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dustydaddyyy · 11 months

Text

sweetheart | joel miller x fem! reader

pairing: joel miller x fem! reader

summary: you're home from college for summer '99 to visit your parents, when your eye wanders upon their next-door neighbor, joel miller.

a/n: basically just porn with some plot that started at 2k and ended up becoming 13k. enjoy these 13k of unhinged depravity :)

warnings: (18+) SMUT (extended warning are under the cut), age gap (reader is 22, Joel is 32), swearing, mentions and consumption of alcohol, use of petnames (mostly sweetheart and one darling), probably inaccurate descriptions of the southern US, reader's mom is kind of annoying, reader kind of seduces joel (ish), neighbor!joel (is this a warning?) single dad! joel (what about this one?), reader babysits Sarah a few times

extended warnings: smut, fingering, p in v unprotected sex (pls in the name of the lord practice safe sex people), some (relatively tame) dry humping, couch sex, definitely some praise kink (we're moving on), for sure some soft!dom!joel, but also a pinch of dom!reader (👀), a lil cockwarming, maybe like a bit of a breeding kink if you really, really squint and i think that's it! please let me know if i've missed any. no use of y/n in this fic.

"Is this really how you're going to be spending your entire holiday?"

You bite back a groan as you look at your mom from where you'd been laying down on the lounge chair in the garden, book dropping from in front of your face so you can peer at her from behind your sunglasses.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you ask her, and she shrugs as she continues to water her rhododendrons.

"You've been home a week now," she tells you pointedly, "And you've sat more in that chair than I have all year,"

"I'm on break," you say matter of factly, "That's kind of the point," Your mum lets out a hum as she continues watering her flowers, which you ignore as you bring your book back up in front of your face.

It's hot out in the Texas sun, almost too hot, but having come from the constant cold and rain in Seattle, you find yourself not caring too much as you bask in the sunlight. You're not wearing much, dressed only in a bikini top and pair of old shorts, that are maybe a touch too snug, but survived your parents' move from Galveston. They'd moved to Austin at the end of last summer for your father's new job. You hadn't been to the new house over Christmas, your parents having come up to visit Seattle for the holidays, instead. Austin and Galveston weren't such different cities, it was all still Texas, but the one thing you found yourself desperately missing, especially now in the heat, was the ocean.

Somewhere in one of the neighbouring gardens, the sound of a lawnmower being turned on fills the air. You ignore it, putting down your book for a second instead and watching as your mother shuffles over to the flowers lining the wooden fence which separates your neighbour's garden from yours.

"I'm getting a drink," you declare, swinging your legs over the side of the sun lounger, "Can I get you anything, Mom?"

"I'm alright," your mom says with a wave of your hand, and you nod, before turning on your heel and going inside to get your drink, pushing your sunglasses to the top of your head. The house is delightfully cool as you open the screen door. On your way to the kitchen you pass the living room, finding your dad passed out on the couch, fan on full blast and TV displaying the U.S. Golf Open.

You bite back a chuckle as you step into the kitchen, filling up a glass of water before chugging it down, wiping the rest off your chin, before filling it up again. You spend a couple of minutes leaning against your counter taking small sips, before your ears perk up at the sound of your mom's voice from the garden. It's faint, like she's talking to someone, and you frown slightly as you think about who she could be talking to, considering your dad is in no state to have conversation with anybody, right now.

You shrug it off, taking a few more sips before you go back through the house the way you came, your mother's voice becoming clearer as her laugh floats through the screen door. The sun bears down on your face once more as you step back into the garden, your eyes taking a second to adjust to the bright light as you close the screen door behind you.

"–there you are, peanut! I was just telling Joel about you, come and say hi. . ."

"Goody," you mutter to yourself as the screen door clicks shut.

"–you remember I told you about Joel, don't you, honey? He lives next door with his daughter, Sarah,"

You bite back a sigh, before plastering a smile over your face as you turn to the garden to meet another undoubtedly middle-aged, pot-bellied man.

Either way, you're not expecting the man standing by the wooden fence; he's pretty young, maybe early thirties, with dark, scruffy hair and an equally half-kept scruffy beard and mustache. He's a handsome man, with dark, warm eyes that scan your face and an angular jaw and nose.

"Sure, I remember" you let out, smiling at him sweetly, "Pleased to meet you,"

"Hello," he returns your greeting with a slight nod, and his voice is deep and gravelly, tinged with that telltale Texan accent, "Nice to finally meet you, your mom sure does talk about you a lot,"

You give him a dry, sarcastic smile, raising your brows slightly. "She sure does like to talk,"

Joel lets out a chuckling breath, corners of his mouth twitching in amusement as your Mom rolls her eyes.

"Always so dry, that one," she comments, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes as you sit back down on the sun lounger.

"Your mom said you were home from college for the summer. . . How long you visiting for?" Joel says with a clear of his throat.

You go to open your mouth as Joel waits patiently for your answer, but your mom beats you to it. "Until about mid-August. . . good to have her home, she hadn't been down here at the new house since we moved, you see. . ."

Joel's gaze lingers on you for a second before his eyes turn back to your mother, whose animated conversation you tune out, as you pull your sunglasses back down onto your nose, and pick your book back up, stretching your bare legs over the lounger.

Your mind is anywhere but the book, however, and you make sure to hold it at such an angle that you can still peer over the spine, eyes shamelessly rolling over Joel's form from behind your sunglasses. He's wearing an old, dark green t-shirt that's covered in white paint splatters and looks like it's several sizes too small, but you don't find yourself complaining as your eyes linger over the bulge of his biceps under the shirt, broad chest stretching out the faded logo on the front. Your eyes travel down his torso to the shorts he's wearing, and you're pretty grateful for your sunglasses because you find your gaze lingering down from his belt to his zipper, material bulging slightly outwards–

"–Peanut can do it, can't you darling? She's real good with kids,"

Your mom's voice startles you out of your philandering thoughts, and eyes, and you pretend to look up from your book, heart skipping in your chest for a second as the idea that you'd just been checking out your parents' ridiculously attractive neighbor .

"Huh?" you let out, rather dumbly, lowering the book, and your mom makes an impatient noise.

"Joel's sitter called in sick and we've gotta be at the Council meeting after dinner," she explains, "You can watch Sarah for a couple of hours, can't you?"

"Uh–" you struggle to find your words for a second as Joel looks at you, before he puts up his hand in a reassuring gesture.

"Don't worry," he ensures you, shaking his head, "I ain't going to interrupt your evening plans, they don't need me at the council meeting, anyway–"

"Plans!" your mom says through a surprised chuckle, shaking her head "She doesn't have any, don't you worry,"

"Thanks, mom," you grumble under your breath, and again you watch as the corners of Joel's mouth twitch in held back amusement at your comment, before you clear your throat and nod, offering him a tentative smile, "Sure, I'm happy to help,"

"You sure?" he asks, and you nod, "It's just a couple hours, I'll be back before ten,"

"No worries, I can do that. . . uh–. . . how old is Sarah?" you ask, cringing slightly at the fact that you don't know, but Joel doesn't seem offended.

"She's eight," he informs you, and you nod again, "But don't worry, it won't be much work. . . she usually only stays up a couple of hours after dinner and then crashes,"

"Yeah, no problem," you reassure him, smiling slightly, and Joel gives you a grateful look.

"Perfect! She'll be over after dinner, then," your mom beams, and he nods, clearing his throat.

"Thanks a lot, you're doing me a real favor," he comments, but something in Joel's tone tells you he would've rather stayed home with his daughter than attended a 3-hour long community council meeting chaired mostly by the middle-aged ladies of the neighborhood,

"No worries," you tell him with another sweet smile, and Joel's eyes linger on your face for a second, before he clears his throat, wiping his hands on his shorts and looking back at your mom. "Right. . . gotta get back to this lawn, but I'll see you both later, then,"

"See you later, Joel," your mom beams, and you give one more saccharine 'bye' in his direction before he disappears back into his garden. The minute she hears the lawn mower turn back on, your Mum comes to sit on the edge of your sun lounger.

"He's nice, isn't he?" she says, and you give an affirmative hum as you continue reading, "Handsome, too. . .been living out here 5 years,"

"Interesting," you say, and your voice sounds far from interested, but your mom doesn't pay it any attention as she continues.

"No wife, though. . . Betty said he's just raising Sarah on his own, has been his whole life. . . she thinks the wife ran away, or something, one of these nutjobs that abandons their own child–"

"Mom," you interrupt, putting your book down as you tip your glasses down your nose and give her a look, "You shouldn't be gossiping about this,"

You mom looks guilty for a second, before she purses her lips haughtily, getting back to her feet. "You're right, I suppose. . . well, either way, we gotta do what we can to help him out, don't we? Can't imagine it's easy being a single parent,"

"I'm sure it isn't," you comment, before you close your book with a small smack, deciding that reading in the vicinity of your mother is going to be impossible, "I'm gonna head back in. . . grab a shower, before dinner,"

"Sure, peanut," your mom says with a nod, before she redirects herself back to pruning the rosebush.

You make your way back inside the house, past your dad in the living room and up the carpeted stairs to your bedroom. It's not decorated exactly the way your old one in Galveston used to be, but it still has your old bed and dresser, and your mom has hung a couple of paintings you did when you were in middle school on the walls. You drop your book on the dresser, letting out a sigh as you walk over to the window to open it and let some air in.

Your room is on the left side of the house, closest to the neighbor's garden, and as your fingers grip the edge of the window to pull it up, they stall as your eye falls on Joel as he mows his lawn. Your eyes widen slightly as you see that Joel's isn't wearing the olive-green shirt anymore, having instead discarded it in a heap on one of his faded deck chairs, leaving him in nothing but those shorts. You watch as the sun glistens on his sweat-drenched skin, accentuating every contour of the muscular physique that had been hidden away by his t-shirt earlier.His strong arms flexing as he grips the lawnmower's handle, his movements deliberate and confident. The rhythmic sound of the engine fills the air, blending with the gentle breeze and the sounds of the kids three houses up playing in their pool. He moves with a surprising grace, a sensuality even in such a mundane task as his forehead creases with effort and focus.

You're almost mesmerised as you lean in closer, breath fogging against the glass of your window. He stops for a second, hand coming up to wipe some sweat from his brow, and in that split second he looks up, hand shielding his eyes from the sunlight, almost directly at you. You fumble slightly with the windowsill, eyes quickly moving away as you push the window up and open, pretending not to see him and fussing with your curtains, instead. Your eyes move back down for a split second, heart pounding in your chest at the idea he may have caught you staring at him, but Joel is already focusing on his lawn mower again, continuing on his way across his garden.

"It's open, come on in!" comes a shout from inside the Miller house as you stand in front of their screen door, and you push it open gingerly.

Stepping across the threshold, the first thing that catches your eye is the haphazard mix of shoes strewn under the coat hook, ranging from Size 9 boots crusted with mud to a pair of bright pink trainers with glitter laces. The house isn't much different from yours. The stairs to the second floor are in the same place as your parents to the right of the hallway which you assume continues into the living room and kitchen. The wall is decorated with a mix of children's drawings, a few faded posters and various pictures of Joel and a young girl with curly black hair and a beaming smile.

"Sarah, where's my watch?" Joel's voice echoes from upstairs through the hall, and there's hurried steps on the landing upstairs, "I told you to stop playing with that thing!"

"I didn't take it. . . It's in your dresser drawer," comes another voice, a young girl's, from upstairs. There's the sound of thundering steps as someone hurries down the stairs, and you look up from where you'd been taking off your shoes to be faced with the young girl from the photos. She's older, but the smile is unmistakable as she stops three steps short of the ground, grinning brightly at you.

"Hi!" she lets out, and you give her a cautious smile.

"Hey there," you return, trying to keep your tone from being awkward, "I live next door,"

"Dad told me," she says with a nod, "He's almost ready, he gets really scatterbrained when he's in a hurry is all,"

"It's no problem. . . so do I," you say with a chuckle, and her smile widens as she contemplates you.

"You're really pretty," Sarah blurts suddenly, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Sarah," comes Joel's voice from the top of the stairs before you can open your mouth and respond, "That doesn't sound like it's any of your business, now does it?"

Joel cleans up nice. Gone are the faded t-shirt and frayed shorts, and they've been replaced with a pair of dark jeans and a plaid blue short-sleeved button down, albeit still wrinkled in some places. His hair still looks damp, and either Joel forgot to run a comb through it or he just doesn't care enough, because his curls are an unruly mess on his head, but it suits him. He's fastening a watch on his wrist as he comes down, and it takes a decent amount of willpower not to let your eyes run across the length of his muscular arm as it flexes with effort.

"It's alright, Mr. Miller, I don't mind," you say with a slight laugh as Joel hurries down the stairs, Sarah jumping the last few steps ahead of him. At your use of his last name, his head snaps up suddenly, eyes boring into yours.

"Joel," he corrects almost immediately, his voice soft but with a sharp undertone, before he grimaces, "Please. . . Mr. Miller makes me feel. . . old,"

"You are old," Sarah teases, before she turns back to you, "So do you?"

"Have a boyfriend?" you ask her, and she sighs, rolling her eyes.

"Duh,"

"I don't right now, no," you say, chuckling slightly.

"Oh," Sarah sounds put out, her eyebrows knitting into a frown, "Why not?"

Joel lets out a tutting sound as he stops a few steps away from you, slipping his feet into a pair of shoes hastily.

"Sarah, enough," he chides her, giving his daughter a look, "Go and do something else rather than harass your babysitter,"

"I'm eight," she grumbles, "Don't even need a babysitter. . . you're just grouchy because you have to go to the community meeting and hang around all the old biddies,"

"Sa-rah," Joel hisses pointedly at his daughter, giving her a glare, but you laugh, shaking your head.

"I don't blame him, I'm not a huge fan of the old biddies myself," you tell Sarah jokingly, wiggling your eyebrows at her, "Besides, a handsome man like your dad? I'm sure they stick to him like flies in a honey trap,"

Sarah lets out a giggle, her nose scrunching. "Oh, they love him,"

"Okay, alright," Joel says with a roll of his eyes as he grabs his keys off the small table in the entrance hall, "You're both being very funny. . . Sarah, why don't you go do the dishes in the sink you were supposed to do half an hour ago instead of standing here talking smack,"

You chuckle slightly as Sarah giggles again, before she darts off down the hallway to what you assume in the kitchen.

"Right, okay. . . she's had dinner already, there's some ravioli in the fridge if you get hungry, there's beer if you want–" Joel stops midway through his sentence, his brows knitting together as he regards you, "Hold on, can you even have beer?"

"I'm twenty-two, Joel," you say with a half-sarcastic, half-reassuring smile, nodding, "I can have beer,"

Joel's face doesn't change for a split-second as he seems to process this, before mouth opens into a nervous chuckle as he stuffs his keys in his back pocket. "Right, makes sense, sorry. . . uh–. . . that's it, right? My number's on the landline speed dial if anything happens, and I'll be home before 10,"

"Got it," you say with a nod, "Enjoy what I'm sure will be an absolutely riveting meeting about the neighborhood lawn maintenance standards,"

Joel grimaces, before chuckling dryly. "I'm sure I won't,"

You give a giggle as he steps towards the screen door, opening it up.

"See you later," he says, and you nod.

"Bye," you say in a honeyed tone, and you watch him walk down the walkway towards his truck. Your eyes follow him as he gets in the car, feeling something pool in your lower belly just at the sight of him. Then, Sarah's voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

"You coming?"

Turns out, Joel's babysitter ends up being sick for a lot longer than he'd anticipated, which means you end up spending a lot more of your days and evenings in the Miller household than you anticipated doing this summer.

It does nothing but encourage your growing attraction to Joel, like adding kindling to an ever-growing fire with every second you spend in his presence, and after two weeks of babysitting Sarah a few nights and a few afternoons, you feel yourself start to get bolder.

You're braver with your touches, the occasional light brush of your fingers against his arm becoming more deliberate, hands lingering during a conversation or shared moment of laughter. You've noticed that Joel reacts to you, as well, albeit in a much more restrained way, but it does nothing to deter you.If anything, his restraint only encourages you to push further, a little more each time. It's like a challenge, and shit, do you enjoy a challenge.

It's Wednesday evening, and you're in the entrance house of the Miller house again, kicking off your shoes as you hear Joel move around upstairs.

"Hello!" you shout into the house, and almost immediately you hear Sarah's footsteps race through the corridor, before she comes tearing around the corner. When she catches sight of you, more specifically what you're wearing, she lets loose a screech of excitement.

"You look so good!" she lets out in a squeal, her feet stomping on the spot as she looks at you, "He isn’t going to know what to do with himself,”

“Yes, thank you, if you could keep your voice down about it that would be great,” you tell her as you take off your coat, giving her a look, and she giggles.

“He’s too busy running around the house getting ready to eavesdrop,” she says with a roll of her eyes, “When are you going to meet him?”

“Don’t know yet,” you return in a mockery of her dreamy tone, before rolling your eyes, “I’m here watching you first, he’ll come pick me up after,”

Sarah’s eyes shine with excitement. “You mean I get to see him?”

“You better be in bed snoring when that happens missy,” you tell her, your hands coming to your hips as you give her a stern look.

“Who better be in bed when what happens?” comes Joel’s voice as he appears at the top of the stairs, before hurrying down like he always does. This time, however, as he’s fastening his watch strap, his eyes momentarily move expectantly onto Sarah.

“Nothing, Dad,” Sarah lies surprisingly well, “Just that I’d better be in bed by the time you get home,”

“Which won’t be very late, by the way, probably around te–” Joel’s voice stalls in his throat as his gaze falls on you, and his eyebrows fly up his forehead, “What are you all dolled up for?”

He’s not wrong that you’d gotten dolled up for the evening, but it wasn’t for babysitting; you were having drinks with someone you knew through a friend later, after babysitting.

“It’s part of my very elaborate plan to seduce you,” you say simply, shrugging innocently but corners of your mouth pulled into the beginnings of a smile.

There’s a split second of silence where Joel’s eyes widen slightly, before Sarah bursts into laughter, and a full smile starts spreading over your features.

“Well I gotta say you’re failing pretty desperately, then,” Joel counters, and Sarah breaks into another round of laughter as your jaw falls open in shock and almost theoretical offense.

“You jacka–” you stop yourself, suddenly very aware of Sarah’s younger ears as you hold in your swear, pressing your lips together into a grudging smile, and it makes Joel chuckle slightly as he gets to the bottom of the stairs.

“Careful. . . little ears are listening,” he says the last part in an airy voice as he passes you by, and you scoff, shaking your head.

“Sarah, please go away so I can call your dad a name,” you tell her after a second of silence, and Joel lets out a sound of protest as he puts on his shoes, Sarah laughing again before she dutifully turns on her heel and runs back down the hall.

When she’s gone, you turn to Joel, leaning slightly towards him to ensure he hears you.

“Jack–ass,” you enunciate, and he nods with a smirk.

“You started it,”

“Sarah told me you have a date,” you say, smiling, “You sure it’s only going to be 10?”

“Once again, my eight-year-old shares my business with the entire world,”

“I’m not the entire world, I’m me,” you chime in, and Joel snorts.

“It’s not that kind of date,”

“Oh,” you let out, making a small grimace of disappointment, “Boring,”

“Thanks,” Joel says with a dry smile, and you make another face, this one apologetic.

"How do I look?" he asks you, holding his arms out semi-nervously, and you bite back a smile.

"Very pretty," you say half-seriously, and he rolls his eyes at you.

"You're funny," he tells you, pointing a finger at you and shaking his head, "Alright, I think I'm off then,"

With that, Joel goes to turn on his heel, but suddenly he feels your fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling gently.

"Joel, wait," you let out through a breathy laugh, taking a few steps forward so you're standing in front of him suddenly, your fingers releasing his wrist. Joel goes stiff, but you don't notice as you bring your hands up, one falling on his shoulder gently and the other moving towards his face, before he feels your thumb swipe over the edge of his jaw, "You've got shaving cream–. . . there you go,"

Joel's eyes watch your face as you chuckle slightly, before you tut as your eyes fall to his shirt, corners on your mouth twitching upwards into the beginning of a smile.

"–and your collar's crooked," you say, your hands moving to straighten out the lapels of his shirt, letting out a chuckle, your voice a little lower and a little deeper than Joel's ever noticed before, ". . jesus Joel,"

When you're satisfied with the correct shape of his shirt collar, your eyes move from his jaw to find him staring down at you. You're suddenly very aware of Joel; how close he's standing, the way his eyes are trained on yours, lingering, the way he smells. He smells really good, a mix of sandalwood aftershave and ––

You can't help yourself as you sniff the air, before your eyebrows crease slightly, eyes full of sudden question. "Do. . . do you smell like strawberry?"

You watch as Joel's cheeks color a slight pink, lips pursing with an expression as if he's been made, "I ran out of shower gel. . . had to use Sarah's,"

Your lips press together and Joel can tell you're trying desperately not to smile, but he can see the laughter in your eyes as you look up at him, twinkling with amusement.

"Very manly," you manage to bring out, giving him a teasingly reassuring smile, and for the first time that evening Joel's shoulders deflate of tension as he lets out a laughing scoff, shaking his head and looking away, smirk growing on his lips as he hears you start to laugh.

"You are a mean woman, you know that?" he tells you, and for the first time, you hear something in Joel's tone, something. . . friendlier. It’s teasing, almost flirty.

"I was joking," you let out with a chuckle on your own as he turns back to laugh at you, raising a single eyebrow as his eyes meet yours.

"Didn't sound like you were joking, sweetheart," he says, and you feel something in your stomach at the sound of the nickname rolling over his lips.

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” you tell him, sarcastically, and when you find yourself looking into his eyes a split second longer than you should, you swallow, pulling your hands away from his face, and taking a step back.

"Thanks," he says, clearing his throat as he steps towards the screen door.

"Anytime," you say, giving him a smooth, playful smile, covering up the moment of tension that passed between you just now, "You look great, Joel. . . she's a lucky woman,"

He gives a little scoff, raising his brows slightly. "I'll be back by ten,"

“I believe you,” you tell him sarcastically as he steps over the threshold, “Bye, Joel,”

Joel is late.

Only by half an hour. You’d already texted the guy you were meeting to tell him it would be later and that you’d keep him in the loop, but that doesn’t stop you making sure all your things are ready to go already an hour before Joel even gets home. It’s 22:34 when his keys sound in the front door, 20 minutes after he’d sent a one-word text that he was on his way back, and you’re sitting on the couch watching a rerun of the Wire.

You look up as Joel walks in.

“Hi,” you let out in a softer voice as you sit, pulling your denim jacket off the couch armrest, “How was it?”

You don’t miss the way Joel’s eyes run over the exposed skin of your shoulders and chest in your thin-strapped dress for a small moment before he looks back up at you and gives a nod.

“Nice,” he tells you, and you nod with a smile, pulling the jacket on and getting up off the couch, “Did Sara behave?”

“No complaints,” you say with a laugh, “Kid’s an angel,”

Joel smiles slightly as he nods, before he watches you grab your bag, which had been lying by the couch and sling it over your shoulder, “You headed home?”

You stifle a small yawn, before smiling with a shake of your head. “No, I’m headed into downtown. . . meeting someone for drinks,”

“You should’ve told me!” Joel lets out in surprise, eyes widening slightly, and you chuckle softly, waving him off.

“It’s really fine, he can wait a half hour,”

“How are you getting downtown? Do you need a ride?” he offers, but you shake your head, before you pull your phone out of your back pocket to look at the plastic display.

“I’ve got one,” you say, and your voice is almost a little timid, as though being picked up by your date from Joel’s was somehow more embarrassing than at your own house.

“He picking you up?” Joel asks, and you nod.

As if on cue, a set of headlights flash through the living room window as a car pulls up on the side of the curb on the opposite side of the street.

“Do you need me again this week?” you ask, looking back at Joel from where you’d watched the car pull up. Joel shakes his head.

“Don’t think so,” he comments, before his brow creases for a split second, “But try not to get abducted on your date, I’d like to keep the option open,”

“I’ll try not to,” you reply through a knowing chuckle, before walking past him towards the front door, hand on the knob.

“If I suddenly stop answering texts, call the police,” you say half-jokingly, and Joel turns to give you a look and points his finger at you as you open the door.

“That isn’t funny,” he tells you in a half-serious tone, and you snicker once more before you step over the threshold.

“Goodnight, Joel,”

Joel watches you walk down the front path, denim jacket pulled tightly over your shoulders against the evening chill, legs bare under your dress. He watches you get in the car parked on the curb, greeting whoever is driving with the same blinding smile you sometimes give him, and Joel feels something rear up slightly in his chest. It’s like a shock through his body, and he averts his eyes as the car drives off, shuffling back into his living room with a mild frown on his face as he pulls out his mobile. It's a cheap, battered Nokia model that Joel doesn't use enough to replace.

You’ve barely turned the curb when your own phone buzzes, and you pull it out of the pocket of your jacket.

from: joel. 10:39 PM

pls call if getting murdered

You can’t stop the slight chuckle that falls over your lips, and it makes the guy driving you look over, giving a tentative grin. “What’s funny?”

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head with a smile as you type a reply, “Just something stupid,”

to: joel 10:40 PM

i’ll try my best

You don't see Joel for the rest of the week, which is really only a few days if you think about it.

You hear his truck, the sound of his deep voice floating through the Miller's open back doors and windows as he hollers through the house for Sarah or Tommy, you can even hear them come up their front driveway if you're in the living room, but you don't see him.

You haven't seen Joel, and yet you think you're going a little crazy, because you're still thinking about him.

You don't know what's consuming you, but every time you hear him around the neighborhood, your thoughts redirect to him, to your interactions. . . and then your mind starts to wander. . . you think about how his hands might feel running over your body, gripping the dips of your hips, how it would feel to kiss him, trace your lips over the curves of the muscles in his chest–

"Kiddo, you still with me?"

Your dad's voice interrupts your train of thought, and your mind returns to the present situation, which is you putting the plates your dad is handing you in the dishwasher.

"Hm?" you return, and your Dad chuckles.

"What's got you so deep in thought, hm? You've been absent all day,"

You give a shrug, taking the plate he's handing you and leaning over to slot it into the dishwasher. "It's nothing Dad. . . just thinking about my book,"

"Since when is book code for boys?" your dad chuckles, and your eyes widen as you look at him, thinking you've been made.

But how the hell could he know what you'd been thinking?

"What?" you bring out, and your dad smiles knowingly.

"You've been like this ever since you went out for those drinks," he tells you, raising an eyebrow, "You may be older, but you're still my little girl. . . I can read you like a book,"

You make a note of how happy you are that your dad can't actually read your thoughts like a book, because you're pretty sure if he could he'd be shipping you off to a convent right about now.

You give a small smile. "You got me,"

You figure it's easier to explain you've been thinking about some guy you'd had three drinks with and never plan on calling again instead of confessing to your dad that last night you'd had the possibly dirtiest dream about the very man he likes to invite over for monthly poker nights.

"You seein’ him again tonight?" your dad asks, and you shake your head with a chuckle.

"No," you say pointedly, "Tonight it's just me and some friends,"

"Alright," your dad says with a nonchalant raise of his hands, before your eyes fall on the clock hanging on the wall.

"I should be going soon, actually," you say, and your dad nods, "Laura said she'd be by around eight thirty–"

At that precise moment, you hear a honking noise from the street, and as you peer through the window, you see Laura's fern green Toyota Corolla parked on the curb in front of your house.

"That's my cue," you say with a smile, before grabbing your purse from the dining table and leaning in to kiss your dad on the cheek, "See you later, dad,"

"Have fun honey," your dad says, and as you walk to the door of the kitchen, he adds, "If you need a ride home, call me, alright?"

"I will," you holler over your shoulder, before you step through the corridor and swing the door open.

It's somewhere after 8:30 PM, and the sun has only just started setting in the sky. It's mid-July, so it's still warm out, but you find that the evening heat and humidity is a little less oppressive than during the day. Nevertheless, you're not wearing anything but the silk slip dress you'd had on all day, deciding not to bring a cardigan at the last minute, guessing you’d be fine.

