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darkacademicvibes · 7 months

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Hellooo! So I know you haven't posted in ages and you're probably busy or maybe not writing anymore but if you are and your requests are open... can you maybe do something for Theodore nott? If you don't write for him then maybe Barty Jr. Or Regulus or something?

Basically fem!reader is insecure and brings it up and he doesn't understand so she asks is they even love her anymore and they somehow propose right then and there? Like really tearful, and he's so hurt but he's also kind of blank about it idk and she says yes obvs, but he just doesn't know how to feel about what she asked?

Thankyouthankyouuuuu and if you aren't writing anymore that's totally understandable 🩵🩵🩵🩵

AHHHH YESSS I TOTALLY CAN BABES!!!

I'm always gonna write on this blog, lately I've really been trying to figure out my page and stuff and I just got done with exams so I've been busy, I'm sorry!!! I HOPE this lives up to expectations, I've never written an argument/yelling that turned to a proposal lmao <3

Look At Me

tw: cursing, idk I like it, he's very much sweater Theo lmao, nothing really to be honest with you

"-God, Theo, it's like you're never here anymore!" You huff, busying yourself with the dishes of a dinner you ate alone, again. The sound of his name instead of the nickname you'd always called him made him flinch. Theodore Nott had been your boyfriend since the beginning of your seventh year at Hogwarts, and you'd fought together in the war on Harry's side. Or, McGonagalls side, as Theo preferred to call it.

After Hogwarts, you'd moved in together which you'd defended to your parents as convenience. And his, well, his mother got ill quick, and then got better, and then ill again, and she'd eventually found out after he'd invited her over to make sure she was okay, and you'd come home to your boyfriends mother on the couch having tea. You'd easily slipped into comfortable conversation with your loving boyfriend and his (absolutely wonderful) mother and she'd guessed it by morning when you'd made everyone pancakes as you'd been woken up early by Theo on his way to quiddich practice.

Lately, however, he'd been home less. In fact, it began at the beginning of the year, while it is now November. You celebrated your third year anniversary of fully owning the house (thanks to his family money's help) and as that morning when you woke up, he was gone, he came home giddy, and then that night, went to bed nervous. And things hadn't been the same. You'd marked that night on your calander once you realized that was the last afternoon before anything changed.

April 4th.

Since then, he'd barely be at home, which isn't saying a lot seeing as he was a professional player for the Montrose Magpies and sometimes was forced to be away for day practices that led well until you'd gone to bed and weekend games that you always made sure to see.

He'd started getting up earlier, and going to bed either well before, or well after you. When you were wide awake, or fast asleep. Sometimes, he'd sleep in the guest room downstairs, instead.

He'd stopped with the casual kisses everytime he left the room, no longer pressing kisses to your temple, cheek, nose, shoulder, or head, and started passing by in silence, answering requests with hums, grunts, and nods. Your brother had joked he was finally going through the 'I hate my girlfriend' phase, but quickly shut up when you'd choked out a strangled breath that sounded like you'd taken a bludger to the stomach.

The thought hasn't left your mind since.

"I'm here now" Theo presses, standing behind the kitchen island, his hands braced firmly on the edges of the bench, gripping tightly. You scoff, scrubbing the pan harshly. Who invented pans that weren't non-stick? You wanted to hit them with your pan, your pan that now had bits of food and grease stuck to it.

"Theo this is the eighth night in a row I've had to put your dinner in the microwave" you give up on the pan, abandoning it on the bench and moving on to the pot you'd made the potatoes in. It was your day off, and Theo was supposed to be home at four, so you'd made a full dinner for you to eat together. A mistake, you now realized, as you didn't eat until seven when your food had already gone cold, and he hadn't come home until nine, when you'd usually do the dishes. He did them right after dinner for some unexplainable reason you didn't quite understand. Through, you were the one who grew up with supper. So you always made it and did dishes after.

"I told you not to count on me being home on time, bambino" he breathes, and you sniff, wiping your nose on the back of your wrist. He had, yesterday, but not today. "I wrote it down and left it on the kitchen counter-" a soft mew interrupts him, and you listen to the sound of him scooping up the neighbors cat.

"Pie, you shouldn't be here, your mama will be looking for you" you coo, glancing back at the soft, light brown cat. "She can stay" Theodore murmurs, cuddling the cat close. A pang of anger flashed through your stomach. That cat was getting more affection from your boyfriend then you'd gotten for most of the year. "No, she can't" your voice is snappy, and he sighs, kissing the top of Pies head and opening the back door, placing Pie outside and closing the door again before leaning against the wood, watching you.

"I don't understand what I've done to make you so upset, amore" he murmurs, and you snap, tossing the potato pot and the rag into the sink, taking off the ridiculous yellow gloves and tossing them onto the bench.

"You are never here, Theo" you insist. "And you go god knows where, because you weren't at practice tonight" you continue, when Theo opens his mouth to argue, you glare at him. Your voice shakes, and that makes you angrier. "No! You weren't, I called Peter, he was at home with his wife and baby son at four fifteen" you snap, and hurt flashes in his eyes. You want to apologize, but you haven't done anything wrong, not that you're aware of. You have suffered, for months, wondering what you'd done wrong. You didn't understand. You don't understand.

"So where were you? Were you with someone else, someone you can stand? Because it's pretty clear you can't stand me anymore" you toss your hands up, abandoning the gloves as you return to cleaning the dishes as Theo makes his way closer, returning to the island counter as you ramble on.

"If you were then just tell me and be done with it, because this wondering, the guessing, the hoping you aren't, the subconsciously looking for proof that you have been, is killing me" you ramble on.

"It is absolutely tearing me apart to think you don't love me anymore, trying to find reasons that would have you pulling away because surely, if you don't love me then you'd leave me, right? Except, I don't know, I don't know what I did-" you place the pot aside and start working on your plate. His is still in the microwave. "-I can't figure it out. Tell me what I did wrong, because I can't keeping going like this for much longer" you sniffle, and the sound has the guilt already drowning him shove him down deeper.

"I mean, do you even love me anymore? Because it really just seems like you're sticking around for convenience" You manage to mumble, your voice shaking as tears prick harshly at your eyes. You try blinking them back, but you have to harshly wipe your cheek with the back of your arm as the feeling of a few hot tears warm your cheeks.

A soft click sound from behind you and in your confusion, you turn, pausing at the sight. Theo is leaning heavily against the counter, his shoulders tense as the small dark blue velvet box sits open on the table.

A delicate gold ring, with agate as the stone sits undisturbed in the box, and you can feel your breath escape you because it is beautiful.

"I was afraid you would say no" he admits, gazing at you through his dark lashes you'd frequently voiced that you were jealous of. "I was afraid you'd say no, and I pulled myself away from you, and I'm sorry for not noticing how it affected you" he breathes. Almost as breathless as you.

He slowly rounds the island, gently stopping to stand beside you.

His hands land on your waist, delicate. "ragazza dolce, how could you ever doubt my feelings for you?" He murmurs, his thumbs rubbing gently over the skin of your hips. The touch makes you pause and, slowly, you melt against his chest. "You haven't touched me like this since April fourth" you start softly, gaze still on the ring, and he tenses beside you.

Fuck, you'd actually remembered the date he held you last? He knew it had been a while, he had felt horrible about his nerves pulling him away from you, but you'd memorized the fucking date he'd last touched you, and it was so much longer then he'd thought.

