why, what’s up?” You relax more into the conversation now curious to why he called asking that.

Joel sighs.

“Sorry I just…your last text uh, it just got me worried.”

Now you’re really curious about what you texted him. It had been half an incomplete response you sent. Even from your side it seemed abrupted and strange.

Sighing, you apologize that you didn’t even realize you had done that. In the rush of wanting to get out on the road you must have just sent the text.

But it suddenly hits you. Joel called because he was worried. That thought rips into you with a ferocious rawness.

“Okay yeah,” Joel says a bit clumsily. “I’ll…let you go.”

“No, it’s okay.” You quickly reassure him. “How’s the traveling going?”

“Good, just finished rewatching one of the inflight movies.”

“Please tell me it was Field of Dreams.” You tease him with the iconic baseball film as you head back on the road. Just now with Joel on the phone.

On speaker, Joel scoffs echoing in your car all around you. You realize this might be a bad decision trying to stay focused driving while also talking to him.

“Funny.” His thick drawl is dry but so softly teasing just below the surface.

“Was some new movie Sarah told me to watch but…fell asleep.” Joel admits low.

Thinking of him asleep on the plane clutches at something warm and deep in you.

Yes you can admit how badly you want Joel, how you picture what his calloused fingers would feel like on you, in you. But you also are finding yourself aching for more now…

Like falling asleep beside him while watching a movie, or sharing a meal with him and teasing him over his dry sense of humor.

It’s dangerous falling deeper like this.

Especially now in a blink you realize you’ve been talking to Joel this entire drive to your apartment.

“Shit sorry.” He realizes it when he sees the time. “Y’should’ve told me to fuck off. Don’t gotta waste your time talkin’ to some old ass like me.”

He rarely comments on his age, and his words sink hard into your gut.

“Trust me… I’m glad I get to talk to you.” You truthfully tell him.

“You’re the one who probably has better things to do than talk to me.” You add slightly dejected. The words even sting your lips.

“Like watching Field of Dreams.” You quickly add some light humor trying to dispel your heartache leaking in.

Joel snorts.

“Definitely would rather chat with you than watch that.” Joel mutters, but his world electrifies your skin.

“I’m flattered knowing I can beat Kevin Costner.” You joke. When he snorts amused, warmth fills you to the brim.

Someone in the distance calls out to Joel, and you know your time with him is limited. It’s confirmed when he sighs.

“Gonna be landing soon. Ya make it to your place okay?” He asks.

“I did, thank you. And thanks for keeping me company on the drive.” You smile to yourself.

“Don’t mention it. Uh, glad you made it back safe.” Joel replies and his words make you melt.

You say his name quick.

“Can you just… Text me when you make it to the hotel?” Just to know he’s safe. It’s simple, but it feels as if the words weigh a ton.

A moment passes.

“Yeah, will do.” Joel agrees.

He doesn’t text you. Instead Joel calls you when he gets to the hotel.

“Saw a full on fuckin’ fight at the airport when we landed.” Joel rambles immediately, and you learn how much of a secret gossip he is. While Joel breaks down all the details of what he saw, you realize he wanted to tell you about this.

A light burst in your chest because you want to tell Joel everything too.

And when your next semester starts, you tell him all you can.

The texting stays but evolves into more frequent phone calls. Joel listens to you with a gruff saint’s patience. He faintly picks up the names of your professors, even the name of your roommate. At one point he even stays on the phone with you when you cook dinner.

Joel calls during the stretch of waiting at the airports, a few times after games. Sometimes he rants about his teammates, sighs about his frustrations when they lose or when he ends up not doing well on the mound.

While every inch in your body still hums for Joel, it’s steady now - like you’re slowly accepting these emotions fully into your bloodstream and part of your existence.

You adore Joel, maybe more than you want to admit.

During a rare night out with your friends from class, feeling nice in your favorite outfit, courage courses through you. After posting a few photos from your night out, you also post a rather nice selfie.

You pray Joel sees it. Then you get a bit tipsy, and it takes all your willpower not to text Joel.

But the alcohol burns in you. Once you’re back at your apartment, in the safety of your room, you pull up your favorite video.

It’s a spring training video the Rangers made of the team preparing for the upcoming season. The video ranged from showing the guys on the field practicing, to them in the weight room.

There’s a nice small segment just on Cowboy Joel Miller. Specifically he’s training with a few weights and when you first saw it, your throat got so dry.

Joel is drenched in sweat. The simple worn navy blue shirt sticks to his body, highlighting the tone of his arms and width of his shoulders. Curls wet with sweat stick to his forehead. His concentrated face is sinful.

But not as hot as the sounds he makes.

The grunts, the soft growls, the exhales he gives lifting the weights… they drench your thoughts with images of him fucking.

You’ve never done this before, never gotten off on his videos. You never wanted to fall this far.

But it’s so hard when your body feels molten, so wet hearing with his groans directly in your ears. Your fingers trail down to relieve the throbbing wet ache between your legs.

Imagining Joel’s sweaty gorgeous body pressed against yours, picturing his thicker fingers in you, getting to taste him on your tongue - you come incredibly fast.

The next morning a text and a somber guilt wait for you.

Joel of course had messaged you.

Looks like you had fun last night

So he did see your pictures. A blistering heat crawls in your throat.

But reality sinks in fast. You got off to Joel. You don’t want to feel guilty. You reason there’s probably others who have maybe done it. But it does quietly eat at you.

So much that you don’t even reply to Joel for the whole day trying to sort your mind out. He’s the one that eventually calls you.

“Y’go out on a date or somethin’?” Joel asks about the night out, and your mind sputters to a halt.

“Oh uh, no. Just went out with some friends in class.”

“Oh.” He replies quick. “Well, looked like fun.”

You agree and thank him.

“But yeah, no dates for me.” You weakly laugh.

“Yeah? Any reason why?” Joel presses.

Because you’re partially head over heels for him, but you can’t admit that yet.

“No one’s asked me recently that’s all.” You reply simply. You’ve done the dating apps, had the headache mess of ghosting and awkward dates.

Joel snorts. “Pretty thing like you? Hard to imagine.”

His words, like a change up ball that drops wildly in the air, disorient you.

“Trust me, it’s real.” You dryly reply.

“And you? You must be seeing some famous celebrity in secret huh?” You teasingly ask.

You’ve seen the ESPN clips of the beautiful reporters flirting with him, cooing at how handsome he is. He probably could snag a supermodel or other famous person.

Joel barks a hollow laugh of a thing.

“No, none of that.” He answers.

“Ain’t not time for that or…mainly…haven’t found anyone who’s got the patience for me.”

Your heart sinks.

“Wait, what do you mean?” You quietly press.

He sighs.

“M’ older, a single dad. My schedule ain’t perfect. And those that have tried to uh… pursue something haven’t always had the best intentions.”

His voice trails off somber. You wonder how many just wanted him for his money or fame.

A grim cloud seems to settle above you.

“You’re a great guy Joel, an incredible one.” You earnestly tell him. “Those who can’t see it don’t deserve you.”

“And I have to say it but…you’re a real catch.” You go for the obvious baseball pun.

Joel’s chuckle is a beautiful low gruff treasure.

“That was bad.” You can almost picture him shaking his head. “But thanks…same uh, same goes for you. You’re smart, gorgeous. Someone will come around to see you’re worth it.”

You’re drowning in his words. They feel too much.

He ends up having to quickly end the call with his manager calling, and you’re thankful for it. Because this blooming rawness in you feels like it’s getting too much, yet not enough.

Joel’s compliments are sincere. But many feelings tangle you up. It hurts, like you’re stuck in a rose bush trying to get comfortable within the thorns.

Then, the universe decides to pull you away from Joel.

Classes kick up and the workload piles on. You’re exhausted. It even gets harder to reply to Joel as swiftly as you did. You even miss a few of his phone calls and don’t even call him back.

The days blur together.

Then, one morning you find a text waiting for you.

hope you’re alright

You want to cradle that message.

When you call Joel, it’s like not a day has passed between you and him. Your heart soars hearing his voice again.

“So uh…” Joel begins cautiously, and you’ve never heard him this nervous almost. “We’ll be heading your way into town soon.”

That’s right.

Caught up in the semester you completely forgot the team would be playing the Astros soon. Excitement immediately rises in you.

“Hope ya can come out and see us. And if ya do, let me know.” Joel suggests and you swear his voice sounds shy.

The minute the conversation ends, you try checking for tickets. But they’re a pretty penny. You jokingly circle the top section, the highest nosebleeds, and text him saying he needs to try and find you from here.

He texts back immediately.

Don’t worry about the tickets. Just head to will call and let them know you’re with me. Got it covered

That might be one of the hottest things you’ve ever read.

Game day can’t approach any faster. Your parents even mention the upcoming game when you call to check up.

“You should try to go!” Your dad urges, eager.

A part of you has wondered if Joel mentioned you to your dad. You’ve kept quiet, not saying a thing about whatever this is with Joel, and you now think so did Joel.

You take a small comfort in that.

When game day does arrive, you head to Minute Maid Park alone. Your closest friend and classmate couldn’t make it, and neither could your roommate. But for some reason, you’re slightly okay with being here by yourself.

At the ticket window, you nervously say that you’re here for Joel. Like if nothing they verify your name, and with an ease slide tickets your way.

Not just any tickets, but seats right by the Rangers dugout.

Still stunned, but now slightly lost, you can’t help but feel stranded in the stadium.

“You okay, sweetie?” A lovely voice comes and when you turn, you find a sweet older motherly woman. She wears a Texas Rangers jersey and another younger woman stands besides her in the same jersey. They both stare at you concerned.

“You lost?” The younger woman asks sympathetically.

It must be that obvious. The motherly older woman politely asks to check your tickets to point you in the right direction. She perks up.

“Aw look at that! You’re sitting close to us! Come on, we’ll show ya around!” She beams warmly.

“Wait, are you sure?” You ask worried.

“Oh of course,” the younger woman reassures you with a smile. “The stadium is so huge and besides, us Rangers fans gotta stick together.”

She then winks, noticing the Rangers shirt you bought and wore for the game.

You find out Malinda, the older woman, is the mother of the first baseman. And the other lady, Casey, is his wife.

Kindly, this sweet family adopts you, guiding you towards the section literally right besides the dugout on the other side of the net.

You’re stunned in shock yet again.

Even though your tickets are a few rows away from the two sweet ladies, they reassure you you’ll be fine sitting with them.

It’s beautiful and comforting.

“So, who are you here for?” Casey asks with a friendly gossip like whisper. “These seats are for friends and family, and I haven’t seen you around before.”

But then she quickly reassures you don’t have to explain if you don't want to.

You with a weak laugh you’re here to see Joel, adding that he’s a family friend. Her eyes go wide.

“Oh wow! And he warmed up today too so he might pitch!” She says excitedly.

Joel had texted you before the line up was confirmed that he would be warming up.

Don’t know if I’m gonna get put in but just in case

Even if he didn’t, you told him you just wanted to be there to support him.

With the Rangers being the visiting team, they bat first. You want to root for the guys to get a hit and get on base, but you also already selfishly want to see Joel.

Three outs come and the Rangers switch to take the field. No sign of Joel.

In fact he doesn’t show up until the fifth inning, and it happens so casually. Joel simply walks out from the dugout and takes your breath away.

The team wears their cobalt blue jerseys and the color flatters Joel marvelously.

It feels like seeing him for the first time all over again but through a deeper lens you can’t explain.

You clap and cheer with pride when he manages to strike out the first batter. Then the second.

Two strikeouts back to back.

Joel told you back in his younger days he struck out seven hitters in a row. Now for him to get two, much less strike out the third batter, is something to applaud and admire. And the Rangers fans here, including yourself, cheer loud when the team heads back for the next inning.

“Cowboy Miller in his golden age.” Someone off to the side whistles appreciatively.

You don’t fight the syrupy fondness swallowing you whole.

“It’s rare that a more…seasoned pitcher like Joel still is relied on,” your new friend Casey explains. “But it’s hard to see why not. Everyone’s been saying like he’s almost found a new groove and still has so much power.”

He’s a force you’re terribly in awe of.

Seeing the whip of how strong his body still pitches the ball with a dizzying speed, how handsome he looks under the baseball cap, you want to savor this as much as you can.

Joel manages to get two more strikes out in the second inning. Then by the seventh they get a hit off him but thankfully, no runs come in. Cowboy Miller ends the inning striking out the final batter. You, and the other Rangers fans present, erupt wild.

He did amazing.

Laser focused, locked in on the game, he doesn’t search the crowd or even glance up and you understand. The game gets intense when the Astros manage to hit a home run in the eight. In the end the Rangers win because of an error.

But it’s still a sweet victory.

You relish and warmly celebrate it with your co cheerleaders for the game that made you feel so welcomed with them. You’re about to head up and leave, start looking for an Uber ride home, when Malinda calls to you.

“Sweetie? Aren’t ya gonna wait with us and greet the guys!?” She asks with warm curious sweetness.

You can’t say no.

The commotion sweeps you into a neon coated excitement. There’s a special area sectioned off, almost in a backstage-like section that connects to the entry way for the visiting teams. You’re surprised at how many others wait here.

The team slowly trickles out of the locker room and into the hallway. You’re hilariously reminded of a class being let out.

Then the world then melts away when Joel walks out. Focused on his phone you almost want to call out to him, but your voice gets caught in your throat.

Putting his phone away Joel finally glances up and spots you.

Even with his baseball cap on, you see his eyes widen for a fraction. Your body reacts on its own moving towards him. But he also walks fiercely towards you.

The world blurs away for a moment and then without even thinking, you’re embracing him.

It happens so naturally you don’t even realize what you did until you blink and it’s like you’ve been thrown into cold water.

Panicking, you’re about to pull away until Joel’s arms slowly wrap around you.

“Good to see ya too.” He says low gruff but you’re taken out by the knees grateful your body doesn’t give out.

He smells of sweat, of the dirt on the field, and something sharply Joel, and it’s wonderful.

Quickly you draw yourself away to proudly tell him how amazing he did. Joel waves you off with a gruff noise as his eyes refuse to meet you, almost bashful.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen him this close, been in the same space as him. And it feels so different.

“Alright, dinner?” Someone says, and when you turn, you’re stunned to see it’s the team manager.

Guess this means you’ll be saying goodbye.

“Headin’ home?” Joel asks when he notices you staying back once everyone funnels outside.

“Uh yeah, gotta grab an Uber first. Didn’t wanna drive down here and deal with Houston traffic along with awful parking during a game.” You joke, and Joel snorts.

“Let me take ya back then.” He offers, and you almost drop your phone.

You scramble out reassuring Joel it’s fine.

“Besides, don’t you have dinner to go to?” And where would he even get a car to take you.

“S’fine. Would rather make sure you get home safe anyway.” He then tells you to hang tight then goes to grab one of the rental cars the team has on ready.

Because of course they do.

Your blood hums wild knowing Joel is taking you home, that you’re going to be alone with him. Even in this glimmering dusted dream you still want to tell Malinda and Casey goodbye and thanks for treating you so kindly.

You wish them well and even welcome their warm goodbye hug.

“Wish you could come to dinner!” Casey frowns.

“Maybe next time.” Her mother in law says bright.

Next time.

“Yes hope to see you at more games.” Casey grins and the possibility bubbles iridescent in you.

With a goodbye to them you wait for Joel. There are still a few others of the wives or girlfriends hanging around while the team sorts out where to go.

You haven’t turned to give them any attention. However something crawls on your skin like you’re hyper aware of being watched.

“Did you see how she hugged him? Probably just using him, poor Joel.” One of them whispers.

“She’s not even that pretty.” Another one giggles.

“Oh then you know he’s maybe just using her then! And if that’s the case then good for Joel.” The other replies with a searing joke that makes your stomach sick.

Joel returns, keys in his hand. “Ready to go?”

You weakly grin back.

You should be basking in this moment of finally getting to be alone with Joel, of getting to see him drive you around. Once in the car he took off his cap allowing you sight of his soft hair. The darkness of the car, the warmth of the city lights flickering by, all coat him glorious. Yet those comments from earlier fester poisonous and sour any hope of enjoying this.

You stay rather quiet while giving him directions to your place.

Joel however is surprisingly talkative.

“So you’ll have to give me recommendations of places to go around here.” His voice even sounds just traces softer, higher almost - like he’s happy being here.

And it kills you.

“Y’seem quiet, you okay?” He notices it of course, ever aware.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t know the game would take that much outta me.” You lie.

Eventually you arrive at your apartment complex.

“Your place is nice.” Joel admires as he helps you out of the car like the Texan gentleman he is. He even follows you to your door.

You graciously thank him again for this night and for taking you home.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again.

You walk a few steps away from him. The night all around is still quiet, feels soupy with how much hangs in you.

You refuse to cry about this, don’t want to get emotional. If anything, you deserve to treat this like an adult.

“Joel…” you start cautiously, already hating the way your voice wavers.

“Yeah?” His voice stays steady, unbothered, but his eyes furrowing say otherwise.

“What…what is this? What are we?” You ask as steady as you can, but your tone continues to crack.

Joel’s eyes brow furrow and his mouth closes, tightening his jaw.

“Just…good friends.” He replies simply, almost cold. “Just showing my pal’s daughter a nice night.”

There it is.

Your soul deflates. So all the times you’ve felt like this might be something, maybe it's just been you wishing it would be.

So salvaging whatever dignity left, you nod.

“Thanks again, Joel.” You reply briskly and return walking towards your door.

He says your name. It stops you dead in your tracks.