Laura honks again as you step out of the door, and as you make your way towards her car, she leans out the driver's seat and whistles. "Well hello there, hot stuff!"

You let out a laugh, shaking your head and your cheeks burning slightly as you wave her off. You'd met Laura at college in Seattle; you'd been in the same statistics class, and it had been pure chance when you'd become friends after you'd pointed out her Texas Longhorns shirt, which had led to you telling her your parents had just moved to Austin from Galveston, which happened to be where Laura was from.

"Shut up," you tell her jokingly as you pull open the car door, before getting in, "How are you doing?"

Laura is a short girl, with fair, freckle dotted skin and hair the color of rust. Her usual chartreuse green eyes are hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, and she gives you a smirk as she tilts her head down, giving you a look over them.

"All good here, doll," she says, before pushing her sunglasses up her forehead into her hair, "How was your day?"

"Good," you say with a nod, before you watch as Laura's eyes shift to something over your shoulder, eyebrows creeping up her forehead.

"Is that your neighbor?" she asks, and you turn in your seat to look at where she's staring, "You never told me he looked like that!"

True enough, Joel is standing in his driveway talking to Tommy, who's leaning out of the window of his truck, cigarette between his lips. He's wearing those same ratty beige shorts you've come to know so well, and a grimy grey t-shirt covered in black grease marks, undoubtedly from working in the garage all day. He still looks good, despite the sweat and the grime, shirt hugging his biceps and chest in just the right way and hair mussed on his head.

"It's criminal," you mutter, and Laura laughs, before you watch as the Miller's front door flies open and Sarah bounds down the path, purple backpack slung over shoulder.

"That his daughter? The one you babysit?" Laura asks, and you hum in agreement, "Jesus. . .who knew they made daddies so yummy, these days,"

"Maybe we shouldn't be staring," you realize suddenly, very aware of the fact that Joel could move his head any minute and spot you ogling him. He's probably already noticed you when Laura had honked at you from the front door.

"Hey, it is my human right to stare at your hot neighbor," Laura defends, before giving you a look, "You tried anything with him yet?"

"Laura!" you let out, trying to act as though you hadn't been flirting with Joel for the better part of two weeks, but she doesn't buy your tone, and lets out a full laugh.

"I knew it!" she says, shaking her head again with a smirk, "I can't blame you, doll. . .anything?"

"No," you say pointedly, "I mean, maybe. . . probably not,"

At that precise moment, you hear a call of your name, and your eyes widen to watch Sarah giving you an enthusiastic wave from where she's half-way into the passenger seat of Tommy's truck. You try not to look too guilty as you wave back at her, eyes shifting to Joel for a second only to find him looking at you with a half-amused smile. Laura gives another short honk and waves herself as your eyes shift quickly back to Sarah, before chuckling to herself, polite smile plastered on her face, "He's looking at you,"

"Drive, please," you mutter back through your smile, and she snorts as you turn back to her.

"You ready to have some fun?" she asks, wiggling her eyebrows, and you giggle, humming.

"As long as it involves a significant amount of drinking, I'm happy," you tell her, and she laughs loudly.

"Trust me," Laura says with a chuckle, before turning back to front and shifting the gear, foot stepping on the gas, "I know just the place,"

To give Laura credit, the bar is fun.

It isn't too busy, nor too empty, and the music is good, at just the right volume to have a conversation without having to yell.

You're about three beers in, one of which was paid for by one of the two guys that had sidled up to you and Laura about half an hour ago. They were cute enough, and Laura seemed pretty taken with the one she was talking with, but your conversation was not nearly as riveting and you quickly felt your mind drifting.

Joel had been floating through your thoughts for the past few days, and seeing him earlier had lit something electric in you; he seemed to occupy your brain like a parasite, thoughts never straying far from his face, his lips, his arms–

Joel (?!)

You feel something like a jolt pass through you as your eyes register his familiar face, and you blink a few times to assure yourself it's him. But he is there, it isn't a figment of your imagination, he's standing on the other end of the bar by one of the tall tables, and he's looking at you.

You feel your cheeks start to burn as a bashful smile overtakes your features, and you look away from him with laughter in your eyes as you turn back to the guy talking sitting opposite you.

"I'll be right back," you tell him, your smile changing slightly but your voice staying honeyed and soft, "I'm getting another beer,"

"Okay," he says, looking almost a little relieved, and you bite back a smile at the fact that the poor dude is probably just as bored as you are wing manning his friend, and jumping at a chance to disrupt the semi-awkward silence.

You get up from your seat, grabbing your almost empty glass and making a beeline for the bar. From the corner of your eyes, you think you see Joel moving as well, but you don't look his way as you give the bartender a smile, setting your glass down.

"Can I have another, please?" you ask him, and he nods as he takes your empty glass from you.

Then, to your left, someone clears their throat, and you turn to find Joel standing there, giving an amused smile.

"Hello," he tells you with a chuckle, and you press your lips together in a bashful smile as you nod.

"Hi, Joel," you tell him, chuckling slightly, "Long time no see,"

"I know," Joel muses, setting his own glass down, "Was wondering when I'd run into you like this,"

When, not if.

"Didn't think you were much of a bar person," you comment, and Joel's brows raise slightly.

"You makin' assumptions?" he asks you, and you shrug, making a joking grimace.

"Just sayin', Joel," you reply, and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards into the beginning of a smirk.

Your conversation interrupts for a second as the barman sets down your drink, and you pay for it. Then, you turn to Joel, beer in hand.

“Well, I'm going to enjoy my beer, which I can have," you say, your tone a joking reference to earlier.

"Yeah, yeah. . . what gets me is that you only think you've been made now," Joel says with a subtle raise of his brow.

"Oh?" you let out, and the corners of Joel's mouth twitch upwards into that smirk again.

"Sweetheart, I've been watching you all evening,"

Oh.

The moments his words reach your ears you feel something sending a small shockwave through your system, and your thighs involuntarily clench, which you try to cover it up with a small scoff.

"Guess I'm not as subtle as I initially thought," you mutter, and Joel lets loose a soft chuckle as he shakes his head.

"I've seen you throw back like 4 beers already, aren't you starting to feel it a little?" he jokes, and you scoff.

"This is my fourth, so no,” you say pointedly, before you press your lips together in a second of silence, "Okay I may be starting to feel it,"

"Alright," he says with a laugh and a raise of his eyebrows, before he finishes the beer at the bottom of his glass, setting it down on the bar next to you when he's done.

"You let me know when you want to go home," he informs you, and your brow creases into a frown as you stand up a little straighter.

"What?” you ask him, and Joel gives you a look, "Joel, no–. . . I'm a big girl. I came here on my own just fine, I can find my way home,"

"I'd still feel better if it were me taking you home," Joel replies in a tone that makes it clear he isn’t going to argue about it, and you suppress a sigh as you feel a shiver run down the back of your neck at his words.

Christ, this man had you in his grip.

"This is sort of ridiculous. . . I'm an adult, you know," you tell him eventually, and he gives you a dry smile.

"Indulge me, sweetheart,"

He's been a lot more liberal with the nickname lately than you think he's ever been, and it does something to you; every time it falls over his lips, your heart skips and your breath falters, leaving you scrambling to act completely normal about it.

"Fine," you give in, shaking your head with an eye roll, before you push off of the bar, your fourth drink in hand, "But I wouldn't wait around, Joel,"

Joel does wait around, and rightly so, because after another two hours, you've had enough.

You're not quite drunk, but you find that the alcohol you have drunk is not combining well with the exhaustion of a bad nights' sleep. Laura's been talking to the same guy who'd been by your table for about two hours, and even though his friend had tried chatting you up again, you'd been too distracted by Joel standing on the other side of the bar to be even remotely interested in what he was saying. Finally, you decide to bite the bullet.

"I'm sorry," you tell the guy with a small smile, before putting a hand on Laura's arm, who is deep in conversation with the other guy, "I think I'm headed home,"

"You all right?" she asks immediately, and you nod with a small smile.

"Yeah, just exhausted. . . lack of sleep catching up to me a little," you tell her, and she nods.

"Alright, I'll take you home," she says with a nod, reaching for her purse but you shake your head, giving her arm a squeeze.

"No, no! You stay here and have fun. . . Joel offered me a ride home," you tell her, and you watch as she bites back a smile, raising an eyebrow as her eyes quickly flick over to the bar to look for him.

"Okay," she says knowingly as she looks back at you, before she tries to cover up her smirk, "Get home safe, doll,"

“You too,”

You excuse yourself, and spot Joel leaning across the bar slightly, saying something to the bartender over the music, not immediately noticing as you walk to him. He only turns to look at you as he feels your fingers graze his arm lightly to get his attention.

"So," you say, your tone joking, "You still want to get out of here?"

To your surprise, Joel's mouth twitches into an amused smile at the double-entendre, which makes you smile slightly, and nods.

"Sure," he says with a knowing look, before he finishes off the rest of his beer, setting it down and saying goodbye to the bartender. He turns to you, pushing off the bar and motioning wordlessly for you to walk ahead, which you do. As you step through the thinning crowd of people in the bar, you swear you can feel Joel's fingers graze the small of your back, but the minute you notice, they're gone again.

The minute you step outside, you shiver slightly, and Joel frowns at you as you walk towards his car.

"Didn't you bring a sweater?"

You shake your head. "It wasn't this cold when I left. . . besides, I left my usual cardigan on your couch, I think,"

Joel had only noticed it the next morning, when he'd been sitting in front of the TV with his coffee and suddenly his nose had filled with the smell of you, which had startled him, until he'd spotted your cream cardigan stuffed unceremoniously in the corner of the couch.

Joel gives a hum as you reach the car, and you waste no time getting in the passenger seat, the car offering little extra warmth. Joel gets in, and for a second there's silence as he fastens his seatbelt and puts the key in the ignition, starting the car.

"Sarah at Tommy's tonight?" you ask him, and he hums as he puts the car in reverse, arm coming against the side of your headrest as he turns to look behind him. You feel something flutter in you as your gaze falls on the side of his face, but his eyes remain focused on behind him, oblivious to his effect on you.

"She's at a sleepover," he tells you, "Tommy just took her there,"

You nod in understanding, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you process this information, and finally Joel turns back to the wheel as he pulls out onto the road, eyes crossing yours furtively.

"Thanks for taking me, by the way," you say, and Joel nods, "Didn't mean to put an end to your night,"

"No problem, sweetheart. . . it was getting kind of stuffy in there, anyway," he tells you, and you chuckle lightly, before you turn to look out of the window.

"Spoken like a true old man," you say, under your breath, but Joel obviously still hears it, because he snorts.

"At least I'm not drunk after 4 beers," he counters, and your head snaps to look at him as you frown jokingly.

"I'm not drunk," you defend, and Joel chuckles.

"Really? Is that why you sat through an hour and a half of almost silence?"

You feel your breath stall in your throat for a second as you register that Joel had been watching you, and at least for the majority of the night for him to know this.

You purse your lips, shaking your head with a grudging smile. "He was boring. . . besides, I didn't do it for me, thank you very much, my friend was having a great time with his buddy!"

Joel nods with a hum. "You’re a good friend, then,”

His tone has a hint of teasing sarcasm to it, and it makes you raise your eyebrows in challenge.

"Well what about you, then?" you counter, and Joel raises an eyebrow as he glances at you from the road for a second.

"What about me, sweetheart?" he inquires, and you snort, shaking your head as you look out of the window.

"I saw you turn down, like, four women," you say pointedly, before giving a sarcastic chuckle, "Not good enough for you?"

Joel just shrugs. "Nobody special,"

You let out a bark of laughter, looking back at him. "Joel Miller is picky, is he?"

Joel doesn't look at you, but you watch as he pursues his lips, corners of his mouth twitching into a smile as he shakes his head.

"Not picky," he says simply, and his eyes cross yours for another split second, before they go back to the road, "Just had my eye on something better,"

It feels like something kickstarts inside you at his words, and you try your best to keep your smile from growing as your eyes drift back to the road with a hum and a sarcastic nod.

Finally.

In no time, Joel is pulling into your familiar street, and your heart is beating a million miles per hour as he turns into his driveway, headlights illuminating his garage door. Your hands feel sweaty as he switches off the engine, and when the lights die and plunge you back into the darkness of the evening, you start to feel nervous. What if you'd been reading it wrong? What if you were about to try something that would end in a decidedly awkward situation and forever taint your trips home?

You watch as Joel starts to speak, and you panic.

"Do you mind if I come in for a sec?" you ask, and Joel's words die in his throat as you hastily add, "To get my cardigan. . . I kinda need it tomorrow,"

Joel closes his mouth, and you can't quite decipher his expression in the dark of the car, but you hear him let out a measured breath. "Sure,"

Before you know it you're standing on Joel's porch as he unlocks the door, and he motions for you to go first as the door swings inwards. The house is dark but still recognizable, and you don't even think twice as you take off your shoes, not quite decided on whether you do it out of pure habit or because you’re finding an excuse to stay. If Joel notices, he doesn't say anything about it, and as you walk deeper into the hallway, he points at the kitchen.

"Put your cardigan on the kitchen table," he lets you know, "Thought it would remind me to come over and drop it off, but uh–. . . I ran out of time today,"

"That's okay," you say with a chuckle as you walk in the direction he's pointing, before stepping sideways into the kitchen. As you flick on the light, you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps in the hall before you hear the unmistakable creak of the couch as you assume he sits down, followed by a slight groan.

"You all right?" you call as you locate your cardigan, and you hear him hum.

"Glad to be home," he returns, "That bar gave me a headache,"

You stall in the kitchen door for a second, before you turn back on your heel and reach for a glass in the cabinet, filling it up at the tap with water. You take a deep breath, steeling the nerves bubbling in your stomach as your mind races with the thought of Joel sitting on the couch just past this room, legs undoubtedly spread and back leaning against the couch.

"The bar?" you ask, your voice humorous, "Or the beers?"

"Not usually a drinker," Joel says after a second as you switch off the tap, and make your way out of the kitchen with the glass in hand, your cardigan forgotten in the kitchen, "But Jerry kept buying em', and hell, saying no would just be bad manners, wouldn't it?"

You chuckle as you step past the threshold of the living room. Joel is sitting exactly as you imagined him, except his head is thrown back and his hand is pressed against his forehead as he lets out another heavy breath. You can just about see the rise of his bulge through his jeans when he's sitting like this, and the desire that overcomes you makes the nerves you'd felt earlier in your stomach disappear into a puff of smoke.

"And yet this is your first glass of water…getting behind the wheel after more than 3 beers?" you say in an almost chastising tone as you come around the couch. "How irresponsible of you, Mr. Miller,"

Hook.

From the corner of your eye you notice Joel's thigh clench under his jeans, foot digging into the carpet but not moving from the way he's sitting on the couch as his head moves, hand coming back down to rest on his thigh as his back straightens slightly. His eyes have moved to you, and you can feel them watching you as you put down the glass on the coffee table in front of the couch, standing straight. His gaze tracks you, so that when you're standing, Joel's eyes meet with yours, expression unreadable as you raise your eyebrows expectantly for an answer.

"Don't do that,"

His tone isn't easy to discern; the timber of his voice is a little deeper than it was a second ago, but you can hear the conflict between desire and restraint in his tone, which makes you bite back a smirk.

"Do what?" you return with a shrug, playing dumb, and you swear you see the color of Joel's eyes darken, and he clears his throat, pursing his lips.

"It's playing with fire," he warns you, and you let out a small breath of laughter as you take a step towards him, sitting on the couch, so that his head angles slightly to look at you as you get closer.

"Playing with fire," you muse jokingly, before you bend down ever so slowly, fingers going to close over an empty mug that had been left out on the small table destined for the lamp and remote. You have to bend slightly over Joel to do so, and your knee grazes his as you reach, Joel's eyes leaving your face for a second as they move over the curve of your back, and the rise of your ass, "What does that even mean?"

Line–

"It means you have to behave around me," he tells you, and for a minute you hear his usual stern tone bleed through the low and heavy pitch of his voice.

"I have to behave?" you ask, fingers leaving the mug on the table as your head moves to look at him with a raised eyebrow. Then, you move, leaning slightly over him, and Joel feels your leg move, knee coming to rest on the couch beside his thigh as your eyes never leave his, "I don't have to do anything, Joel. . . 'can do whatever I want,"

With that, you move again, leaning slightly on your knee and putting a gentle hand on Joel's shoulder in order to bring your other leg up onto the couch, so that you're straddling him, thighs over his and hands on his shoulders. It's risky, you know that, and at any moment you're half-expecting Joel to push you off of him, but he doesn't. He stays still, his eyes fixed on you.

"And what is it you want?" Joel asks, and his voice is raspy, almost breathless as he stays stiff beneath you, but you think you feel the tips of his fingers graze over your knee slightly. Your hand moves from his shoulder down his chest, nails digging slightly into the material of his shirt as you drag them down.

"I want you to touch me," you breathe, and your tone teeters on desperate, the pent-up frustration from all of this week coursing through your veins, "Please touch me, Joel,"

–and sinker.

You can see it in the darkening of his eyes, the clench of his jaw; you know you've got him right where you want him.

"Sweetheart," Joel's voice is low, a barely controlled grumble that comes from deep down in his chest, teetering between warning and wanting as he feels your palm move over his chest lightly, "This is wrong,"

You look at him, eyes low and searching his as your nails dig into the material of his shirt. His words and the tone of his voice fuel a fire in your belly.

"I know," you whisper, and Joel can feel your breath tickle his lips, before you lean forward, lips brushing past his cheek as you lean down to whisper in his ear, "Tell me to stop. . . tell me you don't want me and I'll stop,"

Stop.

Joel wants to say it, but somehow, the words refuse to cross his lips as you take it a step further and rock your hips against him, and then he's had enough. His hands move suddenly, planting themselves on your hips firmly, fingers digging into your exposed skin as he holds you in place, stopping your movements suddenly. You pull back slightly, so that you're looking at him again, and for a second you can read it all in his eyes. They flash between lust and guilt, and for a minute there's nothing but silence filled with Joel's measured breaths.

And then, at last, Joel Miller gives in.

His lips are on yours in a second, hand moving to the back of your head to pull you in, his other arm snaking around your waist as he sits straighter and pulls you flush to him. It makes your hips move against the hardening bulge in his jeans, the sudden movement of your panties against him making you let out a small moan of surprise into his mouth as he pulls you impossibly close. Your sound is swallowed by his mouth, moving with a desperate fervor against yours, taking advantage of the parting of your lips to let his tongue explore your mouth. He practically devours you as his palm covers almost the entirety of your lower back, the heat of his skin seeming to come through your dress. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, fingers tangled in the curls of his hair as you try and grab as much of him as you can.

It's messy, desperate, all clashing tongues and teeth as nearly two weeks' worth of tension comes to a head. You roll your hips again, this time slowly, and as you feel Joel's bulge grow underneath you, he pulls away from your lips to draw in a sharp, throaty breath.

"Fuck," he groans, eyes pressed shut for a second, before he tangles his fingers in your hair and uses them to pull your head back slightly, exposing your neck to him. Joel wastes no time running his lips over the edge of your jaw, kissing down into the crook of your neck and the column of your throat as his hand moves from your back to your shoulder, pulling down the flimsy strap of your dress. His hand moves with it, before tugging on the neckline of your dress. You let loose another moan at the action, his mouth kissing over your collarbone and moving to the side down the top of your now exposed breath.

You let out a strangled moan as Joel's lips close over your nipple, teeth grazing over the tip as he bears down on it, his hand cupping under your breast, fingers kneading into your skin.

"J–Joel," you stutter out as pleasure courses through your chest, your fingers tightening in his hair as his tongue draws illicit shapes over your nipple, before his mouth moves in hastened kisses back across the center of your chest, up your collar bone, until finally you feel his lips brush the bottom of your chin. The grip in your hair loosens, your head angled back down enough for his lips to meet yours in another searing kiss.

It's even more intense than the last, and it steals your breath, every move against his body like a shock, skin igniting with his wandering touches.

You mentally take note of how happy you are that you wore a dress tonight, because there’s nothing more than the thin material of your panties separating you, and you can feel Joel's bulge through his jeans. As Joel kisses you, his mouth slowly tracing kisses back down your jaw line, you reach for the button on his jeans, popping it, before your fingers move to the hem of his shirt. You tug, and Joel pulls away from you for a second to help you pull his shirt over his head, before he's kissing you again, your fingers undoing his fly.

It's one big rush, almost frantic, but for some reason, you can't wait any longer. Your fingers run under the hem of his underwear, while Joel's hand moves down between the two of you. Your body freezes suddenly as you feel the pads of Joel's fingers graze over your entrance. You had been so busy trying to get his pants off you hadn't even noticed him moving your panties to the side, but you can feel him as he pushes the tip of his thick, calloused middle finger inside of you.

You let out a stuttering gasp at the feeling, and you feel Joel smirk against your lips.

"Needy little thing, aren’t ya?" he whispers as he sinks the first knuckle between your folds.

Your only response is a whimpering sound as Joel pushes on, until finally his entire finger is buried in your pussy. Your eyes widen slightly at the feeling as your lips part in a breathy gasp.

"Fuck," you whisper out, and your eyes press shut and hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders as your feel Joel's finger curl inside of you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

"Feel good, baby?" he asks, his voice deep and velvety, his tone like music to your ears as you feel his other hand press firmly against the small of your back, keeping you close to him.

Joel clearly knows what he's doing, because in a mere manner of minutes he has you keening against him, a combination of expletives and his name falling over your lips in pleasured breaths. The heel of his palm grinds against your clit with every stroke of his finger, and the combination of the friction and the feeling of the pad of his index pushing inside of you as well almost sends you over the edge.

"Ah–. . . oh god, Joel," you stutter out, and you feel him smirk against your skin as he kisses down your neck back towards your breasts, recognizing the way your back stiffens and your thighs clench around his, your hips rolling over his hand desperately as he curls his fingers inside you again, working you open.

"Come on, sweetheart, I got you," he breathes against your chest, trailing your collarbone with his tongue, before his head dips, "Be a good girl and come all over these fingers, hm?"

With that, you feel Joel's mouth close over your nipple again, and your orgasm crashes through you. Joel does nothing to silence your sounds of pleasure as they echo through his living room, eyes pressed shut and brow furrowed as your head tips back slightly. Your chest heaves for breath as pleasure consumes you, your hips stuttering against his hand, and his head moves, eyes watching your face with a victorious expression, enjoying the sight of your blissed-out features. Eventually your moans become pants as your heartbeat starts to slow down, and you feel Joel kiss you again, your mouth opening to let him in willingly as you feel his fingers pull out of you, making you gasp slightly against his lips.

It takes a second for you to catch your breath, but not much longer, the weeks of lingering touches having filled you with so much anticipation neither of you can wait any longer to feel the other. You move off him for a split second to allow him to lift his hips so you can drag the waistline of his jeans down, Joel's lips leaving hungry kisses against yours. Neither of you bother pulling his pants down all the way, and as your hand wraps around the length of him, Joel lets out a stuttered gasp, fingers ghosting over the hem on your panties before moving them to the side again.

You slowly lower yourself until you feel the tip of him press up against you, before your hips stall at the feeling, your mind seemingly registering only for the first time tonight how big Joel might be. He definitely feels bigger than you'd anticipated, and your hips freeze for a second at the thought. When you look back at Joel, his eyes are already on your face, analyzing every frown, every twitch of your features to gauge a change in your mood.

"You all right there, sweetheart?" he asks you, and his tone is so different from a second ago when he'd been talking you through your climax, so gentle, it throws you a little off guard, "You still want to keep going?"

You feel your chest warm at the question and the feel of his hands placed gently on your hips, dress bunched up to your waist as his hands caress the skin underneath with gentle strokes. A smile creeps up on your lips as you lean forward to press a kiss to his lips.

"Yes," you let out a whisper, before you move your hips down and the head of his cock pushes past your folds.

Your mouth parts as you sink down onto Joel, his fingers digging into your skin as you watch his eyes close and a frown furrow itself deep in his brow. He doesn't push you down, and lets you control the pace as you work yourself down his length, which feels impossibly thick, but you find yourself enjoying the slight burn of stretching around him.

Finally, with a final push down of your hips he's buried to the hilt. The guttural groan Joel lets out, as he throws his head back slightly against the couch, mingles with your own moan as you dig your nails into his shoulders.

"Holy shit," Joel rasps out, "S'tight, baby,"

You just let out a whimpering hum, barely coherent as you feel Joel's hips press against your ass, skin igniting where it touches against his.

He brings his head back to look at you.You're a sight to behold like this, sitting in his lap, dress hiked up to your hips and flimsy straps halfway down your arm, exposing the tops of your breasts. Your eyes are shut, brow creased in effort and concentration, full lips parted in pleasure.

"There you go," Joel goads as you try and adjust to the feeling of being impossibly full, teeth biting down into your lip, "Knew you could do it,"

"Jesus, fuck, Joel," you stutter out, closing your eyes slightly as you feel him press his forehead against yours, perfectly still as he's buried into you as far as he can go, "You're so deep,"

"I know, sweetheart, I know" he coos, and you feel his hand run soothingly over the skin of your hip, "Is that what you've been thinking about every time you're over here, hm? How deep I'd feel inside of you?"

"Y–ye–. . . oh fuck, yes, Joel," you bring out as his hands gently roll your hips, making you whimper as you throw your head back slightly, eyes pressed shut, "Not just when I'm here. . . been thinking about it all week, Joel,"

"That so?" he hums, and you feel his lips leave open-mouthed kisses down your neck, "You been touching yourself thinking about me?"

The question makes your cheeks burn, and you open your eyes looking down at Joel. His eyes shift to yours as he looks up from where he's kissing your neck, a smirk spreading across his face as he catches sight of your embarrassed expression.

"Don't go shy on me now, baby," he tells you with a deep chuckle, before you feel him move your hips upwards slightly, pulling out halfway and waiting, "Been rather bold, haven't you. . . ? Bein' all flirty, pushin' up against me when you know I can't do anything about it. . . now, answer me,"

"Y–yes," you bring out, and with that, Joel pushes down on your hips suddenly, burying himself to the hilt once more, eyes never leaving yours. You can't stop the loud, desperate moan that falls over your lips and echoes through the living room as he does, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure courses through your body, and Joel watches with a satisfied smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"That's bad, sweetheart," he says in a mockingly chastising, shaking his head, "Maybe you don't deserve it, then, hm? Maybe I'll just teach you a lesson instead,"

Joel's head dips again, one hand firmly on your hips, keeping you in place in his lap, the other moving up to cup your breast. His lips close over the sensitive skin of your nipple, you gasp slightly, before a moan builds in your chest. You try to move your hips, desperate to release some of the friction, to feel him thrust into you again, but Joel's hand is like a vice.

"No, baby," he rasps against your skin, before you feel his teeth nip at your nipple slightly, "You sit tight. . . don't get to move yet. . . not until I say so,"

You let out a plaintive whimper as you feel him flex inside of you, your walls fluttering around him desperately in anticipation.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're squeezing me so tight," he groans, but still he doesn't move his hips, or let you move yours, lips resuming the onslaught on your breasts.

"Joel," you let out in a whine, and you feel him smirk against your skin.

"What is it darlin'?" he asks you, fingers digging into the skin of your hip, "Want me to move, hm? Why don't you beg for it?"

Joel watches as your eyes open, and you use your hand, tangling it in his hair to move him off your breasts, angling his head slightly upwards, looking down into his eyes.

"I don't beg," you tell him, your voice hinting at authoritative, and you can see in his eyes that Joel likes that you're challenging him.

You feel his hand move from your chest down between you again, and you can't stop the sudden gasp that escapes you as you feel the pad of his thumb press down on your clit, rolling over it slowly.

"You do now," Joel says, raising a single eyebrow as he smirks at you, your eyes widening at the feeling of his finger drawing steady circles over your sensitive bud.