"You barely answer me anymore, I start every conversation, and it's either tense, or it falls through so fast i-" you hesitate. "It makes me feel like you don't see the point in talking to me anymore" his heart shattered, he could hear it, feel it- you'd felt so horrible, miserable even, and it was his fault. He'd been so wrapped up in how he felt that he hadn't even noticed you'd been miserable. Lonely.

"I'm sorry, mio caro, I'm so sorry" he murmurs, pained, his lips brushing the crook of your neck gently.

His hands gently guide you to face him, and you allow him to lift your hands, drying them off gently. "C'mon sunshine, I'm sorry, look at me" he murmurs, gently tucking his forefinger under your chin to guide you to meet his eyes. "I have been so nervous that I started pulling away, and I am so sorry you felt this way, sweet girl, I promise I love you" he assures you gently, watercolour eyes gazing into yours deeply.

"There has never been, nor will there ever be, anyone else. You are it for me, you are my Andromeda, I'm your Perseus, remember?" He pleads softly, reminding you of the last time you'd been in Hogwarts.

The astronomy tower would probably crumble if you stood in the wrong spot, still, you (almost) fearlessly ventured closer to the calm figure leaning against the wall of the castle, not for one second, caring that he was sitting in rubble. Gazing at the stars. He smiles at you as you stand beside him, and he offers you his hand, which you take as he helps you to sit beside him safely.

"Feel up to stargazing, my love?" He murmured, and you smile softly, leaning your head on his shoulder as his hand rests easily on your thigh, rubbing gently despite the dust-covered fabric in the way of your skin. "Always" you hum. He huffs a soft laugh and sighs warmly. "You remember those stars?" He asks softly, pointing out the constellation, and you nod against his shoulder. Andromeda and Perseus, the chained maiden and her lover. Her savior. Her husband, in entirety. They'd been so in love they were placed in the stars so their love would never end.

"Yeah, I remember, it's your favourite myth" he smiles, and he presses a soft kiss to your head, smiling himself. You'd remembered it was his favourite.

"If I was Perseus, you'd be my Andromeda" he murmurs, and you smile softly, melting into him. "If I was Andromeda, you'd be my Perseus" you retort gently, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder as shouts of names, and calls of joy fill the night air.

The war is over. All is well.

"My father is dead" Theo hums. The way he says it was almost as if he'd simply noticed the time and pointed it out. He found more empathy for the roadkill the two of you had come across two weeks ago, a rabbit that had been hit by a carriage.

"I saw. Are you okay?" You ask gently.

"Yeah, I'm okay, as long as I have you, I'll always be more than okay" he hums, chuckling softly. "My mother will be okay now, she's safe" he sighs, the tension leaving him slightly.

"She is, Teddy" you smile, and as he wraps his arm around you to pull you impossibly closer, you both gaze at the sky and you do what you do best together.

You talk, and you stargaze.

You nod slowly, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he sighs softly in relief, his thumb swiping the tears away gently.

"I love you, so much. I'm sorry I let myself get in my head, I should've realized I was hurting you" he murmurs, his lips pressed against your hairline as he tucks a few strands behind your ear, his fingers trailing down your neck, then your shoulder, all the way to your hand, where he links your fingers together.

"Teddy, are you asking me to marry you?" You murmur softly, eyes gazing softly at the ring again. He hums, "will you say yes?" He murmurs softly, his thumb brushing against yours.

"I can't imagine a world where I'd consider saying no" you breathe, and you can feel his lips tug into a giddy smile against your temple. He pulls away, only enough to reach the ring, and gently hums.

"Look at me, bellissimo"

Your eyes meet his and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, the familiar softness of it almost making you swoon.

"Will you, the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on, make me the absolute happiest man alive, and do me the honor of making me your husband?" He asks quietly, his lips brushing yours gently.

You smile, and nod softly, "that's a yes from me" you hum, "a big, fat, yes" you laugh, and he chuckles along with you, gazing softly at you as he slowly slips the ring onto your finger. "Good, now give me a big, fat, kiss" he demands playfully "I miss kissing my fiancé" he murmurs, and it sets off fireworks in your stomach.

You lean up and press a big, fat, kiss to his lips, just like he asked.

You giggle as he wraps his arms around you happily, tugging you closer and tapping your hip in the all too familiar signal to jump. You wrap your legs around him and he kisses you harder, his hands under your thighs.

"I have a lot to make up for" he mumbles, making his way into the living room and dropping you gently onto the couch, pulling a giggle from you.

"Remind me to tell Draco not to sit on this couch next time he comes over" you tease, and he laughs, loud, and happy, and the sound has you melting.

You have your Theo back, and he's not your boyfriend anymore, he's more, and you couldn't be happier.

#theo nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott imagines #theo nott x y/n #theo nott #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #second wizarding war #slytherin boys #slytherin #fem reader #female reader #femreader x Theodore Nott #proposal

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libraford · 2 months

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I know I’m a rando so apologies if this is over familiar but your work situation sounds a lot like what my friend was going through in grad school. She had been doing really well the first year, then the second year her advisor suddenly started finding all sorts of “fundamental issues” with her research project. He discouraged her from applying for grants and said her submissions were too poor to even consider. All sorts of really harsh criticisms that often contradicted each other and were hard to follow. She felt like she was going crazy. Then she learned he found a different student that he would basically be able to pay much less to do all his lab work for him, and he was clearly trying to force her out to make room for the newer cheaper student. Trust your gut, I don’t think this situation is your fault at all. Something fishy is happening with your company for sure. I’m sorry for all this trouble.

Yikes that's harsh.

Part of the reason that my crits have been so numerous and harsh is that this year I was expected to learn something new. And I understand it in concept, but I have been making mistakes that are typical of new learners. But because there was no SAFE place to make those mistakes, the pressure is on to do them correct the first time and every time.

Like with groups, right?

My first groups job I was doing really well, I thought. Up until we got to the football team, which was 45 minutes late to the location. And they lined them up by number even though we asked for tallest to shortest. And the coach said he wanted to do them by number. So I did them by number. When we got to the end of it, he saw how terrible it was to do them by number and we had to redo it by height. At this point, they're frustrated with me for not doing it right the first time. I am frustrated with them for not listening the first time and also being 45 minutes late. The tennis team was waiting for me on the other side of the school, so I did my best. I showed the photo to the coach before leaving. Boss didn't like what I made for the football team and had to go back and do it again because I fucked up. I told her all of this and she said that I should have accommodated them because they're the football team and they have to have the best, even if that means waiting 45 minutes for them to arrive and making the tennis team wait 45 minutes.

My second groups job was a middle school that was asking me to do the team photo AND in between teams do candids for the yearbook. The kids were not behaving well and did not seem interested in taking a good photo, so I did my best even though the kids were fighting. Unfortunately, I made the completely reasonable mistake of leaving my aperature on too low between tasks and they ended up a little bit out of focus- which was not apparent in the camera but WAS apparent on the computer screen. This is a mistake that other people have made. I showed each photo to the coach before letting them go.

My third groups job was a class groups job, which all I had to do was follow the guide given to me. Which I did, up until about the 4th grade classes, which had their special classes going on at that time. Because of this, the number the teacher gave me was incorrect and I had to add students to rows in ways that did not reflect the guide because the other option was to disassemble the class group and reassemble it so that it reflected the guide. Teachers were rushing me to hurry up, so I made executive decisions. This was unfortunately the wrong decision. I also posed them in a way that was consistent with what my boss wanted, but not what the district specialist wanted.