“Why? Why d’ya ask that?” He asks, pressing firm and hard.

You turn back to him, and a deep scowl is etched on his face.

“It doesn’t matter.” You answer.

“The fuck does that mean?” He snaps a bit sharp.

“It means what it means.” You fire back.

“Bullshit. Why did you ask that?” Joel growls out firmer.

“Even if I told you, it doesn’t matter.” You repeat.

“Stop sounding like a fuckin’ owl.” His voice rises hard and fast, like a hand slamming on the wall.

It startles you, makes your eyes water and something in you shakes. Mainly because you know this is beginning to taste like the end. The smallest trace of hope is dissipating right before you.

You blink back tears, and immediately Joel’s face falls.

“Honey, I’m sorry-”

Shaking your head, you cut him off. Not even the sweet pet name he effortlessly uses can shake you.

Through gritted teeth you tell him to go.

“Not when you’re this upset.” He urges.

Through tears a sad water laugh escapes you and Joel’s eyes go cloudy.

“I’m realizing…I’ll never be anything to you then just your friend's kid, huh?” Your voice is waterlogged and you can’t fight it.

“You are.” He states simple and straightforward.

You nod, swallowing back the heartache boiling over.

“Can’t be anythin’ more than that.” Joel adds through mutter.

“Why?” You now ask him. Under the amber light of your apartment’s hallway the most frustrated cloudy look hardens his face.

His eyes scan your face then he steps closer towards you

“Don’t act dumb, sweetheart.” His voice rips out low cruel, slightly harsh.

You’re not and you tell him that.

“I…” the words you’ve held locked up so fiercely in your heart now sneak out from their bars to escape.

“I’d give anything to be yours, Joel.” You croak barely realizing you even said that.

He inhales, and his face goes taunt.

You wait for the sharp reply, even brace for it.

Instead Joel swoops in, kisses you wild like a sudden storm, and presses you against the door of your apartment.

Greedily, you claw onto him not wanting to ever let this go, to let him go. Your mouth begs him more to invade and consume. And he does so with a steady hunger.

The clamor into your apartment is messy, but at one point Joel cautiously stops to look around.

“My roommate’s visiting family…” you reassure, kissing his neck and softly under the side of his jaw with delicate cautious lips.

“Just you and me.” You whisper soft.

Joel takes command the minute you lead him to your room.

“Thought about this. Fuck, think about ya all the damn time.” He growls against your neck as he slides your bra off and runs a callous hand over your chest.

“Fucked my fist that first night you went swimmin’ at m’house.” Joel’s words make you whine and then his lips lick against your skin trying to savor you.

“Me too.” You admit through a whimper. “Touched myself thinking of you.”

Joel freezes.

“Tell me,” he says rather calmly, deadly almost.

Your syrupy lust begins fading away when you realize what you said, what he asks for, and what your answer will be.

Your lips and eyes shut close.

Then Joel’s warm breath, like a ghost, crawls against up your chest and tickles against your ear now.

“Come on, honey,” his voice is utterly decadent with a plea. “Tell me, please.”

You swallow hard telling Joel you don't want him to get weirded out.

He hums against your neck already starting to suck a mark against your skin. Your eyes roll back, and the embarrassment is quickly fading away.

“Promise, I’ll be okay.” Joel reassures you with a mumble against your skin.

So with a shaky voice, you weakly admit how you touched yourself to videos of him.

He groans.

“Baby, oh fuck, fuckin - shit.” Joel sputters out hard, like he just got kicked in the gut, and you’re worried until his lips smash into yours.

He devours you.

You’re swept into a tangled dizzying frenzy. Your clothes practically get ripped off as do Joel’s while he clutches onto you and licks into your mouth.

“That’s my girl. Knew you’d be m’good girl.” He says almost drunk and you’re done for.

You fall into the chasm with no hopes of turning back. But you don’t want to.

Joel feels like a god carving open your universe. You want to consume him and want him to consume you. He becomes your center of gravity.

In the aftermath, you’re left basking in Joel’s warmth and never want to leave.

Even though you were in his arms, Joel had to sit up to take a call and now scrolls through his phone. Your fingers trace his beautiful back.

You’re thankful for all the soft lamps you bought that now melt him into a dreamlike glow.

“Joel.”

He hums a gruff gentle noise that says he’s listening.

“I don’t…” you begin softly, then tell him your doubts. You don’t want him to think you’re simply using him for his status or money.

“Joel… you could quit or retire tomorrow and work with your brother as a contractor and I’d still always want you the way I want you.” Your deliciously aching limbs, the soft afterglow, all of it has you speaking soft and freely.

You never wanted Joel because of his fame or even because of the forbidden taste of him being friends with your dad. You wanted Joel for deeper reasons, some that have carved out a chasm in your heart.

You explain this all to him best as you can without rambling or sounding silly.

Joel sighs.

“Y’shouldn’t.” His voice is a hollow rumble. “I’m old, friends with your dad. We shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

Now a bitter venom spills in you.

You glare at his back, how his shoulders slump defeated while you sit up

“I'm an adult, Joel. And if that’s all you’re worried about then sorry it’s a shit reason.” You launch back.

Over his shoulder he glares at you.

“If…” you swallow hard. “If you’re the one who wants to leave, because i’m that young, or you really don't want this or don’t feel what I feel, then fine. At least tell me that.”

“But I care about you. And I want to make this, us, work.” You finish firmly, even with how much emotions clash in your chest.

Joel sighs again. His eyes face turns away now down downcasted.

“Didn’t wanna want you the way I do. You’re so bright, fucking’ smart and so g’damn gorgeous.” He softly admits.

A pause settles between him and you.

“Y’could be with someone younger, less complicated.” Joel admits low.

“Don’t want anyone younger or less complicated. Just want you.” You reassure with a soft steady mutter.

He goes quiet again.

“Used to not get bothered when I started leavin’ away games by myself. With Tommy married and the business booming, then the girls startin’ to have their own lives…I didn’t mind doing this alone.”

Underneath his words you catch it, his rusting loneliness.

“But then…these past few months…and now today seeing ya waitin’ for me…” he says clipped, like the rest of his words are caught in his throat and he can’t free them yet

Joel turns, and his eyes bore into you.

The silence stays as you stare unflinchingly back at him.

He doesn’t need to say anything else. You don’t think you have to either. Like a magnetic pull, it’s effortless moving towards him. Joel’s warm large calloused hand, seasoned from so many seasons of hard work, of pitching, cradles your face. You kiss him with every inch of your heart.

Even after spending the night, you’re surprised Joel hasn’t left yet. He even comments about figuring out lunch plans with you.

“You have another game today, Cowboy.” You comment.

The term makes his eyebrows rise, and the most coy smirk tugs his face making him look so charming.

“Got today off to rest, ya little shit.” It’s affectionate. “Besides my back ain’t what it use to be and after goin’ more rounds with ya this morning-”

In the middle of your living room you rush to kiss him.

The rest of the day unfolds like a dream drenched and stitched from every domestic fantasy you’ve ever had. Joel stands in your kitchen when you make him a quick lunch and you laugh apologizing that your fridge isn’t MLB diet certified. Joel steals your last saved snack after that joke.

Cuddled snug on the couch with him, you try watching a movie but Joel, so greedy and handsy, ends up fucking your brains out with his tongue.

When dinner rolls around, you order from your favorite local takeout place and Joel pays for everything. You ignore all the work you need to do for the week and don’t care. You’re here at this moment and want to stay crystalized in it for as long as you can.

But tomorrow is the last day before the team leaves to Miami to play the Marlins.

While showering with him, you wrap yourself against Joel’s back already dreading his leave. He seems to sense it too because his hands squeezes yours.

Against your shower wall he glides into you tender and slow, almost trying to draw out every inch of this.

Later that night, you try staying up but the day begins settling in. Your eyes flutter trying to fight sleep.

He mutters your name soft while his fingers run soft against your side.

“Hm?” You answer, trying hard to fight your tired eyes.

“Don’t want ya to think i’m ever using you, honey. You’re not just some young thing keepin’ me company.”

His words are simple, but they erupt so much in you.

Joel had been spooning you from behind, but now you immediately turn around to burrow your face against his chest. You reassure him and his arms tighten around you wonderful chains you wish never break.

But the next morning arrives.

“Gonna come to our last game here?” Joel asks while he packs up.

“Don’t know, I heard you guys still have that really old guy who might be pitching.” You say with a shrug.

His face frowns hard, but Joel moves to playfully smack your ass while you laugh. He quickly draws you in for another kiss.

You have class tomorrow and work you need to jump on, but you go to the game. Joel doesn’t play, but you don’t mind. Getting to hug him goodbye one last night in the shadow of the stadium is worth it.

“Text ya when we get to the airport.” Joel promises, secretly placing a soft kiss on your head.

That night when you get home you order not one, but two Joel Miller jerseys.

#again I blame baseball season and the recent dodgers game so here we are lol #but seriously thank you so much if you take the time to read me and pitcher Joel think you’re a home run #pitcher!Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #baseball player!joel #joel miller fic #pedrostories #Joel 🤎

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bearambles · 2 months

Note

ARUGUMENT FIC W HAMZAH PLEASE like gets into an argument and you need to cool off and leave and he won’t let you jus angst 👅👅

jealous

(hamzahthefantastic)

words: 1.9k

warnings: established relationship, angst, arguing, swearing, hamzah is kinda a pos, happy ending

note: i hope this is what you were hoping for! i could also 100% write a part 2. also, i think another anon recently requested an argument fic, so there might be another one coming bc it was honestly fun to write. love u all, more fics coming soon

hamzah is driving you insane.

he’s usually not the “jealous type”, but for some reason, today is different. he’s grumpy and pissy and you think you know why.

last night you had gone out to dinner with a few friends from your old school. you weren’t out late, and the group was only about ten people, but to his dismay, your ex boyfriend was one of them.

you told him about it as soon as you knew, and he was pretty passive as soon as he heard. still, he didn’t make too big of a deal, even when you wore your skimpy little outfit to the bar. after all, it was high school. besides, he trusts you.

that was until he saw the pictures. your exs hand on your waist. the way he’s next to you in the group photo. it all really pisses him the fuck off, and even when you swear to him it meant nothing and the guy didn’t mean it, he wasn’t so sure.

“y/n, you see this guy after like five years, you look fine as fuck wearing that tiny fucking skirt, and you think he won’t be into you?”

you scoff, your chest now rising and falling. you really never pegged hamzah as the type of guy to act like this. yet here he was, standing in your bedroom, a few feet away from you with his arms crossed over his chest.

you’d crawled into bed last night to him asleep, and the two of you had been completely fine until this morning. he woke up to see your friend post on instagram about the night prior. he scrolled through her photos before finding the ones of the whole group.

“okay, so it’s my fault if he was?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“you meant it though!” you run your fingers through your hair, frustrated. “listen, i already told you it was nothing. but if it wasn’t, if he was interested, it doesn’t matter, because im dating you.”

he smiles tightly and shakes his head, the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb.

“sure. okay. yeah.”

“you think i’d cheat?”

you stare at him, your blood pressure rising. you can’t believe the way he’s acting. the shit he’s implying you’d do.

“i never fucking said that, y/n. i’m just saying he was touchy, and you won’t admit it.”

“it was one fucking photo! he happened to be next to me! where did you want him to put his hands?”

“anywhere else! not your waist! it’s fucking weird!”

“so you’re mad at me because of the way a guy acted towards me.” you say, sitting down on your bed and mimicking his move of crossing his arms. “that’s really fucking progressive of you.”

“oh my god, you know that’s not true. jesus christ. i’m not mad, im just fucking annoyed. and i don’t like how you acted either.”

“how did i act hamzah. you weren’t even fucking there.” you start to feel tears prick your eyes. you hate crying in front of him, you rarely do. but this was so frustrating, listening to him accuse you when you only love him.

“i still saw.” he mumbles, clearly losing what he was trying to say in the first place. he’s just spitballing stuff at this point.

he isn’t even looking at you any more. his eyes meet the floor and he’s breathing so hard you can hear it just barely. he’s close enough to where you could reach out to his arm and pull him on top of you. you won’t though.

“saw what? my tiny skirt?” you laugh, baffled. “just leave me alone.” you can feel some of the tears start to fall.

he looks up at you when he hears your voice break. his eyes soften their gaze but he stays where he’s standing. it’s silent for a moment before you speak again.

“go away, hamzah.” you say, moving your position to lay down, your face turned away from him.

“no. i wanna talk.”

you’re silent.

“y/n-“

“i said go away.” you mumble between sobs.

you’re stiff for a long moment before you hear him sigh. he turns and leaves your room, and you wait till you hear the door click before really letting yourself sob.

you’d dealt with this in the past - controlling relationships where anything you did around any ex was considered suspicious. in fact, you almost didn’t go last night. but you’d wanted to catch up with your old friends. if it was up to you, you wouldn’t have had your ex there either. he was a total jerk back in the day. but he was, and it was fine. you’d barely spoken outside of taking that group picture.

you don’t want to fight with hamzah. he’s your person. but the way he’s acting is scary.

eventually you decide you need some air. you get dressed, throw on some makeup, and head out the door. you don’t know where you’re going, but you know it needs to be away from here. away from him.

he jumps up from the couch and catches your wrist right before you can turn the knob. you whip your head around, and meet his eyes. he looks just as pissed as before.

“where are you going?” he asks, still gripping you hard

“what, do i need your permission to leave the fucking house now?” you bite back, wriggling our arm free, “get off me. i’ll be back later.”

he starts to protest, but you slam the door before you hear any of it. if you had any fucks left to give, youd tear up again. at this point though, you’ve had enough. if he wanted to be like this, you weren’t gonna entertain it.

the city’s relatively walkable, so that’s what you do. there’s plenty of stuff to do around the area. retail therapy, you think. whatever makes you forget about this argument for a while.

it’s late when you walk home. later than the night before, and later than you’d ever been out without calling. you and hamzah had one another’s location, so really, he could see anytime where you were. which was the outdoor mall, and then the local bar. you’d only had a few drinks, but you were there for a good two hours. just talking and talking to the bartender. you guys are friends, and she was a good listener. so she listened.

“he’s just being so mean. and like, he’s never mean. sometimes we argue and stuff, but it’s always over stupid stuff, you know? and like, we make up super quick. but he’s like, so mad at me. and i swear to god, i didn’t even do anything.”

“it’s his first real relationship, right?” she asks, while pouring a drink

“yeah. i guess maybe that’s why. i just like, never thought he’d be like this. all jealous.”

“i think most guys are, honestly. or at least, the insecure ones. either way though, he shouldn’t be acting that way. i’m glad you got out to clear your head.”

you nod and take a sip. you’re tipsy, you realize. it actually feels pretty nice though. letting loose to someone like this. you should be talking to hamzah, but he doesn’t seem to want to listen. you sigh and shake your head like it’ll clear the thoughts away.

when you walk through the door, the house is silent. it’s nearly one am, so you assume at first that hamzah fell asleep. that is until you’re going to hang your jacket up and hear him open the bedroom door. you press your eyes closed, ready for the reprimanding.

“you scared the shit out of me.”

you turn around to face him, and his eyebrows are knit together. he’s in the doorway, his arms crossed and his back against the doorframe. he chews at his lip.

“sorry.” you mumble, going to take your shoes off.

“sorry?” he scoffs, uncrossing his arms and using them as he speaks, “you were out for hours, y/n!”

“i told you i’d be back later.” you don’t look at him, don’t step forward. you stand there, your arms pressed against our chest, holding yourself tight.

“that’s all i get then? not even a text? what the fuck, y/n.” his nostrils flare as he talks, and he starts moving closer to you. “I had no idea if you were safe! you could have gotten fucking killed.”

you laugh, moving your head back like you can’t believe what he’s saying. though honestly - he’s right. the city can be sketchy, especially at night. you seldom went on walks without him this late. especially drunk. which, he hasn’t seemed to notice you are yet.

“killed? come on.”

“don’t act like that’s crazy to say. the streets are dangerous. you know that!” he’s in your face now, motioning with his hands. “seriously, y/n, what the fuck.”

you flinch as he raises his hands in exclamation.

“so you’re mad again, great.” before you know it, you’re crying again.

you hold yourself tighter as tears start to fall. you feel like a little kid, just standing there helpless. the drinks are really getting you now.

hamzah is silent for a minute as you sob. he stands so close to you, but doesn’t dare move. when you finally look up at him, his gaze has softened and his hands are in his pockets. he reaches out slowly to brush your hair out of your face, looking at you like he’s waiting for protest. instead, you lean into his hand on your cheek.

he stares at you for a moment and you can’t tell how he feels. his eyes scan your features, landing on your lips, which are quivering just slightly. after a few moments of just looking at one another, he puts his arms out, offering a hug.

you fall against his chest and start sobbing all over again.

he rubs circles into your back absent-mindly, whispering little “shhs”. you don’t even thin of how angry you were today. how mean he was. you just cry and let him hold you. he pulls you two apart and goes to hold your face in his palms.

“how much did you drink,baby? " he asks, wiping a tear.

“not that much. just like, a few.”

“a few what?”

“mmm seltzers?” you say, more of a question than an answer.

he sighs.

“okay. well, i think you should go to bed, yeah?”

your eyes scan his face, searching for whatever emotion he’s hiding. surely he’s still angry. you hold onto both his arms while you speak.

“hamzah.”

“yeah?”

“i don’t like my high school boyfriend.”

“i know.”

he presses his eyes shut tight. his chest rises and falls slowly and before you can argue that he clearly doesn’t know, he speaks again.