Fuck this, you think to yourself. You need Joel to move.

"P–please," you stutter out as Joel's finger speeds up, and his chest rumbles as he chuckles deeply.

"Please what, sweetheart?" Joel hums, and you give him a look, eyes flashing with slight frustration at his insistence, which makes him smirk wider, eyes knowing as he waits for you.

"Please move, Joel," you let out in a breath, "Please just fuck me,"

"Atta girl," he says finally, and then, Joel releases his grip on your hips.

It isn't gentle, and it isn't slow; your hips stutter, and he thrusts up to meet them as he pulls you down on him over and over again at a fast pace. Your brow creases as your eyes shut, arms wrapped around Joel's shoulders as you push yourself up and down his cock desperately, the feeling of him filling you repeatedly almost too good for words. Joel isn't holding back anymore, either, and both of his hands are on your hips, pulling you down onto him just as hard and as desperate as your own movements.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you let out in small breaths, "God, Joel,"

The noises Joel is making under you are downright sinful. Deep throaty grunts with every thrust, like music to your ears, as his arms wrap tightly around your waist, keeping you close to him as you move in a rhythm.

"Shit, baby. . . that's right," he mutters, before moving one of his hands to run over your cheek, fingers burying into the hair at the nape of your neck, face so close to yours he's practically grunting into your mouth, "Feels so fucking good. . . pussy s'made for me,"

"It's all for you, Joel," you bring out between moans as he pushes up into you, "Fuck, oh god,"

The feeling of Joel is beyond words; you feel every vein, every ridge as he slides in and out of you, tip repeatedly hitting a spot deep inside you, that makes your vision spotty. You're almost ashamed to say it doesn't take long before you feel yourself getting close, and when Joel's thumb presses over your clit again, rolling in slow circles, you find yourself tipping over the edge again.

"That's right," Joel whispers against your lips and you moan into his mouth, legs shaking from your orgasm.

You know he isn't far behind you, either, by the way his thrusts are caught between speeding up and slowing down. His breath becomes shallower as his fingers dig into the flesh of your waist. As your walls flutter around him, you lean down, lips grazing from the corner of his mouth across his jaw and towards his ear.

"Come on, baby," you let out, your tone between breathy and sultry as you use the nickname he'd been using all night on you, "Want to feel you coming inside me, Joel,"

"Fuck, yeah?" Joel groans as he hears you let out another moan in his ear, your orgasm only just subsiding, "Fuck, shit. . . I'm coming,"

Your name falls over Joel's lips in a faltering breath as his hips stutter. His brow creases suddenly as his eyes press shut, before he buries his mouth against your shoulder, teeth nudging against your skin. His arms tightens around your naked chest as you feel him twitch against you, Joel's hips suddenly pressing against you so desperately he nudges something inside you that makes you whimper.

"Fuck–ah!" Joel lets out, followed by a whimpering groan against your ear as his teeth sink further into your shoulder, "Shit. . . sweetheart, ooh, fuck!"

He comes hard inside of you, no sounds filling your ears but his blissed out, whimpering moans for a second, which gradually turn into pants as his forehead comes down to rest on your shoulder, his breath against your skin.

Trying to compose yourself, you take your own regular breaths as your heart rate slows down.

"Jesus," Joel whispers to himself as he looks up from your shoulder. Then he's facing you again, looking into your eyes as you chuckle slightly, still trying to catch your own breath.

"Good enough for you?" you joke as you raise an eyebrow, and Joel gives you a look, before his forehead falls against yours.

"Sweetheart," he grumbles jokingly, his arms tightening around you as his eyes close and he lets out a contented breath, "I'm going to need you to do that like, 10 more times,"

You can't stop the small laugh that crosses your lips as you lean forwards and kiss him. When you pull away, you trap Joel's bottom lip between your teeth, which makes him groan deep in his chest as you pull away with a smirk pulling at the corners of your mouth.

"I think I can do that,"

writing this took it out of me, so reactions are sooo appreciated and feedback is more than welcome ღ k

a special shoutout is owed to @cutetomholland for her incredible help proofreading, so say thank you otherwise ya'll would be reading some straight shit teehee

#i hope people like this ahhhh #sponsored by joel miller brainrot™#joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal

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sailoryooons · 3 months

Text

I am going to say something that has really been bothering me that not everyone may agree with, which is totally okay, everyone is entirely valid to disagree with me: There is a fast fashion problem in fandom, specifically fanfiction.

Disclaimer: This conversation is not about broadly writing the same tropes, genres, and ideas. I am not talking about people writing fics with similar themes or the same name. I am specifically talking about people writing fics that are very obviously heavily influenced by other fics. This is not me talking about: I wrote __ character as enemies to lovers vampires and so did this person so they stole. Please do not trivialize this conversation with instances that are very obviously not what I'm talking about.

As someone who exists in the fanfiction space, I want to express what I have seen specifically in this space in my own experience, my mutuals experiences, and random experiences I have seen on my dash.

Recently, it seems like there is a reoccurring theme of writers (often new writers) taking "inspiration" from fanfics that they love and value and essentially creating their own version of that story to the point it is bordering on plagiarism. I say bordering on plagiarism because while people may not be copying line for line or entire scenes in order, you can tell that it is a re-arranged duplicate of another story.

I am not talking about writing similar tropes and dynamics. No one owns a trope or a dynamic. I am specifically talking about people taking the plots, scenes, concept and core of fanfics and recreating it and changing some plot elements or placing it in a different alternate universe and calling it their own, when at the heart of that fanfic, it is taken from someone else's creation.

This to me, reads like people who read a work, fall in love with it, but think 'this is easy to do, I can do this myself' and they end up making a replica of a fic that you can tell is a replica of another fic, despite adding some changes. Nine times out of ten, these inspired fics lack the obvious thought and heart the original writer put into it.

Which, begs the question: How is this different than fanfic writers taking inspiration from media (i.e. published books, movies, music, shows)? Because fanfiction is meant to replicate a specific something from published media. It is not meant to duplicate an already established fanfiction contribution.

I know that the nuance between that line is very ambiguous and it brings up the discourse on 'should there be fanfiction of fanfiction' - to which my response is it is, generally, pretty obvious what the difference between being inspired by a fic and copying a fic are.

In the last few months, I have lost count of how many times I or mutuals have a) discovered someone has been writing a story based off of their fic 2) have been asked to use an already written work to make their own or 3) already have started writing works modeled after an already written work and in hindsight asked the author if they could keep doing so (this third instance almost always happens after someone accuses them of stealing another work).

This feels like the fast fashion industry. Someone finds a story that is popular (whatever that means to the individual), takes all of the elements they think makes the story works, rearranges it, posts it as their own and and says they were 'inspired' (if they credit the original story at all).

This is why so many works that readers are coming across feel like they are the same thing. It is the same A + B + C = D over and over and over again, because people are outright just taking what they think works from other stories and using it.

Again - I am not talking about people who come across a trope, AU, genre or dynamic they like and add something similar to their story. I am talking about the people who are very intentionally and obviously writing the same exact fic with their own 'twist' (whatever that means).

Why is this a problem (beyond the fact that it's essentially roundabout plagiarism)? You're taking the heart, soul, and creativity someone poured into something and posting it on your own and robbing it of the originality, the essence, and the intention behind it. You cannot replicate a writer's feelings and obvious emotions that they have poured into the original work, and it shows. And it is gutting to the original authors who are finding remixes of their work across the fanfiction space.

Please consider whether or not you are inspired by a story or if you are redoing it in your own image. If you find yourself worried enough about your story that you feel like you have to publicly credit someone to avoid scrutiny, perhaps the question needs to be asked of whether you're just redoing what someone else already wrote.

Please do not confuse inspiration and recreation. 9 out of 10 authors will love that they inspired you to write, but would not love to find that you wrote a fic inspired by them that is a rearranged or hollowed-out version of the fic they wrote.

The fanfic space wants and needs more writers, but it does not need people unwilling to create their own art, instead taking bits and pieces from others and calling it a success.

Also adding: This problem also directly contributes to 'smaller' writers or more niche (often queer and bipoc) stories not getting the hype, readership, or recognition they deserve. On more than one occasion I've seen stories that had explicitly queer or bipoc characters taken and turned into heteronormative or white-presenting stories.

Note: This 1000% goes for actual visual art as well, including gifs etc. in fandom but I'm not well-versed there and thus, did not include it.

#i genuinely have very much like been pushed to the edge this week #and i feel like getting this off of my chest #and i don't think i am crazy but maybe i am #this is also a VERY broad rant of what i'm talking about and does not cover all the nuances of this

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ashwhowrites · 11 months

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I hath come bearing a request:

Bully!Eddie with an insecure Reader where he openly flirts with someone else where she can see in an effort to make her jealous, and it does. She is jealous of the nicer version of his attention they’re receiving, but she’s more sad than anything else.

She’d started to think that maybe he did pick on her because he was interested. Like how boys would pull a girl’s hair back in elementary school. But after seeing him flirt with someone else, she realizes that can’t be the case.

Reader supposes that no one wants her. Even the “freak” of Hawkins High is beyond her league.

Happy ending if you can, pretty please 🩷

I'm usually against bully!Eddie but I did like the angst in this so I'm going to do it but he won't be like a huge bully, just an ass? I hope this is what you were looking for and I tried to make it happy :) ( with the help from my SB)

Never proofread

There's a time in life where the line between love and hate is blurry and no amount of staring at that line will make it clear.

Y/N was on the love side, she had big feelings for Eddie. Her nose in the air as she follows the scent of his strong musky cologne and a hint of weed. She couldn't pick who she fell for, it was out of her control. She didn't want to love him, but she did. She had so many reasons why she loved him but there was one big reason why she shouldn't- he hated her.

Eddie was on the hate side of that line. She can't pin point where she pissed him off or what she did to make him hate her. It was like the second they met, he pushed her and she fell in love. She's an idiot and she knew that. It was obvious he didn't like her. The rude comments sent her way about all the little things she does. He teased her, tripped her, smacked her books in the hallway, but all her heart focused on was that he interacted with her.

Her dumb heart craved to be near him, even though her brain was screaming how horrible of an idea it was.

She already suffered with insecurities and somehow Eddie knew how to hit all the open wounds.

A part of her thought maybe he did like her, he just wasn't sure how to show it. He didn't seem like the type to be affectionate and sweet. Maybe this was the only way he knew how to show his emotions. Or maybe that was a shitty delusion she created to help her sleep at night.

~~~

Y/N heard from other students that there was going to be a partner project in English and she hated that she knew no one in that class, except Eddie.

She knew if she asked he'd shut her down and embarrass her in front of everyone watching so she planned to do this project alone. But turns out the teacher already assigned partners.

"Y/N and Eddie"

Y/N perked at the sound of their names, her eyes finding his body. He had an annoyed expression on his face. She felt her heart drop, he didn't want to be near her.

"Excuse me?" Eddie announced, throwing his hand in the air. The teacher rolled his eyes but allowed Eddie to speak.

"what If I can't stand my partner and rather fail the project than spend a second with her?" His words were cruel and mean. She hated the smirk on his face when looked over at her.

The whole class erupted in laughs, with a few pity looks sent her way. She couldn't tell which hurt worse, people laughing or people feeling bad for her. She shrunk down in her seat, Eddie once again embarrassed her for his own pleasure.

"Munson. Watch your mouth." The teacher talked over the class.

Against his will, Eddie accepted that she was his partner. Her head down as she walked over to his desk. Holding her breath as she took the seat next to him.

"I'm sorry you got partnered with me " she whispered, looking at his eyes as he glared at her.

"You should be." He snapped.

~~~

Being his partner was just as miserable as she thought. Every time she sat in that English class next to him, he shared every thought he had about her. He never had anything nice to say.

"Yellow is not your color." He said in disgust as she sat next to him, in her new yellow sundress. A dress that had her smiling all morning. Now the material against her thighs made her sick to her stomach.

Then the project moved to her house. Apparently, her room was not to his liking.

"Books? Fucking nerd. People with lives don't have time to read." He snickered

She just shrugged it off.

"you know you might be pretty if you actually tried." He mocked, looking through the book, his eyes never looking at her.

....might be pretty

If she changed, would he like her?

If she changed everything he hated, would he have anything left to say?

~~~

They've been working on the project for a few days. Every day she changed little by little. She threw the yellow dress in her trash. She packed away the books she barely read. Tore off every girly poster on her wall and removed all the things he pointed out on her desk. She styled her hair every day, and learned how to do make up that would show she "tried" every day.

And he never said anything

Just found new things to hate about her.

She was starting to wonder why he hadn't run out of anything yet. He somehow found something wrong about her every single day. Things she didn't think she would dislike about herself.

But he noticed everything about her, that means he liked her, right?

~~~

He didn't like her

It was apparent now

It was the final day in class to work on the project, and the whole hour was spent watching Eddie and a random girl flirt.

Her name was Brie, and Eddie seemed to really like her.

He was.....nice

His eyes were soft, never glaring at her.

He complimented her. On her hair, outfit, makeup, and personality.

Paying no attention to the project they need to work on. He was all focused on her and how perfect she was.

If Eddie ever liked her, he would treat her the same way he was treating Brie.

The line between love and hate was not as blurry as she thought.

~~~

Watching Eddie flirt with Brie today was not how she wanted her day to go, and now she had to end her day with Eddie.

She sat silently on her bed as he made his way through the bedroom door. She wanted to finish the project and never spend another second near him again.

But Eddie looked around her room confused, and walked over to each corner.

"What?" She snapped, guessing he was taking in her room to find something else wrong with it.

"Where are all your books?" He found himself asking.

Y/N was annoyed by the question.

"None of your business, Can we work now?" Her attitude was noticeable in her tone.

Eddie swallowed and sat next to her, beginning to work on the project. Yanking the notebook paper too hard, ripping the piece in half.

He quickly crumpled it up and went to throw it in the trash, spotting the familiar yellow dress in it.

"Why did you throw this away?" He asked, taking the dress out, nothing else was in the trash so it was untouched.

She looked up, her eyes turning hard when she spotted the color. She hated that his eyes seemed guilty. He wasn't sorry.

"Who cares, it didn't look good on me so I don't need it. Look can we work or not? We already missed an hour because of your little date with Brie this afternoon." His constant interruptions were driving her crazy.

She watched Eddie drop the dress on her desk, a smirk growing on his face.

"Jealous of the pretty girl?" He mocked. His eyes switched back to that teasing look.

She rolled her eyes and put her focus on the project. But Eddie didn't appreciate the silence. Walking up to her as she sat on the bed.

"I asked you," he said, gripping her chin to look up at him, "Were you jealous of her?"

She wanted to smack the smug look off of his face.

She yanked her jaw out of his grip, slamming the book as she stood up. Chest to chest with him as she huffed.

"YES! I am fucking jealous. But not because she's pretty and she knows how to capture your attention. But because you were so nice to her. You didn't pick her apart until she was a tiny shell of a person! I just thought maybe you picked on me because you liked me, but I can see I thought wrong." She ranted out, catching her breath at the end as Eddie stared at her. He slowly blinked as he took in her words.

"I threw away the dress because all it did was remind me how much you fucking hated it. I got rid of the books because you made fun of my interests. You made me hate the remaining parts of myself that I actually liked." She continued, her eyes filling with water.

Eddie didn't know what to say, but the regret was clear in his eyes as he looked at her sadly. He figured he should start with an apology.

"Y/N...I am so sorry...I'm sorry." He whispered, reaching forward to wipe her tears but she stepped back. Protecting herself as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Just go." She whispered back, keeping her focus on the floor.

"Please let me f-" He started but she caught him off.

"Eddie, I don't care what else you have to say. I am done talking to you. Please just go."

~~~

She dreaded going to school. Eddie left last night when she asked, and she's been terrified to see him again. She didn't bother to believe his apology, there was a good chance he didn't mean it.

She stayed up all night finishing the project, she did not want to work with him again.

She was walking to class, eyes on the floor as she always does. She grew more and more nervous as she made it closer to English. Preparing herself to see Eddie again.

Before she knew it, she felt her body being shoved to the ground. She didn't have time to catch herself and smacked her nose against the floor. She gasped at the horrible pain that shot through her nose, cradling it softly. She could feel her hands getting wet from blood. She looked up, expecting it to be Eddie, but it wasn't. It was someone who bullied people to an extreme amount, Jason.

She felt the tears flowing down her face. Crying from the pain in her nose and the embarrassment running through her body as everyone laughed and stared.

"HEY!" she heard Eddie's familiar scream. Her body froze as he raced towards her. Fear in his veins as she worried about what he would add to her suffering.

His eyes looked over her frame, glaring once he spotted the blood leaking through the cracks of her fingers. The familiar dangerous look in his eyes almost had her apologizing for nothing at all. But then he turned, right fist clenched as he knocked Jason straight to the floor.

The crowd gasped and moved closer. Silent for a small minute before another punch landed on Jason's face. Once the students caught a sight of blood coming out of Jason's nose, the crowd began to scream, encouraging the violence in front of them.

She didn't understand why Eddie was beating the hell out of Jason, and not joining him. She used the distraction to get up and race to the nurse. Running as fast as she could away from the crowd that was focused on the new fight at hand.

"DON'T YOU EVER TOUCH HER!"

The anger in Eddie's voice almost made her turn, almost made her feel protected, almost made her feel safe...but just almost.

~~~

She sat in the nurses office, the bleeding stopped but she held the tissue to her nose just in case. Minutes later a fuming Eddie wandered in, his bloody knuckles caused the nurse to gasp and race for an ice pack in the back freezer, down the hall.

She tried to avoid looking at him. Praying if she didn't move a single muscle, he wouldn't see her.

"Are you okay?" The softness in his voice was something she never experienced. She made herself look at him, trying to see if that truly came out of his mouth.

She sat quietly, she still didn't want to talk to him.

"I'm sorry he did that to you." He said, the softness still lingering.

"mad because you couldn't do it first?" Okay, maybe she did want to talk to him. She wanted to snap at him, yell at him, make his life hell the way he did to her.

Eddie flinched at the blow. Her words stung worse than the cuts on his knuckles.

"Mad that I ever did it in the first place. You never deserved any of that." He admitted. He was ashamed of himself. " I grew up with bullies and I became one. And the worst part is I bullied the most beautiful girl on the planet that has a fucking heart of gold. I adored how fragile you were and I destroyed you with my bare hands. And the reason is so stupid and selfish." He ranted out. Wayne would be so disappointed in what Eddie has become.

She felt like screaming at herself, hating the way her heart skipped a beat when he called her beautiful.

"what was the reason?" She asked, her voice quiet as she took in his apologetic gaze.

"I used to like this girl and I thought she liked me too. We dated for months and it turned out to be a prank with her friends. I was so hurt and angry at myself for being so stupid. I promised myself to never waste time on liking a girl in high school ever again. Then you and your bubbly personality walked in and I was scared. I liked you instantly and I needed myself to hate you. I was selfish. I tore you apart just to make it easier for me. It's not something I ever think deserves forgiveness. I know it's so fucked up to take out on you. You were just an innocent girl and I hate what I did to you."

She took in his words. The emotion in his eyes told her he meant all of it. But at the same time, he was right. She didn't deserve a single thing he did to her. She never once hurt him or put him in a position where he needed to protect himself.

"You never even gave me a chance, Eddie. Why couldn't you just ignore me? Seems like us never talking would have been better for both of us." She wished more than anything she never gave him her time. Let his opinions change the way she felt about herself.

"I wanted to, but in some twisted and toxic way, it made me feel special? I could treat you so poorly and you'd still come running up to me. And I know that is such an asshole thing to say. I wish I could take it all back. Treat you the way you always should have been treated. Given you a chance to show me you wouldn't hurt me. But I caused all of this damage and I know it's something I'll never fix. I'm sorry for everything." He apologized

" I appreciate the apology, but I don't forgive you for shit. You are an asshole, incredibly selfish, treated me like shit all because you were scared of a little crush? You're pathetic." Eddie winced at her words. "But, it shows you are flawed and human. Right now, I really don't want to be near you. Maybe in time I'll find it in me to forgive you, just not today."

He respected her honesty above anything.

"I understand. Thank you for letting me explain." He said with a small smile, turning around to walk out into the hallway.

Before he made it out of the doorway she spoke up, "why did you stop him?"

"No one gets to bully my girl but me." He said, a smirk on his face, throwing her a wink before he disappeared out the door.

God she hated him.

~~~

I could not figure out a real "happy" ending but to me, I like this ending so I'm sorry if you read this whole thing and was very disappointed in the ending :(

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingwicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #bully!eddie x reader #bully!eddie munson #ashwhowrites

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crippleprophet · 28 days

Text

i don’t understand how people can be so fucking cruel about people who can’t read much (including people who aren’t literate, though this post is from my experience with chronic illness). like, one of my main motivations behind posting excerpts of butch+femme writing on my main (@campgender ; it’s fine to go through my bookshelf tag but please only followers age 18+ on that blog!) is that it is fucking hard to read a full book!!

my reading comprehension & stamina decreased drastically when i developed ME, & while i’m overjoyed that i’ve recently regained a lot of that particular ability since getting blackout curtains, there are absolutely still texts i can’t even begin to parse that i once would’ve loved digging into — texts that it would be actively dangerous for me to attempt to struggle through because it would break pacing.

idk i’m not trying to be self-congratulatory here or whatever but like. the second i could access information through this means again, the focus of my (very fucking limited!!) energy has been giving it back to my people. my life has been unquestionably, deeply shaped by tumblr users who share excerpts of theory & memoir & poetry because they were providing labor of which i was in need & incapable.

finding, selecting, transcribing, formatting, & at times contextualizing passages takes a lot of fucking time & energy, but in order for me to encounter certain concepts, experiences, & histories, it’s work somebody else had to do, because i couldn’t read 200 pages of research or anthology in order to encounter the 10 that would change my life — but posted 2 or 3 pages at a time, i could save that in my drafts to get through on a good day, & quotes that were only a couple lines i could usually read right when i encountered them.

so, in memory of the years i spent unable to access theory through anything other than excerpts & secondhand summaries,

and in anticipation of the years to come where i will live the same,

and in acceptance that the brain is a muscle, in love of we the exercise-intolerant,

to you, dear reader — whatever form & frequency & duration that reading may take, even if it’s no further than this post — i make my motherfucking covenant: the issues i discuss around pulling quotes will be about the political act of the ellipse and the ethics of transcription, not shaming people for the methods of accessing information that are available to them. as often & as long as i am able, people can ask me to explain something or summarize in plain language and i will meet them with respect, interest, & effort. if someone’s looking for information on a particular topic, identity, experience & doesn’t have the energy to find it, i’m gonna give what i have towards filtering through the bullshit for the gems.

according to our abilities. according to our needs.

and the next time somebody tells you it’s not ableist to say everyone has to read [whatever work], tell them to go put their precious ability to better use in making it more accessible.

#mac.txt #continuing my trend of showing up on this blog once every couple months with an infuriated rant & then fucking off back to bed #me/cfs #reading #chronic illness #ableism

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nateofgreat · 22 days

Text

"What's wrong with the Acolyte being Jedi critical? It's okay to criticize them since they have a monopoly on the Force don't they?"

Okay, let me break this down.

1: The Jedi do not have a monopoly on the Force.

Say, remember the Nightsisters of Dathomir? The dark side cult that the Jedi tolerate. They even go there to negotiate in the Clone Wars without making any threats to their continued existence. The only time they ever come into conflict is when they leave Dathomir to mess with someone else.

They're not the only ones either. The media doesn't focus on it much, but there are dozens of different Force-based organizations in SW (Legends and Disney canon) that the Jedi Order coexists with. There's also the simple fact that the parents of Force sensitive children can simply decline the Jedi's offer which would indicate that there are people in the Galaxy with the Force who live independently from the Jedi.

As it happens the only organization the Jedi are constantly fighting are the Sith and for darn good reasons.

2: What's wrong with being critical of the Jedi?

Let's not split hairs here. The "criticism" the Jedi get nowadays almost always seems to end with, "and that's why they deserved to be exterminated down to the children via Order 66." So, pro-Jedi fans are a bit on guard when they hear that a project is "Jedi critical."

Now, in theory, there's nothing wrong with characters in-universe having disagreements with the Jedi way or having criticisms of them. However, despite the show's claim to not be about "good vs evil" I think it's VERY likely to posit that the Jedi are wholly in the wrong and to blame for the conflict in some manner. While downplaying the actions of the villain on account of them being a victim.

Why do I think that? Because the trailer.

3: "This isn't about good or evil. It's about power and who's allowed to use it."

Right at the climax of the trailer is this line. Which spells pretty clearly that the show is saying that just, doesn't matter if the Jedi are good, because they're also powerful and influential in their own regard. So in the show's mind that means they're the problem.

They might offer a halfhearted condemnation of the serial killer murdering them for no reason but chances are they'll suggest that they're not really the problem: that the Jedi are for being powerful. I've even seen quotes floating around saying that show will ask the question "what if the Sith are really just the underdogs?" when they go around blowing up planets.

As for the question itself. It's likewise silly as the Jedi don't actually persecute other Force traditions or force everyone to join them. They don't even force you to stay once you've joined. So it doesn't seem like they're attempting to control the Force at all. Meanwhile, the Sith want to dominate the Galaxy and either exterminate or enslave any opposing traditions.

So the question itself is self-defeating.

Oh and while I'm here...

4: There is no "endless cycle"

Slightly off-topic but it comes up a lot as a defense of the anti-Jedi mindset. It goes something like, "The Jedi perpetuate an endless cycle of war because the Sith keep coming back!"

First off, it's not the Jedi's fault that some lunatics keep popping back up to try and control the Galaxy. All they do is stop them every time they do.

Secondly, the "cycle" only exists because new books keep getting written. Stories need conflict and thus the Sith are revived over and over again.

Thirdly, please someone try to tell me that this could be avoided if the Jedi let their members marry or something.

And fourthly, the cycle's honestly not that bad because the Jedi just win every time and restore peace to the Galaxy for a long period.

#anti the Acolyte #Acolyte critical #the Acolyte critical #Star Wars #The Jedi #Pro Jedi #In defense of the Jedi #the Sith #the Acolyte Trailer

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whiskeyghoul · 5 months

Text

Coloring pages || [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A/N: This has been stuck in my mind for weeks now and I needed to put it down. This is the first fic I had proof read by someone! Enjoy and please like and reblog when you do.

Tags: Fluff, tooth rotting fluff, just fluff, coloring pages, spencer reid x gn!reader I think.

You stood outside of the Quantico building, leaning against the side of your car. The air had the early autumn chill, it wasn't cold but your oversized sweater sure made it a lot more bearable to be outside of the car for an extended period. You were waiting for your date to be finished with his work. Boyfriend. You corrected yourself internally. Boyfriend of 6 weeks, 3 days and 5 hours to be exact. Which, with Spencer as your boyfriend you had to be.

He is handsome, kind and so incredibly intelligent it is sometimes just a tad frustrating. His rambles were interesting and you could probably listen to him for hours on end. You also wanted to spend time together just enjoying each other's company. Being together, that was your type of love. The affirming touches that the other was there. The comfortable silence you enjoyed so much where you could hear soft intakes of breaths. Glances at one another to confirm that the other was still there. You loved when Spencer had invited you over to his apartment once, he still had some work to finish so you'd picked up a book from the many shelves and made yourself comfortable on his worn couch. You had looked up from the book and over to him, seen him deep in thought as he looked at the lines of writing, jotting down notes next to it. His brow slightly furrowed, lips pursed ever so slightly as he thought particularly hard. Completely unaware of your admirations of him from the couch. That's what you liked.