On my fourth groups job, I was told all of the mistakes I had made in the previous jobs and that I need to take consideration all of the details and guides that were there for me to use because my previous jobs required her to go back and do them again, so I had better not make the same mistakes (all of which were different mistakes each time). I am upset. So to make it easier on myself, I asked the coaches if they had a specific way they would like to have them posed. The coaches, delighted that I asked, gave me their feedback on previous years and what they would like to change. And I, delighted that they had preferences, obliged. I showed the photo to the coach before leaving. My boss said I did well! She was very pleased with my work. The district specialist was not! He said that I needed to follow the guide because the numbers were incorrect and that I needed to follow the numbers. He tapes a guide to the back of my slate to use. I ask my boss if she could help me next time.

On my fifth groups job, I am disheartened by the amount of criticism I've gotten but I am determined to get it right this time. My boss is present. I am placing the students with the order given to me by the specialist. I walk away to double check. She tells me that its wrong- that I shouldn't have 9 people in front. I tell her that I was using the guide. She shows me her guide. The guides are different from each other. I ask her which guide I'm supposed to use and she says 'whichever one is correct.' I ask her how I'm supposed to know which one is correct and she tells me the theory of how the placement is supposed to go instead of giving me an answer. I get a little shirty. She tells me that this is my 5th job like this, I should know how to do this by now. I start crying. She goes away for the rest of the day to do admin stuff and I handle the rest of the day fine.

My critique says that I am unable to adapt to change and I am inflexible, struggles to take criticism well or think under pressure.

So I'm expected to do well because its my third year. But I have two different supervisors who don't agree on what 'doing well' is and my progress is not seen as progress so much as 'another mistake.' If my mistakes were consistent, then that would be indicative of refusal to take criticism. But because the mistakes are different every time, that's not the case. I WANT to learn. But I would like everyone to be on the same page about what they want from me.

And when I pointed this out, I was told I was being confrontational.

So I am feeling the rage right now.

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granolawriting · 8 months

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"Do you have a boyfriend?" •°. *࿐

pairing: no breakout! Cowboy costume!Joel x fem reader

Summary: Your best friend holds a halloween party at her house, where the often brooding Joel you often disregard adorns a new attire that sparks something in you. And he makes it clear he feels the same.

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap (college senior and 50 year old), grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he’s the sexiest, porn with lots of plot, p in v, creampie, HEAVY praise, you guys are wearing matching costumes on accident, he fucks you IN costume if you're wondering, nice aftercare, pet names (darling, sweetheart, doll), southern hospitality misconstrued for shyness, sarah is your best friend

word count: 7.4k (holy shit)

masterlist

A/N: christ almighty. This took me all day. it has clouded my mind, overtaken my senses. finishing the final lines of this fic made me feel raw, completly finished. I have never written a fic this long in my entire life I'll be so honest. Anyways, I've been delving so deep into pedro stuff recently that reignighting the Joel adgenda made me quiver at night thinking about it. ANYWAYS. THANK YOU FOR 200 FOLLOWERS!!!! confetti thrown everywehere.

and in other news, I hope u enjoy the 4th installment of my kinktober list, I'll see you all again on the 20th with some bondage!Joel.... Make sure if you like my work to check out my requests/comissions or my ko-fi!!!

P.S. The title was made with scream in mind but since I changed up him from wearing a mask to a cowboy because christ how could I not I decided to just keep it as is.

Monotonous noise of worn out wheels against tired linoleum floors squeak softly at the turns of your cart against the rows of aisles that comprised the small store. Dimly lit bulbs illuminated the rows of supplies— plates upon masks upon streamers of different colors and themes overtake your senses as the whole display seems ostentatious and unflattering to you.

“How's this for a Halloween costume?”

A wolf mask hides the face of an otherwise non-furry Sarah Miller. Who seemed to not share the same sentiment as you regarding distaste for the design.

“I don't know, how are you going to drink if you have a mask on your face?”

“Straws exist.”

“I'm not convinced”

She takes it off with melodrama, sullen disdain for your lack of halloween spirit as you push the cart further down the aisle.

A soft squeak of tires indicates a stop in your steps as you stand before a wall of costumes— what you needed more than anything to hold an answer for you.

Eyes tracing up and down the rows floor to ceiling coated with cheaply made, scantily clad costumes makes your vision blur. Until it lands on a single item; one that stood out to you above all else.

“A cowgirl?”

Sarah sounds unimpressed. Eyeing the plastic wrapped costume labeled “ride my rodeo” with a model on the front wearing small red and white plaid tied to her front, small jean shorts cut at most with an inch’s inseam, and a cowboy hat— sold separately.

“It's the best I've got. It's either this, or I repeat last year’s costume.”

“You are not dressing up as Adam Sandler to my party.”

You put the bag in the cart.

Ever since moving to college, your career as a party-goer has been less than prolific, as a freshman assuming that time away from home was means to let yourself go, slowly turned into a reluctant senior year where parties were oftentimes the last thing you wanted to do on a given day. However, as Sarah lived in the area, she at the very least dragged you to her neighborhood functions. Which, was marginally better than what any Greek life could pull together. And as your car pulls into the empty spot within the miller’s lot, you become privy as to why; because you always had to help put it together.

As smooth concrete lays beneath your car while you park, the truck parked beside you was none other than Joel Millers— Sarah's bachelor dad.

Bachelor was an overstatement, a compliment that wasn't quite applicable to him. He wasn't looking for love, a bachelor without a cause, he was purposefully distant. A brood coated his face from eyes to lips that only ever contorted to something positive in the sight of his daughter. A contractor seemingly married to his work he had no means to find love. A part of you wonders when the last time he even had anyone was, romantically or sexually. Or even how he got ahold of one to make Sarah happen in the first place. You could never picture Joel as someone sexually active, if Sarah told you she was immaculately conceived you would have believed her.

The click of boots against concrete greets the Millers doorstep as your cowgirl boots are adorned, the rest of your uncomfortable costume shoved in a bag across your shoulder as means to at least dress the house in comfort before having to walk around in costume for hours on end.

Walking directly in you’re faced with a Mr. Miller, with a similar idea. He wore nothing at all, costume-wise. Something that you wish you could have done, as every year he seems to escape the wrath of Sarah’s demands regarding spirit, to be met with the regular weathered jeans and loose long sleeves. Standing tall upon a stepladder was he already being put to work however, thick fingers pushing small thumbtacks into the open space of his home, orange and black streamers littering the front room as he works.

His head turns to you at the sound of his door being opened and shut,

“Well, what’re you supposed ta’ be?”

His eyes size you up and down, southern drawl brings sound to the quiet of the room, only otherwise broken by soft halloween music traveling its way downstairs from Sarah’s bedroom. If there was one attractive thing about him, it was his accent. The way he would slur his words together, the charming yet teasing air to everything he says. Having moved to Austin 4 years ago you would’ve thought you’d have grown used to it by now, and you have, besides Joel. The age that honeyed his voice like old whisky was unprecedented, and never paralleled by any other man you’d yet to mean in your time there.

“Haven’t put it on yet Mr. Miller. But I can see that your costume is quite the classic.”

“Oh quit it. Now, Sarah asks that you go upstairs when ya’ came in. Bosses orders.”

You give a stern look to him and nod as though you were to be sent on the front lines, and he only gives a small chuckle before returning to his work.

“Oh my god you’re finally here. Look—”

She opens the door in hurried fashion, and quickly centers herself in the middle of the room to do a spin for you. A small gust of wind as she twirled letting her skirt float as she moved to reveal her outfit. Bells and jingles fill the room at the movement of her body.

“Does it look too corny? Can you tell who I am?”