“i was gonna apologize when you got home.”

“but now you’re mad again.” you say, pouting

“not about that. and i’m not mad, y/n, i was worried. you were gone for five hours without a text or anything.”

“m’sorry.” you mumble, pressing your head against his chest again.

“let’s go to bed, okay?”

he strokes your hair as you breath in his scent. he’s warm, and it hits you how tired you are. Ou nod softly against him and before you know it, he’s picking you up and carrying you to bed. giggling, you land with a plop. he joins you and holds you tight.

“we can talk more tomorrow, yeah. you deserve a better apology but i have a feeling you won’t remember much of it if i tell you now.”

you nod, scooting back to press your back against his chest. he kisses your shoulder. you fall asleep.

i hope you guys enjoyed >.< requests are open

#hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #hamzah imagines #hamzahsmut #hamzah x y/n #slushy noobz #hamzah fic #hamzah angst #hamzah the fantastic #hamzahthefantastic angst #muffin-berry

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hxnbi · 3 months

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⸻ ⨳﹒❝ BABYSITTING DUTIES ❞

requested by @enassbraid: "can i request hiragi and reader being stressed out about the reckless bofurin students together, being like the stressed out damage control parents of the friend group"

note: im ngl, this unintentionally turned into a crackfic while i was writing the chaos that are these boys. the idea of a picnic was from when umemiya mentioned in ep 3 about having a bbq over the summer, so why not have that go full circle! also, hiragi is the unofficial mother of bofurin, someone change my mind

"You've got to be kidding me…"

Hiragi muttered from under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in very visible agitation. "You called us in here for this?!"

Everyone stood, slack-jawed at the sight before you all—a sprawling picnic spread out on the grass, complete with blankets, baskets of food, and even a few kites ready to be flown.

Suo laughed heartily. "I was wondering, too. Considering how y/n-san is also here with us."

Nirie nodded along. "Y-Yeah, since they're not even part of the gang."

"Awww, Nirei, are you saying you don't want me around?" you teased, making the poor boy's facial expression drop wide.

"N-NO, NO, OF COURSE NOT! I-I WOULD NEVER THINK THAT!" blasting both your and Sakura's eardrums.

"Tsk, tone it down a bit, will you?" Sakura grumbled. "We're not deaf. Yet."

Nirie looked thoroughly embarrassed, his cheeks flushed as he muttered an apology.

Umemiya pouted, crossing an arm over the other. "But they're Hiragi's lover! It's a must to bring them to an event like this! Don’t you all agree??”

Hiragi sighed, rubbing his temples. "Tsk, this guy is already a lost cause godamnit. There's no stopping when he sets his mind on something."

"Ahah…" you sheepishly chuckled at Hiragi's reaction.

"But Hiragi-san! Wouldn't you say that being in Furin also means that you're 'one of us'?" Suo chimed in with his signature grin that could make anyone itch to punch Suo's pretty face and that horrid, infuriating grin of his.

"Ahem… Speaking of which, can someone tell me what he is doing up there?" Kiryu asked, pointing to the tree where Umemiya was now attempting to hang a banner that read "Happy Picnic Day!”

None of you were particularly impressed.

Umemiya looked down, waving cheerfully. "Just adding some festive touches to lighten the mood! It's not a picnic without decorations, right, Hiragi?"

Said Hiragi gave a scalding look, "More or less..." making you snicker.

Meanwhile, Umemiya was in the background, doing God knows what—now perched in a tree while still attempting to tie streamers to the branches, humming a cheerful tune, completely oblivious to the dead looks from below.

Something told you that this was going to be a long, long day. And beyond the so-called circus surprise that was revealed before you all, the idea seemed innocent enough until the reality of managing the Bofurin students set in.

"No wonder Umemiya had asked me to help wrangle the circus together," you mused to yourself.

Everyone turned to look at you with sweat-dropped faces. 'What did you just say…?'

Umemiya was practically beaming with pride as the picnic setup was finally complete, "Now, let's enjoy this beautiful day together shall we?!"

"....."

"Oh, come on! Don't just give those solemn looks. Go and have fun!"

An order from the commander that not even Hiragi could ignore. And so, "fun" was in order. And as the sun dipped lower in the sky, a warm glow spread over the picnic area. Hiragi and you somehow found a rare moment of quiet away from the chaos that is the Furin gang. You both sat side by side on a small but peaceful hill overlooking the Furin members, weary expressions mirrored on your faces.

"I swear, every time I think they can't surprise me anymore, they prove me wrong," Hiragi muttered with exasperation, running a hand through his hair. You honestly believed that he was going to pop another pill in his mouth for all the graying stress that happened just today alone.

You laughed softly, nudging him with your shoulder. "You know better than to expect anything less from them. I should have seen it coming.

"Ugh… But I thought maybe, just maybe, they'd behave for once." And taking just a singular peek back at the group, Hiragi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sight. "Sugishita, can you please help us set up the tent properly? We need to make sure it's secure."

Sugishita looked over, mid-stare fest with Sakura, and gave a noncommittal grunt. Not exactly convincing everyone that he would comply.

"Yeah, we don't want it chomping on Matsumoto's head like what happened last time," you mused.

"Sugishita, Umemiya really wants it done right now," Hiragi added, trying one last time. And instantly, like clockwork, the boy perked up, releasing Sakura and marching over to the flattened tent, and immediately getting to work.

You and Hiragi exchanged an amused glance. When in doubt, "pulling the Umemiya card always works," you whispered with a quiet snicker.

Hiragi scoffed. "Every damn time."

As everyone split off into their cliques, soon too would chaos unfold in a rather predictable fashion in your and Hiragi's eyes. And as if on cue, Sakura clicked his tongue and split off from the rest, leaving Nirei to scurry alongside, followed by Suo. Minutes later, you would hear their voices rising in volume with each passing second, the first years bickering over the best way to arrange the picnic blanket.

"S-Sakura-san, it should go here! The sun is better this way!" Nirei insisted, trying to tug at one corner of the blanket.

"Are you fucking blind? The shade is perfect over there!" Sakura countered, pulling in the opposite direction, making Nirei nearly trip.

"Hmmm, well, I think you're both wrong," Suo chimed in with a rather unnecessary comment about his wrong. "Don't you think it would be better if we put it in the middle?" Only to receive a deadpanned look from the two.

You exchanged a knowing glance with Hiragi. 'And so it begins.'

You glanced over your shoulder at the group, watching Suo and Nirei squabble over the picnic blanket while Sugishita and Sakura inevitably clashed once again, their bickering escalating into a full-blown wrestling match—which, admittedly, was not a surprise to anyone there. It was quite entertaining to watch for a lot of them. No longer was it the serene "picnic," as Umemiya had initially envisioned, but rapidly devolving into a spectacle of their usual antics.

Tsugeura, ever the fitness enthusiast bordering on obsession, had, much to everyone's bewilderment, brought his training gear and proceeded to do push-ups and squats between bites of food, much to everyone's amusement. That is, until he started spitting his so-called advice about his "virtue" and what it meant to be truly fit. Safe to say, everyone made an effort to stay the hell away from him as far as possible.

Kiryu, meanwhile, was glued to his cell phone, tapping away, utterly oblivious to the mayhem around him. Not like he particularly cared. And nor did Kaji, who had both his feet propped up on the picnic basket of all things while listening to music to his heart's content. All the while, Kusumi and Entomoto attempted for Kaji to, for once, pull his head out of his ass and to actually be actively engaging with everyone from Furin when they were together. An attempt was made—an attempt that did not end in success.

To the surprise of everyone, yet no one, Sugishita was at the grill, utterly determined to cook the perfect batch of meats for this lord and saviour, Umemiya Hajime. He prodded the sizzling cuts with intense concentration and budging eyes—as if they were going to pop out of their eye sockets at any moment—though the occasional flare-up of flames and his singed eyebrows suggested it wasn't going entirely to plan.

"Uh, Sugishita, you might want to turn the heat down a bit…" Hiragi advised with a cautious cough, watching the grill spit sparks like a miniature firework display that was on the verge of blowing up.

Sugishita let out a short grunt, just as a particularly aggressive flame shot up, singeing the edge of his shirt, making Hiragi sigh, exchanging a knowing glance with you.

"And here I thought this would be a relaxing day…"

You could tell that Hiragi was embarrassed to have you see this side of him, but you didn't mind it. "There's no such thing as relaxing with them, really," you laughed.

Then, a loud crash interrupted the peace, followed by Suo's laughter, Sakura's indignant shouting, and Nirei's desperate pleas.

"S-Sakura-san! Y-You can't start fighting Sugishita-san right here!"

"WHO THE FUCK CARES?! HE JUST THREW A SAUSAGE AT ME FOR NO REASON!!"

"At least it was fresh off the grill, Sakura-kun," Suo smiled.

"YOU—"

"....There they go again."

Safe to say, it was a long day for you both.

©hxnbi. comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated ♡

#wind breaker #windbreaker #wind breaker x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x gn reader #wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #wind breaker x y/n #wind breaker fluff #wind breaker drabbles #hiragi toma #toma hiragi #hiragi toma x reader #hiragi x reader

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growling · 4 months

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*average self-proclaimed safe space tumblr blog voice* I soooooo support people with schizophrenia that must be so hard to you anyway I just saw some weird looking woman talking to herself right outside my house im fearing for my life should I call the cops. Yeah dude I support all the adhd havers in the chat just try to pay attention when I talk to you it's not that hard it's like the least you could do to show some regard for the other human being in front of you. Like it's fine to have memory problems but why did you forget this one thing in particular that was important to me do you like not care or anything you should try harder. I am one of the only real mental health advocates to still exist in this world I hear your struggles that being said I hope I never get to meet one of those irl sociopaths or people with aspd whatever they call them now they're so freaky and they can blend into society so well you might never know if you're actually face to face with an actual socio i mean person with aspd in the store absolutely one of my biggest fears what if they torture me in their basement. I absolutely empathize with all the people in here suffering from delusions as long as they like, don't actually show it or have one concerning me that'd be highkey uncomfy leave me out of this dude im not talking to you until you get help, anyway my fav character from my anime just presumably died but i still think they actually survived im sooo delulu lol. We should push for more wheelchair accessibility in our cities I agree but like it's so difficult to tell how many people are actually disabled and who are actually faking it, like, ummm why did that "wheelchair" "user" guy stand up just now cover blown lmaoo…. Yeah I support people with facial differences but I still have a right to be disgusted you can't control my emotions anyway can you tag your selfies as #body horror this deeply triggering to me. Speaking of triggering can you also pleaseee hide your scars or at least warn us beforehand jesus do you know how many people genuinely do not want to see it. Here is my extremely fast strobing lights and flashing gifset #epilepsy. Yeah I loveee girls with bpd beautiful princess disorder am i right they're so interesting the stigma sucksssss i'd love to get to be one's favourite person as long as they don't actually have any of those weird or violent symptoms or don't go into any of their "episodes" near me like that's a bit dramatic….. I deeply feel for those who had underwent narcissistic abuse from the hands of an npd I think my shitty ex boyfriend was a narcissist too tbh #surviving narcissism here are 10 signs you are dealing with a narcissist and here's a tutorial on how to trigger a narc crash to epically own them anyway does anyone else think we should start enforcing mandatory castration of all the newly diagnosed narcs like you know what happens when they reproduce right. But I am willing to support them as long as they go to therapy to get that fixed it's just you know. Anyway sometimes hospitalisation is fine if they're genuinely a danger to themselves like what do you want them to go live on the streets or actually get help?? I support all the people dealing with being a professionally diagnosed disordered system and I think it's sooooo terrible how literally 99% of the youth population nowadays is purposefully faking it for attention I did my research (1 minute google search, 2 minute r/fakedisordercringe scrolling session and consulting a single system that agrees with me). It's just not believable to me that there's really that many people with it isn't it supposed to be rare… Also are we really sure all those alleged people in their heads are really real or just their imagination maybe all of them are actually faking it huh food for thought. I am very uncomfortable with nonverbal high support needs ppl actually having sex like consent is supposed to be explicitly verbal only and, are we really sure they can even consent arent they like basically children. You can't call me ableist I'm literally autistic

#mine #actually autistic #actually npd #actually plural #ableism #sanism #npd stigma #bpd stigma #pluralmisia #<- gonna add on to these later i am. bad at tagging warnings #i needed this off my chest like. can these people stop #dont know how comprehensible this is im bad at articulating myself #long post

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enden-agolor · 4 months

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i fucking LOVE the way you draw/write jesse, as someone with a chubby/buff build i kind of struggle with insecurities about my size but the way you draw him makes me feel very good. idk im describing it badly but i wanted to ask if your design for him is more chubby or muscly?

Dude thank you 🥺🩵 You described it very well.

It really depends on which time frame I'm drawing Jesse in actually.

In the beginning, I imagine Jesse is quite scrawny. I mean did you see his work out routine in the beginning? He was was doing sit ups and punching flowers. He was definitely lacking muscle (but had enough to be able to lift Reuben up and down that ladder) and as the first couple episodes progress, he stays scrawny but progressively becomes more scarred up until the Portal Hallway episodes.

The Portal Hallway episodes, it takes place many months after the events of the Witherstorm. Jesse and his friends are going on many more adventures, really honing their skills that they acquired over the past few months. Jesse is much more built now. He's buff and tough with the true heart of a hero. Although, once he and his friends get stuck in the Portal Hall, that's when things take a really devastating turn for him. Feeling hopeless and lost for weeks on end, he begins to feel withdrawn from the positivity he was feeling before he ended up stuck here. Traumatic events keep occuring, and with these events, Jesse is of course drawn to remember and replay the events of Reuben's death in his head. He keeps the most of these feelings to himself because his group is already feeling so disheartened about their current situation that the last thing he'd want for them is to know that he's breaking emotionally, so he ends up taking less care of himself. He starts eating with the idea that he has to stay strong for his friends, but even those moments are rare. Food is scarce depending on what portal they are in, so when he finds food, he'll take anything that will keep his energy and strengths up.

By the end of it all, he's actually put on a significant amount of muscle. But it's kind of like a 'at what cost?' scenario.

Things get a bit better for him between then and Season 2 where he's eating better again and keeping all that muscle, but once Season 2 comes and goes, and with everything that happens in the Sunshine Institute and the Underneath, he loses a lot of weight.

It's only after Season 2, where he stays in BeaconTown and eventually finds a love life with Lukas when he really begins putting on weight once again. He's done with hero work. He's done with going on crazy life threatening adventures. Now he just wants to live life for himself rather than putting others first. Lukas helps him a lot through this, with body positivity and lots of love and affectionate touch, it's all the reassurance Jesse has ever needed to feel okay with being himself again. So he ends up putting on that happy weight that couples typically adopt over time when they're in a healthy relationship. Lukas treats him so, so unbelievably well. Finally Jesse gets to eat food for himself without the idea of needing to keep himself strong and powerful once he's finally retired. He indulges himself in his sweet tooth and loves to eat cookies, cakes, and other baked goods that Lukas will bake or bring home. He also really enjoys the fact that he doesn't have to eat alone anymore. He loves sitting at the table and enjoying a meal with his hubby. And the best part, which is something Jesse was horribly self conscious about, is that Lukas loves and adores his pudge. He is so supportive of Jesse's eating habits, but he doesn't hesitate to sneak veggies and fruits into Jesse's lunch box for work.

So yeah uh Jesse is chubby, buff and loved at the end of it all 😍

Here's some lil doodles of him I have lying around. The first one is pretty old and could probably use a touch up since now I don't see much of a difference, but you get the point ☠️

#mcsm #ask #my art #mcsm jesse #minecraft story mode #mcsm fanart #mcsm radar #jesskas

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iloveroblox48 · 2 months

Text

to sweet ❣︎

❣︎ ➝ Masterlist here!

❣︎ ➝ Tags:katsuki bakugou and super sweet fem reader! fluff and angst(?)

❣︎ ➝ A/n:hey guys!! another katsuki fic because why not also (^ｗ^) i swear im going to write a fully happy fluffy fic soon i just need more angst practice （◞‸◟）so for now you guys will suffer ( ｀▽´ ) this is also kind of rushed anyways ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes requests open as always enjoy ⁽˙³˙⁾

When katsuki came to UA he hated everyone especially you.He didnt know why nor did he question it,he knew he hated you since the day you introduced yourself to the class all smiles and laughter, oh he hated it loathed it even everything about was to sweet the way your laughter filled the whole classroom,the way your bracelets clunked together in a beautiful remedy everytime you talked about something interesting,the way your perfume smelled like a mix of flowers and fruits,how you were so kind to everyone even him oh he hated that the most.

So obviously he made it his mission to ruin you,to break that sweet and kind personality of yours to find the monster underneath.He picked on you day after day calling you more insults than anyone else,pushing you in hallways,he even ripped your homework on “accident” after he stepped on it, and all you could do was flash him a sweet smile and carry on about your day.he wanted nothing more than to break your sweet demeanor.

One day while doing a training exercise you and him had gotten partnered up the goal was for you to find him and capture him,his goal as a “villian” was to defeat you and put the capture cuffs on you.He was so eager to finally be able to take out frustration on you and you to fight back.When this battle was going down of course he antagonized you yelling at you to come out from hiding,his location easily being revealed.You had sneak attacked him from the back giving you an easy win that wasnt even the worst part,the worst part was the fact that you had barely used your quirk and when he fell you offered a hand to help him up.

yeah he really hated you now.