People began filing out of the building as the sun set, you watched and watched to catch the first sign of Spencer. When you did see that messy brown hair bounce slightly as he walked down the steps a smile spread across his face. You mirrored his expression, every time you saw him it brought a smile to your lips. A gust of wind picked up, ruffling his hair even further as he bound over his long strides causing him to stand before you in, what felt like, mere seconds. "Hey." He said softly. His hand reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear that had been swept up by the wind. His fingertip grazed the side of your temple. "Hi." You returned just as softly. "How was work?" You asked as you looked into those big, brown eyes. They were filled with warmth as he looked into yours. "It was good, no new cases which I was hoping for since I wanted to see you." Spencer spoke his emotions as he pulled his hand away. "Good, because I have something planned." You said with a smile, turning on your heels and walking back to the driver's side.

"You have something planned?" Spencer asked as he quickly dove into the passenger seat. Tucking his bag between his feet. "I do." You say as you put the seatbelt on, feeling his eyes on your profile. "Can I know?" He asked, impatiently tapping his fingers against his thighs, an air of excitement surrounding him. "Not yet. It's a surprise." Your voice sounds melodic, sing-song-y even, on the last sentence as you turned the key and started up the car. "Tell me more about your day." You say as the music over the speakers softly filled the car and the heater worked to warm your cold tinged hands.

Spencer had talked about his day, you were intermittently interrupting him with questions before he asked about your day. You were still going on about a coworker who had annoyed you when you parked the car in front of your destination. The bookstore and café combo where you had your first date. You got out and quickly snatched the tote bag you had haphazardly laid on the backseat before turning back to Spencer. "The bookstore? Why are we here?" He looked at you quizzically. You rolled your eyes playfully and put the tote bag over your shoulder. "Because we're going for coffee." You answered and held out your hand which he took. You saw his eyes dart towards the tote bag, that soft crease between his eyebrows forming as he pictured all the possibilities of what its contents could be. “Coffee at 5 P.M.? You know that feeling unaffected by caffeine could be a sign of a genetic difference or you have built an increasingly large tolerance. This could be a problem once you start ingesting dangerous amounts of caffeine unbeknownst to you.” Spencer rambled as you entered the coffee shop. You rolled your eyes playfully, “I’ll get a tea then.” you say as you get hit by the smell of fresh brewed coffee, pastries and books. There was music softly playing in the background. The shop was warm.

Pulling Spencer along to the table where your first date had been, you sat down, shedding your fall jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. The tote bag was placed on the table, only a slight peak of its contents spilling out. Spencer’s eyes darted to it, wanting to know what you had planned and why you were being so secretive. Quickly, your hand found its way to cover the contents, pressing the tote bag shut. “After we get our drinks.” You teased, there was a sparkle in your eyes, seeing him this interested in what you were planning made it all the more fun to keep him in the dark.

“Really? Can’t you just tell me?” Spencer questioned, giving you the most pleading eyes he could muster in that moment, you were surprised he didn’t pout at you. Just then the waitress came over, taking your coffee and tea orders before walking back behind the bar. When you had looked at her Spencer seemed to have taken his chance and snuck a peek inside of the bag, before you knew it he was pulling out a set of colored pencils. “Spencer!” You admonished playfully, snatching the colored pencils out of his hand and sticking them back in the bag. “What? I was just curious.” He played innocent, giving that sweet smile he knew made you weak. “You brought colored pencils?” He tilted his head slightly, his soft curls falling away from his face. You reached out across the table, tucking a stray curl behind his ear like he had done with you before, “I did.” Your answer came with a soft sigh before folding the tote bag slightly open and pulling out the matching set of colored pencils and a book of coloring pages. “I guess the cat is out of the bag.”

“Why did you bring coloring pages?” Spencer looked confused at the book, flipping through the blank pages filled with outlines of forest scenes and insects. An amused smile on his lips, “Aren’t we too old for that?” He asked, his tone was a slight teasing one. You know he didn’t mean it to be hurtful at that moment, but still he didn’t seem as excited about it as you were. You bit your lip, holding back the twinge of disappointment that shot through your heart.

“I thought it would be fun to do something together. It’s not a children's coloring book, but you know… I wanted to work on a page together, so we have something we both did.” Your voice had an edge to it, the disappointment you tried to hide still managed to bubble its way to the top. It felt horrible, that such a little thing could make this big of an impact. Your hands fidgeted with the end of your sweater, picking at the sleeve with a hint of defeat. Eyes cast down on the table. “Woah, hey, wait no I- I didn’t mean anything bad- I just-” Spencer stumbled over his words, quickly reaching his hand across the table to hold yours. Moving his thumb soothingly across the back of your hand. “If you want to, we will. It looks fun. Really.” He corrected himself, his eyes finding yours. You could see the hint of regret at his earlier words, his sincerity in his current ones. The disappointment still lingered, but the warmth from his hand was quickly spreading through your body to wash away any doubt. “Really?” You asked again, wanting the extra confirmation. You attempted a smile, it was half hearted still but at least it was somewhat reassuring to yourself. “Really, I just get to pick what we’re working on.” Spencer smiled back, giving your hand a soft squeeze before letting go to pick up the book again.

You watched Spencer flip through, taking a quick look at the different pages until he found one to his liking. Placing the book open on the table, a flowery field with butterflies and bumble bees. “This one.” he said, looking to you for confirmation like he could make the wrong choice. “That’s perfect.” Your voice was soft, still trying to get over the disappointment from before. It was nearly gone, leaving you with mostly warmth in your heart. You grabbed the two sets of colored pencils, opening them, and setting them out on the table. Just then your drinks were brought out, a chai latte for you after Spencer’s comment about caffeine, he still had a cappuccino which made you smile a bit. You handed a set of pencils to Spencer before picking up your chai and taking a tentative sip. It was hot but delicious.

“Alright, so how do we start?” Spencer asked, looking at the page then back at you. “I want to color it together. You can start over on your side, I start on mine, meet in the middle?” You said, placing your cup back down. “Won’t it be mismatched? should we at least have the same color green for the stems?” He suggested, suddenly seeming a bit more into it than he had been before. “Okay, that sounds like a good idea. The same blue for the sky too?” You added, opening your own set of pencils. You picked out a blue, matching it with one from Spencer's set. He did the same with the green, handing you the matching pencil with a smile. “Let’s get coloring then.” He said before turning his attention to the paper. You followed suit, touching the colored pencil to the paper and began to fill in the white space.

You kept picking up pencils, filling in the flowers with different colors, sometimes your hand would meet with Spencer’s while drawing and he’d look up with a smile. Soft bumps and touches that affirmed you were both there. Light chuckles and laughter with your coloring interrupted by each other. Your heart fluttered at how he had thrown all his earlier judgment aside to make you happy. Looking up he was focused, smiling at the paper as he decided what colors would fit best. Sometimes asking for your opinion. Intermittently his drawing was interrupted by sips of coffee. Wiping the residue off of his lips with his sleeve before going back to the page. The way he was focused was cute, hairs falling in front of his eyes, a grin on his face as he gave in to the childlike whimsy of doing a coloring page. It was refreshing to see him with his shoulders relaxed, focusing on anything but words. Letting the surrounding sounds of the shop take over. Slowly you felt yourself be more and more focused on Spencer rather than the drawing. Once he noticed, he looked up, the smile still plastered on his face, “What?” he laughed out the question. One of the more beautiful sounds you’ve heard, though you wouldn’t tell him that. You shook your head no, laughing softly “Nothing.” You answered with a genuine smile. “There’s something.” Spencer pushed, still smiling, holding back the laughter that bubbled up inside of him. “You looked very focused, that’s all.” You answered, shrugging nonchalantly before you finished up your drink that had gone lukewarm from the amount of time you had been sitting there. “Well, so did you. Just not on the coloring anymore.” Spencer teased, making a blush creep to your cheeks. Biting your tongue to hold back from throwing out a retort that would have been completely unnecessary.

Your eyes cast down to the coloring page, it was almost completely filled with your combined efforts of removing every spot of white. It was beautiful to you, a bit messy but that made it perfect. Spencer looked down too, regarding the page with a certain air of pride. “I think we should frame it.” he spoke up. Your eyes darted back to his face, to see if he was joking or if it was serious. His expression was relaxed, no sign of any funny business. “Why?” You asked, a hint of confusion in your voice this time around. “It’s the first thing we made together.” His words made your heart skip a beat, the way he was so sincere had such an effect on you. “We’ll have to make another for my place then.” you answered. “Or you’ll just have to come over by my place more often to see it.” Spencer smiled, his words a thinly veiled excuse to see you in his home, to have you over, spend time together.

You smiled, quickly leaning over the table to steal a kiss after he finished his sentence. “I’d like that a lot.”

#Fluff #oneshot #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #Spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fluff oneshot

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nouvxllev · 9 days

Note

"When I saw you

I fell in love, and

you smiled

because you knew

-William Shakespeare"

LOVE.LOVE.LOVE.

I wanted to make a request! I had a similar interaction like this, and when I had read this, I fell inloveeeeee with this qoute sm. Can you do a Wednesday x Reader? In which it's Wednesday who actually falls inlove 😭

amore, amore, amore.

Pairing: Author!Wednesday Addams x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 6.0k (oh what the fuck)

Warnings: told in WEDNESDAYS POV AND ALTERNATE TIMELINES!, the gomezification of wednesday addams prevails, yes they meet at a museum, also kinda 7 husbands of evelyn hugo coded, slight plottwist at the end!

a/n: aaaa ofc ofc!! also i absolutely love the idea where wednesday fell first and harder

masterlist

I believe they cursed me the moment their lips became something worth fighting for.

"If they intend to halt my publishing, then so be it. I have no interest in entertaining that brain-dead company over countless of reasons as to why I shouldn't spare a few weeks for myself who believe I will fall under their will."

"Wednesday, they're the ones who publish your books, you just can't ignore their calls."

"Barclay, has your brain deteriorated to a degree in such a way that you are forgetting it's my presence that upholds that fucking company? Without me, they are nothing. Have you forgotten with how much power I withhold over them, or have your scales reached that hollow of a brain?"

"You can't ignore the leverage they have over you, sure you have the amount of money, if not more, to sue them, but they could literally tip you off and brand you as some selfish author."

"Please do comprehensively explain to me as to why I would be a selfish author?"

"Wednesday Friday fucking Addams, it's because you're half-way across the fucking world at some fucking museum in Italy while you have a manuscript due a fucking week ago!"

"I fail to see my fault."

"Addams, if you don't get your shit together, I swear—"

I had solved countless of murders in my time of Nevermore. I had one thing to do when I finally left, and I was going to succeed.

If you had told me after I willingly left that horrid place you call an educating institution that I would experience the same fate as an author, I would've traced the outer skin of your face with a pocket knife and display it on your family's doorstep.

Barclay, amongst others, remained someone I held close. She could be infuriating, but no one would ever be much deserving of a terrible, terrible position than be under my control as my manager when I pursued writing.

But no one tells you how people could easily forget you in a matter of seconds if you don't make a name for yourself when you've put yourself out there, even if it's something far, far from your own.

I was only fortunate enough people enjoyed what I publish.

I couldn't care less if they didn't, that's why I found it hard to give two shits about what that damned company thought of my revised schedule. But I needed to make a living. To make something out of myself.

If I had continued my actions— in which I have full control over with—I could lose everything.

I could've build it up from scratch if it happened, but Lucifer knows how long would a simple idea for a plot that could get into the lack of attention span of the population could take.

I could lose the name I print on paper.

I could lose my name.

And then I realized I haven't.

There was something that I was destined to fall under. It was there with my eyes taped to a painting, not knowing I became one for another.

I hung up. The mere thought of having a multistep plan to eventually murder my manager was between God and me. That woman had me teetering on the edge of becoming a one-hit serial killer overnight.

My head tilted over a large painting towering amidst the others down the line. My hands remained tucked deep within the pockets of a trench coat far too oversized for me.

I couldn't take much time of squinting, staring as if it had garnered my interest not after a dreaded phone call that I convinced myself truly took my energy and managed to inject anesthesia inside my veins.

A light sway became evident in my steps, as if I was sulking in my own woe of what I should and could've done to prevent myself fucking it up on a company that I could soon own if not me being under the age of what is required to own a firm without having to ring up my own godforsaken of a family.

I could almost take another step if I wasn't met with another person.

Countless of papers flew across the hard-tiled floor. It was over before I knew what had happened. I found myself standing there, eyes glued to the person I collided with, my eyebrows crossed and my mouth hung open like a fool.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, fuck." They grit under their breath, like they were berating themselves while they picked up the rest of what had fell.

I stood there, not knowing what to do or what not to do but stare at them and wait for them to pull themselves up.

And so that's what I did.

I wish I hadn't.

Because now it was the time I was unable to speak. Unable to use the words I've been writing my novels with, the words that I should've spoken in the seconds they had landed in front of me. For the first time, my words had failed me.

A question rang in my head, Why do I now feel as if I do not belong inside of my own body? Why does my life feel complete now that they were here?

When Y/n fixed herself, she looked at me and smiled. I knew I looked like an idiot staring at them, yet I never went out of my way to barely fix myself.

Why were they smiling?

"Why are you smiling?" I asked under my breath, like I was taken breathless. I hadn't mean to say it out loud, but my cold and otherwise damned heart seemed to be alive, like I was suffocating in my own rate. A fool in front of them I must've been.

They looked at their paper, then they looked at me.

They smiled yet again. Another question flicked across my head, what had happened to me to act as if I would go through hell and back for this person?

They smiled at me as if my presence gave them a reason to. And they loved me in every one of it.

"Sorry—" they apologized, noticing how their thumb kept grazing the surface of their sketch, almost as if they were nervous. "You look prettier than... whatever I drew."

They stole one more look of me.

"Terrifyingly bewitching."

It's horrifying knowing I couldn't explain what I felt that day. What I know is—I felt everything.

I've endured endless remarks on my appearance ranging from a number of ratings from those nonsensical people on the internet to every synonym people have thrown my way only to fail to evoke even a flicker of emotion.

Though it seems egotistical, I knew they held one intention: they wanted to impress me. They wanted me to know they were different amongst others who have approached me. They wanted to entice me, as if I could be owned.

Were it not for the arsenal and threats I carried, there would be much more.

Y/n was different. They never had any intentions of being with me, no desire to impress or claim me as theirs. They simply wanted me to know I was. That it was true. I just had never heard it from someone who could mutter two words that felt perfect.

And it's much more terrifying knowing I unexpectedly fell first, even if I deny myself.

I could tell you about the way y/n smiled, how it seemed to threaten the sun, warning it not to shine lest it risk embarrassment in contrast of hers. I could tell you the way their eyes followed their smile, how their life was encapsulated in their drawings, mirroring what they felt.

Yet, when it comes to explaining how I fell for them, words escape me. Even I, a tortured author, struggle to describe.

How must I convey the sensation of my heart pounding in my ears as if it was trying to break me? The ache in my stomach, churning every chance it got, every fiber of my being dreadfully surrendering to them.

But one is for certain: meeting them was like coming home.

My home.

But I couldn't bring myself to realize that—It was antagonizing for me. Humiliating and mortifying knowing one person could make me become a total fool, become someone I've never thought I'd be.

I've spent my whole life after hiding what I felt for them, lest I risk experiencing what I truly loathe: love.

I despised them ever since I met them, loathed them, hated them. But for what for? I ask myself countless of times, I have never gotten an answer.

When they left, I left. Thinking it would be fate that had accidentally brought two people together who held no meaning for eachothers life, that it was a mistake, and I could've been wrong with how I'm feeling.

And when I came back, they were there.

And when I approached them, it felt right.

It was a week after the incident, but no matter how I tried, I still remember how their smile felt around me. Suffering, irritating, lovely. Like I wanted to relieve it, no matter how much time had passed.

Never once did I get their name in the span of meeting them, it was useless to know anyway.

Yet, I find myself returning to the museum every chance I get for God knows what, acting as if I had unfinished business staring at paintings while the staff rambled beside me. They were better off tattooing their explanation in my skull.

I had other places to attend to, other tasks I should've been doing rather than constantly visiting museum in the afternoon as if I have duties and low-paid labor for employment.

I should've been at my apartment days ago, exhausting myself on a half-assed manuscript I would have recurring thoughts of annihilating along with severing Bianca's hands through the phone.

What terrified me is why I was back.

Standing in front of them. My hands tucked deep inside the pockets of another trench coat, looking down on them sitting on one of the blocks of granite surrounding a oddly placed tree in the middle of the hall, drawing whatever there is to draw.

"Hello." I greeted them. They almost looked startled, surprised that I was even talking to them, like I was some vengeful ghost who returned to seek revenge. Though they weren't far off.

They looked up, immediately flipping over their clipboard as they locked eyes with me.

"Oh—" They cleared their throat, "Hi. Hey, hello." They smiled, albeit awkward. But that feeling of dread, or whatever, came back. Stronger than ever, I feared. I almost had half the mind of punching them in the gut and questioning them why they had this effect on me.

"Didn't know you come here often." A chuckle followed their question, or maybe it was a statement, placing their elbows on their lap while they gazed right at me.

I scoffed, murmuring against gritted teeth why did I even approach them in the first place. "And I didn't know you draw me that often."

I look down on the piece of paper, their deliberate and aggressive brush strokes having an effect on the paper, leaving marks upon marks. It was clear that I've been their subject for days on end. Even if I were to absent, I'd still be able to be the pinnacle of their sketches.

It was funny back then, humorous in my mind on how quick they snatched the piece of paper and tried to explain with little to no comprehension that went across their mind.

"Oh, God, no, no! I just—Okay, well, maybe I've been drawing you ever since I saw you, it's creepy now that I mention it... but it's just—it's dumb of me to not draw you, you know?" They were flustered, their mouth opening and closing only for me to receive words that were out of the dictionary.

They sighed, my lips twitched.

"I'd like to ask," My voice trailed off, grimacing even at the thought of having to initiate a conversation with more or less than five words, "What's... your name?"

"Y/N," They nodded, "L/N. Y/N/L/N." They reached out for a handshake only to immediately retract after a brief awkward seconds of staring. Their name sounded familiar.

"Why are you here?"

"Do I need to reason to?"

"I suppose so, no. But I am curious." Even I don't know why I'm still back here.

Y/n sighed, like I was the one getting on their nerves while it was me who battling against whatever fucked-up demon spawned in my stomach that caused me to feel, things.

"Nothing."

I frowned. "You came here because of.... Nothing?"

"Mhm."

"You are drawing strangers you know nothing about because of nothing?"

"Thought I made myself clear on that first word."

"You've made yourself look foolish than any average person."

"Well, you never told me your name. I think that's foolish enough over my case."

It was my turn to sigh.

"Addams." I reluctantly said to them, "Wednesday, Addams."

Then Y/n looked up at me as if I was some sort of otherworldly deity going back down to earth to finish whatever I started. "Wednesday Addams. I think I've heard that name before."

"No. No, you haven't."

If it wasn't horribly obvious, the sole purpose of my visit to Italy was to neglect everything I left behind in New York—especially deadlines— and hoped my eyes would finally work some sense that would let me start anew.

It was shameful of me, passion that dwindled into something less. If I had the chance, I would've tortured myself for even considering abandoning all of my life's work.

Though, I had my reasons. Even if I had threatened my target population and my audience, it still wouldn't be enough.

In short, I had lost motivation to pursue another book.

I felt as if there was something missing, that I couldn't even dare to even blow the collecting dust in the rims of my typewriter.

I begged for my brain to work, to even produce the slightest idea or word that could have some meaning to it. I was ready to write anything that came to mind, even if it was mediocre.

But, instead, my heart responded.

When I met Y/n, I started writing, and we started talking.

Words flowed through, and my time was wasted on Y/n.

My time was wasted, and they were wasted with their significant other.

I always thought I would suffer the thought of having to live an eternal life with none other than myself, that it was inevitable I was going to perish alone in my own woe.

It remained the same. Now, it's just having to live with the fact that my only greatest love had another.

I felt as if I ate a forbidden fruit once I heard they had someone that loved them as much as I denied myself of the same kind, like I plagued myself with hundreds of years of worry and attachment to someone who had eyes on another, a special muse they had.

Only that I would crumble immediately, tempted to take the fruit in my hands, forever stain my lips of something immoral so that I could forever crawl and weep over them.

In my time in Italy, I thought i'd be avoiding acquaintances that would be much more of a burden to me rather than someone useful. Yet there I was, watching Y/n saunter into my life like the revelation they were.

It's safe to say that Y/n turned out to be anything but a burden. They became someone I looked forward to seeing every day, though I hadn't realized they were motivation until then.

"Wends!"

Their awfully cheerful voice pierced through the air of the restaurant, almost granting the attention from other people as if they shared the same horrendous and dreadful nickname as me.

As much as I fantasized about walking out of the restaurant with y/n's half-broken jaw, I couldn't deny whatever was swirling in my head.

Ever since they knew of that wretched nickname unfortunately given to me by none other by that infectious and the ever infuriating ball of sunshine, Enid Sinclair, they've been calling me it as if I don't have a birth name.

It was a month ever since I've known Y/n, and it was a month of them being a constant presence in my life. They shared breakfast with me, lunches, and sometimes dinners that I somehow always and reluctantly accepted.

They became my routine, and it was a fact I'd sooner die with than confess to anyone.

Y/n slowly approached my table that was filled to the brim with countless of books and my oddly placed typewriter, putting their own stuff down on the seat beside them. "You're here early. You ordered something yet?"

It was 12PM. We agreed on 1, and I came at 10.

I scoffed, keeping my eyes on the typewriter. "You, of all people, should know by now that I would much rather sooner paint myself neon than touch anything on this menu."

I hear y/n setting their elbows on the table, resting their face between their hands. "Aw, c'mon Wends, it wouldn't kill you.

"Cyanide won't, but this will." I stopped writing to take one look at them, obviously and oddly, my gaze never and will never work on them. "Take my advice if you're eager to leave this restaurant with a mouth able to eat and speak."

"Ever the happiest person, Wends." They chuckled, sliding a somehow too bright and colorful menu towards them, "I'll order for you."

I stopped writing all together, "Y/n."

"Wednesday." They raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. It was over before I was even playing the game. Resistance over their lips felt futile anyway.

"Fine." I sighed, shutting my eyes closed just so that for once I can't have my stomach doing fucking acrobatics at the sight of them. "I will... allow it."

The ever-growing smile that crept up to their face was priceless, I couldn't bring myself to pry my eyes away. Murmuring something along the lines that I was too easy to lure in.

Once a waiter passed our table, Y/n ordered something along the lines of whatever the fuck 'Due Cream Soda Alla Vaniglia e Lampone con Glitter Commestibili' was. I was certain I was going to leave the restaurant with a non-working heart and a stomach turning inside and out.

It took no longer than a minute for Y/n to get a hold one of the numerous books piled infront of me. "Are you studying for something?" They asked, opening it only to close it once they noticed how outdated some of the languages are.

I let a small chuckle pass my lips. "What drives you to such a hypothesis."

They gestured to the books and my typewriter, "By how you're literally surrounded by books and you're on a fucking typewriter instead of a laptop." They pointed out, murmuring another, "Also, who the hell says hypothesis."

"People with functioning frontal lobes." I quipped, letting my fingers write on instinct across the typewriter keys as I listened to Y/n's ramblings. "I'm... writing."

"You're an author?"

"No."

"Then why—"

"Are you a painter? An artist?"

"Well... I—no?"

"Then we both don't know what we're doing."

Y/n fell silent moments after, I couldn't help but miss the sound of their voice. Admitting the mere thought aloud seemed absurd, let alone thinking it in the first place. I would've bashed my head on top of my typewriter if not for my resistance.

"How long will you be staying in Italy?" they eventually asked.

"Two more weeks," I replied. "My flight is already scheduled, I'll be leaving then on."

"Oh."

I wasn't expecting an answer anything other than a hint of happiness that I was eventually leaving their life.

"You are?" They repeated, as if they couldn't believe such a statement even escaped my lips, clear disappointment flickering across their face. "That's not... long."

"I am certainly not saying here indefinitely now that I have something to continue when I've arrived at my destination." I cleared out, doing my very best to escape the impending guilt washing over me.

"I'll miss you, Wednesday."

Their words were sincere. Lovely. It had stopped me from writing all together.

Guilt wasn't a feeling I was familiar with at the time. I rarely come across such a feeble emotion. Now it felt like I've committed something immoral. There were times that I lie for my own convenience, and nothing more than my own reason.

Now it felt like I should've lied for them.

I will forever miss you.

I wrote. I never showed them.

One week had passed and I rarely ever got to see Y/n after. Our encounters became increasingly scarce, and their voice plagued me from days on end.

I clung to the faithless hope I had that they would text me, to reach out, to even show me they're alive and well.

I returned to the museum for every day they were absent in my life, searching for any sign of their presence, but each day ended in disappointment.

Of course, fate is indifferent to my yearning, refusing to grant someone I so desperately sought.

Regret gnawed at me as the days turned into a week, and the week turned into the day before my flight.

"Addams. I've heard from others that you've been writing."

"Who others?"

"I'll spare a name to spare New York a corpse found in their sewage pipes by the time you've, hopefully I assume, returned and not jump off the plane."

"Even if I went off the grid, your nagging would've been in spirit."

"Don't flatter me."

"Don't kill yourself without showing me a video tape in full resolution for me to get through rough weeks. Or maybe take a shotgun and shoot yourself in your garage and let me have the keys to your house."

"Addams."

I sigh. "Yes, the rumors—though I would want that vampires head on a stake—are true. I've been writing."

"What happened to you there? You met someone?"

"How'd you know—No. No, I—I haven't. What makes you come to such a foolish conclusion?"

"Oh my God, someone actually managed Wednesday—I'd rather kill myself before loving anyone—Addams to fall terribly in love with them. Who's the unfortunate soul?"

"I would not be naming them because they do not exist."

"You just stuttered, Wednesday. The only thing making you stumble your words is when you're overdosing on whatever poison you're having for breakfast."

"They're no one."

"How are you such a bad liar when you have countless of bodies hidden across the globe?"

I sigh again, this time, it was out of annoyance. "I'll be hanging up. Goodbye, Barclay. If ever you are considering to kill yourself, call me. I'll be at my most happiest to watch."

"Wait, no, Wednesday! I need progress on your—"

I hung up. It was pointless to answer her calls when I was a mere few step away from boarding a plane. She always had a way of getting under my skin, even from across the damn globe.

But there was one name that would always surface in my thoughts: Y/n.

The mere thought of their name will forever remind me of how my heart wasn't programmed to love.

I reached for my phone, fingers tracing over the cold screen. My mind was tired, blank. The only thing I could ever do is stare at their contact and wish I could've done something better.

I typed out a hesitant message, my thumb hovering over the send button as if it was something that could end my world. Only two thoughts ran to my mind: Would they reply, or would my message be nothing to them?

I almost hit send before I heard footsteps approaching me.

"Y/n?"

I whispered their name, the love I carried for them being surrendered like I'd crawl for them once I reached purgatory.

"What are you doing here?" My eyebrows furrowed. How could they leave me, only to return as I was about to depart? "Why are you here, you disappeared, avoided me, why—"

"He proposed to me."

Oh.

I always thought a near-death experience with a loved one would be the deepest I could feel.

I realized I was wrong.

Now my eyes ached to the sting. Like I was weeping for someone that perished in my heart, I grieve for a living soul that was me. It was pathetic.

I expected them to be overjoyed, over the moon as they would express themselves from time to time.

But when I met their eyes, all I saw were tears streaming down their face.

Oh, how I wished to wipe their worries away.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I don't know if I love him."

"Nonsense... You told me you loved him—"

"Well, maybe I haven't been saying anything true to you!"

"Look, I don't know what I'm doing—I don't know what the hell are we doing. I'm living in some apartment with some guy I don't even know I even love, I'm currently standing here like an idiot to a girl who's just about to leave my life, and you're—"

"You're everything."

It was that moment I realized I was lost in a haze of admiration and love for Y/n.

That I was far too deep in their life that they became mine. I never knew I needed them as much when I told them to leave with me and break up with their significant other.

I never knew I needed their lips onto mine until the moment I pulled them close to me.

Now I ache of them.

"Do you regret it, mother? Being such a fool for someone, you became what you hated most. But you endured it all for them."