Looking her up and down, large bundles of curly hair hiding a stuffed serpent around her neck as a green top wraps around the back of it, paired with loose bells and metal pieces adorning a small blue skirt with layers of tulle, it was quite obvious who she was meant to be if you were born prior to 2006.

“Britney spears. And you look perfect, but don't you think it’s a little early to try on your costume?”

Her eyes pierce you with only the gaze of a woman who thought you clearly misunderstood what was going on.

“The party is in 2 hours. I've yet to even do my makeup, or take photos before I get wasted. Time is of the essence. Here, put your costume on and help get ready with me.”

Sarah, despite being in the same grade as you, was marginally less mature. Mostly driven by her intelligence boosting her into higher grades when she was younger, she was around 2 years younger than you despite graduating the same year as you. And despite her efforts sometimes her stress levels were purely driven by the fact she was barely 21. Still obsessed and enamored with arguably, menial things. Though through her age, you always attempted to discern her fathers. With grey growing into the roots of his head, speckling his beard as it traced the lines of his jaw, you had ventured to guess he was around 50.

…

Ding Dong

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh—”

“It's okay Sarah, I'll get it.”

Feet scrambling up and out of her bedroom, you quickly find your way to the front door as the clock shone at 7:30, cursing the people who find joy in showing up so early to what is not a dinner party. Dressed in your cowgirl costume do you answer the door, expecting either trick or treaters or an older neighbor, does someone entirely different greet you as it opens.

Joel towers before you within the doorway. He no longer wore the loose fitting shirts and jeans omnipresent on his person, moreover it was swapped for a much more form fitting attire. A cowboy hat for starters, sat upon his head of hair, usually messy and combed back did it now fall in front of his face, sculpting his jaw as it fell to the sides of chocolate eyes. Strands peppered his face as you took him in, a worn cowboy hat that complimented the tan of his skin, equally as sun bleached did it seem almost natural for him to adorn it. Followed by a small toothpick sticking from his lips, did it draw focus to the pink of them, shaped and contrasted by the peppered beard freshly trimmed, longer pieces of hair falling over his top lip to establish a thicker mustache that became the centerpiece of his look. As your eyes trailed down the rest of his body, you’re met with a form fitting tan tuscan button up as his underlayer, slightly unbuttoned at the top to reveal his chest lines do you notice fabric rolled to his elbows to reveal thick hairy forearms that held muscle visible unflexed. Trailing up to see the definition of bicep within the confines of cotton fabric almost bursting at the muscle he carried, only to be met with an overlayer of a dark brown vest seemingly made of corduroy or something similar, tightly buttoned around his waist to accentuate it's contrast to the broadness of his shoulders. The pants worn in tandem with the outfit were a chocolate brown, thick leather-like material clung to his quads as they tapered at the ends of his calves, square toed cowboy boots finding home beneath the heavy fabric of his pants. Around his waist was there a detailed belt, a worn leather belt held up the tie of his pants, and to his hip was a holster, housing a small toy gun that fell to his side as his hip stayed slightly cocked at the entrance. His thumb looped in the side of his pocket as he stood waiting at the front door. The scent of cologne fills your senses as it breeds with his natural scent to produce what was to you somewhat of an aphrodisiac. This was no longer the grumpy old man that wore clothes a size too large because he was too lazy to check the charts, no longer the father of your best friend— in this moment he was nothing but insatiably attractive.

“Oh, Mr. Miller I— don't you have a key?”

Only now do you notice the look he gave you. The equal look of awe as his eyes unabashedly trailed your body and it's curved. Much more revealing than him though equally as hidden from what he wanted. You watched as lips became slightly pursed, taking in the fit of your jeans and the curve of your hips, eyes falling for far too long upon your top and how it complimented you.

He skips a beat.

“Oh— uh, sorry kid. Though Sarah’d be comin’ down. Wanted to show her my outfit. S’ the last halloween we’re gonna have fer a while.”

You feel yourself heat up, his eyes connecting with yours have a whole new meaning to it now. He seemed embarrassed, even, as his eyes darted from side to side, unable to connect with yours for more than a few seconds as he asked for his daughter.

“She's still upstairs getting ready. Do you, do you want me to call her down?”

“No, no that won’t be necessary. ‘Supose I’ll wait fer her inside.”

It takes you a moment to register that as means for entry into his own house as you stood there agape in the center of the doorframe. Though quickly do you move your body to make room for him, as he dips his head to you in thanks before heavy boots hit the wooden floors of the downstairs in his entry.

The tension that builds within the room is deafening as you both stand there in silence. Unable to remove yourself from his proximity does the air fill with feelings foreign and impure.

“That’s a um, nice costume ya’ got there.”

Joel breaks the silence with soft spoken words as he begins to pour a drink in the kitchen. Though not looking at you, the image of you within his mind pierced the darkest parts of his consciousness with glaring extremity as he felt himself grow hot in so many layers.

“This? Oh, Sarah, she made me do it. But uh, I really like yours as well. It, it suits you well. And we’re matching, that's funny.”

This was your poor attempt at flirting with a mind so foggy with memories completely turned on their head as your perception of Joel did that same.

“WHO IS ITTTT!!!!!!!!!”

Sarah screams from the closed door of her upstairs bedroom. Clearly your time downstairs was limited before she began even more antics from the confines of her unkempt bedroom.

He hands you a glass, amber liquid sloshes upon crackling ice fills up a quarter of the cylindrical glass.

“Hope ya’ have fun t’night sweetheart. Make sure Sarah’s doin’ alright.”

You flash him a shy smile as you take your drink to go, climbing the hardwood stairs leading to her bedroom as quickly as you can without spilling it.

“Who was it? What took you so long! Is that whisky?”

“Can you ask one question at a time?”

“Well I already asked all of em so what's the point?”

“Just for future reference.”

“Maybe. Well?”

“your dad forgot his key, I helped him inside, he gave me a drink. Tis the story.”

She looks you up and down as the recollection of her father instills newfound meekness at the mention of him.

“Ok weirdo. Here, take candids.”

…

Halloween music blares from speakers as the party comes to a head, the myriad of costumes all still holding creases from the cheap packaging they were purchased in become clustered together as the drinks you have begin to get to you. The smell of alcohol and pumpkin fill the room as a cacophony of laughter takes you out of a spell of staring thankfully focused on the floor and not upon unsuspecting persons.

The only person who seemed to stand out amongst the crowds of duplicate costume and cheesy innuendos was a certain Mr. Miller— a prolific wallflower that only hosted these things as a means to keep Sarah close in situations like this. For if not here, she’d be somewhere else doing the same thing.

Eyes scoured the home every few minutes, looking to catch a glimpse of Joel within his costume, politely smiling at guests through small talk or taking slow drinks of his flask.

“Hey you!!!”

You’re startled by the sound of Sarah's boom from across the room as she calls for you, a caramel hand stuck high in the air to signal you to her, drawing you out of the trance of Joel’s small movements.

You walk to her with careful steps, trying not to step on capes or trailing costumes in the process.

“What’s up with you! I’ve barely seen you at all tonight! I know you’re not a party girl anymore but please, try and live it up for me!”

Something catches her eye as she speaks to you, her smiling face turning into an O with excitement;

“And—”

She points behind you.

“I think that guy over there is checking you out. Go have fun! Let me hear all about it later!”