He hated you so much because no matter what he did you still saw the good in him.He didnt realize this until one evening in the common room in the dorms.He was on the couch in a black tank top,red pajama pants losely hanging on his legs,reading glasses on his nose.You were in the kitchen in your pajamas,hair slightly frizzled from sleep,once you had grabbed you glass of water and a snack you headed to the couch toward him sitting down on the opposite side of him watching whatever show on your phone.He didnt say anything he just kept reading his book a comfortable silence falling over the room.Until he finally spoke up.

“Nerd can i ask you something”

“mhm”

“Why are you so damn nice to me” he said closing his book to look at you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

You said it like it didnt pain you to be nice to him,like everytime you talked to him you chest wasn’t on fire,or maybe that was just him.Everytime he saw you his chest started to hurt,his stomach bubbling with something unpleasant maybe thats why he hated you because you could so easily get under his skin with your kindness having no trouble at all to show it and how much you believed in him.

So after a couple of months you broke down his tough demeanor he began to love the way your laughter drew him in like a siren,the way your bracelets so beautifully clanged together when you talked about something that interested you,the way he could recognize the smell of your perfume,he loved it so much it made his chest burn.

While his tough exterior began to soften,yours began to grow rougher.Your smile being a rare sight,your personality becoming colder,your responses shorter.He noticed this one day and of course he had to confront you after class.

“Oi whats wrong with you nerd”he said standing in front of your desk.

“What do you mean”you glared at him your once so loving eyes filled with hatred

“You haven’t been your usual annoying self”

“Well excuse me for being tired of being treated like shit”

“What the hell has gotten into you”

“I dont katsuki why dont you tell me huh? this is what you wanted right? to make me hate you well you got what you wanted..you know i tried being nice to you because i saw good in you,i knew that you accepting kindness would take time but you dont get to treat me like scum on the bottom of your damn shoe…Leave me alone bakugou.” you grabbed your things and stormed off

This isnt how he want this to go down he just didnt know how to explain himself so he watched you storm off that pain in his chest again,that weird bubbling feeling in his stomach,he wanted to call out to you to grab your wrist and explain everything.But he couldn’t not with the overwhelming growing lump in his throat.

Just then he realized that he didnt hate you,he never has,in reality he liked you

No he loved you

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billybob598 · 9 months

Text

Were You Gay-Panicking? (Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader)

IM BACKKKKK!!! Here's my bi-monthly fic :) I'm actually kinda proud of this one, felt like some good writing. Anyhoo enjoy bitches! As always, any feedback good or bad is welcomed! PEACE

Summary: (first time doing one of these) A few months ago, Kyra had no idea who you were. Now? Now, she was gay panicking everytime she was in the same room as you.

Word Count: 4.6K (WTF?!?!?!?!?!)

Kyra didn’t exactly know how to feel about you. Sure, you were Aussie. Sure, you were an amazing fullback who could run forever and never seem winded. Sure, you were quite possibly the sweetest person ever. Sure, you were stunningly beautiful. Kyra paused, her eyes locked onto you as you laughed that adorable laugh at something Katie had said. Okay, the thing about you being beautiful kind of slipped out. It’s not like it’s not true though. You did have this just natural beauty to you, you barely wore makeup, but you still shone in Kyra’s eyes.

It was crazy that the two of you had never met before. You were roughly the same age, both Australian and now both Gunners. Unlike Kyra, you’re career up until this point had been riddled with injuries and unfortunate coincidences. Despite being an integral part of the Arsenal squad and having a breakout year last season, you were still not chosen for the World Cup, or any national team camps for that matter. Kyra had heard plenty about you from Steph and Caitlin, she had also seen you a bit on a few of the other Arsenal players' socials. You did have an Instagram account, but you rarely posted. Any true Arsenal fan knew who you were, but casual fans and Matildas’ fans probably hadn’t heard of you. You preferred to work in the background, you weren’t a big extrovert and your personality was more closed off so, consequently you weren’t insanely popular with the fans. So, when Kyra officially met you she had no idea how you weren’t the most liked player.

4 months ago

After finishing some of the required videos and finally signing her contract for The Arsenal, Kyra found herself wandering around the grounds. She had a few minutes until she was supposed to be at a press conference introducing all of the new signings, so she figured she could start exploring London Colney a bit more. As she passes through the locker room she hears some noise coming from the pitch. The distinctive sound of a boot colliding with a ball lures the Australian outside. The scent of fresh-cut grass and marking paint rushes into Kyra’s nose, bringing a soft smile to her face. Another ball gets kicked on the other side of the field. Turning her head, the midfielder is met with the sight of the prettiest woman she’s ever laid eyes on. She watched in awe at how your muscles flexed each time you struck the ball, her breath catching in her throat when you turn around. Your beautifully Y/E/C eyes glimmering, the sun hitting them just right.

“Oh, sorry. I thought the field was open.” You mutter quietly, your face heating up slightly.

“Uhm, it’s alright. I’m not here to play or anything. I mean-uh, well actually I am here to play, but not right now. At least I don’t think rig-” Kyra stumbles through her sentences until your giggle cuts her off. She blushes at the sound.

“No, I get what you mean,” you both stand there awkwardly, shifting your weight from foot to foot nervously, “Well, I should probably get going.”

“Wait! Uhh, I mean you sound Australian, you are right?” Kyra asks, desperate to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah, yeah I am. I’m from Geraldton, you?” Your voice is quiet, but Kyra is already in love with it.

“Herston, have you ever been?”

“Yeah, I mean I’ve been to Brisbane, it’s nice.” The conversation comes to a awkward lull, Kyra can see how nervous you are.

“I’m Kyra by the way.” She extends her hand out to you. Glancing at it, you smile softly and take it.

“I know, Caitlin and Steph never shut up about you. I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“You’re the Y/N Y/L/N? Holy shit, Caitlin and Steph never shut up about you.” A small blush forms on your cheeks. Kyra swoons at how flustered you look. She takes another second to admire everything about you. Just as she went to speak again a voice from behind her called out, telling her the press conference was about to start. “I’m really sorry, I’ve got to go. It was nice meeting you, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.” With one last smile, Kyra begins to back up and then turns and jogs to the man waiting for her. Tentatively, you touch your cheeks where the blush was still, very prominently, there.

2 months ago

You watch from afar as Kyra, Caitlin, and Steph swing around from the bars singing along to Strawberry Kisses. A smile appears on your face when Kyra lets out a loud, silly laugh.

A voice startles you out of your love-possesed trance, “You know, you’re really not subtle, like, at all.”

“Shut up, Beth.” The England national smirks and for the next fifteen minutes proceeds to tease you about your developing crush on the new signing.

“Okay, Beth, I think she gets it.” Your saviour, Viv, intervenes after her girlfriend makes a kissy face aimed towards you and Kyra. Beth groans and mumbles something about Viv not being any fun. Viv lets you go back to watching Kyra workout/goof around for a few moments before throwing her two cents in,

“You like her? Like, like like her?”

You sigh, “I don’t know yet. Would it be terrible if I did?”

Viv shakes her head with a small chuckle, “Would it be terrible if you found someone you really liked and someone who is genuinely a good person? No, it’s not that bad.” You roll your eyes.

“It feels pretty terrible. But, I guess it’s not too bad, especially since she’s never gonna like me back.” The older woman gives you a look, one that screams “you’ve got to be joking right now”. You and Viv had a certain connection to each other. Both of you were introverts on a team full of extroverts, so it was nice to have someone who didn’t mind just sitting in peace and quiet without any of the pressure of having to be “on”.

“If Kyra liking you back is so crazy, then why is she staring at you right now with literal heart eyes?” Your head whips forward to find Kyra already looking at you. A blush was already creeping up your neck and you hadn’t even held eye contact for more than two seconds.

Kyra is watching you carefully when your head turns to look at her. Her heart flutters when your cheeks tint red. A sense of pride swells in her chest at being able to make you blush.

“You two make me sick,” Caitlin says from behind Kyra. Steph is quick to shush the younger Aussie,

“They’re just in love, Cait. You can’t stop young love,” she says an annoying smirk tugging at her lips. Kyra rolls her eyes at her national teammates antics.

“We are not in love. She definitely doesn’t like me, mate.”

“Sure,” Caitlin drawls out, seemingly unconvinced.

“She doesn’t. I’m like 1000% sure.”

“Then why does she blush everytime you look at her, smile at her, or laugh?” Steph says, amused.

“Wh-What? No, she doesn’t. I think I’d notice.” The two older Aussies share a look, then they grab Kyra’s head and force it to look at you. Your eyes widen when you and Kyra make eye contact, heat already rushing up to your cheeks. She gives you a warm smile which does nothing to help your burning cheeks. Deciding that you’ve had enough biking for today, you step off the bike extremely ungracefully, bumping into everything and everyone. Kyra giggles from across the gym, her Australian friends rolling their eyes.

“See? You two are so in love,” Steph tries to convince the younger girl. A frown replaces the small smile on Kyra’s face when you leave the gym,

“Whatever. You guys suck.”

2 weeks ago

“Y/N? Did you hear me?” Tony Gustavsson’s calm voice brings you back to reality.

“Oh, uh, yes sir. I mean, yes coach. Thank you so, so much, I won’t let you down, I promise.” Your voice is shaky and weak. Someone’s warm hand covers yours, lifting your head up, your met with Kyra grinning from ear-to-ear. Returning her smile, you say your goodbyes to Tony and place the phone down carefully on the kitchen counter.

You were, once again, at Kyra’s apartment. The two of you had grown closer over the past few months, unknowingly both of you had swallowed down your feelings for each other, convinced the other didn’t feel the same. It was driving the rest of the team crazy, and it was about to get worse. Finally, you had gotten your first call-up to the national team.

You and Kyra had been cozied up on her couch, watching a Christmas movie (because it’s never too early to start is it?) when your phone had began to ring. Of course, Kyra had already received her call a few days ago. It was hardly surprising, after the World Cup and with her recent performances for Arsenal she was an obvious choice for the last two friendlies of 2023. You, on the other hand, had long given up your dream of playing for the national team. Being a little bit older than Kyra and a lot more injury prone, your caps for the Matildas stood at a resounding, zero. You had never even been to a camp. So, last year when Tony never so much as gave you a call, you put your Matildas dreams behind you and focused on your club football.

“Who is it?” Kyra mumbles sleepily, she had been on the verge of falling asleep, it was impossible not to. You were perfectly situated between her legs, your head resting comfortably on her chest. The movie did little to distract her from the scent of your perfume infiltrating the hoodie she was wearing.

“I don’t know, Ky. It looks like an Australian number.”

“Wait, I know whose number that is.” She says, now fully awake.

“Who?”

She takes a deep breath, trying to hide her smile, “It’s Tony’s. Like Tony Gustavsson. The head coach of-”

“Yes, I know who Tony Gustavsson is! You don’t think he’s calling to invite me to camp is he?” You exclaim, your nerve levels rising as the phone continues to ring.

“Only one way to find out.”

Standing up, phone in hand, you take a breath before accepting the call. Kyra sits up on the couch, her hands loosening her grip on your waist.

“Hello?” Slowly making your way to the kitchen, Kyra only catches your side of the conversation. She takes a seat at the counter watching nervously as you pace back and forth in front of her. You pause. It looks like you’re trying to process everything. “Oh, uh, yes sir. I mean, yes coach. Thank you so, so much, I won’t let you down, I promise.” A full-on grin breaks out onto Kyra’s face, she reaches across the counter and takes a hold of your hand. After hanging up, there is silence in the small apartment for a few seconds.

“So?” Kyra prompts softly.

“I’m going to play for fucking Australia!” You shout excitedly. You both squeal happily, Kyra rushes over and brings you into a tight hug.

“Now we’re national teammates as well!” Kyra says into your neck, her heart pounding as you laugh your beautiful laugh.

Over the next few days Kyra helps you pack for camp, telling you all of the basic information you’d need to survive while also filling you in on all of the important bits about the team itself. Who’s friends with who, what not to say to this person, why this person acts like this. She was surprisingly helpful. So, when you, Kyra, Caitlin, and Steph boarded the flight to Australia you actually felt pretty prepared. Kyra sat beside you on the flight, chatting your ear off, you didn’t really mind though. It was how your friendship went. Kyra would talk about anything and everything, while you listened carefully, never ignoring her. She found it endearing how you remembered everything she said, sometimes she didn’t even remember herself.

An few hours into the flight, Steph leans across the aisle asking Kyra if she knew who is supposed to bring them to the hotel when they land. Kyra remembers saying something to you about it so she turns and taps your shoulder. Taking out one of your earbuds, you look at them, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, do you know who’s supposed to be picking us up? I think I said something about it to you,” Kyra asks quietly, so as not to interrupt the other passengers.

“William.” You answer plainly. Kyra nods while Steph watches in shock.

“How in the hell did you know that? You don’t even know who that is.”

“Kyra told me last night, she also told me that she couldn’t wait to ride the ferry to Vancouver Island when we get to Canada.” Kyra blushes.

“I can’t believe you remember that,” she says, slightly embarrassed.

“It’s kind of hard not to when it’s all you would take about for ten minutes.”

Steph has to cover her laugh at Kyra’s mortified face.

“Is that seriously all I talked about last night?”

“You tend to do that. It’s actually kinda cute.” That last bit slips out before you can stop it. Now, you’re the one blushing. You decide it’s better to look out the window than to keep looking at them. Steph wanted to strangle the both of you. God, you were so oblivious. How could neither of you see that you were head over heels for each other? Whatever, you’d figure it out. Hopefully sooner than later because she had five pounds on you guys getting together before the new year.

After landing and grabbing your luggage, just as you said, William was there with a car to bring you all to the hotel the team was staying at. Walking into the lobby, cameras point at you four. Kyra and Caitlin grin and wave goofily at them, probably saying something stupid as well.

Steph smiles and waves happily, “Good to be home, huh?”

You walk behind them, looking up and waving at the cameras shyly, “Alright?”

“Hey, Y/N! Wanna do a quick interview with the other first timers?” One of the social media guys asks from behind the phone camera. Kyra stops. You look at her, uncertainty looming in your eyes.

She nods encouragingly, “Go on. I’ll take your stuff and get your room.”

“Thanks, Ky. I’ll see you later.” You smile and follow the man heading in the other direction.

“So that’s the girl you like!” Charli shouts from across the lobby.

Kyra flinches at the volume of her best friends voice, “Jesus Christ, Charli. Could you be any louder?”

“Wanna bet?” Kyra shakes her head, not wanting to see how far Charli can take things today. “She’s really pretty, I can see why you like her.” The blonde says in a much more indoor appropriate voice. Kyra just rolls her eyes in response.

After a few good days of training and getting to know everyone, the team was in Canada. Walking onto the ferry with your hoodie drawn tight to you and your toque covering the top of your head, Kyra was bouncing off the walls with excitement and energy.

“Kyra, for the love of God, please calm down.” Mini says, trying her best to calm the young midfielder down. Her words have no effect, Kyra continues doing laps around everyone. You were walking Sarah Hunter, another player about to earn their first cap, when Kyra gets in front of you and turns backward to talk to you.

“Hi Y/N! Aren’t you excited about the ferry?” She asks. Her hyperness, you notice, was starting to annoy some of your teammates, specifically Caitlin, who looked on the verge of pushing her Arsenal teammate into the Pacific Ocean.

“I am, Ky,” you lower your voice so only those close to you can hear, “But how about we tone it down, okay? We have lots of time to be excited, but maybe just chill for a few minutes so they can tell us where to go and what not, how’s that sound?”

Kyra listens to you, she falls into step with you and speaks a lot softer and calmer.

Mini stares on in disbelief, “Oh, Kyra is down bad. I mean, she didn’t even listen to me, but as soon as Y/N says something she’s on her best behaviour.”

Steph shakes her head, “You should see them at Arsenal, it’s unbearable.”

You and Sarah were in deep conversation about something Kyra couldn’t care less about. She wanted to go explore the ship, but she promised you she’d be on her best behaviour. Kyra is getting antsy and you can tell, she keeps turning her head every time there’s a new sound. You just needed to get wherever the guide wanted you guys to be and then she can do whatever she wants. Just as the team passes the gift shop, Kyra almost bolts. You catch her though, your hand intertwining with hers and securing her at your side. Kyra is taken aback by your actions and blushes profusely.

In a break in your conversation with Sarah, you lean over and mumble into Kyra’s ear, “I know, Ky. Just hold still for a little longer, okay?” Kyra nods and presses a small kiss to the top of your head. You almost die of a heart attack right there and then. Blushing, you squeeze her hand and get back into your conversation with Sarah.

“Holy shit, Kyra needs to man the fuck up and ask her out already,” Charli groans a few meters from behind you. Mini scolds her for her language, but silently agrees with her.

“Fuck me,” You mutter under your breath as Canada scores, again. Surprisingly, Tony had given you and a bunch of other players their first caps. Unsurprisingly, Canada had been dominating the entire match. You were exhausted from having to run up and down the pitch for all ninety minutes. It seemed like you were the only player who wanted to attack, or defend, or do anything at all. You definitely weren’t blaming the other Matildas on the field with you, for most of them it was their first time in their nations jersey as well. You guys were also facing a team determined to get revenge and send off their hero in the right way, so that was not helping at all. What also wasn’t helping was that there was maybe five minutes left in the match, so both teams kind of switched off. No one really cared about this blowout anymore.