Wednesday Addams, seating across the bed from her daughter, Blair Addams. She looked just like you, she'd always wonder.

Wednesday sighed, her hand reaching out to gently touch Blair's. "Do you know the phrase, 'Come ti vidi M’innamorai, E tu sorridi Perchè lo sai?'" she asked softly.

"You know I've never indulged myself in whatever you're reading." She shook her head with a smile. She looked even more like you.

She let her fingers trace patterns on her hand, her gaze wandering else where. "Well, it translates to 'When I first met you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew," she explained.

"And do you believe in that, mother?"

Wednesday could almost smile. Her daughter was always the curious one, yet she always managed to be privy of her life from them. "I always believed Y/N knew the moment we first laid eyes on each other, I fell in love with them."

"So, yes, my raven." She nodded, "I do."

"I never knew Y/n would make me their title, their theme, their muse," Wednesday pondered, "I always wondered why i fell for them."

"Falling is an accident, gullible, like with people who fail to do basic things. But I am one of those people if not more if I fell for their on accident and continued to do so."

She sat beside Blair, her legs crossed beside her. "I've never told you at the time, but Y/n was a painter. And they wanted nothing more but than to forget about their past. They have never told me as to why, but I believe them.""

"I worried that my love was violence. It was pain, it was suffering. But y/n took care of themselves, they took care of me. There is no one in the world who had loved me more than them, I fear that it would break them, that I am deemed no longer someone who is a part of their story."

"Yet here we are."

Wednesday couldn't see the smile creeping from her daughters lips. But she knew it was there, just like how you looked like before. She will always and forever take pride in it.

She always thought her greatest love could be something of a passion, a talent, a hobby perhaps.

But no one told her it could be a person.

Blair stretched and turned on a light beside her bed, opening a drawer and taking out two of Wednesday's books. "Must they be the reason your books has been off to your prior ones, mother? You've written all your life of gore and mystery. Now it's romance."

"Well, I—"

"Oh, I'm definitely the reason why your mother has been subtly—not-so-subtly, switching to the romance genre."

You peered through the door, your body wrapped up in a cozy boritto style and everything with a train draping it's way to your back like some met-gala dress.

"Oh, mon chéri," Wednesday's face lit up at the sight of you, immediately standing up and pulled you close, her arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

Her lips met yours in soft kisses, leaving the taste of faint vanilla chapstick lingering on your lips. "Why are you up so late?"

"Well," You grinned against her lips, "I felt our bed getting cold and to my surprise my wife isn't nowhere near me. You know how I can't sleep without you." She pulled away, you whined at the lost of contact, but you couldn't smile more brightly as she led you towards your daughter. "G'evening, Blair."

"Evening, Y/n." She greeted you before you kissed her on the forehead.

You leaned against Wednesday's shoulder, whispering softly, "You're telling her our story again?"

Wednesday would've thought her small chuckle went unnoticed, but you definitely heard it. The stupid smile on your face told everything.

Her hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "She loves it."

"You love it, mother. Probably more than me." Blair retorted back, evident that she was holding back a laugh.

"I do not! When did I ever—"

"Oh, honey, you know love turns your mother into a girl version of your abuelo.

"Do not ever refer to me as my love drunk father or I will subject you to sleeping on the couch." Wednesday rolled her eyes, pinching the back of your palm. "And please do not shame my work of referring to it as such. I've worked hard day and night yet you proceed call it by such an exasperate—"

You turned your head and pressed a kiss on her cheek, the same spot where her freckles resided, causing her to pause mid-sentence. After atleast ten years of being with her, it always made you so giddy.

"Not even in marriage am I spared by your passive aggressive comments," you teased, your lips curling into a smile as you leaned in closer to her.

You hear your daughter sigh after a brief second, "Addams."

Wednesday almost looked shocked, "My Raven, do not call us by our last—"

"Please exit my room. I'll be going to sleep."

And then, the both of them were shoved off before they could even hug their daughter and kiss her goodnight like they always did.

"I... We were rejected, Y/n." Wednesday exclaimed, like she just got struck with the most heartbreaking news. "She used to love our stories together when she was an infant."

You'd think Wednesday was the non-chalant mom who's strict on her child. But, to your surprise, she was the opposite.

She loved Blair just as much she loved you. Hell, you even considered just maybe, maybe not, disowning your daughter because she gets Wednesday's attention more than you do.

You shrugged, taking her hand and leading her to your upstairs bedroom. "It gets stale once in a whileeeOW!" You winced as Wednesday pinched the back of your palm, again. It was starting to become her love language at this point.

"I'm just kidding!" You reassured her, intertwining your fingers with hers as you walked up the stairs together, pulling the door open for your wife. "She's just in her rebellious teen phase, let it go."

Wednesday rolled her eyes, "Too cliche."

"You used to have one too," you scoffed, settling onto your side of the bed and watching as she laid down on hers.

It was a routine you found yourself often doing, taking in the sight of your beloved as if your life with Wednesday was all a dream. You pinch yourself like almost thrice a day just to really make sure.

"Since when?" Wednesday asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement, quietly shuffling towards you.

You sat up for a moment to undo her braids. You always liked playing with her hair, and that one time she asked of you to undo hers, it became a routine. "Since the beginning of time. And somehow, you never grew out of it."

"You didn't even meet me in my teenage years. I am far from rebellious."

"Yes, baby, but not too far from a death penalty." You chuckled, reaching out to gentle stroke her hair, leaning in to press a soft kiss against her forehead.

"Oh, you flatter me," she replied, a smirk across her lips, but the room was too dim to even notice it.

By now, if you were any ordinary person, Wednesday would've made you disappear entirely. But, the thing is, Wednesday always seemed to look at you as if her life never really started until she found you.

Silence managed to take over the atmosphere, you laid back on the comfortable mattress, feeling Wednesday's head nestled on your arms that were tucked under her hair.

You could almost fall asleep in pure bliss knowing that you've met and loved the girl of your dreams if not for her calling out for you.

"Amore." She whispered.

"Amore?" She whispered again, her voice softer than ever before.

You blinked, momentarily. You swore you just heard an angel. "Yes, amore?"

"Can I... Can you—"

You smiled, almost too knowingly. You knew Wednesday, for someone who's such a romantic soul, she's not too expressive on simple terms like these. "Do you want to be the little spoon?"

She grimaced, you could even hear her grunts of disapproval. "I would highly refrain from calling it that before I jump out of bed and skin you from limb to limb. But... yes, I would like to."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips at her response, suppressing a grin to avoid from literally being murdered as you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close.

Ten years before, if someone had told you that you're going to be doing this to girl you've met at a museum while trying to escape your past, let alone be happily married to her, you would've told them "How the fuck do you know that and please stay away, I have... a boyfriend. I guess."

But now, it seemed so believable. Wednesday was always so relaxed in your arms, your warmth and hers bringing a sort of comfort for the both of you.

You nuzzled your head against the back of her neck, gently moving strands of her hair aside as you pressed soft kisses against her skin, hoping to kick away her tension from the day.

"Stop pouting, Wends," you murmured softly into her skin as you closed your eyes in pure relief.

You hear her scoff, "I am not doing such a humiliating act."

"Oh but you so are." Your grin widening as you pressed another gentle kiss against her nape, "I can hear it from here."

Wednesday let out a sigh, of annoyance? Maybe. But was it tinged with pure adoration and love? Much so. "You don't hear pouts, Y/n."

"When it comes to you, I do and I can."

Silence washed over. This time, you're worried you've teased her that much, she actually got annoyed with you.

"You're awfully quiet. By this time, you're probably threatening to kill me."

"I'm... Sorry." Wednesday whispered, it has an undying tone of tenderness that you don't often see it being expressed through words from her. Slowly, she shifted her body to face yours.

One thing is for certain: She was still so terrifyingly bewitching if not more. She looked pretty in every way possible, it's hard to even believe, it left you in awe.

You feel her gaze darting on your eyes and then drifting down to your lips, hesitating even. It was ridiculous, in the most adorable way possible there is for an Addams like her.

"May I kiss you?"

"You know you're always welcome. It's pointless to ask."

She was the first to reach out, her hand finding it's way to the curve of your cheek, her touch gentle than ever as she traced the line of your jaw as if she was memorizing every feature of yours.

You cupped her face in reciprocation, leaning in closer to where your lips were just hovering inches away from hers. Then, you closed the space between the both of you.

You pulled away, your eyes meeting hers with a soft smile. It was impossible to think that this woman held your heart in her hands like it was nothing.

"Have I ever told you that you're pretty?" you whispered, letting your hands fall to her waist and pulled her close.

"Ever since you've met me."

“You know, I’m surprised you even remember our first meeting.”

“Oh, how could I ever forget my lover?”

You laughed, a symphony that always gets Wednesday to have a slight tug in her lips. “Stop being so romantic. You are a grown woman with a daughter.”

You continued to stare into her eyes as you drape the rest of the blanket for the both for you. "It's hard to think you're the first one to fall in love and not me."

"It's hard to think of anything when you're here with me, te amo." Wednesday replied, her gaze softening almost immediately.

You sighed. "You know I love you, right?"

Wednesday blinked. "I always will."

You smiled.

And Wednesday smiled back.

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a/n: this was longer than i thought. i yap too much in stories i fear

#wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x gnreader #wednesday addams x gn!reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x female reader

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yigashimei · 3 months

Text

Alright here is another one, sorry for late posting but here it is Zoya x fem! reader

Zoya

It was supposed to be a one night stand only, but things took a different turn, maybe for the good or not you are just about to find out

Zoya who was only looking for someone to entertain her things turned out to be much more different that what she had anticipated

Meeting you was something people may call 'right person, wrong time' it could potentially change your life but you did not back down

So what happens when you meet your one night stand again in the right time and place

Warnings⚠️: A bit of Angst

It could be destiny trying to kill you or worst you thought it may be someone who just came here looking for fun but turned out to be someone very dangerous

But seeing her again felt amazing even if she was part of a dangerous group, your first instinct was to run and hide but seeing her with them you just went and froze in place

"Where is your boss?" the guy big and tall standing beside her said, his voice holds authority "Our boss wants to talk to him, get him here quick" he continued

"P-please wait a moment, I shall call t-the boss and inform him of y-your arrival and request" the man on the front desk said, you learned his name to be Gin when he approached you months ago

" For the time being, p-please make yourself at home, relax a-and just tell Jane here of what you want to eat and d-drink" his timid voice was even showing his fear in which, Zoya their boss gave him a side glance

Jane went and replaced Gin at the front desk while he went and told his boss of what happened and who has come "My name is Jane and this way to one of the holding room where you can wait for our boss, please follow me" she said while leading them to the room

They were about to pass you so with quick reflexes you turned to the door behind you and went inside before they could see you (more like before she could see you)

Before passing the door that separates you from the gang Zoya stops, looking at the door feeling a bit of hope that what she saw was you

Turns out she saw a glimpse of you before you run and hide, she wasn't sure it was you but she will find out

Continuing their walk Jane calls out to someone to get food and drinks while they wait "The boss will be a bit late due to a meeting he is having, due to this you are free to have fun with some of our clients best pick, I shall send them in and you may pick who you wish to have"

After saying those words, a line of beautiful and jaw dropping women walk in and start to look at the people inside, the men of the group who were either not married or have a girlfriend chose the women they wish to have for the night

But the leader of the group stood up and walked towards the person who led them here "I want someone else, someone who is not here, her name is Y/N" the girls eyes went wide, seeing that this person knows their best worker yet, but she knows that the girl is currently finishing up with someone else and cannot come here

"I am sorry for she is currently unavailable due to someone already booking up an appointment with her, she should be finished soon so if you wish I can go get her once her job is done" Jane explained after seeing the frown on the woman's face

"Good, get her here quickly, I want to talk with her" she said before returning to her seat and with a quick breath Jane excused herself to get you

The truth was you weren't in an appointment at the moment you just said that to her in hopes that if Zoya ever asked Jane could say that you were busy and would not be free in the next few hours, but due to Jane's fear of the woman she had no choice but to fetch you and drag you to the feared woman

"Y/N! Open up! I need you now!" Jane shouted while banging outside of a room where you were she presumed you would be and to her surprise you were there behind the door

"What is it Jane? Didn't I tell you I am busy? Or did you just not hear me?" you asked while pulling on the cloth that's barely covering your bare shoulder

"That woman downstairs is looking for you, the leader of the gang that came here" she said while putting her hands on her hips looking at the girl in front of her "Then tell her I am busy Jane, I thought you already knew that?" Jane frustrated took hold of your wrist and started to pull you towards the end of the hallway where the stairs are

"I did tell her, but she insisted that she needs to see you, so I am sorry if you don't like it,but our job is to listen to the boss and the boss said to treat them good especially their boss the woman who was looking for you" Jane said before stopping infront of the same door where Zoya and her gang was being entertained

"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but we need to listen or else we might end up like Haru and Rei last month for not listening" Jane took hold of your shoulders and started to fix the cloth that was covering you as best as she could to keep the cold air of the night away from your shivering form

"I will be there so don't worry ok? I won't leave you alone, so go inside and know what she wants then you can go back and relax for the rest of the night" she encouraged you before tugging your hand to go inside with her

"Let's go?" she asked turning around to look at you once more "Let's go" you replied more confident than before

Jane signals you to stay just beside the bar and will call you once she has told Zoya of your arrival, doing as you were told you then proceed to talk with someone you know who is working by the bar

"I knew I would find you here" a voice deep and rough sounded just beside your ear, turning around you are met with the person who you slept with a month before this happens "What's with the look dear? Did you not miss me one bit?" she asked looking as if you put a knife on her heart

"I am extremely hurt by your actions of avoiding me, I thought you would have been happy to see me again" her smile was beautiful, deadly but still beautiful to your eyes

"Come sit with me, I have something to tell you, and I know for a fact that you would like it as much as I would too" pulling you up from the stool she guided you toward where her gang was and made them move so that you could take a seat besides her

Her hand moved from your shoulders to your waist holding you in place beside her, it wasn't tight to hurt but still tight that you couldn't leave her side if you wanted to

"I did as I promised, I will be getting you out of here in no time, so just sit and make yourself look pretty for me while we wait for that so called boss of yours and I can take you back with me" her voice echoed through your ear causing you to shiver a little making her smirk

"What? Miss my voice that much?" Zoya asked her smirk turning to a grin "Don't worry bunny, your in safe hands" then she laughed while you turned beet red from her teasing

A few minutes later Gin returned with the man you called boss, you despised him to the core, he was the reason you were here afterall

"What are a bunch of people like you doing here?!" Your boss shouted "And with my best employee?! Get them out now!" Gin was shivering with the glare that Zoya sent their way while the boss was not paying attention and just kept shouting orders

"We made a deal three weeks ago that I pay you 10million dis coins and then I can get her out of here" your eyes widen that was too much and you know for a fact that this man will not let you go after all you are his top selling, letting you go will be bad for his business

"No way in hell! That bitch is my top selling, take her and my business falls, I don't care about you but I am not giving her to you!" he shouted, you wanted to end this get out of here and just be free, but no, your chained here to this damned place till you die

"Our signed papers said otherwise" he froze, he had forgotten he signed the deal cause he thought she wouldn't be able to do it "I got the money and the paperwork here, so you either cooperate with us properly or I can make you be a remaining tale to this place for all eternity" her voice grew dark along with her eyes

Boss afraid stepped down and left with the money, you were free now, no more of those routine that you have to do, tears stained your cheek taking Zoya by surprise

"Hey, why are you crying?" her voice now smooth and soft to your ears "Don't cry now, I made a promise to get you out of here no matter what, and I am doing that now" her hands wiped the tears flowing from your eyes

"You're staying with me and my gang, so stop crying already, you're free now no one can harm you ever again, not on my watch" she said helping you stand up to get out of the place "C'mon, my girl needs to smile cause that's what I need to brighten up my day" her words made you beet red and your heard pounding loud

"What are you talking about? I am not your girl" she merely laughed and kissed your cheek with a grin "That's not what you said to me a month ago" she retorted back making you smile some more

"Let's go and I promise you no one will lay a hand on you ever again, I swear on my name" her smile was contagious that it made you smile too "I will take good care of you don't worry, you are in safe hands"

Maybe meeting her can be considered as 'right person, right time' afterall she saved you from that hell hole

Well whatever happens now is just a fate guiding your way, and you are extremely grateful that fate guided you to your lover

#Mei Stories #PTN #Path To Nowhere #Zoya #Reader #Zoya x Reader

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halemerry · 8 months

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hii first of all, i absolutely love your metas on GO s2! your breakdown of the last few minutes of ep6 was really insightful and i love you for your meta about aziraphale and his role as a protector - it is a very astute look into his character and motivations which not a lot of people acknowledge in their theories/speculation after s2.

more to the point of this ask: this is something i've been mulling over and is the only thing that still doesn't make sense to me in ep6. why is crowley so nonchalant, or at least not noticeably worried, about the metatron showing up to the bookshop (a space he is very protective of) and taking aziraphala away for a talk after aziraphale has already been threatened by micheal? throughout the whole season crowley has been extremely protective over aziraphale and is very much aware of the real danger he is in (re: the book of life). this is also right after crowley has returned from heaven and has learned what the metatron was willing to do to gabriel to ensure 'institutional integrity' and that much bigger plans were afoot. i find it hard to wrap my head around his calm demeanor when the metatron enters the scene and takes aziraphale away, even if it's supposedly for a harmless talk. i wonder if you have any thoughts/speculation about this?

(opps this got too long and rambling). i would love to hear your thought but ofc please don't feel pressured to answer :) love your posts about the season and i look forward to reading more from you. have a lovely day!

Hi!! Thank you so much! This ask has had me by the throat basically since you sent it. It sort of touches on some things I already wanted to write about so forgive me if this spirals a bit.

So in a lot of ways I think this is a question that can have a one word answer. But since I do wanna talk about the way the show gives us this answer I actually want to start with Nina. Specifically I want to start with the thing she tells Crowley as Aziraphale’s off with the Metatron.

“You’re the hard bitten one that can’t trust anyone ever again and Mr. Wherever He Is is the soft one that still believes in magic people being basically good and all that."

I’ve talked a little bit about this line before in my meta about the build up to the Confession here because I think it’s important to view from the perspective of how it preps Crowley for the following conversation he’s about to have. But, aside from that, I think it's really important because it's wrong. Nina is describing herself here, not Crowley. She’s projecting her own issues onto him and Aziraphale in the way that she perceives herself relating to them. Crowley himself is actually the one that calls out her trust issues for what they are explicitly.

Nina doesn’t trust and she sees herself in Crowley far more than Aziraphale both in demeanor and aesthetic so she assumes he doesn’t trust either. But she has it backwards. Because Crowley isn’t hard bitten as much as someone who tries very hard to be perceived as such. And, most importantly in this specific context, Crowley actually trusts quite a bit.

And he nearly always has. Even as far as back as the Starmaker.

Just look at the way that the Starmaker and Aziraphale both talk about interacting with God. Aziraphale is nervous, anxious and pretty much immediately clocks that what the angel that would become Crowley is saying is going to get him into trouble. But the Starmaker? Even upset about the information he’s been given, he remains confident in the fact that it can’t hurt to ask a few questions. He trusts there to be no consequence for expressing an objection. He trusts that his opinion is valued. Even if he ends up wrong here there’s no inclination at all that he thinks his words will be taken inappropriately. And even the Fall itself doesn’t burn this out of him.

We see him trust Aziraphale, the cherub who was supposed to be guarding Eden from things like him, not to smite him on sight. And trusts him enough to not only have a conversation but express his own worries about his own actions. He then approaches Aziraphale like a friend at the Flood and makes no attempt to censor his horror at what is happening there.

Job is the first time we see Crowley act in a way that implies mistrust between them. This is the first time they’ve met since the Flood which I suspect is contributing to his reluctance to be honest with Aziraphale here. They fall into their roles and then very rapidly fall out of them. The fact Azriaphale reaches out to Crowley here is important. As is the moment where Crowley asks Aziraphale if he’s sure. After Aziraphale more or less agrees to be all in something changes. Crowley is surprisingly honest about his view on the world, mostly trusting Aziraphale not to use it against him. He places himself in front of a host of angels, trusting that Aziraphale would not expose him. And then later he’s even more honest, admitting to Aziraphale he’s lonely in an attempt to show solidarity.

The entire Arrangement could not exist without them trusting each other. Crowley’s pushing at Aziraphale’s boundaries is a constant exercise in trusting that Aziraphale will come around eventually - or that he at the very least isn’t about to weaponize the treacherous things Crowley is saying against him. As early as 1601 we see Aziraphale voicing active concern for Crowley's well being. We then see Crowley actively trust Aziraphale with both their safeties in 1941 - whether it’s trusting Azriaphale to save them from the bomb about to drop on them or trusting Aziraphale’s trust in him to not accidentally discorporate him during the bullet catch. They even explicitly talk about their mutual trust in this year during their shades of gray conversation.

During Armageddon Crowley shows up trusting that Aziraphale will help him fix this and once Aziraphale agrees never once seems to consider the idea that Aziraphale would hide anything from him (even when Aziraphale is actively doing so).

He also critically knows that Aziraphale tried to reach God and got himself discorporated as a consequence. And likely specifically knows that Aziraphale talked to the Metatron and came away from that conversation realizing that Heaven would not help him. It's worth noting whether Crowley knows this bit or not that in this conversation Aziraphale not only explicitly questions the Metatron's authority but also uses the conversation to extract information from the Metatron.

Aziraphale leaves this conversation with an active lie to the Metatron and attempts to call Crowley to tell him everything he knew. He then continually chooses Crowley over Heaven. They pick their own side and help stop the world from ending.

And then, all season, Aziraphale keeps proving that the trust Crowley has always had in him is well earned. Aziraphale, even more than Crowley himself, brings up ideas of 'us' and 'our side' and 'our car'.

Aziraphale openly talks negatively of Heaven. Not only does he agree with Crowley's disbelief that Heaven managed to stay in charge sending people like Muriel down, but he even goes a step further, implying that they perhaps never had control over earth in that way.

He also, most critically, immediately and without hesitation, tries to turn down the Metatron's offer to even have a conversation. Aziraphale, who has also just brought a group of archangels to order, reaffirms his lack of interest in Heaven right then and there in front of Crowley. Right when the Metatron has reaffirmed the threat of the Book of Life is out of play.

Crowley trusts Aziraphale. He always has. And more than ever lately Aziraphale has given him proof that he doesn't have to worry about where he allegiances lay.

But. It's also worth noting. I don't think Crowley is as chill as he maybe seems like he is. Yes, he's sprawled out and speaking casually here, but to some degree this is a bit of posturing. He's playing it cool and also not encroaching on the control Aziraphale has managed to wrangle on this situation. But he also doesn't just let them wander off either. As soon as they hit the door, Crowley is out of the chair and walking to the front of the shop to watch them leave through the window. He's keeping tabs as they walk away.

He then banishes Muriel and promptly starts to clean. Now I'm always a little wary to mix Book and Show canon, but I do think his cleaning of the bookshop (as well as him carrying around stacks of books while babysitting Jim) are manifestations of Book!Crowley's tendency to want to stress clean. He's keeping himself busy and gets done too quickly then promptly glances at his watch before throwing himself into the chair with a frustrated noise. He's anxious and stressed the entire time Aziraphale is out of his line of sight.

In other words, Crowley's not actually as calm as he's presenting himself to be. He's trying to take that nervous energy out in a way that doesn't conflict with giving Aziraphale agency. Because he trusts his angel. And that in part is why it hits him so hard when it all blows up in his face.

#good omens #crowley #good omens meta #good omens spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #answers #oh yeah this got waaaay long #oops

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hellcat8908 · 2 months

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hello! I'm not sure if you're taking requests right now but if you are, could I ask for a fic where Azriel had a terrible day and he takes out his frustration by yelling at the reader? Bonus points if the reader was excited and happy about something and wanted to tell him but he snaps at her before she can.

He's never done this before ofc, he loves and adores her so she just quietly resigns and apologizes through the tears although it's not her fault.

Begging for some comfort at the end because your angst fics always- AND I MEAN ALWAYS- destroy me beyond repair 😭💙

Hopefully this is along the lines of what you had in mind. 💜

Warnings: Angst, Language, Ass Azriel, Fluff, Implied Smut

You had hung the self-portrait of you wearing Azriel's favorite lingerie on the bedroom wall. Feyre had been teaching you to paint over the last few months, and you finally felt confident in your ability. You were excited to show Azriel once he got home, which should be any minute. You made sure the canvas was straight before going downstairs to wait for him. The minutes ticked by, and your excitement grew until finally the front door opened. In walked a less than thrilled Azriel.

"Hey, love. Let me help you with those." You say as you start helping him remove his blades. You accidently drop one, causing him to let out an annoyed sigh. "Sorry, I didn't mean to." You apologize as you pick it up. "So I have something really exciting to share with you." You tell him as he puts his weapons away. "I need a shower." He says, ignoring you as he walks towards the master suite. "That's just it. What I want to share with you is in the bedroom." You say before he turns around to face you.

"Can you please just give me some time to decompress before you start in on whatever this is!" He says through gritted teeth. "Oh, sure. Sorry, love." You say awkwardly. He storms into the bathroom, and moments later, you hear the shower running. You decide to pour a glass of his favorite liquor, bringing it back to the bedroom. Moments later, you hear the shower shut off, and Azriel emerges, pulling a shirt over his head. You offer him the glass, watching him become more agitated. "I'm going to meet Rhys and Cassian for drinks." He says.

"Oh, ok. Do you have time to see-" You start to say but are interrupted by Azriel's outburst. "Why is it so hard for you to understand that I'm not interested in whatever trivial thing you have to share with me?! Do you know how draining it is to come home after a long day to you bombarding me with meaningless bits of your day?! Maybe you should actually do something meaningful with your time and make friends so you'll have someone else to bother besides me!!" "You're right, I should give you time to unwind after work. I'm sorry. Go have fun with Rhys and Cass." You manage to say as your eyes start to water and your lip quivers.

You walk out of the room before he can notice and make your way to the living room and curl up with your book, waiting for Azriel to leave. Moments later, he walks out the door without even telling you bye. Your heart cracks as his words play over in your head, again and again. Tears fall from your eyes as you pull your knees to your chest. As you replay it, your sadness turns into anger. You grab one of his daggers from the case and make your way into the bedroom. You pull the canvas off the wall, telling yourself he doesn't deserve it.

The sharp edge of the dagger easily cuts through the canvas as you destroy it. Your anger is lessening with each cut through your painting. Once your anger had faded, you left the painting shredded on the floor. You replace the dagger in the case and decide to shower and then go to bed. After stepping out of your hot shower and dressing in pajamas, you make your way to the guest bedroom and lock the door. You curl up under the blankets before crying yourself to sleep over the pain lingering in your chest.

Azriel quickly finds Rhys and Cassian at Rita's. He grabs a drink from the bar before joining them, pulling up third chair. "Surprised to see you here." Cassian says. "I had a shit day and wanted to loosen up." He answers. "Just figured you'd be gome with y/n tonight." Rhys says cautiously. "My time doesn't revolve around her. I needed a night out, but now, unless you too knock this off, I'll go enjoy the night somewhere else." Azriel says, annoyed that he's even talking about you right now. "Didn't realize you were going to be so pissy, considering the circumstances." Cassian says.

"What circumstances? I came home from a shit day, and right away, y/n was hounding me about something, and I needed time to decompress, so I showered and came here." Azriel says, confused. "So she didn't give you her surprise?" Rhys asks. "No, we got into an argument, and I left. She was reading a book when I left, I think. I wasn't really paying attention." Azriel says. Rhys and Cassian share a look as they take another drink each. "What do you know that I don't?" Azriel says. "Nothing, Feyre said that we'd be lucky to see you tonight once you saw what y/n had for you. So, whatever it was, we just assumed you'd cancel on us."