Later. You forgot you’d promised to sleep over at her place too, rehashing the night's events as soon as they came to a close as you always did over the years. Though the first thing that comes to your mind is not the man behind you eyeing you, tacky tie-dye making up for a lackluster hippie costume, but Joel. the man who in fact owned the home you would be sleeping in, the man who kept eyeing you from the side of the room with a gaze you accepted much greater than the mans behind you, and above all, the man that had caught your heart in a way that led to it's seeping out between your thighs.

God, what the fuck is wrong with me? This isn't right it's, it’s Sarah's dad. She’d be heartbroken to even know I think like this.

You decide to throw away all the Clint Eastwood movies you stole from your dad and uninstall red dead redemption 2 when you got home, and blame your attraction solely on your overconsumption of cowboy media. You need a breather.

There's a balcony, facing the back of the property that was off limits to the party guests. Entered only through Joel’s bedroom, anyone would be stupid to test their luck if getting caught within his personal dwellings. However, you were Sarah’s best friend. And was even shown this entryway by Sarah herself— of course when her father was not home. And so you decide with cautious steps to ascend the stairs of his home, the liquor giving way to uncertainty in every step as your eyes are glued to the placement of each foot upon the step one by one. Though as you reach the top with great pride, you venture into Joel’s room, to the left of the stairs as Sarah’s is farther to the right.

You had never been in his room by yourself before, only for a brief moment with Sarah as she showed you one of her favorite spots in the house. It was secluded, of course looking over the backyard she lamented years past as a girl playing within the pool below. She was at the age where she wanted to be independent, but in no way could be yet; and for her that was about 10. And as means to give her her freedom but keep her close, he would watch from the confines of a balcony she paid no note to as the splashing of waves kept her occupied. And he doted on her from a distance.

As you walk through his bedroom, walls covered in guitars and desk littered with wooden sculptures while a record shows to be finished upon his player. Sheets properly made upon his bed, and a sense of intimacy looking around at the things littered upon his shelves and tables. The framed photo of him and his daughter, his old watch he took off specifically for the occasion of dress. The distinct smell of him that enveloped your senses.

Opening the door to the balcony does the feeling of cool air hitting a flustered face sober you everso slightly. Bracing yourself on the edges of the platform, you drift into a calm. The first time you’d felt that since the moment you opened the door for a cowboy Mr. Miller— as you force yourself to call him in your mind.

“Now what do you suppose yer doin’ in my room?”

Your heart sinks. You knew you’d be fine, if caught, but the thing that sinks your heart is the uptick of your heartbeat and the twist in your stomach at the sight of familiar drawl sounding behind you.

You hear heavy boots break the threshold of the doorway into where you stood as the sound of wood upon his feet changed to a scratch of concrete.

He stands next to you, forearms pressed against the railing as his back curves along casual footing aside of you. The moonlight illuminates his face, the curve of his nose complimenting the side profile that gifted you sight at the tufts of hair poking out from the ends of his hat, and the proximity to him gave you the insight to the smell of whisky on his breath as he spoke.

“Needed ta’ take a breather' myself. ‘Spose we had the same idea.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Ya’ having a good time t’night kid?”

“Oh yeah, I haven't seen all that much of Sarah though did you—”

You stop as he shifts his body to turn to you.

“Now, can I be honest with ya’?”

As you turn to look at him, mirroring his stance he dwarfs you in the process, standing at around 6ft the broad of his shoulders shadowing your whole figure.

You nod your head meekly.

“I just— now, I don't know how ta’ say all this quite right. But, don't get me wrong darlin’, I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ fer me all night. I don't know if ya’ think i'm blind or somethin, but i’ve seen ya’ all night, watchin me.”

He pauses for a moment and within that silence does your heart shatter. The whole time you thought that he was eyeing you, looking you up and down, it was just a one sided coincidence that led you to this awkward conversation with a man twice your age. You start;

“Oh listen I'm, I'm so sorry Mr. Miller I must have given the wrong impression or something I don't know i'm just so—”

“Please, call me Joel. And don't hafta’ be so sorry sweetheart. Just callin’ it how I see it.”

He pauses once more as he considers what he’s going to say next, a tinge of uncertainty covering his face as he decides how to follow up.

“And I don't quite mind it, if that's what you’re worried ‘bout.”

The tense of your muscles releases as he continues.

“Just, wanted ta’ tell you you looked quite well yourself that’s all.”

He’s holding back, you can tell by the sway of his legs as he goes on and the grip of his fingers upon the pocket of his pants. The way his gaze averted yours and his glancing upon the floor; for any look at you from your eyes to your body seemed to be hard for him to swallow with proper manners.

Your eyes lock in silence, the pale moonlight illuminating you two as the distance from Joel grows unconsciously closer as you take in his face, his body looming over yours and the prospect of their being more within his mind that he’s willing to give you. The southern hospitality still overshadows his true means.

Rough fingers graze your face, tucking hair behind your ear as it falls in front of your face. And as he leans forward to do so, you lean in as well. Blinded by desire and complicated by liquor and closing the gap between the two of you. Tasting his lips reminiscent of whisky and the frosting of halloween cupcakes you feel him kiss you back for only a moment before shooting himself backwards.

He almost trips over his own feet in adverse reaction, stumbling to the other side of the balcony as you watch him.

“I'm—”

“No darlin’ ya’ don't have to say anything. But I've probably got to get back down to company. Feel free to stay up here ‘s long as you want.”

You watch as he rushes out of the room and the urge to chase after him grows weak as the taste lingers on your lips. The sense of defeat wells in your chest but not entirely, because for a moment he kissed back. A moment you felt him push forward on your lips and savor the flavor of them as you did for him.

Later.

Now, a sleepover with Sarah is what you needed most. A sleepover with her, is a sleepover with Joel right across the way. And the mere feeling of that made your knees weaken with rushing dreams of him.

The party seemed to drag on after that, only satiated by more drinks were you able to bear a night where you could feel him from across the room, sense his body and the heat that came with it. You felt naked for him, utterly exposed at the sight of his eyes trailing you— ones you could only hope followed you the way yours did for him whenever you noticed him with back turned. Drinking in every part of his body as he was none the wiser, finding joy and security within the turn from you as means to make him in for as long as you pleased.

…

“Alright ma’am, seems ya’ need to be goin’ home, me ‘n Sarah got a lot of cleanin to do in the morning.”

An outstretched arm grabs the bicep of a polite Joel, ushering out the final guest that had an affinity for his touch so it seemed.

“Ohhh but darlin when will I see you in such a getup again? Oh i'd never want to leave.”

“‘S a shame I’m about to take it off though ma’am. Now go walk home alright?”

Her eyes hooded everstill she demands even more of him;

“Oh but will you take me? Don't think I trust myself in these conditions.”

He closes his eyes and a heavy sigh leaves his nose.

“‘Spose so ma’am— Sarah, I’ll be right back.”

Her arm loops around his bicep as he leads her out of the house, jealousy overtaking you purely at the close proximity she had to him, for much longer than he ever had with you.

Sarah turns to look at you as you stand a few feet back from the scene, a bemused look painted on your face unconsciously demanding explanation.

“Oh- that was miss carey she uh, she’s had a thing for my dad for years now. It’s kind of funny if I'm being honest, given I didn't see her drink all night.”

You let out a halfhearted laugh for a response, trying to deny the yearning within your stomach to feel Joel’s arm as she did, to touch him, fall over him. Just be close enough to smell him again, feel his warmth. It had felt like decades since the last feeling of him close to you. your body remembering calloused fingers grazing your heated cheek; contrasting with the cold tips that crept upon his hands as the air finally showed hints of the coming winter season.