Kyra was chewing on her nails as she watched another through ball to you get overhit and land straight at a Canadian defenders’ feet. She watched as you began your recovery run, eyes tracking the ball carefully. When Quinn tried to thread a ball to Prince you timed your slide tackle perfectly and intercepted the ball. The bench stood up clapping and shouting encouragement to you. Keeping the ball close to your feet, you stood back up and began dribbling into space. The defense were dropping off, determined to keep a clean sheet. Your eyes scanned the field hoping to find anyone making a run. Unfortunately, your teammates seemed gassed. So, you started to pick up your speed with the ball. Skillfully, you dribbled around Fleming and Grosso, picking your head up once again to find Tameka making a run on the weak side of the pitch. You hit the ball, aiming to lead her into the miles of green grass in front of her. She controls the ball in stride and continues driving down the wide right channel. Continuing your run, you jog up to the top of the box hoping to put any rebounds back into the box. Tameka sends a cross into the box, it heads towards the penalty spot, multiple players jump up for it. Ultimately, Gilles gets most of it and clears it out to the top of the box. Right where you are. Kyra stands up. You watch as the ball arcs in the air and starts to drop towards you. It’s as if everything is moving in slow motion. You plant your left foot into the grass, the ball drops and drops and drops. Pulling your right foot back, you wait for it to just drop a little bit more. Now. Straightening your leg, you watch your foot connect with the ball. The ball surges forward while your boot recoils from the impact. Your eyes track the ball as it soars through the air, it slips past the outstretched foot of Buchanan, Amy Sayer jumps out of the way. The goalkeeper tries her best, but it’s useless, the net ripples as the ball buries itself into the top left corner. Screaming is all you hear, you’re frozen in your spot. Suddenly, Mary is in your arms and the rest of the team is hugging you and screaming at you.

“What a fucking legend!”

“Banger! Absoloute banger!”

“Mate, you’re actually insane.”

“First goal for the Matildas, bitches!”

Tears are welling up in your eyes as you set Mary down. Holy shit. You’ve always dreamed of scoring for the Matildas, all of a sudden that dream was a reality. Mary tugs on your hand and pulls you over to where the subs are screaming and jumping up and down. You laugh. Caitlin and Steph are the first ones to you, yelling at you that you’re a baller or something like that. After they let you go, Kyra is waiting for you. She’s got that blinding smile that you’ve always loved. She pulls you into a hug.

“I’m so, so proud of you, Y/N/N.” Her hands run gently through your hair, you sink into the hug, letting out a sigh.

“Thanks Kyra, for everything. Um, I should go though the ref looks mad.” She nods and relinquishes her hold on you. Jogging back into place, you breath deeply. Finally. You had finally done it. You were a fucking Matilda.

Present Day

The team had gathered for their annual Secret Santa party. This year, it was held at Viv and Beth’s house. All the players were crammed inside the living room, a lot of food had been consumed along with a lot of laughs being laughed. There had been a Christmas movie marathon (2 movies) where you and Kyra had found a nice spot on the couch for the two of you. There had also been a small potluck, everyone brining a small dish to share with the team. Now, it was time for the gift exchange. A few weeks ago, there had been a very formal name-drawing process. There were blindfolds and everything, you were actually kind of impressed at how serious the team took it. You had drawn Frida’s name which you didn’t really mind. You got along with her well, and you were both pretty chill so it was easy to hang out with her. Her girlfriend had helped you track down some Norwegian sweets that you know she loved, you also threw in an adorable polar bear stuffy you found at a cute gift shop in downtown, London.

Everyone was going in a circle, unwrapping their presents and guessing who their Secret Santa was. So far, there had been some really sweet gifts and some really funny ones. Such as Katie giving Leah a toy keyboard, one that was really meant for two year olds. Katie defended herself saying, “It was appropriate for Leah’s skill level.”

Soon enough, it was your turn. You searched the small tree sitting in the living room for a gift with your name on it. Finding it, you carefully picked it up and sat back in your spot between Kyra’s legs. All eyes were on you as you gently unwrapped the gift, not wanting to be rude and just tear apart the wrapping paper. A gasp escapes your lips, hand flying to your mouth in shock. Everyone asks you what it is. You take it out of its case and hold it up for the team to see. Gasps similar to yours fill the room. A diamond necklace with your first name initial as a pendant hung from your fingers. It must have cost at least £100. You look around the room desperately, looking to thank the giftgiver endlessly. Multiple people shake their heads. Finally, you look behind you, Kyra didn’t meet even try to meet your eyes. Her cheeks were burning red, her hand rubbing her neck nervously.

“Uh, do you like it?” You could hear the nerves in her voice. You were still a little shocked from the gift, so you stand up abruptly and grab her hand leading her towards the bathroom.

Slamming the door shut, you whip around to look at your fellow Aussie, “What the hell? Are you insane?” Kyra flinches slightly at your tone.

“Do you not like it? Because I can return it and get you something else,” her voice was unsure.

“Wha-? Of course I like it! I love it, I love you! But, Kyra this had to have cost a shiton, I can’t accept this as a gift.” You say forcefully, still not realizing what you had said. Kyra had heard it though.

“Wait, did you just say you love me?”

You freeze. Well, you had said that. Not on purpose, though. But, it’s not like it’s not true. Kyra tentatively reaches out and takes your hand in hers,

“Y/N?”

WIthout even thinking you crash your lips into hers. She gasps, but eventually melts into the kiss, your lips working against each others perfectly. Her hands found their way to your hips, gripping them tightly. Your hands wrapped behind her neck at first before moving into her hair. As you tug on her hair she lets out a soft moan, giving you access to her mouth. Slipping your tongue inside of her mouth, she gently pushes you against the bathroom wall. A soft gasp at the cold tile lets Kyra detach her lips from yours and begin working her way down your neck. She presses wet kiss after wet kiss onto your exposed skin. Finally finding your weak spot, you moan her name quietly. Her perfume, her mouth on your neck, everything about her was overwhelming your senses.

“Ky…Ky we have to stop, someone could hear us,” you moan out softly as she places more kisses on your collarbone.

“Mmm, maybe. Or we could just keep going?” She smirks playfully at you. Fuck, her smirk did things to you that you weren’t exactly proud of. Rolling your eyes, you pushed her off of you.

“They’re probably waiting for us to continue the Secret Santa. We shouldn’t keep them.”

Kyra groans and drops her head onto your chest. You laugh, and run your fingers through her hair soothingly.

“Umm, I really like you, you know?” Her voice is muffled against you, but you heard her loud and clear.

“Oh really? I had no idea,” you say sarcastically. She slaps your chest in response.

“Shut up, asshole.” Another laugh rumbles through your chest.

“Sorry, sorry. I really like you too, Kyra.” She smiles lazily and leans in for another kiss.

“Y’know, everytime I saw you I was, like, gay-panicking,” she confesses with a embarrassed smile.

“Awww, were you gay-panicking? That’s adorable.”

“Asshole.”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross #arsenal wfc x reader #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #auswnt #auswnt x reader #matildas #matildas x reader

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ksywoo · 6 months

Text

8:30 pm / l.sm

pairing: lee seokmin x reader pronouns: not specified word count: 1.6k genre: established relationship, fluff, suggestive, a little bit of angst but not really warnings: kissy kissy fic hehe, dk gets a little handsy where reader is insecure about their body but he reassures them, also.. tummy/waist kisses <3 note: me posting a fic for the first time in over a year and it's mostly just kissing ... hey guys .. also im embarassed when i write things like this so im gonna go hide al;skdjf sorry if its cringe or garbage BYEEE

masterlist

You felt the bed dip towards your feet, but you didn't look up to greet the boy, still upset about your argument from earlier. You continued reading, not acknowledging his presence.

Seokmin crawled towards you slowly, as if trying to go unnoticed, and slid under your arms and buried his face in your neck so you were unwillingly half hugging him. His body rested between your legs and his arms around your torso, trying to be as close as possible.

When you felt his lips against your neck, you got his attention. “Seokmin.” Your voice was even and stern, telling him you weren't messing around.

He froze as if you wouldn't know he was there if he just didn't move a muscle or make a single sound.

“Bold of you to do that after what just happened,” you pointed out.

He propped himself up on his elbows by your hips and lifted his head so your faces were inches from each other. He was frowning, and looked guilty. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I really really am.”

You sighed, leaning forward to kiss his lips briefly, trying to express that you still loved him even though he pissed you off.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you mumbled with a small smile, already feeling the last remnants of your anger fade away.

“I’m serious,” his frown deepened. “I’m really sorry.

You leaned over to set your book on the nightstand. “I know.” You held his face with both of your hands while he continued to apologize.

“How do I make you not hate me anymore?” he asked between the kisses you were giving him.

“Seokmin,” you chuckled. “I don't hate you. Never have, never will.”

“But you're mad at me.”

“I’m not mad.”

“But I’m a horrible boyfriend who never spends time with you.”

“You aren't a horrible boyfriend. It’s not your fault you're so busy with work, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I should take it out on, like, your managers or something because they're giving you guys extra work, but not you.”

“But it’s my fault for not always making time for you when I’m not working though.”

One of your hands stayed on his face, thumb stroking his cheek, while the other went to his back to pull him a little closer. You could feel his muscle through his shirt and it made you wonder if he was tired from dancing all day, building that muscle.

“You’re here now though, aren't you?”

He nodded but still frowned, so you kissed the pout off his lips.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t being good to me. I was never mad at you, just frustrated at the situation. I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He nodded again. “Does that mean you aren't going to be stern with me again if I kiss you?”

You laughed and he took that as a good sign, leaning up to kiss you long and sweet, no more of those short pecks you were giving him before.

The thing about Seokmin was he was the sweetest boy in the world and his kisses were just as sweet and innocent when he wanted them to be. The other side of him was more rare and reserved for the privacy of your bedrooms, and gave you just as many butterflies as his regular kisses.

He lifted himself up to sit right next to you, immediately tugging on your waist gently. “Come here,” he requested. You complied, shifting to sit on his lap with your knees on either side of his legs.

You reconnected your lips, letting out a shaky breath as you felt his hands lightly trail up your legs and gently squeeze your thighs. His fingers lit paths of fire as he fiddled with the hem of your shorts, softly brushing against your skin and you wondered if he even knew that he was doing it, or if he was unintentionally muddling your brain with his touches.

Shifting slightly, you ran your fingers through his hair and gently tugged as your mouth wandered away from his and made its way to his cheek, pressing one small kiss to the freckle by his nose, then to his jaw, and below his ear.

With your bodies pressed together, you could feel his breathing become unsteady as your lips met his neck. He wiggled under you, trying to not make any embarrassing sounds that would make you laugh and ruin the moment.

You started kissing one spot low on his neck that you knew could be covered by some of the shirts he owned, when one of his hands slid to your waist, pulling you even closer and squeezing a specific part of your body that made you pause.

Seokmin hummed at your hesitance, turning his head to try to look at you while finding his voice. Your face was still in his neck, lips just barely hovering over his skin. “What?” he asked after a few moments of you not moving. “Did I do something?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled unconvincingly, lips brushing against him like feathers before kissing him again. You reached behind you and took the hand on your waist by the wrist, pulling it off you and back onto your leg.

“You want me to only touch your thighs?” he tried teasing, but sounded so in love it was hard to take it in a dirty way, even as he started squeezing them again.

You hummed against his neck but when he moved to hold your waist again, you pulled away, repeating your action of moving his hands before you kissed his mouth.

Seokmin pulled away more determinedly and frowned at you. “Seriously, what’s wrong? What am I doing?”

You tried brushing it off, distracting him by kissing him again but he dodged the kiss and put both of his hands on your shoulders.

“Tell me. Are you hurt or something?” he asked genuinely, looking down and lifting the bottom of your shirt to see if you had a bruise or cut that he was irritating, but you pushed his hands away, pulling your shirt back down.

He looked like a kicked puppy. The way he could change from being completely dazed while kissing you to fully alert and concerned about your health at the drop of a hat always left you stunned. How was he already able to think coherently?

He called your name softly and you blinked a few times. “What?”

“Why do you not want me to touch your side? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, I just… don’t like my waist... and hips or whatever…” you trailed off, mumbling more with each word, hands slipping off his shoulders but still holding onto his arms.

Seokmin looked so offended and hurt that you almost thought you said something negative about his body. “You don’t?”

You pursed your lips and shook your head slightly. “It’s not a big deal. Just one of those weeks where insecurities amplify, you know?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” you asked with a small laugh, moving some of his bangs out of his eyes.

“Because you don't like your body like I do.”

“You're not going to tell me I’m stupid?”

“Of course not. It’s not stupid to be insecure, you can’t control it.”

“What would you know about that, Mr. Perfect?” you teased, poking his muscley stomach through his shirt.

He frowned. “Hey, I’m insecure about things too. I just don't think about them when I’m with you because you make me feel so handsome.”

“You are so handsome,” you confirmed, kissing his nose as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He scrunched his face but broke out into a grin. “I love you,” he said honestly. “You’re perfect the way you are. Even if you change, you’ll still be perfect.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you groaned, making him laugh and capture your lips.

“Can I do something?” he asked innocently, making you narrow your eyes skeptically.

“What?”

He pulled you off his lap, repositioning back to how you were first laying, you propped up on pillows and him laying between your legs. Except this time, he was laying farther down, hands holding him up to hover over your stomach.

“Can I?”

“Can you what?” you asked nervously.

“Kiss you,” he answered sweetly, as if there wasn't a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You knew what he meant. And it made your heart skip a few beats thinking about how sweet he was all the time. You nodded and he gave you one last reassuring kiss to your lips before going back to your stomach, lifting up the hem of your shirt just enough to place a kiss on your belly.

He glanced up at you, keeping his lips on your skin, and you're pretty sure you died right there at how beautiful he was. Your hands went to his hair to play with the soft strands as he slowly trailed kisses to your side, where you inhaled sharply with worries and insecurities. Your self-deprecating thoughts slowly faded away as he rubbed part of your waist before placing a soft kiss, repeating the action on both sides all over.

Maybe some of his kisses were a little harsher with a little more teeth, leaving small colored reminders of how much he loved you, but despite still not liking every part of your body, you did love how much Seokmin tried to make you love yourself. He wasn't a cure for being insecure, but he did help you forget.

#fizzys fics #group: svt #lee seokmin x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #dokyeom x reader #dk x reader #seventeen fluff

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serverusslaype · 1 year

Text

Shameless, pt. 4

snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

hey again B) here is part 4 to Shameless, i hope you guys enjoy it, it gets a little soft at the end, and i mean a little. next chapter im hoping to explore reader and snape's relationship a little more, maybe some more tension im not sure... we shall see

thank you again for reading and supporting this fic with likes, reblogs, comments, everything! i really do appreciate it. :) love u guys

okaaaay LETS GOOO!

Another week and a half had passed and it was now a bitter and cold midweek morning. Since that interaction with Snape in the dungeons, you hadn't seen much of him since, nor really spoken to him. He'd rarely come to dinner in the Great Hall in the evenings, let alone breakfast or lunch. You were a little disappointed with this considering he'd given you permission to use his first name, it felt like he was allowing you into his space. Or at least, that's what your overactive mind was thinking. You thought about it deeper as time went on, and you'd reached the conclusion of it just being a professional thing. It bothered you a little, of course, considering how you felt about him.

You'd just finished teaching a class of fifth-years, preparing them for a mock test on Monday. The lesson was rather smooth-going, apart from having to tend to a student's finger after they were bitten by a fanged geranium. After the whole debacle on your first day back teaching at Hogwarts, you were rather glad that only a bitey flower had gone rogue in this morning's lesson.

Presently, you were currently strolling to the Great Hall, dressed in rather nice, muted yellow-gold robes. You were always proud to represent Hufflepuff colours, you took pride in being sorted in that house after all. The mood at Hogwarts was a little low and cautious, considering students were turning up Petrified at every other corner you turned. Luckily, you had not come across one yet, you didn't think you'd be able to stomach it.

The Dueling Club was due to begin today, with Lockhart hosting it. You'd also heard that a teacher had agreed to help Lockhart with the beginning demonstration. Intrigued, of course, you couldn't miss one of your colleagues shooting a spell towards the bane of your existence.

So here you were, standing to the side in the Great Hall, watching the hustle and bustle of students and teachers eagerly awaiting for the show to start - this is Lockhart we're talking about. A table had been set up in the middle of the Hall, a pretty blue and gold tapestry draped over the top of it, dotted with astrology art. Students surrounded the table, giggling and talking excitedly about what could happen. Or, what could possibly go wrong? you pondered, smiling to yourself.

Soon enough, the man in question had hopped up onto the table. "Gather round! Gather round!" Lockhart's screeching voice reached your ears as you watched him strut across the table, one arm gesturing theatrically at the students. "Can everybody see me?" He questioned, looking at the students with bright eyes. Unfortunately, yes, you thought. "Can you all… hear me? Excellent." Lockhart said, quickly spinning on his heel, the cape attached to his bodice twirling with him elegantly. "In the light of the dark events of recent weeks, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little Dueling Club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves; as I myself have done on countless occasions."

You fought against a laugh in the back of your throat, choosing to cough lightly instead. Yeah, remember that time you couldn't handle a classroom full of little pixies? You rolled your eyes and folded your arms against your chest.

"For full details, see my published works." Lockhart added rather arrogantly. Was this guy serious? Merlin, he loved himself far too much. The famous author then proceeded to whip his cape off, throwing it into a gaggle of fawning teen girls. The gasped with excitement, their hands flying up to grab a hold of the piece of clothing.

"Let me introduce… my assistant," Lockhart began, pointing at the opposing side of the table with an open hand, his other one resting valiantly on his opposite hip. You reached up onto your tiptoes in a poor attempt to see what teacher he'd roped into this. Professor Sinistra, perhaps? Or even- "Professor Snape!" He exclaimed.