"Whatever it was, I didn't give her a chance to share with me, so here I am. You two aren't helping my mood any." He says as he takes a drink. "Never said we would. I can't wait to see how you fix whatever mess you've created." Cassian says. "I haven't created a mess. It's probably some stupid little thing that she'll forget about in a couple of days, you'll see." Azriel says as he takes a drink. "I wouldn't be too sure about that, Feyre says she's been working on it for months." Rhys says. "Fine, I'll go home. See what it is, then come back and tell you I was right!" Azriel says as he finishes his drink.

Azriel walks home, trying to cool off. He stands in front of the house, surprised to see it dark this early. When he steps inside, he doesn't find you anywhere downstairs. He heads upstairs, wondering if you're in bed already. He opens the door to find the bed empty and made. As he looks around, he sees the ruined canvas on the floor. He leans down to pick it up, trying to piece the rips back together. He lays it on the bed, and once he pieces together, he sees the painting of you in his favorite lingerie. His throat tightens as he heart aches. "What have I done?" He says to himself. He resumes searching for you, noticing the guest bedroom door is shut.

He walks down the hallway and tries to open the door, finding it locked. "Y/n, are you in there?" He asks. As he knocks on the door. He wakes you up, but you refuse to acknowledge him. "Please let me in." He says. You bury yourself under the blankets. "Angel, please. I know you're not sleeping. You never go to bed this early," he says. He you keep ignoring him, hoping he'll leave you be. Eventually, he gives up and goes to bed. You lay there staring at the ceiling, unable to fall back asleep until hours later.

When you finally wake up, you realize you slept in until noon. You pull yourself out of bed and make your way to the kitchen. You're momentarily surprised to see Azriel sitting in the kitchen. You ignore him and start to make yourself some eggs and toast. "Here, let me help you with that." He offers as he gets up. "I'm fine." You tell him. "I would hate for you to bother with my trivial little breakfast." You say as you scramble the eggs. "Angel, I-" You cut him off, "Don't you have work to do?" He seems surprised by your shortness, "I decided to take some time off, I thought maybe we could spend some time together."

You put your eggs on a plate and put cream cheese on your toast, "Bad timing, I have to go find something meaningful to do with my time." You say before walking out to eat on the patio, away from him. You sit outside and enjoy the warmth of the sun as you eat. You start to wonder if you're being too hard on Azriel. You let your mind wander as you finish your breakfast. You take your plate back inside and leave it in the sink. You notice Azriel's not downstairs anymore. You go upstairs to get dressed for the day. You find Azriel sitting on the bed with his fingers in hair as his shadows are restless around him. He doesn't look up at you. You quickly change and make your way out of the house.

You start walking towards Feyre's studio. She's in the middle of a class when you arrive. She nods in acknowledgment as she continues her lesson. You watch as the kids follow her instructions and work on their paintings. You offer to help when she needs, keeping you distracted from Azriel. After the class wraps up and the final child leaves, Feyre turns her full attention to you. "Surprised to see you here, I thought for sure Azriel would keep you in bed after seeing your spicy painting." Your smile faulters, "he might've had he given me the chance to show it to him before I destroyed it." You say sheepishly. "What happened?!" She asks in confusion.

"It would be easier just to show you." You tell her as you drop your shields before replaying last night for her. You put your shields up once she's seen enough. "He really said that?!" She asks as anger lace her words. "Yup." You say popping the p. She hugs you, "I'm so sorry, he doesn't deserve the painting after what he said." "I know, that's why I destroyed it." You assure her. "So what now?" She asks. "Well, he has tried everything but actually apologizing to me." You say. "If you need anything, just let me know." She says. "Thanks," you say. "I just think I needed some time away to think." You say as you clean up the remaining paint supplies.

After spending some time catching up with Feyre, you decide to head home. You walk in and notice smoke coming from the kitchen. You rush into the room and find Azriel trying to cook. One of the pans on the stove is on fire as you grab it and toss it in the sink, turning the faucet on. Steam fills the room as the flames are extinguished. You look at Azriel and can't contain your laughter at what a mess he looks like. His face is smudged with various ingredients, and his hair is a mess like he's been pulling on it or repeatedly running his fingers through it. "What are you doing?" You ask between laughs.

"I was trying to cook you dinner, but it seems I'm not very good at it." He says as he opens the windows and patio door to clear out the steam and smoke. "So it would seem," you reply with a smile. "So why were you trying to burn down the house with dinner?" You ask. "I was hoping to surprise you with dinner and apologize for yesterday." He says sheepishly. "Well, you definitely surprised me with dinner." You tease him. "I know, how about I order take out and we can talk?" He offers. "I'd like that," you say softly.

Once dinner arrives, you sit at the table with Azriel sitting across from you. You both eat in silence as neither of you know where to start. Finally, Azriel breaks the silence, "I'm deeply sorry that I took out my anger on you yesterday. What I said was awful and wrong. Nothing about you is trivial, and your life has plenty of meaning." You set your fork down and give him your undivided attention, "Did you mean anything you said yesterday?" He runs his fingers through his hair, "There are days where it would be nice if you'd give me some time to decompress and unwind. I know yelling at you about it yesterday was the complete opposite of how I should've approached the topic. Somedays are more taxing than others, and some time to get my head right would be appreciated." He says, looking embarrassed.

You stand up from the table and move to sit beside him, "I should've been better about reading the signs to how bad your day was. I was just blinded by my excitement. After you told me you needed to decompress, I still pushed with my excitement instead of giving you what you asked for." He gently takes your hands in his and lovingly strokes the backs of them with his thumbs, "Angel, after seeing your painting, I can't blame you for being excited. You did such an amazing job, and I know you've been working hard on it. I'm sorry I hurt you enough to destroy it." You reach out and cradle the side of his face in your hand, "I'm sorry I pushed you and forced you to lash out." His leans into your touch, relishing in your warmth.

"I'm glad we finally talked. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay mad at you?" You say with a laugh trying to lighten the mood. "Probably as hard as it is to stay mad at you." He says in return. "Especially this morning." You say with a smile. "I meant what I said about taking some time off to spend some time together." He says. "Well, how about we start by cleaning up the kitchen." You say as you start gathering the take out containers and disposing of the empty ones. "I'll clean it up. After all, I'm the one who made the mess." He says as he moves to gather supplies. "I'll help so we'll be done faster and can make up more." You say teasing him.

Before you start cleaning, you grab the symphonia that Azriel bought for you. You let it play while you start cleaning. Azriel cleans the stove as you focus on the dishes. Your hips gently sway to the music as you start drying. Azriel notices you dancing and admires you while he finishes wiping off the counters. You feel his hands on your hips as he gently pulls you against him, swaying with you. "I've missed this," you say softly. "Me too." He responds. He continues to hold you as you dance to the soft melody.

You turn in his arms, your fingers in his hair pulling him in for a kiss. He pours all of his emotions for you into the bruising kiss and leaves you speechless. You notice the heat pooling in his eyes before trailing kisses down his jaw to his neck. Gently kissing and nipping the sensitive skin, causing his grip on you to tighten. "Angel....fuck...you know....I love....when you do....that," he says as he gets lost in the feeling. "Why don't you take me upstairs so we can properly make up," you say barely audibly. His hands move to your thighs as he picks you up and starts carrying you upstairs, "you read my mind, angel."

#acotar #batboys #sarah j maas #acotar fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar angst #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger

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yourheart-inmyhands · 5 months

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I’m here to add onto the idea/request of a previous fic with the archons with a reader who is a fallen god/archon. So instead of reader being banished or overthrown like how the archons may think.. turns out reader/old text books were keeping something from them. Reader faked their death (like another certain archon *cough* *cough* zhongli) and when pressed into why they faked their death. All that reader says is ‘I fell in love with a human centuries ago yada yada and gave up some of my powers and status’ yeah turns out they’ve been human for a couple hundred years and still held onto their god like powers and life span😭. So reader is all like ‘I can be an archon if I do desire again. BUT I grew used to living as a human and I’ve gotten used to you 🫶’ (totally not because they don’t want to resume their duties and explain to their citizens why they were “dead” for a couple centuries)

hi i only did venti and zhongli for this because i'm trying to cut back to 2-3 characters per post so if you want to see the other two feel free to requests them! i'll be sure to attend to it quickly since i technically shorted you on this one, which i apologize for, i hope you still enjoy it :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, mentions of implied violence, mentions of nations being destroyed, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Venti feels jealous at first, you had loved someone else? But he quickly gets over it, focusing on the fact that you were in fact, technically an Archon. He couldn’t guess which one you were, so you’d have to tell him, but he’d be fascinated to hear about the stories of who your people used to be. It’s pretty clear that wherever you used to is no longer an existing place, the Archon war having wiped out any nation and their God that could not hold themself up against the powerful beings. Venti feels a sick satisfaction at the idea that he may have been responsible for destroying your previous region, he thinks it’s funny.

Venti listens as you tell of your previous home, your people and their land, your first love. He doesn’t care to think of who your first love was, praising the fact that they were dead right now and he was alive and here with you. He tries to remember back to the Archon War, trying to think of who had been responsible for wiping out your nation. It was a long time ago and with many smaller gods culled so that the strongest seven could remain in control. Venti hopes it was him who had the pleasure of destroying your lands, he thinks it would be a cute little coincidence that he had destroyed your people whilst you pretended to be mortal and ran around with a human man. He tells you that you don’t need to return to Archon status, that no one was waiting for you, and if you weren’t careful one of the others might step out of line and execute you. He would never let it happen, but he uses it as a scare tactic, wanting to keep you weaker and more human, below him.

Yandere!Zhongli would find it curious, his extensive memory bringing back the exact playthrough of what had happened back then. He remembers hearing of a lesser god passing, he remembers smiling, taking advantage of your ‘passing’ back then to overtake your land. He doesn’t bring it up to you, not wanting to tarnish his perfect image of himself in your mind.

It was kind of sickening, that Zhongli could remember way back, back when he still went by Morax, back when killing off weaker gods was something more commonplace. You had passed mysteriously, leaving behind a godless nation with no one to protect it. And Morax was all for having the upper hand. He didn’t bring it up as you reminisced about your days in power, contemplating about returning. “Who left is there to return to? In this day and age you couldn’t gather a following without it being seen as a declaration of war to one of the currently throned seven, me included.” It’s a subtle way of putting it but Zhongli made it clear that it was best you continued to lay low, lest physical action need be taken, Zhongli included. The man much preferred that you say weaker and below him on the food chain, in your place, where he could easily assert his control over you.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #venti x reader #venti x male reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere venti x male reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x male reader #yandere venti #yandere zhongli #yandere genshin

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i-am-a-l0st-gh0st · 4 months

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Please kindly consider this Wriothesley request: You are the newest prisoner in the Fortress of Meropide; framed by your ex-husband for a crime since he wants your money to marry his new lover.

Determined to clear your name upon you served your time, you strive to be a model prisoner throughout your sentence.

Wriothesley finds himself intrigued by you, a minor Fontaine noble sentenced to his domain. Through his information network, he not only uncovers numerous holes to your case, he also finds out that your former husband is part of a conspiracy to bring disgrace to your family. Two weeks later, he summons you to his office and sets out his plan to have your former husband and his co-conspirators brought to justice.

Please also kindly take as long as you need with this request; I have no qualms in waiting. Furthermore, by no means feel obligated to prioritize this request over your other requests.

We listen to a lotta true crime- Wrio x Gn!reader

But it's alright, she'll be fine t/w- prison, Wriothesley flirts(?) with you summary- as shown above A/n- I need feedback on some of my works or this one, just moment some things I do well or need to work on. I do want to write a book one day and hopefully getting this feedback will help! thanks in advance. Also taglist as been updated! Part 2, Part 3

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The fortress of Meropide was surprisingly warmer than above ground. You thought it might be a little chilly due to being underwater. It wasn’t hard to get used to and if it was you’d have to suck it up. This was your home for the next 8 years, or maybe longer.

Walking towards the registration desk felt like a walk to your death. You were a Fontaine noble and it was rare to see someone like you in a place like this. Once your papers were signed, a strongly built man came towards you. His black hair swayed even if there was no wind, the grey streak fitting in perfectly. Scars came just above his shirt, with a loosely tied tie. He was a rather stunning man, and most would fall for him instantly.

“Ah, you must y/n. The Fontaine noble, I've been waiting for your arrival.” He flashed a smile that made your cheeks turn slightly red.

“Yes, that is me. You are?”

“Wriothesley, the duke of Meroipide.”

You tensed up at his words, you didn’t know this was the duke. His gaze was warm and made you feel like you were safe, despite being in prison. The way his eyes were soft but also pierced yours, the way his scars stood out but also blended in. He just seemed perfect. The silence continued for a while until Wriothesley spoke up.

“Y/n, may I speak to you, privately.” His face showed little emotion.

“Sure.” You tried to sound calm but felt your voice breaking.

The pair of you walked towards the duke's office. The double opened which led to a dimly lit room with a small winding staircase. Wriothesley led you up the stairs where he did his work. Four bookshelves lined the back walls and a wolf crest right in the middle of the wall. Similar to the one on his vest.

“Your case confuses me Y/n.” He began to speak. “You were a Fontaine noble, you had everything you needed but why would you try and kill your husband?”

“Sir, you have to believe me, I didn’t do it.”

“I need more evidence before I pick a side. As of now, you’re still guilty, but maybe you can tell me everything about the day of the ‘murder’.”

You began to tell him about the day of the murder. You were out all day with some friends and had alibis to prove that, once you got home the police were talking to your husband. Then arrested you. You went to court a week later and the judge ruled you as guilty and now you were here.

Wriothesley nodded along taking in all the information and occasionally writing stuff down. He did have a report on you, but from what you gave it seemed inaccurate. There were a few holes in your case such as no murder weapon and no motive. Your husband was a lot richer than you and may have used that against you.

“Its starting to get late, we can continue this tomorrow.”

“Oh alright, thank you sir.”

He walked you too your dormitory, it wasn’t small but it was decently sized, cosy enough for you.

“Don’t think just because your a noble your getting special treatment. Your just like the rest of us.”

“I didn’t think i would sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir, it makes me feel old.”

“Oh sorry.”

“You know, I’ve taken quite a liking to you y/n.” He quickly turned the other way, probably walking back to his office. He left you too stunned to speak.

Taglist

@pandragonsoul

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #gn reader #fluff #genshin fluff #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley oneshot #wriothesly #wriothesley #wrio

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absurdthirst · 3 months

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Unexpectedly Reunited {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: No Outbreak AU, cheating, infidelity, surprise reunions, flirting, mentions of loss of a child, seemingly unrequited love, past crushes, abandonment, fingering, vaginal sex, rougher sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), cum eating, feelings, miscommunication, angst, degrading comments

Comments: Running away to the Cape, you find someone you had never expected to see again. Joel Miller. The blast from the past manages to heal your broken heart and you learn where life has taken him to bring him here.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

"You motherfucker!" You yell at your boyfriend who is currently buried inside of the co-worker he told you to not worry about despite you discovering him in your bed after you decided to surprise him with lunch since he works at home. He scrambles, pulling out of Sienna and you shake your head, "it's over. Get your shit out of my apartment. Today." You shriek and he covers himself up with the blanket you got from your mom for your birthday.

"Baby please. Let me just-" He tries to explain but you cut him off.

"Today, Jason. Today!" You yell, spinning on your heel and you rush out of your apartment with tears in your eyes. You sob as you get into your car, the lunch abandoned in the kitchen and you're no longer hungry. You sit there for hours, watching from afar as Jason moves his stuff from your place and you call your mom to tell her what happened.

"I always told you he was a piece of shit, baby. He's an asshole. You're better off without him. Better to find this out now instead of later." She says softly. "Your aunt has that place on the Cape and she's in Italy for the next two weeks. Why don't you go there? Go relax and get out of town. Take time to get yourself together." She suggests.

The Cape, the idea has a certain appeal. Texas is currently hot, too hot, and you don’t want to be anywhere near your old group of friends and acquaintances. People that know Jason. People that might pity you, or secretly approve of him cheating on you. You imagine walking along the beach and letting the salty air seep into your skin. Maybe read a few books in a lounger and find some bar where you can just have a few drinks. Or, the house is nice, maybe you will just sit out on the deck and drink wine. “I guess. If I leave now, I could be there late tomorrow. Are you sure she won’t mind?”

Your mom snorts through the line and you can imagine her face. “Of course not. Get your bag packed and get on the road. The key is in a little box on the garage door. Combination to open it is 9-26-13.”

You sigh, watching as Jason closes the truck of the car with the last of his stuff. “Thanks mom, I’ll be on the road in twenty minutes. I don’t want to spend a night in that bed. I’m going to have to order another one.”

When you arrive at your aunt’s house; you are exhausted and waste no time showering and getting into bed. The emotional drain of the past 36 hours is too much and you take a nap. When you wake up, it’s late and you have some of the snacks you brought with you while on the road. You’ll go food shopping tomorrow. You eventually fall back asleep, eager to explore tomorrow which comes far too soon when you’re woken up by drilling. You startle awake, checking the clock to see it’s 7:30 am and you whine, rubbing your eyes as you shuffle out of the bed, ready to reprimand the asshole who is drilling next door.

“Goddamn header.” Joel grunts out a curse, taking his hand off the hammer drill he had been using to wipe the sweat that is rolling into his eyes. “Send me some fuckin’ lumber that’s straight and I’ll fix the goddamn thing.” High up on the scaffolding, he’s cursing everyone from the lumber distributor to himself for taking this job. It’s been a shit show and it doesn’t seem like anything is going to go his way today.

You wrap your robe around yourself and huff as you stomp outside, raising your hand to cover your eyes from the early morning sun as you look up at the scaffolding. “Excuse me!” You yell and Joel continues drilling. “Excuse me!” You yell again and the drilling continues. “Fuck me!” You scream and the drilling stops.

“That’s a mighty nice offer darlin’ but I barely know you.” Joel jokes as he removes his headset.

“Why the hell are you drilling at this time in the morning?” You yell at him and he sets the drill down so he can climb down the scaffolding to talk to you. You wait, tapping your foot impatiently.

“I was hired to do this job. I have a permit. I am starting early to avoid the rain this afternoon. Not that I have to explain myself to - wait…do I know you?” Joel asks, frowning as he removes his sunglasses to get a better look at you.

When it dawns on him who you are, his eyes widen and he murmurs your name. Never expecting to see you again. “Holy shit. What are you doing on the east coast?” He asks when he can speak again. The last time he had seen you was at his wedding. After that day, you had just….ghosted him, making him feel like your friendship had meant nothing.

As soon as he says your name you recognize him. “Joel? Joel Miller?” You gasp in shock. It’s been a while since you’ve seen the man that was your teenage crush. He was your next door neighbor and a lot older than you but you always had such a massive crush on him. You became friends after you got back from college to live with your parents again and that’s when you truly fell in love with him. Then he met Helen and you knew he would never feel the same way. Resigned to being his friend, you supported him but always secretly hoped he’d realize what was right in front of him. He didn’t and you ended up leaving town after watching him marry Helen on a beautiful summer day. He’s just as handsome. Shit, just as sexy. “I- this is my aunt’s house. You know the one who is a journalist.” You explain, “I- I came here to escape the Texas heat.” You lie, “what the hell are you doing here?” You ask, genuinely curious how a typical Texan like Joel is in the northeast.

Joel’s expression shutters, his eyes flattening slightly and he grunts. “Work.” He lies, having sensed you are lying too. You have puffy eyes, like you’ve been spending a lot of time crying, though you’re still just as beautiful as the last time he saw you. “Like I’m tryin’ to do now. But it’s a bitch and-“ he twists his neck towards the dark clouds rolling in from the west. “I want to get this sealed up before the rain starts.”

You nod, “I understand. Sorry for yelling. I just got in last night from Texas and I’m exhausted from driving nonstop. I didn’t expect the work to be done so early. I’m awake now, so carry on. I’m gonna get some coffee. Anywhere local you’d recommend?” You ask when his eyes meet yours once more and you are taken back by how handsome he is. Your memories did him no justice.

He feels bad for being rude, sighing slightly and wiping his forehead again. “Two blocks over there’s a dinner called The Fungus Among Us.” He tells you with a grin. “Vegan place, really into mushrooms, but they have great coffee. You just have to use their non-dairy creamers.”

The last person you expected to frequent a vegan cafe is Joel who used to enjoy platefuls of barbecue at the family cookouts back when you were younger and you chuckle, “you gone vegan on me?” You ask and he shakes his head, “no. Still love some ribs but I can appreciate good coffee.” You hum and he shrugs. “I’m gonna go get changed. You want me to bring you a coffee back?” You offer, wanting to make up for being rude.m

“I’m good.” He looks up towards the sky again. “Too fuckin’ hot for coffee up here.” He looks back down and smirks slightly. “Hurry up before you get wet. New England summer showers are no joke.”

You nod, “I’ll be fast. I, uh, I’ll see you around. It was great to see you again.” You wave awkwardly at him as he flips his sunglasses back down. You aren’t sure if he’s married or has kids or what his situation is so you don’t want to overstep by suggesting a reunion of some kind.

“See you around, sweetheart.” Joel says and you offer him a smile, “bye Joel.” You say as you head back into your aunts house to get ready.

He won’t deny that he watches you when you re-emerge from the large cottage next door, or as you walk down the street. His eyes follow you as he takes what he tells himself is a five minute break. He was rude to you. And the Joel you had known wouldn’t have done that. He sighs, twisting around and trying to pop his aching back before he glances at the cloud again. They are rolling in fast and he only has about twenty minutes to finish up for the day. “Shit, Miller, get to work.”

You return back with your coffee - a good recommendation from Joel - and you’re disappointed when you don’t see him working. You feel the droplets of rain and decide to have your coffee then go grocery shopping after the rain has come and gone.

****

The drilling happens a little later around 8:45am the next morning and you look out of the bathroom window to see Joel working on the house. He lifts his shirt up to wipe his face and you can’t deny that your jaw drops. He’s still as sexy as you ever thought he was but then you remind yourself that he’s married and you shake your head to clear your lust. You decide to walk to the coffee shop again and head outside just as Joel jumps from the last section of scaffolding. “Sure I can’t get you a coffee?” You ask him, “I’m gonna head over there now.”

“I think I owe you a drink, since I was kind of an ass yesterday.” Joel admits, shuffling slightly and wiping his hands on a work rag before tossing it down. “I’ve got a few minutes, can walk over there with you, if you want?” He leaves it up to you, knowing that you might not want to do anything more than be nice.

You offer him a smile, “I’d like that.” You say and he nods, grabbing his keys and he yells out to his partner to keep an eye on things. You walk along with him and you’re quiet for a minute or so before you ask “so how long have you lived here?”

It takes Joel a moment to think back and he sighs. “Fuck.” He snorts. “Nearly ten years? Hard to think about but I’ve not even seen you in nearly twenty-five.” He wants to ask why you just stopped talking to him and coming around after he had married Helen. He hadn’t even been able to tell you that she had been a few months pregnant because his wife had wanted to keep it silent until after the first trimester.

"Has it really been that long?" You shake your head, "I- wow. It feels like yesterday you were just getting married. Is Helen enjoying it here?" You ask, not noticing his lack of wedding band but you haven't really had a chance to look at his hands.

Joel snorts. “Helen left me when-” He breaks off and there’s that familiar ache in his chest at the thought of Sarah. “A year after we got married. Don’t know where she’s at, don’t really care, if I’m honest.” She had abandoned her child, something that he could never understand or accept. “What about you? Sure you’re married and happy, husband on a business trip and you decided to take a vacation?”

It’s your turn to snort, “no. No. I, uh, I haven’t been married. I - I walked in on my boyfriend fucking his coworker in my apartment so I told him to pack his shit and be gone by the time I get back. Decided to take a break to avoid the pity looks and whispers around town.” You confess, glancing down the street as you adjust your purse on your shoulder.

“Wow. You must have been with a real douche bag.” Joel scoffs. “I can’t believe anyone would be stupid enough to cheat on you. There’s no fucking way he’s right in the head.” He shakes his head and huffs. “Idiot. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear that. But that bastard didn’t deserve you.”

You offer him a self deprecating smile. “I appreciate you being pissed for me. I pretty much cried the entire way to the Cape. I- I thought he was gonna propose. I’m an idiot. I believed all his lies and I- I thought he was going to be the one.” You shake your head at your own stupidity. “Well, at least someone to spend the rest of my life with.”

“You’ll find someone better.” He predicts. “Someone who cheats on you isn’t worth your time. Or your tears.” Joel looks over at you and gives you a small smile. “Maybe you’ll find one of those romance story type guys here on the Cape.”

You chuckle, “who is already married or has more skeletons in his closet than a haunted house. I think I’ll accept the reality that I’m destined to be alone and I think I’m okay with that. It’s not too bad. Getting to do whatever you want without answering to anyone. Romance is - it’s just something they sell to give people hope.” You confess with a sigh, “I’ll stick to reading about it in novels.” You chuckle softly and turn into the coffee shop, about to open the door but Joel does a little jog to open it before you can. “Don’t lose hope. You never know who’s gonna appear.” He says and you bite your lip as you brush past him, knowing he’s the man you’ve always envisioned when you read those romance novels.

The inside of the cafe is trendy, quirky. It seems like a place where Joel would look completely out of place with his buttoned up shirt and jeans, heavy boots. No one has given him shit about it and been friendly, even though he stays away from a lot of their menu. “Have you tried the muffins? They are pretty good.”

You shake your head, “no. I had the chia pudding the other day.” You giggle when he wrinkles his nose. “The blueberry muffin sounds good.” You hum, crossing your arms, “and a latte. You seem like a black coffee kind of guy.”

“Only way to drink coffee.” Joel agrees with a smirk. He guides you to a table and pulls out a chair for you. “I know you probably like all those syrups and half pump venti shits.” He rolls his eyes, although he likes the way you sound when you snicker.

“I’m a vanilla girl.” You reveal and Joel raises his eyebrows playfully. “For my coffee order.” You clarify with a smirk and he walks over to the counter to order your drinks and he returns with a blueberry muffin for you. “You didn’t have to pay.” You shake your head and he shrugs, “to make up for the early morning wake up calls.” He explains and You offer him a soft smile, reaching out to touch his hand, “thank you. I- I’ve missed you, you know?”

“You missed me so much you just….disappeared?” Joel asks, wanting to know why. “I tried calling you a couple of times. Wanted you to come out with me and Helen to dinner. You just didn’t ever call me back.”

You sigh, withdrawing your hand. “I…it was complicated.” You glance around the coffee shop, feeling his eyes burn into you. “I couldn’t stay after you…I had to get out of town and figure out what I wanted. I’m sorry I disappeared but it was for the best. You had a new life…a wife. You didn’t need me hanging around.”

It’s not an answer that satisfies him, but from the set of your jaw, you won’t give him a proper explanation. “I- you missed a lot, obviously. I had wanted to tell you that Helen was pregnant. We weren’t announcing it before the ceremony.”

You swallow harshly, not realizing that he’s a father. “Did Helen…you have a - wow. That’s - I didn’t know. No one told me - my parents didn’t tell me anything. I asked them not to.” You finish with a murmur, shifting to sit back and look at Joel just as they call his name to get the coffees.

Joel stands up, happy to go get the drinks and muffins so he doesn’t have to show how that idea upsets him. Why does he care after twenty-five years? He shouldn’t. Bringing the tray over to the table, he sets it down and doles out the items quietly.

You bite your lip as you look at him, he’s broader than ever. He was gorgeous when he was younger and he’s still gorgeous with the grays scattered in his hair. “Is your kid in the Cape or elsewhere?” You ask him, wanting to change the subject.

Joel frowns slightly, looking down at his coffee. “No.” He tells you. “She- she died. Twelve years ago. It’s why I moved here. I couldn’t live in Texas anymore.”

Your brow furrows as you gasp softly. “Oh. Oh Joel. I’m so sorry. I- shit. Me and my big mouth. I’m so sorry. Oh God. That - that’s terrible.” You choke, squeezing the coffee cup in your hand as you see the devastation in his eyes.