“Sorry to be a bother, but doya think you could start cleaning up? I’ve gotta get this costume off and shower before I vomit. Thanks!”

As Sarah zips up the stairs all that’s left is you alone, standing within the living room of Joel Miller’s home. One where he could return any second.

You decide to busy yourself with chores, cleaning up stray glasses and bottles littered across the house, fallen decorations and dessert trays now only holding wrappers and trash. It’s a hefty job, one that helps for a short while as the weight of hours prior looms over you with darring intent to seep deep within your mind, allowing visions of the taste of his tongue, the feel of his body pressed against you to consume you. What you would give to feel his nose clash against yours through sloppy kisses, lips puffy with desire as small nips and clashing of teeth is all that can fester in your mind as candy wrappers stuck to the floor fail to give enough distraction anymore to keep Joel off your mind.

“Fuckin’ christ man I— oh.”

You didn't even hear the door open, or the creak of boots as they settled into their first steps within the home. Only the sound of his voice did you perk up with your mind unable to shake your thoughts as you stand before him. Feet away with a small trash bag in your hand.

He continues.

“Didn't know you’d still be here, my apologies.”

“Oh yeah uh, Sarah didn't tell you I was spending the night?”

“Spendin’ the night?”

He repeats you, barely able to hide his shock. Clearly, she hadn't. And as you stand there, beginning to hear the water running for a shower she’s yet to even get into, the tension of the two of you grows immanent as he realizes just how alone he currently is with you.

He didn't know what to do, feeling palms grow sweaty as his desire clashed with his sense of respect and responsibility as a father and his yearning grew too prominent to hide behind the unforgiving stretch of tightly fitted pants he busied himself once more.

“Oh, right then. Well I ‘spose i’ll be in the kitchen if ya’ need me.”

Walking past you with a heavy stride does the scent of him once more draw you to him— something primal, wanton is elicited from him when in close proximity. One that with a room now void of people to maneuver through, you refused to ignore any longer. You followed his quick steps into the kitchen, separating yourself even further from Sarah as the stairs fell into your purview as you ventured deeper into the home.

You greet Joel at the counter of the kitchen where he stood, pouring another drink for himself does the hand gripping his drink suspend mid air at the sight of your trail behind him.

“Ya’ need somethin’?”

You don't know if it’s the liquor talking, or the suspense and tease of a night full of dreaming for a moment like this to arise but you don't allow yourself to beat around the bush anymore. If this old man failed to make a move, you would.

“I do Joel, really— I think we both do.”

He sets the glass down on the counter with a light chink filling the air. His demeanor changes; you watch as both hands lean forward on the counter to inch closer to you, arms outstretched flex his forearms to reveal muscles only garnered by heavy and hard working. His hip cocked to his left as he made unwavering eye contact with you, a smile forming slightly upon his face.

“And what would that be darlin’?”

He made you nervous. This was a first. The mild mannered gentleman that often stood before you, speaking only when necessary and smiling only when compelled to. You always shook him off, an old man not worth anything but a gracious thank you as he catered to you and his daughter when times came. But as you looked upon that man now, face shadowed by a cowboy hat perfectly curved at its edges lining his head, hairs falling in just the right places over the sides of his face, and the hooded eyes coated with lust you found yourself hard to speak. Hard to even think.

“Well? Cmon’ now I ain't got all day.”

He's taunting you. Watching you grow nervous under his gaze as you become the one that can't hold it anymore.

“You, and me I mean. The way you look at me— I want you Joel. And so do you, right?”

Without skipping a beat, Joel retorts

“So come closer then sweetheart. Can't do anything with ya’ so far away.”

your heartbeat picks up again. Shaking steps inch around the bend of the countertop, until you’re no more than an inch away from him. Watching, as he looks down upon you.

“Good girl— now, what’s this about wanting me hm?”

“What?”

“Oh don't play coy darlin’, I love hearin’ you tell me all about how much you need me. The look in those pretty little eyes.”

A coarse finger falls upon your cheek once more, this time lingering there before toying with stray hairs. His fingers trail to your chin and jaw, gripping onto your face to lift it higher to lock dark eyes with his.

“Such a doll. I wanna hear ya’ beg for it.”

You feel a pool of slick well between your thighs, heating and dampening already ruined underwear at the sight of him as the night went on. Though as you listened to the sink in his voice, demanding you to beg for him. You don't even know what you were so needy for, his kiss? That was too little. You wanted all of him, and as knees felt weak at the thought of it— him, and you completely at his disposal. He dwarfed you from this closeness, you realized this as you approached him. He overpowered you in every way, and that made it even harder to say what you wanted. Every semblance of confidence leaves your body as all you want to do now is whatever he demands, whatever he says.

“Please Joel I— I need you. Every part of you. I can't take my eyes off of you. Every part of you looks so perfect no matter the angle or the lighting. Id, i’d never noticed it before but now I…”

The gust of articulation you had quickly dwindled as his face lit up from such compliment, such desperation. You were desperate, needy for him. That much was true. And he knew that.

“Mmm that's all ya’ had to say sweetheart.”

Now he is the one that closes the gap between you, the yearning for his taste finally satiated as your lips collided once more, the fantasies of clashing of teeth against one another with impassioned touch as his hand falls from your face to trail bare stomach. Feeling the large of his hands take in every inch of you with precision, like he had memorized exactly where he wished to be. Feeling as his hands trace down to your hips, and slowly maneuvering up to the wire of your bra.

“Take it off. Please.”

You beg through breathy moans as you stay inside his mouth, taking into him as you refuse to open any gap of distance between the two of you.

“Since ya’ asked so nicely.”

His fingers trace the center of your chest where a simple tie kept together thin fabric that complimented your chest. Unraveling it's knot does he guide it off your arms and onto the floor, a free hand snaking to your back to unhook your bra, leaving you with nothing but the shorts you wore and the hat upon your head to constitute a costume.

His mouth lets up from you to look down on your chest, his palms engulfing them as he kneeds them within his hands, letting the weight of them move with his fingers as he massages them. Fingers slowly trailed down to the mountain of your nipple, toying with them with two fingers as his eye flitted back up to you to watch your reaction. Sighing in relief, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of his cool touch against a body so overwhelmed with heat for him.

He leans in to you, his lips pressing softly against your ear his voice no matter a whisper is still laced with lust creating deep tones otherwise foreign to you to emit from him as he speaks to you;

“God you don't know what you do to me darlin’.”

“Then show me.”

His hands make quick way to the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his hips where you can feel his bulge pressing into you, the thin material of your shorts leaving little room for imagination.

Walking to the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, he sets you on a table that meets him at about hip level, lowering your back onto the wooden finish that often held dinners with the three of you now making way for just the two of you as you watch the buckle of his pants become the main spot of his attention.

“Bet ya’ could feel what you’re doin’ to me sweetheart, you like that hm? Feelin’ my cock against you even for a fuckin second?”

He talks down to you as he undresses his lower half, relieving himself to only his boxers as he now knelt down to face your heat, legs dangling off the edge of the table to uses that as means to slide your shorts off with ease, revealing the soaked underwear that gave you constant reminder of the eyes you held the whole night.

“All this for me hm? Ain’t I lucky.”

He lifts a finger to massage the outside of your heat, slowly pressing on the wet spots as he toys with you, making your breath hitch at the feeling of his touch, the sensitivity only growing overtime as you were denied for so long.