Your jaw dropped. There was no way in hell you'd heard that right. Before you could second-guess yourself, said wizard began trailing up the stairs to the table with a gloomy look on his face, his arms folded uncomfortably tight against his chest. As he reached the top, he let them unfold, placing them at his side, wand in hand. You noticed he wasn't wearing his cape too.

As Severus walked down the table, you couldn't help your eyes as they glided over his figure, getting embarrassingly distracted by how good he looked in his tight, form-fitting black robes. You had to force yourself to look away as you felt yourself falling victim to his alluring appearance, a searing hot blush now creeping up your neck, heading towards your cheeks. Gods, he didn't even do anything but take his cape off and you were blushing like a teenage school girl.

"He has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry," Lockhart went on, glancing at the children who were leaning over the edge to eagerly glance at Snape. Surely, there was no way he willingly agreed to this, but then again, maybe he only agreed to it to have the legal ability to cast a spell on him. "You'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him. Never fear." Lockhart professed rather over-confidently, deafening arrogance dripping from his words. You knew Snape was a very good duellist after hearing rumours during your time at school in Hogwarts, so you were confident that he'd dominate Lockhart. At least, that's what you were hoping.

The two wizards walked towards each other, stopping just shy of a foot away. They drew their wands, whipping them up to their own respective faces, before whipping them back down in one quick motions, a sharp swish emitting from the way it sliced through the air. Severus and Lockhart spun around, turning to walk five paces in the opposite direction. Once they were in position, they turned around once again to face each other.

"One, two, three!" Lockhart exclaimed, prompting Severus to draw his wand up at the speed of light. Before Lockhart has a chance to cast anything, the Potions Master was two steps ahead.

"Expelliarmus!" Severus commanded, a bright white light shooting from the tip of his wand, hitting Lockhart square in the chest and sending him flying backwards. Your hand flew to your mouth to muffle an amused laugh as you watched Lockhart fly through the air, a cry of pain escaping his lips as his back thudded against the table.

As you looked back to Severus, you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Though you had hardly spoken since, it was hard not to feel impressed. The rumours were true, then, you thought, your smile widening. The wizard in question suddenly caught your eye, and you felt your lungs spasm. You had to suck in a breath to compose yourself as your legs tingled.

You nodded at him, wiping the awestruck smile off your lips and pursing them awkwardly instead. To your surprise, Severus acknowledged you back with a nod too. He turned his attention back to Lockhart, who was currently scrambling to get back to his feet. Your cheeks burned at the unforeseen encounter and you felt yourself becoming a little giddy from it. Gods, you really were like a little school girl with a crush.

Fuck. You couldn't understand how you could go from screaming your lungs out at Severus to possibly having a civil relationship with him - how does that even work? Though, you swiftly reminded yourself how that could quickly change, you were well aware of who he was.

"An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind me saying, it was pretty obvious, er, what you were about to do. And if I had wanted to stop you, it would have only been too easy." Lockhart scoffed, strutting back to stand in front of Severus, his gimmicky grin making another appearance on his irritating face. The Potions Master stood nonchalantly, clasping his hands together in front of him. You had to give it to him, he had that poker face down rather well - something you were a little envious of.

"Perhaps it would be prudent, to first teach the students to block unfriendly spells, professor." Severus said rather harshly, his tone of voice judgmental. He was totally valid for feeling that way, and for once you found yourself questioning Dumbledore's reasoning as to why he had hired such a useless and clumsy wizard. Surely, someone as wise as him could see through this man's pathetic and hopeless act? Maybe he was just desperate for someone to fill the position. Lockhart looked scared for once, his once confident grin fading as Severus stared him down, a sarcastic smile gracing his face for a split second.

"An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape." The famous author exclaimed enthusiastically, spinning on his heel to walk the opposite way of him. "Well… let's have a volunteer pair. Erm.. Potter, Weasley, how about you?" Lockhart gestured towards the boys. Ron's face was a picture, he looked awestruck, almost shocked to see that he'd been picked. Harry's face, however, was more fitting.

"Actually, I was thinking Professor L/N could stop lurking in the shadows and come and showcase her impressive range of skills." Severus declared, his rather loud yet deep and intimidating voice echoing throughout the Great Hall. You almost choked on your tongue, did he really just say that? As you looked up at him, Severus tried to hide the amused smirk that was undoubtedly slipping onto his smug face; his hand outstretched to gesture to you. You wiggled your jaw at him, clearly unhappy with what he'd just done. You weren't great at defence, but you knew how to protect yourself with the bare minimum.

"I highly doubt a professor of Herbology would be able to handle me in a duel, I'm afraid, Professor Snape." Lockhart laughed wholeheartedly, the tiniest hint of worry in his tone. Oh, really, is that how it is, Lockhart? Your jaw ticked at his outrageously offensive comment. Now, you really did want to Expelliarmus his ass to Azkaban. Snape continued smirking. He could hardly contain himself. This was perfect. He knew how easy it was to irritate you - he'd definitely had his fair share.

"Certainly, Severus." You called out calmly, watching the gaggle of students in front of you turn around to stare at you. As your eyes met with Lockhart, a flash of fear wiped across his face. That only spurred you on more. Your heels clacked against the floor cutting through the silence in the hall as you walked towards the end of the table that Severus had climbed up. As you reached the stairs, you held up your robes, careful not to trip.

Suddenly, a large and pale hand appeared in your face. Your brows furrowed together in slight confusion, before softening as they saw who it belonged to. You bit your tongue as you tried impeccably hard not to blush in front of half of the school. Graciously, you took Severus's hand lightly, watching how it swamped your smaller one, allowing him to help you up the steps. He was six-foot-one, possibly six-foot-two, after all. Once you were standing on top of the table he released your hand, to your dismay of course, but you didn't show it. There was a bigger thing at stake currently - handing Lockhart's ass to him.

You saw the author clench his jaw harshly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. You couldn't help but paint an innocent smile on your face. Behind you, Severus stepped backwards, allowing you to move past him and towards Lockhart. You nodded at him, keeping your narrowed eyes trained on the strawberry-blonde liability in front of you.

The two of you walked towards each other, stopping in the middle of the table once again. "Wands at the ready." Severus said, trying his best to hide how entertaining he was finding this. You and Lockhart drew your wands, flicking them up to your face again and whipping them down to your sides with a sharp whoosh. You met each other's glaring eyes.

"Hello, friend." You muttered to him quietly, an innocent yet threatening smile gracing your lips. Lockhart's face might have seemed confident and prepared, however his terrified eyes painted a different picture. He was rightfully worried, you still had a lot of unreleased resentment towards him.

"Professor L/N, you are the attacker and Lockhart, you are the defender, obviously." Severus stated.

You and Lockhart turned around and walked forwards five paces, before turning around again. "One, two, three!" Severus called, his eyes widening a tad, eager to see the outcome of his proposition.

"Everte Statum!" You exclaimed, beating Lockhart at his own game. A string of pale pink light shot from the tip of your wand, landing square in the middle of Lockhart's chest. Your eyes were glued onto him as he flew backwards once more, his body flipping through the air like a gymnast - though a lot less graceful. He landed with a muffled thud, a short cry slipping from his mouth. Behind you, Severus was slowly losing his composure, letting a small huff of air escape his lips as he watched you, amused at the scene. He was impressed with your ability, and in his mind he pondered curiously about whether you'd duelled before.

Gasps and laughs erupted from the students surrounding you, though a handful of them also looked worried for Lockhart's wellbeing.

"Not bad for a Herbology professor, methinks." You smiled proudly, clasping your hands together in front of you as you waited for your opponent to climb to his feet again. You half-turned to glance back at Severus, prompting an approving nod from him, the corner of his lips quirking, teasing a small smile. You hummed quietly to yourself as you looked away, returning your attention to Lockhart, your cheeks tinting pink from the eye contact with Snape.

"I believe you owe Professor L/N an apology, professor." Severus said from behind you, quite smugly. You poked your tongue into your cheek, glancing at the floor in front of you to pull yourself together. This whole ordeal was sending you into overdrive. You knew the only reason that Snape was supporting you was because you shared a mutual dislike for Lockhart, but it still felt good to have his approval, perhaps even his attention. You could feel your heart pick up in pace as you thought back to the closeness you and him had shared during those heated, intense bickers.

"I should not have underestimated you, Professor L/N." Lockhart reluctantly said, his hand gently rubbing his behind, clenching his jaw as he stared at you and Snape. You smiled bitterly at him, nodding once and making your way back towards the Potions Master. As you neared him, he leaned towards you, catching your eye. Your breath hitched slightly.

"Nicely done." Severus muttered to you, another tiny smug smirk tugging at his lips. You sucked in part of your bottom lip momentarily before allowing a composed smile to grace your features. "I'm impressed." He added, making your head spin. You swallowed thickly. Gods, you needed to get out of here now if you wanted to leave with at least a shred of your dignity.

"Thanks." You barely managed to keep your voice steady as he leaned away from you, holding his out his hand again for you to take. You took it, praying to Merlin above that your shaking knees didn't give way to you as you carefully stepped down the stairs.

Snape arched a brow at you, his eyes narrowing slightly in a glare, silently reprimanding you for saying such a thing. How could you forget? 'Do not thank me', his words rang in your head as you let go of his hand. As much as you wanted to stay, you weren't sure your heart could take much more of this.

Fuck, maybe that hateful relationship the two of you shared previously was the better option. There was no way you were surviving this year in such close proximity to Severus.

"Don't touch that please, Mr Finnigan." You sighed softly, catching a glimpse of Seamus attempting to reach towards the head of a potted Mandrake. "Not until I say so, and you will see why." You added warningly, watching him reel himself back, a look of slight fear on his face. You smiled gratefully at him. "So, as I was saying, today you will be learning how to handle Mandrakes, and what their uses are." A few curious mutterings came from the students as you stepped forwards, flicking your wand upwards to float some protective earmuffs to each student in the class. They looked at them confusedly, reaching out to grab a hold of a pair.

"Who here can tell me the properties of the Mandrake root?" You asked as you watched the students collect their respective earmuffs, eyes flicking over to a particularly eager Hermione Granger. "Yes, Miss Granger?" You smiled, linking your fingers together.

"Mandrake, or Mandrogora is used to return those who have been Petrified to their original state. It's also quite dangerous, as the Mandrake's cry is fatal to anyone who hears it." Hermione said confidently, widening your smile. She was definitely a bright student.

"Brilliant, ten points to Gryffindor." You nodded, glancing at all of the students. The Gryffindor students all grinned at the sound of your words, giving Hermione an excited nod of thanks. "Now, as our Mandrakes are still only seedlings, their cries won't kill you yet, but they could knock you out for several hours, hence the earmuffs I have supplied you all with." You said sternly, hoping each and every one of the students were listening. You weren't particularly fond of paying the infirmary a visit today. "For your own safety, you will need to wear these. So please, can you all put them on right away?" You asked politely, feeling a sense of relief as every student obeyed you. "Make sure the flaps are tight down, too." You added sternly, noticing some students had just sloppily placed them on. Said students readjusted their equipment.

"Lovely, now watch me closely." You said, turning your attention to the potted Mandrakes in front of you. "Now, you grasp it firmly," you instructed, fingers grabbing on tightly to the top of the plant, "you pull it sharply out of the pot, like so." Instantly, the high-pitched wailing of the young Mandrake filled the greenhouse, making some of the students squirm out of fright. You couldn't help but smile at them; you remembered the first time you'd experienced the shrill wail of a Mandrake seedling in this very greenhouse. "Okay? Now, you dunk it down into the other pot and pour a little sprinkling of soil to keep him warm." You explained, doing as you said, shovelling handfuls of soil into the new pot with the crying Mandrake seedling inside of it.

Suddenly, the sound of a student groaning caught your attention. You looked up, spotting Neville Longbottom's eyes rolling into the back of his head as he fell backwards, fainting. You sighed. Well, nothing is perfect.

"Mr Longbottom has obviously been neglecting his ear muffs." You pursed your lips, casting a sympathetic gaze his way. It always seems to be Longbottom in trouble. Amused snickers and inquisitive 'oh's broke out for a quick moment before you shut them down with a sharp shush.

"He's just fainted, ma'am," Seamus Finnigan protested, glancing between the unconscious boy and yourself. You nodded at him, holding up a light hand to reassure him.

"He'll be okay, Mr Finnigan, just make sure you don't step on him." You said, inhaling softly, turning your attention back to the whole of the class. "Right, off you go, there's plenty of pots to go around," You gestured to the table in front of you, observing the students carefully. "Grasp the Mandrake, and pull it up sharply like I demonstrated." A chorus of crying and shrieking Mandrakes reached your ears as you observed the class repeat your demonstration and you grimaced slightly at the raucous plants. You forgot how loud these little things were in groups. "Careful, Mr Malfoy, don't-" You sighed again, watching helplessly as he stuck his finger into the mouth of one.

Merlin, give me strength, you pleaded, watching him glare at the Mandrake seedling as he ripped his bitten finger out of it's mouth.

"Professor," came a voice to your right, capturing your attention, "You were great at duelling earlier." A blonde girl with big, blue eyes said. Luna Lovegood.

"Ah, thank you, Miss Lovegood." You smiled at her gratefully. "I'm not usually one to duel, however," You paused for a moment, pondering on your words. These were students you were talking to, so you had to be cautious with what you said. "However, I should really be thanking Professor Snape." You finished with a coy smile.

"He totally likes you, professor, didn't you see the way he helped you up the steps?" Another student called out, inducing some giggles from the girls. You rolled your eyes at them, quite positive that they were just pulling your leg.

"Let's not be hasty, now," You laughed lightly, frowning at their words. "I can tell you now that Professor Snape and I just about tolerate each other. The only reason he helped me up those steps was out of pure chivalry, I can assure you." You felt your cheeks begin to burn as your mind reeled back to earlier this morning, thinking about the way your hand felt in his, and how he looked at you after you had duelled Lockhart.

You cleared your throat and your mind, focusing back on the task at hand. "If I'm honest, I don't believe Professor Snape is capable of producing such feelings for a woman." You added absentmindedly, your tone a little bitter. A chorus of gasps and ooh's reached your ears, reminding you that you were in the presence of students - students that like to talk. "I didn't say that… don't… don't tell him I said that…" You groaned, fingers flying up to grasp the bridge of your nose in stress.

Fuck. You really needed to stop talking without thinking. That was another thing Severus had said to you a couple weeks back at the beginning of the year, no? You were still the same silly girl that didn't think before she spoke? You hated how you were proving him right, especially since you'd denied and protested it.

There was a beat of silence as you stared at the Mandrake seedlings in front of you, your mind floating back to when he was so close to you, his intoxicating smell of smoke, books and sweet wine invading your nostrils. The way his hauntingly dark eyes stare so deep into yours, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly out of anger.

"You're blushing, professor!" An amused student called out, pointing at your burning cheeks as he pulled you out of your daydream. Merlin, these kids were distracting you. Definitely not helping.

"Alright, alright, that's enough chit-chat, ladies and gentlemen, back to work, please." You shook your head, trying to ignore the tightening knot in your stomach. A few bashful giggles erupted in front of you. "I want all of these Mandrakes repotted by the end of the lesson, please."

Soon enough, the bell tolled and your students had done very well, apart from Longbottom, of course. You'd sent an owl to the infirmary to notify Madam Pomfrey of Neville's state. You assured her that he would wake in a few hours. How was this boy continuously finding himself in such situations? Severus was right. Again.

A quiet groan left your lips as you collapsed into your chair behind your desk, eyes glued thoughtfully to a beautiful, singular white lily that you had potted and placed as a decoration on your desk. You were just about to relax into your chair and open up a book to read for an hour or so when you heard Professor McGonagall's worried voice over the intercom.

"All students are to return to their dormitories immediately. All teachers to the second floor corridor." She said hurriedly, causing a worrisome look to stir on your face. This was serious, Minerva had never requested something like this before in your time teaching and learning at Hogwarts.

What had happened now?

part 5

part 4, done and dusted bitches B)

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tremendum · 1 year

Text

Mr. Miller's Show

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.) word count: 7.3k (back to regularly scheduled programming) requested: yes thank you all for all the patience srsly <3 summary: “'like how sweet you've been t'me, sugar," he mutters gently, head tilting, "why y'gonna go and fuck all that up now?'" warnings: gendered words (girl, woman, etc) allusions to PTSD, porn with feelings, guys theyre like getting healthier, SMUT (PiV unprotected), oral (M receiving), deepthroating, rough sex, face-fucking, shower smut, counter smut, reader is a tease, masturbation (f), marijuana use as always lol, brief voyeurism, canon-typical violence, age gap (undefined but mentioned), ass play (spitting, fingering, only a bit sorryyyy), mirror sex again bc im a whore, reader has hair long enough to grab, hair pulling, lots of choking, spit kink, light slapping (f receiving, consensual), dirty talk, praise kink but also degradation, use of words like slut, brat tamer!joel, overstimulation, MEAN!JOEL YALL, but he has feelings so he’s also kinda soft!dom in this again, once again sooo unedited that it hurts. notes: finally finally after over a month im back!! hope you enjoy this chapter, ive been having rough writers block with this story so any suggestions and requests are very welcomed!!! thanks for all the love and as always, comments & reblogs w tags are motivation and help out so much!!! love u all <3 also for the taglist, it's too big now and i may consider stopping my taglist, just letting everyone know!!! ill lyk if i do ofc but im reblogging with the list this time.