“It was a long time ago.” The wound is still fresh and if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t even bring it up. But you had never met Sarah, you didn’t know how wonderful she was.

“I’m sorry Joel. I know that doesn’t mean shit when you endure that kind of pain but…I really am sorry.” You say and reach out to squeeze his hand again. “I understand why you left to come here.” You tell him and his dark eyes meet yours, clouded over with the pain of losing a child. “Do you…do you maybe want to come over for dinner sometime? Catch up properly? I meant what I said. I’ve missed you.”

His immediate response is to tell you no. That it wasn’t necessary, but he can’t get the words out. “Sure.” He figures it’s a nicety. That you are saying that and then you’ll politely avoid him.

You sip your coffee as he goes quiet. Joel was never one for small talk. “So have you got a wife or girlfriend here?” You ask after a few moments, wondering if that’s why he was hesitant to accept an offer to catch up over dinner.

“No, nothing like that.” He shakes his head, frowning slightly when he remembers Tess. He should have been better to her, but he ran out of time. “Not anymore,” he adds, looking back down at his cup. “So how long are you here?”

"Two weeks. Figured that was enough time for the dust to settle and for that asshole to get his shit out of my apartment." You sigh, looking down at the table before you flick your eyes up to meet his. "I really am sorry we lost touch. All I can say is it's complicated and too much time has passed to dig into it all again."

“Yeah.” Joel just shrugs. “It’s in the past.” He knows he’s changed a lot from the man you used to know. He’s harder, his heart is cold and most times people are wary of him. “People change, move on, whatever.”

You frown at his pessimism and you know he’s changed but he always used to be so playful and fun. Life has been hard for both of you, especially Joel. You finish your muffin and soon you’re walking back to your aunt’s house. “You wanna come for dinner tomorrow?” You offer, not wanting to end this interaction on a spur note.

“Sure.” He finds himself agreeing, not minding your company and he would love a meal he didn’t cook for himself. Or Ellie cooked. “Oh- uh, I should have told you. Can someone come with me?” He asks, not sure if you’d want a kid around.

You are surprised but don't ask who, wondering if he has a friend or something. "Uh, sure. Yeah. That's fine. Any allergies or things they don't like?" You ask, wanting to be sure before you plan what you want to cook.

“Nahhhh.” Joel snorts, shaking his head at the crazy things that Ellie has eaten. “She’ll eat anything. Nearly indestructible stomach, I swear.”

You are curious, barely able to swallow down the inquiries but you manage and offer him a smile, "sounds good. Wanna say seven?" You ask and he nods. You stand on your aunt's driveway and Joel rubs the back of his neck. "I'll see you tomorrow." He says and you rock on your heels, crossing your arms. "See you tomorrow, Joel." You smile and watch for a second as he spins on his heel and makes his way back to the neighbor's house.

****

“So whoooo are we having dinner with?” Joel rolls his eyes and ramps down the urge to bite back with something sarcastic. That would only make the girl more curious about who you are.

“She’s an old friend.” Joel explains, “she’s in town and I thought I might be good to not have to put up with your shit cooking for a night.” He reaches over and pulls on her ponytail, grinning when she scowls and slaps his hand away.

“Hey man, not my fault your cooking tastes like shit. You taught me.”

You wipe down your apron as you watch the water boil for the pasta. The doorbell rings and you take the apron off, making your way over to the door to open it to greet Joel and his mystery guest. You had purposefully avoided looking out of the windows this morning when Joel was working. You are shocked when you see a teenager with Joel, having convinced yourself it was another woman and he was trying to hint at it but you didn't pick it up.

“Woah. She’s a babe!” Ellie’s eyes widen and she sends Joel a smirk. “No wonder you didn’t talk about her. You gotta date, old man? Why the hell are you bringing me with you?”

Joel rolls his eyes and reaches up to smack the back of Ellie’s head. “Behave.” He warns her before apologizing to you. “Sorry. She’s feral. Not a goddamn manner in her body.”

You fluster at the girl's compliment and you look at Joel with a chuckle, "don't worry. I've had worse with my cousins and their kids." You promise and step aside so that he and the kid can enter. You tell her your name as she walks past you and she offers you a grin and tells you her name is Ellie. "Hope you like chicken parm." You hum as you shut the door behind you.

“I love anything that he didn’t cook.” She hooks her thumb over at Joel and smirks. “He thinks heating Chef Boy-r-dee is a good meal.” She tells you, knowing that Joel is shuffling in embarrassment and not caring a lick. She likes to bust his balls.

You chuckle, remembering how hopeless Joel was in the kitchen. He even called you up one night to ask you to rescue the meal he was trying to cook Helen for a date night. It had been hard to help but you would’ve done anything for him back then. Still would if you’re honest. You ask Ellie what she wants to drink when they enter the open plan kitchen. “Damnnn. This is a nice place you got here.” Ellie says and you shake your head, “it’s my aunt’s. I live in Texas.” You explain and Ellie glances at Joel.

“Texas, huh?” She says, raising her eyebrows and Joel ignores her.

“Yeah. Joel and I used to be neighbors.” You explain a little more.

“So you can tell me what he used to be like?” She asks conspiratorially. “Before he became so boring.”

You lean in conspiratorially towards Ellie. “He’s always been boring.” You whisper playfully and Joel rolls his eyes.

Ellie nods, “makes sense.” You chuckle and Joel huffs, biting his lip to smother his smirk.

“Joel has always been a good guy. Grumpy, but he has always done the right thing.” You say, “and he tries to let everyone think he’s a grumpy bastard but he’s actually got a good sense of humor.” You say and Ellie shakes her head, “he doesn’t laugh at my jokes!” She whines and you smirk, “oh he’s laughing. Just on the inside.”

“No, I’m not.” Joel grumps and huffs, trying to hide a smirk. He likes to bust on Ellie as much as she busts on him, just in different ways. If he tries to be too soft with the girl, she will shut down. “Hope it wasn’t too much trouble for dinner. We would have been good with pizza.”

You shake your head, “it’s nice to cook. I am usually so busy with work and my ex…he was a vegan which made it almost impossible to cook what I know but I love cooking. I’ve missed it. Hopefully it’s good.” You say and turn back to the stove to put the pasta on to cook. “You want a soda?” You ask Ellie, knowing Joel will want a beer. The teenager nods and you hand her a soda before handing Joel a bottle of beer. “Go sit at the table. Dinner will be right up.” You say as you set your glass of wine down.

“Ellie and I will clean up.” Joel offers. He might suck in the kitchen, but he knows how to clean up a mess and it wouldn’t be fair to expect you to wait on them. “Sound good?”

“You’re my guests.” You protest but Joel shakes his head, “we can do the dishes.” You sigh, knowing you’re best to not argue, and turn back to the stove. It doesn’t take long for you to set the serving dishes on the table. “Dig in.” You order and Ellie groans, “shit. That looks good.”

“Ellie.” Joel warns softly and you chuckle, “hopefully it tastes good.”

“I'm sure it’s great.” Joel tells you with a quick smile as he cuts into the chicken cutlet. “Thank you, it’s nice to have a good meal.” He admits. Often times it was something from a box or fast food for them. “And did you remember what beer I drink? Or was it a lucky guess?”

You bite your lip and fluster slightly, “I, uh, I remembered.” You confess, having remembered every detail about the man opposite you. Your heart is still thumping when his dark eyes meet yours.

Neither of you notice the way Ellie smirks as she cuts into her chicken. “This is fucking awesome. You’re a great cook. Right, Joel?” Ellie hints at her foster dad.

"Huh?" He's been trying not to make it obvious that he's having a moment with the chicken farm. Looking up, he sees that he's being asked a question. "Yeah, oh yeah, it's delicious." He praises. "I don't know if I've had chicken parm this good in forever." He promises.

Your stomach twists with their praise, pleased they are enjoying it and you dig in yourself, hungry after cooking for most of the afternoon. “So Ellie is your daughter?” You ask Joel and Ellie snorts, “he wishes. I’m just his foster kid. He and my mom were friends and when he found out I was in home after home, he took me in.” Ellie says and you smile, “always knew you were a softie.” You tease and Joel grunts his response.

The truth was more complicated and filled in infinitely more guilt. Joel had gone down a dark path after Sarah had died. He was Ellie's mother's dealer. Giving her the drugs even though she was using more and more and that it could kill her. He had told himself that it wasn't his problem until he had learned about Ellie. He had started avoiding the woman's calls until he learned she had died of an overdose. No other family other than Ellie, it had felt like it was his fault so he had done the work to become the kid's guardian.

You can sense there's more but you don't push. The three of you have small talk, Ellie mainly asking questions about what Joel was like when you knew him back in the day and you explain that you were good friends until he got married and you decided to leave town. "You left? And didn't keep in touch?" Ellie asks with a frown and you tap your fingers on the table, "it was complicated."

Joel snorts and doubts that, but he doesn't voice it. You keep saying it's complicated, but you won't even say more than that to him. Ellie rolls her eyes and sighs. "Just say you love him already. There. Done." She turns to Joel and pitches her voice up slightly. "Joel, I was in love with you so I couldn't stand to see you married." She says, pretending to be you before she looks back over at you with a shake of her head. "Now. Was that hard?"

Your jaw drops slightly as the teenager calls you out and reveals the reason you left within an hour of meeting you. "I, uh, it - um -" You stammer and Joel shakes his head.

"Ellie. Don't be rude." He reprimands her and she waves her hand towards you, "I'm right, aren't I?" She asks and you stand up, grabbing your plate.

"I have dessert. You like chocolate cake?" You ask and grab the teenager's plate.

“Stop being a little shit.” Joel hisses the moment you disappear out of sight. “She doesn’t love me. She’s just getting over a break up.” Ellie’s grin falls and she looks upset over her comments. “And you have to open your big mouth.”

You sigh as you cut into the cake you bought earlier and serve three plates. You carry them back over to the table on the tray and Ellie’s eyes widen as she takes it in. “Holy shit, that looks delicious.” She says and you chuckle, “I didn’t make this. I’m not a good baker.” You confess as you sit back down.

“I doubt that.” Joel tells you. “I’m sure you are a good baker, but Ellie never turns down cake.”

“I never do either.” You wink at Ellie, wanting to lighten the atmosphere and you dig into the cake. After the cake is eaten, Ellie tells you about her school and how she wants to learn to play the guitar. “Joel used to play guitar.” You reveal, remembering how you used to hear him practicing in his bedroom.

“You never told me that.” Ellie sounds downright offended that he had never told her about his musical proclivity.

“Haven’t told you a lot.” He grunts, smirking slightly when she pouts at him.

“But you can teach me, and then I won’t have to pay someone.”

He chuckles and raises a brow at his foster kid. “I’ll take payment in the form of chores being done on time and completely.”

You chuckle and realize that Joel is just as soft as you remember him but he’s covered by a hard exterior…like a piece of candy. Sweet but sour. “Deal.” Ellie says despite knowing she will slack a little bit she hopes Joel will at least teach her the basics. “So are you gonna be seeing Joel again?” Ellie probes and you shrug, “well, he’s working next door so I think it’s inevitable.”

Joel rolls his eyes at the scheming tone of the girl’s voice. “Maybe I should ask you when you are going to see Vanessa again.” He huffs with a small smirk. “You seemed to be really into hanging out with her.”

You lean in a little closer with a smile, “who’s Vanessa?” You ask and Ellie blushes, “she’s, uh, she’s this girl from math and she - she’s really pretty.” Ellie murmurs and you reach out to touch her arm, “then maybe you should tell her that.” You suggest and Ellie rears back and shakes her head. “Oh no. No. I, uh, I don’t know if she likes me.” Ellie confesses and you say, “well, you’ll never know unless you ask.” You suggest softly and Ellie bites her lip until her expression hardens a little, “I could say the same thing to you guys.” She says, looking between you and Joel.

You shake your head, “we are friends. Have always been friends.” You say and don’t notice Joel frown slightly. “Anyway, I, uh, I’m sure you have an early start. Do you want to take the rest of the cake home? I won’t eat all of that.”

“I know the kid will want it.” He won’t admit that he might go to the kitchen in the middle of the night to sneak a piece. “Come on.” He motions towards Ellie. “Let’s get in there and clean up. Show our appreciation for the good meal.”

Ellie, for once, doesn’t groan about doing dishes and you already have most of it in the dishwasher so it’s only the serving plates and plates you ate off of. “It’s okay.” You try to argue but Joel and Ellie already have a well rehearsed wash and dry system. You stand there with your glass of wine and admire Joel.

You had obviously washed as you cooked, so there weren’t as many dishes as when Joel decides he’s gonna actually cook. Once the last one is washed and handed off to Ellie to dry, Joel rinses the rag and starts to wipe down your counters. “Tell you what?” He jokes. “You feed us like that and we’ll do all the dishes every time. Might even do your laundry too.”

You chuckle and hold your hand out towards Joel, “that’s a deal, Miller.” You joke and he squeezes your hand, sending electricity up your arm at his touch and your heart thumps. You stare at him for a moment until Ellie clears her throat and looks between you with a shit eating grin until Joel lets go of your hand. They finish washing up and you hand them the box of cake to take with them when you escort them out of your house “it was great to meet you, Ellie.”

"It was pretty cool to meet you too." Ellie smirks. "I think I'll probably see a lot more of you too." She predicts before shooting out the door. "Thanks for the food!" She shouts as she waves the cake box over her head.

You chuckle when Joel rolls his eyes, “she’s a handful.” He says and you reach up to squeeze his shoulder, “she’s a good kid. And you’re a good man for taking her in.” You say and he leans in to softly kiss your cheek.

“Thanks for dinner, sweetheart. See you around.” He winks at you and you fluster, nodding before you shut the door. Your heart is fluttering, the ghost of his kiss on your cheek and you know that your love for him has never gone away, it’s just been concealed.

****

The next morning, you’re woken up by Joel and his crew again and you sigh, getting ready for the day. When you open the curtains, your jaw drops as you come face to face with Joel working , his shirt looped into his jeans. “Shit.” You hiss, your stomach twisting with arousal as you watch his shoulder muscles move.

Joel sees the curtains opening on the bedroom you are obviously using in your aunt’s house. He looks back down at the board he was nailing into place and smirks. It was hot as hell today and that might have prompted him to take his shirt off. All the while, telling himself that Ellie’s prodding about how much you two obviously liked each other was a bunch of BS. You had been friends. He’s sure he had taken his shirt off around you at some point, so why shouldn’t he be comfortable.

Your mouth is dry as you try to discreetly watch. You hadn’t seen Joel without his shirt off and the muscles moving has you wanting to get back into bed and imagine Joel in it with you. Instead, you force yourself to get ready for the day and brew some coffee. The doorbell rings around mid morning and you brush yourself down as you move to open the door. “Joel. What’s up?” You ask, his shirt still off, he’s covered in some kind of grease, and you swallow harshly. “I hate to ask this but do you think I could use your shower? I got grease all over me from trying to fix my tool. Can I - I’ll be quick.” He asks and you nod, “of course. It’s upstairs to the left.” You say, “I can run your stuff through the washer if you want?” You offer.

“Thanks.” He shoots you a grin. “I appreciate it. This job has been nothing but a pain in my ass, but at least the view is nice.” He tells you, aware that he’s flirting, but he can’t help himself. He’s been thinking about you all day. Wondering what you’ve been doing.

You bite your lip as he grins at you and you aren’t sure if he’s flirting or not. You watch him as he carefully makes his way upstairs after taking off his boots at the door and you try to busy yourself by making some iced tea for when he’s done showering. Logically, you know he doesn’t have a spare set of clothes yet you’re still surprised when he appears with a towel wrapped around his waist and you swear your heart stops. Fuck, he looks gorgeous. You want to lean in and lick the drops of water speeding down his chest and stomach to be absorbed by the towel.

Joel shuffles slightly. “Sorry. I didn’t think about the fact I had nothing to put on.” He admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “And I- I swiped some of your deodorant.” He chuckles awkwardly. “Probably the best I’ve smelled all day.”

“That - That’s okay.” You nod, torn between stepping forward to rip the towel from his body and running to your room to disappear. “I, uh, I made some iced tea if you want some.” Joel nods and you pour him a glass. “I’ll put your things in the washer.” You hold your arms out and take the dirty clothes, quick to walk into the laundry room to put his clothes on to wash.

He hadn’t missed the way your breaking hitched, and he reasons that Ellie was right. You want him. Instead of drinking the tea, he puts it down and quietly follows behind you. Crowding in behind you as you close the lid to start it and smirks when you gasp as you turn around. “Sorry, realized I forgot to give you everything.” He rasps out, reaching for his towel. “Can’t forget that.”

Your eyes widen and you bite your lip to stop the whimper escaping. Joel is naked. In your aunt’s laundry room. You spin around and place the towel in the washer before pressing the button to start it. His hands find your waist and he pushes up against you, “Joel.” You whimper, “I- oh God.” You gasp when he kisses your neck.

“I want you.” He confesses, “you want me, darlin’?” He asks and your knees would buckle if he didn’t have you pressed up against the washer.

“I need you. I’ve wanted you since I met you.” You confess breathlessly.

His hardening cock twitches against your ass and he groans. “That is why you left.” He huffs. “Fuck, I wish I had known.” He squeezes your hips and then slides his hands around so he can unbutton your jeans. “I would have taken you to bed before I met Helen. Always thought you were a pretty thing. Never seemed like you wanted more with me, so I didn’t push.”

You turn your head to kiss his jaw. “I thought you thought of me as the dumb kid next door. Never saw me as the woman I became. I thought you just saw me as a friend. When you told me you were engaged to Helen - I - I couldn’t stick around and watch you be a family.” You confess as he pulls the zipper down and you gasp when he shoves your jeans down your thighs, his hand quickly pushing into your panties to rub your clit. “Joel.” You moan, reaching up to turn his head so you can press your lips against his.

He knows that this will change everything but he’s tired of being alone. Tired of the regrets he has and you have always been one of them. His work rough fingers press and rub your clit while his other hand slides under your shirt and pushes your bra up so he can fondle your tits. “Never thought you were a girl. You aren’t that much younger than me. Hated how much I wanted you. How much I thought about you.”

You gasp when he rubs your clit just right and you grind your hips back against his aching cock. “God. I- I thought about you all the time.” You confess and reach behind you to grip his cock in your hand. “I want you, Joel.” You whimper, needing to feel him inside of you after so many years of wondering what he would feel like.

“Then you’ll get me.” Joel promises. “Right after you cum on my fingers.” He twists his wrist so he can push two thick fingers inside you and rub your clit with his thumb. Groaning and twitching in your hand when your walls squeeze his fingers tight. “I’ll fuck your little pussy right. Make you forget all about that douche bag in Texas. Show you how a man should be treating you.”

His words send a whine up your throat and you squeeze his cock in your grip as his fingers stretch you out. “Oh God. Jo- Joel.” You gasp when his thumb presses harder against your clit. It’s more than you’ve felt in years while having sex and you are grateful for his hand squeezing your breast to keep you upright and pressed against the washer. “Shit. That - it’s so good.” You pant, knowing that Jason never made you feel like this. He never used to finger you until you came, just until you were wet. You’re a little embarrassed when you look back on it later to say that you came astonishingly quick, clamping down on his digits with a moan of his name.

“Good girl.” Joel moans when he feels your body tense and shake. “Fuck, your such a good girl for me. Bet you taste delicious, don’t cha?” He groans, the slickness coating his fingers makes it easier to work you through your orgasm until he feels your knees buckle and you collapse against the washing machine. “Fuck. You needed that, didn’t you. Still want me to fuck you or do you need a cigarette?” He jokes. He’s throbbing in your hand, but if you don’t want to go any farther, he won’t push. He doesn’t want you to regret it or feel like he’s taking advantage of your broken heart.

You squeeze his cock again, "don't you dare stop, Miller. I- I've wanted you for forever. I need you inside of me." You plead breathlessly, pussy still fluttering around his fingers, "please." You add pathetically, needing this even if it's one time.

“I’m so fuckin’ glad you said that.” Joel confesses as he pulls his soaked fingers out of you. “Otherwise I was gonna need to jerk off right now.” He kisses your neck and pushes your feet apart with his own to spread you out. “It’s gonna be quick.” He warns. “Been a long fuckin’ time for me.”

"I don't care. You can cum inside of me." You promise, bracing yourself on the vibrating washer as he positions himself at your entrance and starts to push inside of you. You whine when his cock slips inside of you, already stretching you out. "Fuck. You are so big." You moan, knowing that you've never had anyone this thick inside of you.

Joel groans your name roughly, rolling his hips until they are pressed against your ass and both hands are filled with your tits. “So goddamn tight.” He rasps in your ear, twitching when you clench around him. “Better than my dreams, better than I could have ever imagined. So tight around my dick.”

You reach behind you to tangle your fingers in his damp hair. He starts to move inside of you, a whine escaping your lips as the friction is delicious, and you rest your cheek on the washer. “Soooo gooood.” Your voice vibrates too and Joel chuckles darkly, making you clench around him again.

He moves his hands down to grip your waist, holding tight to you as he braces his legs. Starting to rock into you faster and harder to make your body slam against the machine you are leaning against. “Fuck baby, you’re goddamn perfect.” He grunts out, gritting his teeth. “Touch your pretty little clit while I fuck the shit out of you.”

You cry out in pleasure, your hand shaking as you push it between you and the machine to rub your clit. “Fuck Joel. Joel. Oh shit.” You practically sob and his fingers dig into your flesh, likely leaving bruises you’ll cherish. “Harder.” You demand, wanting to feel him for days after he leaves you.

He growls, deep in his chest and his pace increases. Slamming into you harsh enough that he rocks the machine. Loving how you take him and beg for more, how tight your cunt gets when you spasm around him. “Gonna cum.” He warns, feeling his body starting to tense. “Need you to cum, sweet girl.”

You rub your clit a little faster, wanting to cum before he does and his grunts echo in the laundry room, getting deeper and faster along with his thrusts until you fall apart. A cry rips from your mouth as you clamp down on him, practically shaking against the vibrating machine as you climax around the man you’ve wanted for so long.

As soon as you clench down around him, Joel is lost. The strangled groan pushes out of his throat as he buries his cock just as deep as he can. Painting your walls with hot spurts of his seed while he grinds into you and whimpers your name. Overwhelmed by how perfect you feel around him.

You pant, resting against the washer as Joel twitches inside of you, his lips kissing along the back of your neck. You are speechless. No one has ever fucked you like that. Your legs feel like jello and you know you'd collapse if it wasn't for him keeping you pressed against the machine.

Panting, Joel presses against your back, kissing along your neck as he tries to catch his breath. He’s out of practice, but the way your legs still shake makes him think he did it right. “Fuck.” He chuckles. “We shoulda done that years ago.”

You chuckle softly, "yes but you were married." You snort and Joel caresses your side. "I think I'm gonna need a nap after that." You confess and he smirks against your skin, reluctantly pulling out of you.

“Well, I can’t go back to work with no clothes on.” He reminds you with another chuckle. “Why don’t we take that nap?” He’s already told his crew what to do and he doesn’t want to leave you right now. Caressing your back, he watches his cum start to well up at your little hole, trying to push out.

You smile, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra after he steps back from you and you finally feel like you can stand up. You toss your bra and shirt into the laundry basket along with the rest of your clothes after using your panties to wipe his cum from between your legs. “I need to pee and then we can nap.” You say, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You wanna head upstairs while I pee?” You ask.

“Yeah.” Joel smirks slightly when you wobble as you walk to the hall bathroom and he strides into the kitchen to grab you a bottle of water before heading upstairs to the bedroom you are using. Feeling great and hoping that you enjoyed yourself, he’s gonna have to ask you when you come up.

You struggle to get upstairs but you do it, finding Joel sitting on the edge of the bed, still naked and you admire him for a second. The sun coming through the curtains highlights the gray in his locks and you find yourself falling for him all over again. You shift to lay down on the bed, closing your eyes, “you’ve worn me out, Miller.” You joke playfully.

“You’re worn out?” It’s fucking ridiculous how he wants to touch you again, even though he knows it will be at least half an hour, maybe more before he could get it up again. “And here I was thinking about eating your pussy.” He flips back on the bed beside you. “Guess that’s out.”

You open one eye, “now I didn’t say I was that worn out.” You tease, shifting onto your side and opening both eyes to look at him. “I would happily cum on your tongue if you want to do that.” You murmur, reaching out to caress his chest.

“Figure I owe you that much.” He grunts. “Fucked you over a washing machine. Not exactly the classiest first time.” He shoots you a grin. “Shoulda been in the bed of my truck.” He leans in and presses his lips to your as he rolls you onto your back and covers you with his body. “Wanna find out how you taste. Used to think about it when I had my dick in my hand.”

You reach up to caress his shoulders and back, “the bed of your truck. The stars above while the radio plays. That might’ve been something I dreamed about a lot.” You confess as he kisses along your neck. “I want to suck your cock too. Imagined it so many times. How you’d look, how you’d sound.”

“Fuck.” He groans, imagining it. “You’d look so fucking pretty like that.” He agrees. “But right now, there’s no way I’m gonna get hard, baby. I’m old.”

You scoff, “you’re not old. You just need some time.” You murmur, caressing his back as he slides his hand down your side. “We have time.” You promise softly despite knowing you are on borrowed time in your aunt’s house. “Now…you mentioned something about eating me out?”

He laughs as his tongue slides between your breasts, looking up at you with a grin that makes him feel younger, lighter. “I was telling you that you were going to scream my name.” He boasts, kissing across your belly as he shuffles down the bed to move between your thighs.

You grin as you watch him until he kisses your inner thigh and your mouth falls open with a moan. “Joel.” You sigh when he kisses along the sensitive skin until you are moaning his name as his tongue slides through your folds. “Fuck.” You tilt your head back, sitting up on your elbows.

He hums, knowing you are watching him but his eyes are closed as he tastes you. Enjoying the musky, tangy taste, even mixed with his own cum. Using his hands to push your thighs apart more, he flicks his tongue over your clit before sliding down and pushing his tongue inside you.

You gasp in delight as his tongue curls deep and you shift your weight onto one elbow so you can reach out and tangle your fingers in his hair. "So good baby. So good." You coo, rocking your hips up slightly to push his tongue deeper.

Joel groans into your cunt as he tongue fucks you enthusiastically. Loving your responsiveness and how you moan his name. His fingers dig into your hips, dragging you closer as he feasts voraciously without even wanting to pull away to swallow, his spit and your juices sliding down to soak the bed under you.

"Oh God." You pant, chest heaving and you let go of his hair to squeeze your breast, pinching the nipple while his nose presses against your clit. "That - ohhh just like that." You cry as his tongue curls just right with his nose pressed against your bundle of nerves.

He hums, rubbing his broad nose against your clit to give you more. Desperate to hear you cum again and to feel you soak his face. He feels so fucking alive right now between your thighs.

"Shit. I'm - you're gonna make me cum, Joel." You pant, thighs clamping around his face as he sends you over the edge. "Fuck!" You squeal as you soak his face, almost suffocating him with your thighs as your stomach clenches with your orgasm.

Joel groans, his softening cock starting to twitch and harden. Loving how wet you are getting and how much you are soaking him. Working you through it, his eyes are fixed on your face while you moan and cry out for him.

You collapse back onto the bed, gasping to catch your breath and you swear your heart has stopped from how hard you came. It’s more than anything you felt with Jason. It’s all consuming. “So good.” You finally murmur, loosening your grip on his face as your legs come down to lay flat on the bed when he rests his chin on your mound.

He smirks, looking at your blissed out face. “Good to know that it was good.” He strokes your thigh and your hip with his hands. “Now we can nap.” He teases, winking playfully.

You shift onto your side after he snakes from between your legs to flop down on the bed beside you. “You don’t want me to-?” You ask, noticing his semi.

“Nap first then maybe you can ride me.” He says, closing his eyes and you nod, shifting to curl into his side, watching him for several moments until you eventually drift off to sleep.