Slowly he peels off your underwear, allowing your slick to trail down the side of your thigh as it leaves a trace when it hits the floor. The cool air hitting your clit makes you jolt, but Joel wasting no time allows himself to dig straight into you. Feeling his tongue explore every crevice of you, every place where you have leaked for him he wants to take in every drop of it. Tasting you was like heaven to him. As his lips were pressed against your heat as his tongue began to make a repeated circular motion along your clit.

your fingers beg for his hair, grasping it in desperate fingers do you confine him within the bars of your thighs as they squeeze against his head.

“Mmng— god Joel it feels so nice please I-”

He waited for you to speak before sticking a finger inside of you. Thick callused fingers grabbed at your core and pushed its way into your center, hooking at sponge from inside you right at the spot that felt best. No longer could you ever think he didn't know what he was doing, it’s as if he knew your own body in and out, and with the whines you have to bite back out of fear of it drowning out the shower's thud of water upon a clueless Sarah.

“You like that sweetheart?”

Joel groans into your pussy, he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. Hearing your stifled yelps and desperate moans over his tongue, his finger inside of you.

“Y..yes please Joel I need more.”

He slides in with a second finger, though lets up from your clit. Slick drips to his chin as he rises to face you, leaning over you as fingers still pump inside of you.

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, is that it? Whaddya need darlin’ hm? How about ya’ use those words for me.”

He made it hard for you to speak or even think as the steady grind of his fingers inside of you overtook your senses. But you obliged, trying through breathed heaves to try and relay what you desperately needed from him.

“Fuck me. Please fuckme Joel I cant— ngh I cant fucking take it anymore.”

“Good girl. Guess you’re in luck ‘cause I aint ever wanted to fuck someone this bad in my entire life. And I’m not gonna be gentle on ya’ alright? I know you can take it.”

Slowly removing his fingers from you, he lifts them up to his own mouth to let him taste you one last time, slowly licking clean what was just knuckle deep within you. You watch as he slithers his boxers off, revealing what seemed to be impossible to fit inside of you. His cock was pulsating, almost red as it yearned to be touched, it yearned to be inside of you. You watch as beads of precum already coat its tip, and veins throb against the slight curve of him that twitches at the feeling of release.

Inching towards you you feel his tip graze your core before pushing into your folds, covering himself with your slick does he push himself flush against you as you see how far his cock rides up onto your body. You see him smile at the sight of it lying on your stomach, predicting how deep it’ll push inside of you before he centers it once more at your entrance, slowly spreading you open as you feel a fire burn within your stomach at the initial pain of it. It felt as though he was ripping you apart slowly, legs instinctively closing did his hand grab onto your thighs to push them open.

His body flushes against yours with a deep groan, letting your walls warm his cock for a moment as he looks down on you.

“You’ve got a pretty fuckin’ body ya’ know that? All done up fer me, feel so lucky finally gettin’ to do this.”

He begins inching in and out of you with slow pace, your body moving with every stroke of his cock around you as you fell hopelessly obsessed with the feeling of him inside of you.

“Been wantin’ to do this all night— imagining what ya’ looked like under that pretty little costume of yours. Fuck, woulda fucked you right on that balcony if I could’ve. Nngh—”

His thrusts in you grow faster as he speaks to you, talking you through the whole thing makes you only look at him with wide eyes, desperately needing his cock and drinking in the southern drawl that detailed how he felt the exact same.

“Body’s fuckin’ perfect. Pretty little pussy all fer me, yaknow that? Right now you’re all fuckin’ mine hm? Ain't that right doll?”

“Yes, yes Joel— all for you nngh. My body is all yours please, please don't stop.”

His finger trails down from your thigh to your clit, throbbing with pain at the need to be touched does he satiate it with a thumb beginning to circle where his tongue did moments prior.

“Fuckkk please oh my god”

your breath grows irregular as the fire burning in your stomach grows white hot, unable to utter anything coherent as babbling of desperate please escape your mouth as your body becomes addicted to his every touch. The push of his cock directly against your cervix, the circle of his thumb perfectly against your heat, you felt it bubble inside you. Nearing on toppling over all you can think of, unconsciously chanting as he fucks into you Joel Joel Joel Joel

“Ya’ gonna fuckin’ come for me? Cmon, I wanna feel it darlin’ I want it to swallow me I want you to cum on my fuckin’ cock hm? Can ya’ do that for me?”

He groans over you, thrusts growing irregular at the desperation of his own climax reaching a head at the same time yours does. Only letting a few more thrusts greet you before you feel it toppling over, every inch of your body becoming utterly ruined below him. Feeling his cock inside of you pistoning into you through your orgasm, legs lock around his clothed waist as your hips buck up, shaking as your back arches against the table with legs raised, most of your body not even on the table anymore as he holds your legs stable to fuck through his own orgasm.

“Fuck fuck darlin’ you’re so fuckin’ tight— shit you feel so good.”

“Inside of me”

You manage to breathe through a fogged mind and blurry vision as the sensitivity of your body makes his use of you mind numbing.

“Please. Please Joel please cum inside of me please—”

You feel heavy liquid fill you as he slows his pace, heavy groan being the only thing that fills the room now as he pumps in and out of you, softening inside of you as his seed leaks from you. He slowly removes himself from you, a collection of your own fluid and his trails down the side of your thigh as you both stay there breathless. Watching as he slowly shifts on his boxers, and loosely does pants that are soon to come off later.

Before you’re able to right yourself or even get up, you watch as Joel slides your clothes back on you, latching your bra softly as he raises your back up to do so. Slipping your top on and tying a proper knot is the only thing missing from your wardrobe, the underwear he took off of you, that of which becomes missing as he slips your shorts onto you.

“I think you forgot something.”

“Think I deserve a little trophy don't you darlin’?”

You flush at the implication, Joel keeping them as a sort of token of remembrance of you, of this night.

Straightening yourself up as he finishes clothing you do you stand there, as you watch his back once more fill up glasses of water for you and him. Taking in all he is, form fitting cowboy attire still decorating his body, do you outstretched a hand to feel his bicep, a desire you’d had the moment that woman did. As he turns to face you, feeling your hand brush against his body once more he smiles slightly, teasing;

“Ya’ like what ya see sweetheart?”

“I just wanted to feel you.”

“Already did a lotta that don't ya’ think? But be my guest.”

He hands you a small glass of water as he drinks out of his own, and as silence engulfs the two of you you hear the dreaded creak of a shower turning off sound from the upstairs as reality sets in for the two of you once more.

“Think ya’ best go check on Sarah now.”

“Yeah that’d be smart.”

You avert his eyes as you’d done once prior, engulfed by embarrassment as you remember Sarah after the intimate moment you shared.

“Well, I’ll be down here for a bit longer, then headed ta’ bed. You just uh, let me know if ya need anythin’ right? You know where my room is.”

A small smile across his face implies a very different definition of ‘needing’ something, depending on how you view it. But as you ascend the stairs to help deal with Sarah once more, part of you knows that you’ll be asking him for some more help, cleaning, before night's end.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #pedro x reader #pedro pascal #cowboy pedro #cowboy joel #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction

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hearts4golbach · 3 months

Text

The Night Shift.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

part 17.

i groaned as I woke up, sprawled out in Johnnie's bed for the 4th day in a row. I rubbed the sleepiness out of my eyes and looked over. johnnie wasn't there. I mean, obviously, he wasn't. I checked the time, it was 7:30 on the dot.

I picked up my uniform off the floor next to the bed; where johnnie had tossed my clothes last night while looking for something. I giggled audibly at the memory.