[this is part six of the Mr Miller series. read previous part sympathy for the devil. main masterlist here. ]

★

"you're wearing earrings."

Joel's voice cuts through the serene chill in the air, shocking you enough to have your head turning away from where you stare ahead - you crane your neck too much, but you can just see the dusted gray and dark of his curls behind you as your brows raise.

it takes you a second to understand the sentence he's just uttered to you out of nowhere- but you blink to life, clearing your throat as the dead trees pass you by.

"oh. yeah, it's... they're new. didn't really wear stuff like that until..." you shrug, trailing off as you stare forward yet again. your heart thumps as his chest rumbles against your back - jesus, he's so close to you. it's been weeks since he's been this close, even if this is just work.

your body wants what it wants, you suppose.

your lips purse, lost in the press of his thick body behind you.

"-till?"

your lip twitches in a smile for a split moment; he's waiting for you to finish your sentence. as if he cares.

Joel...

he's been so normal recently. or as normal as you could ever imagine Joel Miller to be; full sentence-conversations full of questions, full sentences, and even an occasional joke or dry line littered in with his glares and eye-rolls. he's even taught you and ellie to woodwork, nodded in hello when you picked up Ellie on your way into town - hell, he'd actually gotten a drink with you after patrol a few days ago and held eye contact for a whole thirty minutes.

a fucking miracle.

and even, on rare occasions, you are rewarded with that mind-splitting, earth-shattering smile - a very rare but rewarding sight. the kind that shocks a room, silences you and Ellie both, lights the sun and makes the birds sing. makes your stomach flutter.

so perhaps things have changed.

it makes you almost laugh to yourself, recalling that day so many moons ago when you had walked into the Bison and first stared into those stony eyes; how big his calloused hands were, the way his lip lifted in distaste at your crass words.

the sway of the horse makes your hips move gently; your ass is starting to feel sore at the constant motion and as you rock forward with the decline of the hill, you feel Joel's body slide slightly as though he tries against everything to press fully against you. even though you wish he would.

heat paints your face as you feel his breath on your neck, waiting patiently for you to finish your sentence.

your sharp breath exhales as you realize you've hesitated at his questioning, a bit too long - you smile sheepishly, shrugging. "-sorry, didn't..." you clear your throat, "couldn't remember the last time I wore earrings. not that it matters, but I just..." you thumb the makeshift earring back, grinning to the mane of the horse as he trudges you and Joel both along.

"-it feels nice. makes me feel like myself." you finish, shrugging awkwardly.

for all of the steps Joel has taken in the last few weeks to change, there are some things you still have a hard time with.

talking about yourselves and opening up is a very large, unmovable hurdle that you and him are still clearly trying to pull yourselves over. it's quiet for a second as your words seep into the dead surroundings, less than an hour from town.

"look nice." he grunts quietly, his arms pressing slightly from where he straddles the saddle behind your frame.

your eyes widen at the seemingly random compliment, face flooding with flattery and embarrassment. your grin betrays you, but you don't dare stutter out a broken thank you for fear that you will sound like a croaking frog; instead, you purse your lips over the giddy grin that spreads over your cheeks and hope that as he stares at the profile of your face, he can see the flattery written across your features.

"Ellie has a matching pair." you say instead, sparing a quick glance back at Joel. his brows raise, jaw ticking as he takes in the information - your voices both echo at the same time as you speak over each other suddenly:

"she doesn't have her ears pierced." "in case she ever gets them pierced."

you let out a short huff of laughter, nodding sheepishly at having accidentally interrupted each other; Joel shakes his head with a ghost of a smile.

"got it." he nods, "s'real nice of you." he nods, "making a pair for her, too."

his chest is right on you - broad, warm through all the layers, and smelling of pine, whiskey, sage. amber. it's intoxicating as his drawl rumbles in the back of your ear - you silently thank Tommy or whoever the hell it was who ordered half the horses to rest after a bout of sickness spread through the stable; sharing a horse has never once before today seemed like a good idea.

but the good idea sours quickly when you kick speed slightly, the horse leaping over a small creek as your hips shift back into Joel's and your ass presses into him.

your mouth dries as you shakily exhale; he's so close to you - smells so good. your hands grip the reigns tighter and you nearly jump when a large, calloused hand falls onto your hips to steady you after the change in pace.

your mind travels back to that morning after you'd stayed with Joel in his own bed - how gentle his hands had been as he'd guided you towards your own house under the early morning sunrise; your eyes bleary with sleep but his smile still cracking bashfully when you'd kissed his cheek, muttering about how maybe Ellie'd missed your boots by the front door when she'd come home.

she and Joel certainly haven't said anything you if she did notice, anyways.

you clear your throat, ignoring the searing desire that spirals from where his hand touches your clothed hip; you shrug, "she said she liked mine, so I figured we could match."

he hums lowly at your word, his nose brushing slightly over the crown of your head. shivers roll over your shoulders as you swallow, retreating into the silence that you've lived in for the last few weeks since the two of you were put back on patrol.

but you stiffen when a hand runs down your side, over the jagged stitching of your jacket, and you suck in a sharp inhale. his other hand slides forward, hooking gently around your hip, fingers splaying over the very top of your thigh and your throat dries up; a faint desire awakened and soon screaming at you. you squirm under his touch.

Joel's hips adjust behind you gently in the next second, your eyes fluttering shut as you imagine him pulling you into him, his hard cock sliding between the round globes of your ass and through your dripping folds, his hands greedy and hungry; his words sharp, teasing. his touch, sweet. intoxicating-

your eyes open again and your heart skips a beat, his knees hitting the outside of your thighs.

christ. your whole body tingles as you shift slightly, rotating your hips as the buck of the horse's cant tilts you further away from the heat of his broad chest. no, you can't stand his teasing - intentional or not, Joel is making you nearly melt in desire.

jesus.

you're barely pulling the horse to the side of the path when, with barely a crane of his neck, Joel mutters, "the hell are y'doin?"

you suddenly pull the reins and mutter woah, slipping yourself off of the horse and onto the hard ground with a burning face, your lungs screaming for air as Joel protests.

"what-" he grunts as he pulls himself down from the stirrups, face etched with irritation and concern at your sudden evacuation, "is there an issue?"

you can hear the irritation in his voice and you sigh, shaking your head - your heart's thundering, face hot and surely laced with poorly-hid embarrassment. god, what the fuck is wrong with you? there's barely forty minutes back to Jackson, why couldn't you just suck it up for a few more torturous minutes until you could return home to your trusty drawer and hot shower?

"no." you snap, "no problem, Joel." your heart is thundering with surprise at his concern, eyes glaring daggers at him before shooting down towards the heat that nearly blisters on your forearm; his hand, warm and gentle, asking silently if you're okay. your eyes soften before you can school your expression - he reads you, as always, like his favorite novel.

his hand falls away gently, grazing your finger tips like the gentlest breeze on your face and it still surprises you.

"alright," he says softly, eyes searching your flustered appearance. "can we get back on the horse, then?" he asks - his voice is surprisingly patient, though his eyes are wary. irritated, but concerned.

you clear your throat, unable to contain yourself much longer. "we could- take a break."

his brows raise, tilting his head, "a break? we're nearly back. s'almost nightfall."

you shift your weight, avoiding the way his corded arms cross over each other, his frame towering over yours as you dully throb in arousal.

"you're-" you squeak, shaking your head, "you're fucking crowding me, and I need- fuck-" you groan, "just- just fuck off for a second, Joel." you snap, bursting in frustration, unsure how to just admit you are being driven fucking crazy with lust by his presence.

his head tilts, "fuck off?" his eyes are darker every second you stand, facing each other- "the hell's gotten into you?" he sounds offended, and your heart flips as you feel bad - you're trying, you're trying so hard to be normal around him, as he is with you - so one touch, one innocent adjustment of his hips and now you're freaking out on him again?

you need to get a grip, or at least be honest.

your face burns as his stern gaze rolls over each curve of your body; "Joel, you're driving me fucking crazy." you snap, glaring at him.

he looks shocked, hands flying out, "I barely said anythin' this whole goddamn day, how the hell am I still fucking this up?" he snaps back, irritated - his eyes incredulous as he stares down at you.

flames lick up your sides as you grind your teeth - his hair looks much more wavy with his curls today, and the green of his jacket it making the golden on his skin nearly glow; you nearly growl as you jump towards him. he's too much. too fucking much.

your hands lock on his shoulders, tugging yourself up towards his face as your lips fall against his.

the kiss is a shock to you both.

you're not sure what really compelled you to do it - the stubble over his sharp jaw, his hair, the way his thighs pressed against the outsides of yours just minutes ago, the way he pressed on about the earrings - whatever, it doesn't matter, because he's kissing you back and you're melting like butter over a campfire.

his lips press hard back against yours through his shocked inhale, surging against you in a dizzying haze of Joel.

but the kiss is seared away from your lips when Joel suddenly shoots his thick hand out, rising to grip hard at your throat, shoving you backwards.

it's more shocking than the sudden kiss - the speed in which he pulls back and pushes you hard backwards by his warm grip, causing flutters of arousal to course through your stomach.

you stumble in shock but he keeps his hold on you, passionate as he movers the two of you back. you're torn away from his warmth as he presses you with one hand on the small of your back and the other on the beating pulse of your throat - right against a tree, nudging you as he tilts his head down to your height once more.

he's back on you in no less than a split second; his heat swirling around the cold air, teeth nipping at your lip when you take a moment longer than he'd like to open your lips to his tongue. he groans against you, a warm and deep thing that you feel in your own chest as your hand slides up to his hair, tugging at the base of his neck.

the fingers around your throat flex and tighten in reaction to your own grip and the moan that rips from your throat sends his hips in a slow thrust against yours.

you've been desperate for his touch for fucking days - he's been walking on eggshells even after you'd spent the night with him a few weeks ago. he'd barely touched you, taking his time trying to make up for all the lost time you'd spent trying to rip each other's heads off instead of your clothes.

and sure, you don't know who you are with him still - nothing defined, and a lot of things still unspoken - but for the first time since this whole mess started, that doesn't bother you. there's not much anger, nor jealousy - just... Joel. and you.

it's not bad.

his lips leave yours as he breathes against your lips, "like how sweet you've been t'me, sugar," he mutters gently, head tilting, "why y'gonna go and fuck all that up now?"

his hand slips from your back lower, tugging you against his semi-hard cock as his fingers squeeze your ass. his hand lies just below your jugular, thumb soothing over your cold skin as his dark eyes glint with desire. you feel a rush of arousal pool between your legs as you raise your brows.

"-you need to stop fucking touching me like that when we're riding, Miller." you growl against his lips, staring back at him. you lean slightly to catch his lips with yours once again but he pulls back with a strong hand against your neck to stop you - teasing.

he tuts, "you need to learn how to use your words, sweetheart." he growls against you, teeth catching on your bottom lip.

you whimper at the sharp sting, chasing him as if you could steal a kiss. he tilts his head just out of reach, his hand pressing against you until your breath comes out slightly ragged; your pussy flutters as he squeezes, knee sliding against your clothed core.

"if you want it, ask for it, baby." he all but demands, hands rough against you, "can't just throw a fit every time you're aching for my cock, or else you'll be whinin' all goddamn day. how am I supposed to know-"

but there's a snap of a twig somewhere behind you and you both spring apart, straight as boards, hackles raised.

it's almost like deja-vu as you're both thrown from your stupor - ripping away, your voices cease as your hand flies to your hunting knife - in your peripheral, you see that Joel's slung around his rifle so quick you're almost impressed as you both stare to your left.

christ - just the fucking horse, tied to the tree. stepped on a twig.

you let out a shaky breath, hand falling onto Joel's chest as you almost wheeze out a relieved laugh. but your hand feels it, suddenly - you notice how stiff Joel is, even after you've both realized there's no threats.

his heart, thundering in his chest wildly. like a caged animal surrounded by a pack of wild, ravenous wolves; Joel's heart tries to scramble right out of his chest and onto the dead ground.

that feeling - the one that creeps around at night when you wake up with memories of that cabin, of those raiders - of your past, visions of Joel, surrounded by red. that feeling that creeps up, squeezing at your throat and banging on your chest.

he's feeling it, too.

it's not from arousal, though you can see enough of that in his eyes, in the way his lips part and ragged breaths puff into the air - no, not arousal.

fear.

your heart hammers similarly, you suddenly notice. your hand shakes as it hovers near your knife; his hands grip the rifle so tight the blood may burst forth from the roughened skin any second.

"hey," you whisper, suddenly worried to speak above any quiet noise. his eyes are sharp and his jaw clenched as he looks back at you, wild and alarmed.

as if he were ready to fight for his life and yours.

"let's go home," you whisper, thumb running over the shoulder of his jacket, muscles strained and still below the layers.

he snaps out of it, eyes falling to rake over you as if assuring that you're still in front of him in one piece. his hand finds yours on his chest, sliding it off - not unkindly; his hand squeezes yours before boosting you up onto the double saddle silently.

Joel insists on walking you back to your house; he's brooding, as normal, as you both trudge back from turning in your patrol log and tracking the mud from the stable through the quiet streets.

you don't speak about what happened in the woods - the kiss, nor the twig snapping, but you ache and as you walk, every brush of the backs of your hands send shooting sparks up your arm.

"damn it," he grunts under his breath as you lead him up your driveway. you lift a brow at him, silent prompt to explain his expletive.

he shakes his head, "s'nothin'. forgot Ellie said the water heater ain't workin', said she was stayin' with her friend Dina till I fix it. cold shower for me tonight."

you grimace; the air nips at your cheeks, you can't imagine a cold shower in this weather. you shrug, "use mine." you suggest, tilting your head. "no point in turning into an icicle, Miller, you're cold enough as is." you tease, sending him a small wink.

something in you wonders if the shower really is broken, or if he just can't bring himself to ask; not that you can blame him. you can't bring yourself to ask, either.

your heart flutters when Joel rolls his eyes but still trudges after you, through the entrance of your home. his eyes look just as tired as you feel but there's a spark to them, one that coaxes more warmth between your thighs.

you see his eyes catch on the partially-smoked joint put out on the ashtray on your kitchen table as you slide past it; you have a mind to grab it before you make your way up the stairs, pretending not to feel too hot when you feel Joel's eyes graze over the sway of your hips.

he showers first, you insist.

while he does so, you strip out of your clothes and into a more comfortable sleeping shirt and shorts. you sit, smoking lazily on the joint, savoring the sharp herbal taste as it flows into your blood and trying to ignore the throbbing desire when the sound of the shower shuts off.

Joel's respectful when he leaves your bathroom, pants on and shirt tugged over his chest, speckled with dots of moisture. his hair is much darker and more curled just after a shower; you're transfixed as you stand in front of him, joint smoldering between your lips, an exhale of smoke swirling lazily from your nostrils.

"may I?" he asks suddenly, causing you to nod, pulling the joint out from your lips and noting how his own dark eyes follow it like a horse to a carrot; you smirk, tutting. "and to think, all this time you've been judging me for it?" you shake your head. "shame on you."

his jaw ticks and you just smirk, shaking your head as you hold the joint up to his lips boldly. "you're a bad influence on me, aren't you, Mr. Miller?" you ask, voice sultry as you peer up at him through your lashes. his eyes flick to yours as he inhales, your fingers ghosting over his plush lips. the ones you kissed not an hour earlier.

the air is thick in your room, steam from the hot water creeping through as Joel inhales the weed, ember lighting up your eyes in his. you leave the joint between his parted lips, opting to strip down as you walk towards the shower, hoping Joel had the mind to watch as you go.

your heart thuds in arousal and excitement when you hear his sharp exhale, still refusing to turn around as you leave the door slightly open once again. you and your innocent habit of leaving the bathroom door open when you shower.

you're relieved there's some fog over the glass door of the shower, but you take your time cleansing your hair, running soap over your face and then slowly, slowly lathering up your skin.

you can feel him watch the entire time.

his eyes are like a hawk's; you can see his shadow through the light of the bathroom, the ember of your joint glowing occasionally as your hands run over the wet planes of your skin.

your shaky fingers cascade down, over the skin of your stomach, lower until they just barely graze where you ache. it's like he's been waiting for you to finally start to touch yourself; just as your fingers find your slit, the amber of the joint is tamped, ashed on the windowsill.

you hum lowly as your fingers swirl through your velvet folds, so wet you're dripping onto your upper thighs as your head thumps against the wall.

"Joel," you let yourself whimper, eyes fluttering shut before opening again languidly.

Joel's footsteps are gentle as he slowly strides up to you; he lasted, admittedly, longer than you through this torturous game. through the glass, you see his tall frame and your legs quiver with desire - your aching cunt throbs as you move your hand over yourself, rinsing off the rest of the suds from your clean body as your fingers tease your bundle of nerves. your hips jolt; a choked moan from you as you slide the glass open slightly, cocking your head - "it's a shame you already showered," you mutter, fingers not ceasing as Joel's eyes rake over your naked for ravenously.

he leans on the doorframe to the bathroom, eyes stern as he takes in your silhouette through the fogged glass, slowly rolling over the curves of your body to meet your eyes with flames alit in his own.

"-it'd be nice to have some help." you shrug, gesturing to the bar of soap in your spare hand, eyes swimming with desire as your other hand continues the slow, torturous movements on your aching clit.

your eyes catch on his crotch; through the jeans, his cock is hard and straining already as if being stirred by just the sight of you, naked and whimpering for him in your shower.