****

You aren’t sure how long you’ve been asleep but you wake up to Joel snoring. You chuckle softly, knowing he would never admit to snoring, and you watch him for a moment, unable to believe you’re here with him. Your gaze slides down his body to his hard cock resting on his belly and you grin, carefully shifting to be able to kneel over his body. You gently grip his cock and lean down to take the head into your mouth, wanting to surprise him when he wakes up.

Joel grunts, the wet heat and suction around his cock pulling him out of the nap he had been enjoying. Confused for a moment before the last few hours come rushing back to him and he groans out your name. Reaching down to cup the back of your head as his eyes open. Seeing you looking up at him with a smirk in your eyes.

You take him deeper, gripping the base of his cock as you widen your jaw and choke for a second. You haven’t sucked a cock like Joel’s before and it takes you a few tries to get him down your throat without gagging.

“Good girl, fuck, watch you take that.” He marvels. Reaching around to caress your jaw and feeling the way that your jaw unhinges. “Couldn’t wait, so eager for it that you had to wake me up?” He teases.

You moan around his cock, closing your eyes as you take him deeper, your saliva dripping down his length and you pull back after a moment, working his cock with your hand. You twist your wrist and dribble some more spit onto his cock. “I couldn’t resist.” You confess, pumping him as you lean in to suck on the head, pressing your tongue against his frenulum.

“Shit.” Joel hisses, his toes curling in pleasure and his thighs tensing as his body responds to your tongue. “Cock hungry.” He grunts. “You gonna swallow? Or are you gonna tease me and not let me cum in your mouth?”

You pull back again, pumping him a little faster. “You wanna cum down my throat or do you want me to ride you? Your choice, handsome.” You coo, “I can do whatever you want. Just want you to feel good.” You promise, taking him back into your mouth.

“Fuck.” It’s such a tantalizing choice but he knows he lasts longer the second time around and then he’ll be done. It would make your jaw ache and he doesn’t want that. “Ride me, baby.” He groans. “Want to see you bounce on my cock.”

You don't argue despite wanting to watch him as he cums down your throat. You let his cock drop from your mouth and you shift to straddle his thighs, shuffling closer until you can wrap your fingers around his slick cock and position him. You sink down onto him with your eyes fixed on his, that dark gaze sends a shiver down your spine as he stretches you out. "God, Joel." You whine softly, placing your palms on his chest.

“Fuuuuuuuuck.” Joel goans out, his fingers digging into the soft flesh at your hips while you clench down around him. You’re even tighter in this position and he has the bonus of being able to look into your eyes. See your face. “Does that feel good, baby?”

"Joel. It's...shit. It's so good." You confess breathlessly and your nails dig into his chest a little as you start to rock your hips. "Shit. How does it feel so good? Never been like this before." You confess as your eyes meet his and your heart pounds in your chest, silently giving you the answer to your question.

Bracing his feet on the bed, he rocks his hips up to meet you when you lift off of him. Making both of you groan at how good it feels. “You look so good on my dick.” He groans. “Your ex is a fucking moron.” He doesn’t want you to think about that asshole, but he wants you to know that it wasn’t you. One hand slides up to cup your breast, squeezing gently. “Never wanna leave this pussy.”

His words make you clench around him and you whimper, falling forward to press your chest against his so you can kiss him. Your lips pressing against his and you tangle your fingers in his hair as he thrusts up into you. His arms wrap around you and you kiss his jaw when you pull back to take a breath. "Never want you to stop fucking me."

Joel grunts, shifting to take control. “Good-“ he pants. “Good thing I last the second time.” He starts rocking his hips up, pinning you to him as he fucks you. “It’s why I wanted you to ride me. Probably take me an hour to cum.”

You are surprised by that. Most men you've been with tend to leave you unsatisfied after finding their own orgasm. "Fuck, really?" You gasp and he chuckles, thrusting a little harder. "Yes. Gonna make you cum over and over again." You cry out when he hits deep, nudging your cervix, but you love it. "Yessss." You hiss, "do that again baby."

Joel groans and does as you demand, snapping his hips up sharply so he can push against that spot again. He might be getting older, slower, fall asleep after dinner in his chair, but he’s not going to disappoint you. Not when he has this time with you like this. Trying to give you the same performance if he had fucked you years ago. “That?” He teases. “I’ll do that as much as you want.”

The sound you let out is between a wail and a moan as he hits that spot again. “Oh shitttt.” You hiss, lost in the sensations. “Again. That- again.” You beg and he does it, making you shake above him. “Joel. Oh shit. Baby. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me - fuuuu-” The word fading into a choke as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him as you shake above his body, your fingers tugging on his hair.

This time he slows down, rocking you through the pleasure slowly and finally stopping when you slump down into his chest. He’s still hard, buried inside you, and he hums softly as he lets you catch your breath. “That’s good, baby?” He asks quietly. “You want another one?”

You lean back to look into his face. Fingers coming up to trace the lines that have been etched onto his skin over the years you’ve not seen each other. He’s still just as devastatingly handsome though. Every line is a story you don’t know about. “Yes.” You murmur, pressing your lips to his and you shift to sit up, wanting to ride him again. Your hips rock as you reach for his hands, joining them with yours to give yourself something to hold onto as you rock on his cock.

This time, you ride him. Truly ride him. You roll your hips and circle them around and make him groan. He squeezes your hands, but he doesn’t urge you to go faster. Knowing you will cum again before he does. He doesn’t want to hurt you or wear you out, so he’s just along for the ride. Aware that the sounds from next door have stopped and the guys have gone home.

You tilt your head back as you rock your hips. It’s slower, not as frantic, and you love the way he groans when you grind down onto him. “So good Joel. God, I- I can’t believe it’s so good.” You confess, squeezing his hands before you let go of him and lean back to place your hands on his thighs, grinding forward onto his cock.

He chuckles and watches you with a sense of wonder. “It’s because you’ve not had good sex in a long time.” He downplays his prowess because all that matters is that you enjoy yourself. “God, your pussy is fucking magic.” He moans quietly, twitching violently in the warmth of your walls.

You whimper, loving how he looks beneath you, and you moan his name again, “can you-?” You reach for his hand to bring it to your stomach, sliding it down to rub your clit and you moan when he rubs it just right. “That’s it baby. Shit.” You pant, rocking a little faster and you are soon clamping down on him again, head tilted back as a choked cry escapes your lips.

Joel watches you through heavy lidded eyes as you come apart again. Enjoying the pleasure you take as much as you do, although your body is the one shaking. He rocks his hips up slightly when your pace falters to work you through it. Groaning out your name and humming as you collapse against his chest to kiss you.

You caress his cheek, “I need a second.” You admit, chest heaving as your heart pounds in your chest and you pull off of his cock. Shifting to lay beside him and you reach down to grip his length, starting to pump him slowly while you lean in to kiss him. “Can’t believe you’re in my bed.” You murmur against his lips.

“Hard to believe since we haven’t seen each other in so long.” Joel agrees. “But it is pretty damn good, I think.” He reaches up and cups your cheek. “I know you deserve the fucking moon.”

You grin, turning your head to kiss his palm. “So do you. Always thought you were too hard on yourself.” You murmur, continuing to pump his cock. “I want you on top of me.” You request, letting go of his cock.

“Ready for more?” His brow shoots up and he huffs. “It’s a good damn thing that I didn’t cum.” He teases you, already moving to his knees so his could climb on top of you.

You giggle, reaching up to caress his shoulders and down to his chest, reaching for his cock to position him at your entrance. “I want you to cum. Fill me up again.” You promise, “and I’ll always want more.” You reassure him and he looks at you for a moment until he swallows harshly.

“Yeah?” He asks gruffly, not waiting for you to give him an answer, just lunging forward to fill you up again while he kisses you. Swallowing your cry when he pushes deep and immediately starts to rock into you.

You moan into his mouth, tongue tangling with his as he starts to rock his hips. It’s intoxicating and you are certain that you’ve never been fucked this well before. He kisses along your neck, biting your collarbone and you pant, closing your eyes. “So good baby. So good.” You whimper as he lifts your hip higher to sink deeper inside of you.

“Glad you like my fucking.” He huffs, chuckling breathlessly. He hasn’t worked this hard to fuck a pussy in years and he’s not regretting it. You both deserve this. He actually feels like he deserves this, surprisingly. You make him feel like he does.

“Oh God.” You can’t stop rambling about how good he feels, your heart pounding in your chest and you cross your ankles behind his back, your hands caressing his shoulders, strong from his years in construction. He lowers his hips and you swear you’re gonna cum again when the hair at the base of his cock brushes your clit.

“That’s it.” Joel grunts. The position has you perfectly positioned. Loving how tight you feel and how good it feels to be cradled between your thighs, he knows he’s gonna cum this time. “One more.” He begs. “Give me one more and I’ll fill you up again.”

You pant when he pushes deeper and drops his hips again and you swear you almost black out from the extent of pleasure he’s given you and you swear you are going to gush as he hits just right and you clamp down on his cock. “Joel. Joel. Joellll.” You squeal as you cum, soaking him and your ankles pushing against his ass.

Joel groans, unable to stop himself from pushing deep and letting go. His body draws up taunt like a guitar string. “That’s it baby, gonna cum.” He moans, feeling his cock pulse as he spills ropes of cum into your perfect cunt. Emptying himself as he holds his breath, feeling like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

You sigh, closing your eyes and tilting your head back against the pillows as he paints your walls with his cum. You feel exhausted and yet feel like you could conquer the world. Alive and vibrating with pleasure from the man above you. The words would be so easy to say. The words you’ve wanted to say for so many years but you swallow them down.

Joel groans and pulls out of you slowly, flopping onto his back with a sigh. “Now I need another nap.” He huffs, closing his eyes even as he opens his arms if you want to snuggle to him again. “Wore me out, woman.”

You shift to curl into his side, throwing your leg over his thighs and not caring about his cum dripping out of you. You sigh and kiss his chest. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.” You confess, closing your eyes as you cuddle into him.

“Good.” Joel hums sleepily. “Best damn sex I’ve had too.” His hand curls around your body and closes his eyes again, exhausted and for once, the nightmares don’t come.

****

You smile as Ellie sets the blankets up in the back of Joel’s truck. You watch Joel as he comes back to the truck with an armful of popcorn. “Fuck yeah.” Ellie says and you chuckle, taking the popcorn from Joel. “You’re excited to watch Dawn of the Dead?” You ask her with amusement and she nods, “duh. It’s the original. The remake is good but it has nothing on this one.” She says and you watch Joel snort. “Come on, let’s get in the truck, it’s about to start.” He says and you climb in after he does, taking his hand.

Joel can’t believe that you wanted to spend time with Ellie, but it makes him smile as she settles down and you sit beside her. Leaning him to squeeze in on the outside. “It’s always nice when they run these.” Joel admits. “Been a long time since we’ve been, but I always loved it as a kid. Remember all those times we would hang out at the drive in? Damn thing was the only movie theater for twenty miles.”

You shift to snuggle into Joel's side after the movie begins. Ellie chomps away on the popcorn and you inhale the smoky scent of Joel as he shifts to get comfortable with the pillows behind you. The past week has been incredible, spending most days with Joel after he finishes working on the house next door and you've had dinners at your place with and without Ellie. You've wanted Ellie to feel included, that you aren't taking Joel away from her all the time, and the teenager says she's happy she doesn't have to see the miserable old bastard all the time. That made you chuckle and Joel grumble, causing Ellie to go "see? My point." You flinch during the movie, on edge despite seeing this classic before, and Joel rubs your shoulder.

He ignores the way that Ellie eyes the two of you and snickers under her breath. Pulling you against him to where you roll to your side, hooking a leg over his. He tucks his other arm behind his head. “Maybe we can do that thing downtown next week.” He mentions casually, keeping his voice low. “Kid wants to go. Could be fun.” The little town loves to hold festivals and events, especially during the summer.

You hum, looking up at him. “I would love that.” You have been having dinners with Ellie and she’s a great kid. Feisty and her manners could use some work but she’s a good girl really. She’s gonna be a ball buster when she grows up. You and Joel have grown closer and he told you about Sarah. How he asked her to pick up milk on the way home from school because he was too busy with work to pick her up himself so she said she’d walk home and she ended up involved in an armed robbery of the grocery store. She made one wrong move to try and help a pregnant woman and ended up shot. You held Joel after he told you what happened, both of you crying for the little girl who would never grow up. Since then, you’ve spent as much time as possible together, even spending the night at Joel’s house. You never want to go home. You want to stay right here forever. You kiss Joel’s jaw when it tenses and he turns his head to softly kiss you, making your heart flutter.

Joel hums into the kiss, keeping it soft and light since the kid is sitting right next to you. He’s already planning on having you spend the night. Getting used to the feeling of your body next to his and when he’s holding you, he doesn’t dream of Sarah. He doesn’t hear her last breaths as he sleeps. He nuzzles your cheek with his nose when he pulls away. “Enjoying yourself, baby?”

“Always with you.” You whisper softly while Ellie chomps on popcorn and laughs when someone new gets bitten. It’s the most at peace you’ve been in so long. You want to tell Joel how you feel but you don’t want to ruin this between you. When you arrive back at Joel’s, you bid goodnight to Ellie and Joel is dragging you to his room. “Someone’s eager.” You giggle and he shuts the door behind you.

“Always with you.” He uses your words from earlier, but it’s true. He’s always eager to touch you, to taste you. Feeling your skin against his is unlike anything else and he’s addicted to it. He quickly pulls off your shirt and unclips your bra as he kisses along your neck, moving down to take a nipple in his mouth.

You gasp, body still on fire as much as the first time whenever he touches you. You reach for his jeans, unbuckling them and reaching in to grip his cock, loving how hard he is for you. “Joel.” You whine when he bites down on your nipple, groaning into your skin.

He loves how you whine, how you beg for him. Switching to your other breast, he shows it the same attention, squeezing your ass and then hastily unbuttoning your shorts. Needing to feel how wet you are for him.

You let go of his cock so he can shove your shorts down and he groans when his hand dives into your panties and he finds you soaking wet. You’ve never been so turned on by a man, wet from just a few kisses from Joel. Even looking at him. You whimper when his calloused fingers find your clit. “Yesss baby.” You hiss softly, reaching back to squeeze his cock.

“Fuck.” He groans against your tit. His fingers rub your clit and then he slides them deep inside you and curls up. “Want you to cum for me, then I want to fuck you.” He growls.

You can’t deny him when he wants you to cum for him. His thumb pressing against your clit and you’re so close already. “Joel. Baby. Shit.” You hiss as you clamp down on his digits, soaking them and your grip on his cock tightens.

It seems like he’s learned your body perfectly over the last week. Groaning happily when your cunt gushes around his fingers and makes it squelch when he continues to finger you. “So good baby, so good.” He praises. “You’re so good for me.”

You whimper, “yes. Yes. All yours. I- shit. Need you inside of me.” You plead, letting go of his cock to reach for his shirt. You want to pull it over his head so you can touch his skin.

It’s a frantic rush to get both of you undressed. Acting like teenagers again. He chuckles when he nearly trips over his boxers as he moves you towards the bed. “So damn eager. All the time.” He grunts, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes you down onto the bed.

You giggle, looking up at him as he shifts to kneel between your legs. You stop giggling when he looks at you and you reach up to caress his cheeks. “It’s because it’s you.” You murmur, your heart pounding in your chest and you know you can’t say those words and ruin this so you surge forward to press your lips against gis.

Joel closes his eyes and moans into your mouth. Gripping his cock and guiding himself towards your dripping entrance while your tongues tangle together. Flattening his hands on either side of your head as he starts to push inside you.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, lifting your thighs up to rest on his hips so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Joel baby. Shit. Always so thick. Stretching me out. Would’ve - would’ve let you fuck me in your truck during the movie if Ellie wasn’t there.” You reveal when he leans back to kiss along your jaw.

He hums quietly. "Could you have kept quiet?" He asks, sliding a hand up and covering your mouth. "Or would I have had to fuck you like this? Keep those pretty sounds for myself while I fuck you?"

Your moan is muffled by his palm and you whimper when he starts to move inside of you. Your cunt clenches around him, making him chuckle darkly, and you swear that alone could make you cum. His hand slides down to your neck, holding you there but not squeezing. “I would’ve tried. The - the horror screams might’ve covered mine up.”

He hums, smirking as he watches you squirm underneath him. "Maybe." He tells you doubtfully. Your screams are too loud when he's really fucking you. Although you normally save that for when he's fucking you at your aunt's house.

You slap his chest playfully and he grabs your hand, pressing it into the mattress above your head. “I could’ve kept quiet.” You huff and he thrusts particularly hard into you, making you moan a little louder than you shoulder. His eyebrow raises as you open your eyes and you roll your eyes, “okay, you made your point. Now, you gonna fuck me, Miller?” You tease, leaning up to nip his jaw.

“I’m fuckin’ you, aren’t I?” He grumbles even though he’s smirking again. He’s been doing a lot of that around you lately. Reaching back, he grabs your hand and lifts it up over your head while he slams into you again. “Addicted to it. To you.”

Your mouth falls open, all joking gone as he hits so deep inside of you. “Fuck.” You gasp, closing your eyes as he rolls his hips on the next thrust. “Shit. Me too. Addicted. To all of you.” You promise, having seen some of his darker moments when he’d wake up in the middle of the night and momentarily forget he lost Sarah. You’d held him while he settled down and neither of you spoke about it the next morning. It’s his decision to talk or not talk.

With your confession, his pace falters for a moment before he starts rocking into you faster. Snapping his hips as harshly as he can to slam into you roughly. Knocking your breath and his own out of you as he fucks you.

You lift your hips higher, sending him impossibly deeper inside of you, and you can barely breathe with the way he’s pushing deep inside of you. “Fuck baby. That’s it. God. Feels so good. So good.” You moan, squeezing his hands in yours.

“You’re so good.” He’s done everything he fucking could to show you how sexy you are. How desirable. That your ex is a dumbass. He squeezes your hand and despite the rough pace, his lips are tender on yours.

His hips grind against yours and you are close when he rubs your clit just right. “Shit. Jo-Joel. Fuck. I’m gonna - I’m gonna - Shitttttt.” You hiss as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him and your lips hover against his as he works you through it.

It’s always so surprising how quickly you cum. Making him groan as your walls squeeze hum like a vice, begging him to fill you up. He kisses you again, keeping his cock working in and out of you as he chases his own high. Thinking about you and how sexy you are, different times he’s fucked you. Wanting to cum and snuggle with you while he can. “Fuck, fuck, baby.” He pants. “So fucking good for me. Soaking my cock. Moaning my name. You’re mine, ain’t cha?”

You nod, “yes. Yes. Yours. Always been yours. You just didn’t know it.” You confess and he groans, pushing deep inside of you with a hiss as he starts to cum. “That’s it baby. Cum for me. Yes. Yes. God, that’s it.” You squeeze his hands as he scrunches his face up while he paints your walls.

“You should stay.” Joel groans out as he collapses on top of you and buries his face into your neck. Panting breathlessly and trying to find the words he needs, even though he’s never been good at them. He needs you. Much like he needed Ellie, just in a different kind of way. He doesn’t want you to leave and he knows you’ve only got a few days left.

You want to stay. More than anything. You often daydream about a life spent with Joel but you have a life back in Texas that you need to sort out. You want to stay, forget everything in Texas but you have an apartment. “I can’t. Not yet.” You murmur and caress his back, “I have stuff to figure out in Texas.” You wish you could stay with him but you have to get everything sorted.

Joel doesn’t say anything. He knows it was a long shot. He kisses you softly and pulls out of you with a groan and rolls onto his back. Quiet and suddenly wondering is you are going to go back to that asshole now that you’ve fucked someone else.

You shift into his side, kissing his chest, and you know it’s hard to explain to Joel who sees the world in absolutes. You know he isn’t happy with your answer and you’ll try to explain it better in the daylight. He is soon snoring in your ear and you murmur to him, “I love you.” You will call your parents tomorrow and see if they can help you out.

****

Joel looks at you as you finish making the sandwiches for lunch. “You nearly finished with the house next door?” You ask him as you set the iced tea down in front of him as he shifts to sit at your kitchen counter.

“Nearly.” He says and he’s been quiet since last night when you told him you weren’t staying.

You set the plate in front of him just as the doorbell rings. He looks at you and you shake your head, “I didn’t order anything.” You say and make your way over to the front door. You open it and gasp, “Jason?”

His heart sinks as he hears your gasps but his first instinct is anger. Lurching out of his seat, Joel rushes to the door and pushes you out of the way so he can grab the asshole who hurt you. "What the fuck are you doing here?" He growls, satisfied that the man nearly squeals and flinches when Joel draws his fist back to punch him.

Jason winces and you reach up to touch Joel’s arm. “Don’t. He’s not worth it.” You say and Joel glances at you, confused that you don’t want him to beat this guy’s ass and you say no. “What do you want, Jason?” You huff and Jason adjusts his shirt after Joel lowers his arm.

“I want you back. I made a mistake. I'm sorry baby. Please. I miss you.” You ignore that to ask him how he found you. “Your phone…still has the location shared with me.”

You hiss at your stupidity. “I don’t - I don’t love you Jason. You hurt me. So much. Just go.” You plead and he shakes his head, trying to push into the house but Joel puffs his chest and Jason backs away.

“Fine. Whatever. Clearly you’ve moved on. Good luck, man. She’s batshit crazy.” Jason growls, “and she needs to do some fucking kegels.”

Joel hisses and surges forward to grab Jasón but he manages to dodge Joel and runs down the path. “Motherfucker.” Joel hisses and tries to catch him but you place your hand on his chest, “leave it baby. It’s not worth it.” You remind him and Joel shouts out, “you worthless piece of shit!” You sigh and shut the door, feeling a little shaken by Jason’s random appearance.

Joel’s angry. Pissed off that you apparently still have feelings for that fucking loser. Enough that you wouldn’t let him beat the shit out of him and teach him some fucking manners. “Charming asshole.” He grunts, not even hungry anymore. “See why you want to go back to him.” You just said you didn’t love him, but why else would you give up on everything the two of you have if not to go back to that worthless piece of shit.

Your eyes widen, “go- what the hell are you talking about, Joel? Go back to him? That’s the last thing I’d ever do. I didn’t think he’d track my fucking phone to come and find me.” You shake your head, “I don’t want him. I want you. I only want you.” You want to tell him how much but you don’t want to risk your heart again.

“Except you aren’t staying with me, are you?” He demands. “You’re gonna fuck off back to Texas and maybe tell your friends that you rebounded with some dumb construction worker who knew you from back in the day.” His own fears ride to the surface and he lashes out at you. “Poor son of a bitch actually thought he had a chance and asked you to stay.”

You shake your head, “Joel. No. I- I have to go home because I have an apartment. A job. I can’t just up and leave everything. I want to stay. More than anything in the world but we aren’t kids, we have responsibilities and I have to handle it all before I come back here. I want to stay. More than anything in the world.” You assure him, noticing how tense he is and you feel guilty for not explaining yourself before.

“Whatever.” He’s angry and irrational. A little embarrassed about how he just flung his heart out there. “I’m- I’ve got to get back to work.” He picks up his tool belt off the back of the chair and turns towards the door. Hating how vulnerable you’ve made him feel and how easily you can hurt him.

You want to run after him, scream at him that you love him, that you've always been in love with him. No one has ever made you feel like he does. Instead, you stare at the kitchen counter. You told him you'd come back but he pushed it aside. Maybe it's best that you go home before you destroy the last of your relationship with Joel. You work on packing your things, booking a flight home, and you text Ellie to tell her you are heading home first thing. She tries to call you but you ignore it, wanting to have a glass of wine or two to smother the way your heart aches at leaving Joel again. You never discussed why you left. You never told him and now you doubt you will. You organize your aunt's house, leaving it how you found it and get into bed without Joel.

“You’re a fucking dumbass.” Joel ignores the jab coming from the teenager as he stirs the pan as if it was a mission to whip the water and milk mixture the boxed dinner called for. “Joel? Joel? She’s leaving.” She stresses again. “You know, not being here anymore?”

Slamming the spoon down, Joel turns around to glare at Ellie. “I fucking know. What do you want me to do about it?” He demands. “She’s a fucking adult. She can go where she wants.”

The girl’s eyebrows arch up to her forehead and she rears back at the anger in Joel’s tone. “Man, you got it baaaaaaad.” She huffs. “You need to tell her how you feel.”

Joel snorts. “I have.” He admits, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter, stay out of it.”

Ellie harumps at him and crosses her arms. “Go talk to her.” She demands, staring him down and he knows she won’t let this go.

“Fine.” He grumbles, slapping his hands on his hips to search for his keys. “Won’t do any good, but I’ll go talk to her.”

The doorbell rings and you frown, getting out of bed to see who it is. Hoping it's not Jason coming back. When you see Joel through the peephole, you sigh and open the door. "Hey." You say weakly as you stand there in your pajamas in the doorway.

“Can we talk?” Joel asks, shuffling slightly on the steps and wondering if you would tell him to fuck off. He had overreacted and fucked things up. “Please?”

You nod, stepping aside so he can walk in and you shut the door behind him. “Ellie told you I booked a flight home?” You ask and he nods, pushing his hands into his jeans. “Yeah.” He clears his throat and you bite your lip, taking a moment. “I don’t think you understand me, Joel. I- I don’t want to leave. Ever. If I could stay here forever, I would. But I can’t. Not because I don’t want to. I want to. I have a life back home. A home. A job. I can't abandon that stuff. I have to sort it out and then…I was planning to come back.”

His shoulders round, knowing that he hadn’t heard you say that when he was busy being upset. “I- I’m sorry.” He murmurs quietly, hating being wrong and feeling like he’s fucked things up. “I shouldn’t have- I didn’t hear you say that. I’m- no excuse.” He tells the kid to own up to her mistakes all the time and he should do the same.

You aren’t angry with him, just upset. “I- I never told you the reason why I left when you got married…did I?” You ask and he shakes his head, his hand coming up to run it through his hair. You fiddle with your fingers and lick your lips, giving yourself a moment. “I left because I couldn’t stand to see the man I love be in love with another woman, marry another woman. It tore me apart and I thought it was easier to leave than to watch you live your life without me being the woman you chose to be with. I was so in love with you and you didn’t see it. I had to go.”

“Oh baby.” Joel closes his eyes, pulling his hands out of his pockets so he can pull you close. “I wish you had told me.” It wouldn’t have changed things, he had married her, but maybe he could have kept you as a friend. “We didn’t last a year. She wasn’t the one for me. Not really, and we both knew it.”

You know he wouldn’t change a thing because he had Sarah because he married Helen but you hug him, breathing him in. “You had Sarah so life happens for a reason and you’re here now and I - I still love you. I’m still so damn in love with you, Miller.” You confess as you pull back to look at him.

“I love you.” He murmurs softly. “I - I was going to offer to come to Texas.” He’s not stepped foot in the state since his daughter died and he really didn’t want to go back, but he would for you. “To visit you. It would be hard to move Ellie.”

You caress his cheek, “I won’t be long.” You promise, “I can work remotely so I just gotta head home to pack up and find somewhere here to buy.” You tell him, “I won’t be gone long enough for you to need to visit me. I know you can’t move because of Ellie so I’ll come here. I don’t want to run anymore. I want you.” You promise, leaning in to nudge your nose with his.

“You don’t have to buy anything.” Joel murmurs quietly. “You can move in with me and Ellie.” He knows you might not want to move in with him after your ex cheated on you in your home, but he wants to offer. “No need to waste the money when you’re gonna be in bed with me.”

You smile, pleased that he’s ready to jump all in. “You want me in your bed?” You ask and he nods, “every damn night.” You giggle softly and kiss his lower lip. “As soon as I’m back, I’ll never leave your bed.” You promise, “I’m yours. Forever. If you’ll have me.”

“Baby, I want you.” Joel wraps his arm around you and pulls you close. “I promise you, I want you. Forever. Your asshole ex threw away the greatest thing he ever had and I’m not stupid enough to do the same.”

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