"I know you've always liked a show, though, haven't you?" you tease, lifting a brow as you recall the night Joel'd first seen you shower.

his jaw ticks at your words but it's like something in his snaps; he wastes little time ripping his shirt off, his patience clearly gone as you bite your lip, stepping back for him as his jeans finally slide off.

his glowing, naked form crowds into your own as he slides into the shower with you. his eyes are sharp as his hand takes the soap from you; yet instead of running it over your skin like you'd hoped he would, he's tossing it to the side until it hits the wall of the shower and splinters into two.

you gasp slightly as his hand grips your neck, tugging you close. his cock is hard, tip glistening with beads of precum already as he presses to your lower stomach, his body glued to yours; his nose slides along the plane of your collarbone gently, the shower water pelting rolling off your meshed bodies like some sort of sick baptism.

"you smell clean, darlin'," he mutters against your kin, one hand sliding up to your scalp, threading through your hair. his tongue peeks out to lick a stripe up your throat. "taste clean, too-"

his hand tightens suddenly, tugging your hair until your head snaps up to him - his eyes are dark, face full of desire. "so why're you pretending you need my help?"

the condescension in his voice is intoxicating - your legs weaken, hands sliding up onto his hot skin under the water that cascades over him.

your throat dries as you swallow, eyes wide as a rush of arousal threatens to drip down onto your bare thighs.

his head tilts, "s'because you want to put on a show, 's that it?" he asks, voice condescendingly sweet as he once again tightens his grip. you whimper at the sweet feeling, nodding slightly.

he smiles against your neck before pulling away, "fine. you can give me a show. get on your knees." he hums, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. your head feels dizzy at the words he says and the sweetness of his kiss; the most delicious juxtaposition.

"a show." he chuckles to himself, shaking his head darkly. "gonna make you a goddamn star."

christ. your cunt squeezes around nothing, aching for him as his hands slide down to your shoulders. you nearly moan as he smirks, water cascading down his broad chest as he pushes you down; you sink to your knees, your wide eyes on his own as you move until you're close to his aching cock.

he stands, towering above you as the shower head sprays directly onto his back; water runs off the broad expanse of his chest and you follow the droplets as they smooth over his stomach, down over the sprinkling of hair that trails to the base of his dick. you swallow, heart thundering impatiently as you sit on your haunches, waiting anxiously for him to tell you what to do.

his brows raise, though, flush high on his cheeks from heat - or arousal - as he hums, "well?"

you blink at him in surprise as he shakes his head down at you, his own hand falling to pump his long cock in languid strokes, the skin so close to you that you can almost feel the heat. if you were to lean out, just a bit, to taste-

"christ, darlin' do I gotta tell you how to do everything?" he grunts, other hand cupping the back of your head, carding through your wet strands of hair as he tuts, "you were practically beggin' f'me earlier, now you're suddenly shy?"

your face blooms in heat, "no, sir, I just-" at your words, his eyes fall back and a groan echoes through your bathroom, "-just suck my cock, darlin' c'mon."

his impatience, desperation sends shivers down your spine and your mouth opens eagerly, tongue flattening as he slaps your tongue gently once, twice-

you're always surprised by the size of Joel - each time, it catches you off guard; the head of his cock breaches your lips and his pre-cum smears over your tongue; the taste of him has you keening forward, eager to feel him in you, filling you up.

"there you go, 's much better." he grunts, muttering as one hand slides around to hold your jaw. your eyes flutter up through your lashes and the falling shower water to stare at him, how big he is towering above you. his cock pushes into your warm mouth and you try your best to breathe through your nose, tongue sliding up the vein which reaches up towards his tip. his groan spurs you on and you gently start to bob your head, spit gathering at the sides of your mouth slowly as your knees press against the wet porcelain.

"you feel better like this, baby?" he mutters, your stomach tingling at his words. you can't nod - can't even make a noise as his hips slowly buck into you; you gag slightly and moan around his cock as it pushes to the back of your throat.

"fuck-" he grunts, one hand leaning forward to place against the wet shower tiles; he's crowding you, now, pressing you into the back of the shower as his body takes the brunt of the water and takes and takes from you.

anything Joel wants, he can fucking have it.

"that's it, sweetheart-" he grunts, "fuckin'- take me."

his hands grip yours, pulling them onto his thighs, muttering gently that if it's too much, you can slap his thigh; you nod, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes as you keen towards him again, hungry to feel him in your throat again.

your nails dig crescents into the meat of his thighs as he pushes your head right against the wall, fucking into your throat as his head tilts back. "tha's- right, look at you." he grunts, his lips parted as groans fall from his lip. the steam rises like tendrils from hell as you take Joel's length in your mouth, barely able to breathe in the most delicious way as he uses you. your spit trails over your chin and onto your bare chest as you stare up at him. one hand soothes over your forehead, wiping wet strands of hair plastered to your forehead, "you're a fuckin' star, baby."

you heat at his words, stomach swirling as you shift uncomfortably, cunt puffy and aching for relief.

your fingers grip onto him as he takes you in the shower, fucking your throat until you're dripping and aching and a writhing mess, his moans echoing around the empty home.

"water's cold." he grunts, pulling his cock from your lips; you, weakly, chase the heat of him as he leaves your mouth, gasping for air and coughing slightly.

he shuts off the water, suddenly, and you swallow as he turns back to you, eyes significantly softer than they'd just been; "somethin' wrong?" he teases, a dark smirk on his face as his eyes flicker to where your thighs press together to soothe the ache.

you grit your teeth, shaking your head, "jus' want you to touch me, sir." you mutter, face burning at the way Joel never ceases to reduce you to a whimpering mess.

he smiles one of those brilliant, radiant smiles.

"that's all you had to say, darlin'." he shrugs, "told you, if you just learn to ask for it nicely, I'll give it to you."

you shiver as you nod, taking his hand as he pulls you up off your sore knees, wrapping a towel around your form gently. he's so- commanding, yet still somehow keeping his kindness that often hides deep beneath his layers.

you can't tear your eyes away, though - even as Joel starts to walk towards your open bedroom - your hand stops him on his naked shoulder. "will you please fuck me?" you ask, voice stronger than you'd expected it to be.

his eyes flicker with something as he tilts his head, "right here?" he lifts a brow as his hand snaked over your neck to pull you flush against him once again. "y'gonna beg me to fuck you against the sink because you're too desperate for my cock to walk to the bed?" he whispers it into the shell of your ear; a shiver as you whine, eyes blinking up at him, "been waiting all day, Joel, stop fucking teasing me."

you notice your mistake too late; his jaw tenses as he bites down at the junction of your neck - you let out a sharp, whining moan as his teeth mark a love bite bright and center on your skin. "fuck- fuck, s-sorry, sir." you groan, eyes clenching shut in pleasure as his hands push you into the counter.

"bet you're fuckin' sorry." he mutters lowly as he pulls away from you, flipping you quick to bend you over the vanity of the sink. you gasp as the cool wet porcelain hits your breasts, your nipples hard and sensitive as a sharp smack lands on your ass.

"christ," he groans as you bend over, puffy lips soaked and glistening for him, "look at this pretty pussy."

you move your hips slightly and his hands grip onto your waist - "quit that." he snaps, hands resuming their exploring. he grazes over the backs of your thighs, up the expanse of your spine.

over your ass, groping and slapping, relishing in your small moans and sharp gasps. "don't move." he orders.

you sigh, head falling onto the sink as you nearly whimper - you're aching, throbbing as Joel teases you - "Joel," you whimper quietly, voice whiny and small.

"what's wrong, y'tired of being teased?" he asks, voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. your cheeks are hot as you groan, "please, need to feel you inside of me-"

he hums, smacking the flesh of your ass, "'f I don't warm you up you'll be sore, baby-" he tuts, "y'know I gotta get you ready."

"I don't care, I can take it- I like it, just-" you stutter, face heated as you nearly scream in frustration, unable to voice how badly you just want him inside of you.

he likes that - a thumb sliding over your cunt to spread your lips, exposing your pussy and ass to him as he hums. "too fuckin' eager, have to have my cock right now, 's that right?" he shakes his head with a dark smirk, hand teasing over your swollen lips as he nods, "yeah, s'alright, I'll give it to you whenever you ask."

"thank you," you wheeze, letting out a shaky sigh when Joel leans down, spitting directly onto your asshole, thumb sliding over the tight ring as he hums, "so desperate for me, couldn't even wait 'till we get back to town, could you? had to try an' fuck me right there in the woods." he doesn't wait for you to respond as he spits down again, this time the slick spit sliding down onto your seeping cunt. his hand leaves, replacing with the thick, teasing head of his cock.

you gasp, rising on your toes as the blunt tip of his dick spreads your cunt, teasing your clit before notching at your entrance. "gonna fill up every hole tonight, baby, y'gonna let me?"

you let out a whine, "fuck, yes, please." you nod, cunt fluttering around the tip of his cock.

the stretch is painful; you expected it, craved it - you let out an animalistic moan when he slides in a few inches. "oh-" you whimper, legs tensing as Joel kneads the flesh of your ass, pressing his bare chest to your spine as he mouths along the base of your neck, "relax, baby, so fuckin' tight-" he groans as he slides in slowly, "let me in, sweetheart, c'mon-"

a rush of arousal and he's fully seated within you, the sting of his cock in you subsiding as a growing desire mounts until you can't take it. "move- m-move, now, please." you rush, hips pushing back against Joel's impatiently.

"shit," Joel hisses as he pulls out of you slightly - a long, thick drag against your velvety cunt and you groan at the sweet bliss of being filled up. you moan as he thrusts forward, tip hitting the perfect spot that already, as his pace builds, has a simmering coil deep within you.

"thought- thought about it all day," you admit, hands finding purchase on the counter as he starts to fuck into you, your tits sliding as they press against the sink. "on the horse, thought abo-" you moan sharply as his thumb grazes over your asshole, spreading the slick and his spit around the tight ring. "fuck, sir- that feels good." you moan. he groans in response and the words fly from your lips - "you drive me crazy, so big, t-touching me all the time. dream about you filling me up- s-stuffing me full, even out in the woods-"

your words are too much for Joel, apparently, because his hand slaps over your mouth and his voice whispers, "sh-shut the fuck up, darlin', y'needa be quiet or I'm gonna finish before this even starts." he grunts, hips snapping into yours as he picks up the pace.

you whimper at his words, arousal gushing from you and coating his cock in your slick; the wet slapping of your bodies echoing through the bathroom. "fuck-" he drags out the word, fingers sliding over your lips to prod at your mouth, "here- suck, darlin' - there you go, good girl, that's right."

your tongue slides over his fingers, eyes fluttering closed as you feel his thumb breach your tight hole; a sudden rush of pleasure runs through you as it hits you - Joel's everywhere. he's filling you completely - his thumb slowly fucks your tight ring of muscle as his cock spears your cunt; his fingers, pressing down on your tongue as you whimper and moan around him.

a groan leaves his full lips; "fuck- look at me." he grunts, hand sliding up your throat to pull your jaw towards your reflection. "look at me, baby-" his fingers slide back into your mouth as your eyes meet the fire in his through the mirror.

"always tell me when you feel like this, 'kay?" he asks, brows stern as he rams his hips into you; his thumb fills you and fucks into you at a slower speed than his cock, sending searing pleasure through your entire body.

your flesh moves at the impact of his hips and you cry out as his cock hits the delicious spot inside you that curls your toes. his thumb slips from your ass and you whimper dejectedly; the full feeling subsiding slightly as his hand grips your tits, pinching your nipple as he hums in your ear. "don't want my pretty little slut feeling so needy all the time, right?" he mutters, nosing at your hair as he fucks into you with no abandon. your fingers clench to the sides of the sink as you let out a strangled, "yes, sir-"

"so if you use your words, I'll give you anything you want." he groans, hand smacking your ass as the other squeezes your jaw. you nod, agreeing with his words though his cock has rendered you nearly speechless. he hums in approval before muttering, "now you're goign to play with your clit until you cum."

you let your eyes roll back at the commanding tone as your hand snakes down to rub tight, blisteringly pleasurable circles over your bundle of nerves.

but it's immediately too much so soon; you're already so close to your orgasm that a jagged gasp falls from your lips, jumping at the feeling.

"no, 's too much," you moan, head falling back as your finger teases your clit, flames of pleasure licking up isnide you.

but Joel smirks, "why're you still doin' it, then?" he teases, cock hitting so deep and bruising that you think you may see stars.

you moan out, "w-wanna cum, wanna make you happy, Joel." you whimper, completely forgetting to call him sir; but you feel his brows furrow as a moan ripples from his lips - "y'makin' me real happy right now, darlin', look at you. fucked out on this old man's cock, doin' whatever I say, desperate and willing. you're perfect, aren't you?"

you shiver in pleasure at his praise, fingers shaking as you rub your clit, trying so hard not to ruin your orgasm by cumming too soon. his cock spears into you at a pace that will certainly bruise your hips; your breath is punched out of you, your gasps and moans painting the air.

"say it, baby." he orders, hand stroking your breast a staunch contradiction to his brutal pace. "tell me how perfect you are for me."

you wail, head falling back onto his broad, thick shoulder as he runs his mouth over your shoulder, nipping as he goes. you're out of breath - "p-perfect, I'm perfect for you Joel, fuck, don't stop. so good, so good-" you mumble, fucked out after only a few minutes.

he hums, nodding into you. "taught you well, didn't I? you're my perfect little star."

you nod, "yes, sir, thank you-" you squeal in pleasure as he strokes long and slow, pushing you nearly to the brink as your legs shake. you can't take it, though - your fingers stop their ministrations, shaking and burning as you pull away from your clit, so close from just his cock and-

a slap to your cheek as Joel's lips bite into your jaw, "put your fuckin' hand back right now. you don't stop 'till I tell you to."

you swallow shakily, shaking your head, "I can't- it's too much, I can't-"

"fine." he snaps, slapping your cheek again before one hand slips to grip hard at your shoulder, lifting one of your legs up onto the sink; his other hand snakes down to pinch your tortured clit and you scream as he grunts in your ear, "I'll do it myself."

he's unforgiving on your quivering cunt, barely able to stay upright as he pushes you down, your cheeks pressing to the cool counter as he pounds down into you, shooting you into a hurtling race towards your orgasm.

he brutally fucks into you in a blinding pace. you nearly scream as white-hot pleasure rips through you, your hands falling to the counter as he coaxes a mind-bending orgasm from you. you see white as you cum, pulsing and writhing over his cock as it spears into you, splitting you open.

"that's it, baby-" he lets out a loud moan, biting into your neck as he continues the brutal pace, "jesus- s'fucking tight, baby, can barely move-" his hands fall to your hips, using you as a fuck toy to finish himself off; you're still writhing with the ecstasy of the orgasm, relishing in the way his hands hold you.

"where're you gonna take me, baby?" he grunts, voice strained: he's so close.

you scramble, holding his hips as you nearly pass out - pleasure too much. "cum on my ass, please sir." you mutter, heat licking up your throat as the words come out.

he moans and pulls out of you suddenly, hand flying from your skin to his cock, a slick noise as he quickly tugs himself until hot spurts of his cum paint the skin of your ass. "pretty girl," he grunts to himself, "an' you're all mine."

you hum, moaning quietly as his thumb soothes over your skin, spreading his cum over your ass and pressing it slightly against your ass. your cunt flutters in arousal at the action and he hums, "y'like that, don't you, pretty girl?"

you nod as you let out a shaky sigh and he presses a kiss to your spine, "good." it's a whisper on your skin, a promise.

he's barely grabbed a towel to wipe his cum off your skin before you're turned around on jelly legs - his strong arms pull you in so fast you barely have a second to straighten out - he's nuzzling into your wet hair in a way that has your heart thumping and your throat dry.

his heart beats against your cheek, body warm, chest heaving along with yours.

heat, affection - they swirl in your chest as his bare body cradles yours. intimately.

your sweet skin is sticky with sweat when Joel comes to, out of the bliss of his and your orgasms.

he's just as sweaty as you, though the clean skin and foggy mirror have started to clear up. Joel nearly huffs a short laugh at the thought of taking yet another shower - christ knows the two of you are once again filthy - but he kind of likes it, in a way. a secret.

he brushes it off when he feels your fingers curl around his arm; he had barely noticed that he'd tugged you upright and right into his chest, holding you as tight as he could. for some reason, his mind reaches back to earlier in the evening, when he'd heard that branch - the fear, the panic that'd risen in him. he's not sure why, or at least, he won't think about it. you hadn't mentioned it, but he'd seen your hands shake and your eyes cloud with fear.

something for another time, because he has you warm and pliant and naked in his arms. he barely noticed how his lips press at your hairline; it's just... well, feels natural.

like you both need it.

"stay here, please." you ask meekly, quietly. the first words spoken in a minute; you're swallowing around the nerves and anxiety that crawl in your chest, he can tell. he feels them, too.

he's taken aback as he stares at you - you both have patrol again in the morning, is it not... aren't you going to get tired of him?

won't you find him annoying, or gross in the morning when he inevitably pulls you closer in his sleep, when the dreams are too real and he shoots up in bed?

the panic subsides as he stares into your warm eyes, hopeful, bashful. he smiles gently, biting through the smile in embarrassment at how willing he is to stay. he'd stay forever if you asked.

Joel nods through his surprise, though, his body and heart and head aching to lie with you once again, to feel the calmest sleep he's had in years.

"course, darlin', I'll..." he pulls you in closer, so he doesn't have to look at those damn eyes when he finally admits it -

"I'll stay as long as you want."

feedback welcome as always :') <3

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