I quickly slipped on the black t-shirt and black jeans, which were a nice contrast against my pink polka-dot apron. 'fuck, my apron' I thought back to my apartment where it was sitting, folded on my bed. what a great start to my night. I settled on using one of the spares in the back, even though they were boring compared to mine which was covered in pins and other miscellaneous things I could put on there.

I heard a soft knock on the door, "you up?" Johnnie's muffled voice called.

"yeah," I sighed.

johnnie walked into the room holding a mug. "you okay?"

"yeah, just forgot my apron." I stand up completely to meet johnnie.

"oh, sorry. I made this for you." he passed me the mug which was filled with coffee and creamer. "it may be ass, me and Jake don't make coffee that much."

"I don't really think it's possible to make coffee that tastes like shit. it's kinda hard to fuck it up." I rambled before taking a sip. it was surprisingly good, although it did taste microwaved. who was i to complain? i hummed, "this is great, thank you."

johnnie smiled in response, his bright blue eyes squinting slightly. i couldn't help but smile back. johnnie sat on the bed next to me while i was doing my light makeup, leaning back and sitting on his phone. i enjoyed the company, even if we weren't talking. i fought the urge to tell him that.

"anything special planned tonight?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had tainted the room.

i hummed, "i think i'm just going to decorate for valentines. my parents are coming to town soon, they'll kill me if i don't use the decorations they send every year." i blurted.

johnnie paused, looking over his phone at me. i turned around and made eye contact with him. "your parents are coming to town?"

"uh, yeah," i hesitated, "why?"

"you don't talk about them much." he shrugged, switching his gaze back to his phone.

"i mean, what is there to say?" i mumble as i fill in my waterline. "they kept me in a box my whole childhood, they're really not my favorite people."

"i'm sorry, y/n." he shuts off his phone and places it on the bed next to him.

"no worries." i shrug it off.

"can i come help you decorate later?" he smiled.

i rolled my eyes, "johnnie, you really need to fix your sleep schedule." i scolded.

"that's hard to do and i wanna help." he whined.

"if you absolutely have to come help then i guess you can." i stood up after tying my shoes.

"i'll be there, just text me when you're about to start." he grinned.

"i will." i responded before starting to do my hair in the mirror. i tossed it into a half up half down type of style since it was easy and still hid my stitched relatively well. i turn to johnnie, "how bad do my stitches look?"

i watched as he stood up in front of me, looking down at my hairline. he gently adjusted a section of my hair before stepping back and smiling. "it's covered now."

my face felt hot from the interaction. i turned away quickly and grabbed my keys and jacket. "i have to go. i'll see you in a bit." i waved bye to him.

he nodded and waved back, giving me a soft smile before i closed the door.

i texted johnnie, iforming him i was about to start decorating. since it was the slowest time of the night, i figured i might as well get it over with.

johnnie: on my way :))

my heart skipped at the notification. i smiled, giddily waiting for his arrival. i twiddled my fingers, fidgeting with the decorations to pass the time. i looked at the laid out abundance of pink, red, and white decorations in front of me. eventually, johnnie walked through the front door. he smiled when he saw me, gently pulling me in for a gentle embrace. he smelled very faintly of cologne. i sighed, savoring the hug before pulling away.

"busy night?" he asked, following me towards the counter. he picked at his already chipped black nail polish.

"not really, that's why i was relieved to see you." i hand him a roll of double sided tape. "wanna help me start on the windows?"

he nodded, following my lead as i picked up sparkly, white tinsel. his bright blue eyes surveyed all of the options before settling on light pink, small heart cut outs. a comfortable silence had fallen between us as we worked. i began to line the first window with the tinsel as he miscellaneously stuck hearts. the soft jazz playing in the background was the only noise, not even cars were passing by at this time.

johnnie clicked his tongue as we admired our work done on both windows. "i have an idea, what if we put those big red hearts as an outline like, on the roof?"

i looked around, imagining his vision. "i mean, it's a good idea, but how are we even supposed to reach up there? i don't have a ladder or anything." i set the left over tinsel on the counter.

"you could climb up on my shoulders." he offered nonchalantly. i paused in my tracks, hesitating. "come on, it'll be quick and easy. if you're not comfortable with it, that's fine." he added quickly.

i pushed hair out of my face. "okay, sure. are you sure you can hold me up for so long?"

he waved his hand, "wow, i'm much stronger than i seem, thank you."

i roll my eyes, my gaze meeting his as i leaned on the counter. "i'm sure you are, that's my bad."

"well, let's get to work. come the fuck on slow poke." he kneeled down, helping me climb up on his shoulders.

"wait, this would be such a cute photo." i joke, taking out my phone and taking a picture of us.

"oh lord," he sighs, "get ready for the rumors."

"oh, no one is going to think anything of this." i shrugged his warning off. "i'll post it later."

"alright." he shrugged.

johnnie stood fully, making sure i was balanced on his shoulders. his veiny hands gripped my upper thighs tightly as i prepared tape for the first heart. "this is actually easier than i thought." i spoke aloud before sticking it onto the wall.

he scooted over, stumbling over his footing. my hands flew to his head, gripping his hair in attempt to keep some kind of balance. he laughed, his shoulders moving me slightly as he apologized.

"thanks for proving me wrong." i said, patting his hair down before preparing the next heart. "i didn't mean to mess up your hair, pretty princess." i teased, placing the next heart.

"it's already messy, there's not much you can do." he giggled, flipping his hair sassily.

we inched our way along the first wall. he almost dropped me a couple times, causing me to wrap my arms around him tight. i continuously scolded him, telling him to be more careful unless he wanted me to break something. he laughed it off, shaking his head.

as we made our way to the next wall, i began to feel light headed. "uh, johnnie-"

"what's up?"

"i feel really dizzy." i muttered, pressing my hand into my forehead.

i felt him tense up. "we can take a break. is it because of when you hit your head?"

"i mean- probably." he helped me down off of his shoulders, his hands never leaving me until i was safe in a seat.

"do you need anything?" concern tainted his voice.

i shook my head. "i'll be okay, i just need a second." i closed my eyes. i felt his hand lay on top of mine, his thumb rubbing my hand gently. butterflies erupted in my stomach. i kept my eyes closed, too nervous to look at him.

by the end of my shift, we had fully decorated the cafe, and it looked amazing.

#fanfiction #johnnie guilbert #fanfic #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #jake and johnnie #jake webber #tara yummy #cafe aesthetic #cafe #café #the night shift

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doctorsiren · 4 months

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saw you mention that you were a courtroom artist in mock trial. I didn’t even know they had those??? My school has a mock trial so I’m considering joining, but what does a courtroom artist do in there?

I’m not sure if all states have them, but California at least does!

What you do is you draw a scene happening in the courtroom and you have until the end of the trial to finish it

You usually want to include stuff like the judge, the US flag, the seal of the state if it’s on the wall, the defendant, and the attorney(s)

Here’s a really blurry picture my mom sent me of my senior year (2022), getting county champion for the 4th year in a row (if I had a less blurry picture I would put it LMAO but my mom just recently sent me this one)

#doctorsiren #not art #siren speaks #hope this helps!#if I find more of my mock trial pictures I’ll post them :)

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invisibleicewands · 4 months

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WORTH A LOOK?: *****

WHEN?: Saturday 24 February, opens 6 March and runs through 11 May 2024 RUNTIME: 160 minutes (including a 20-minute interval)

A grieving son wraps his dying miner father in his arms, apologises for everything he could have done better to look after him and vows to make good by helping others.

The son is Aneurin ‘Nye’ Bevan, the Labour politician and founder of the National Health Service on 5 July 1945, and Nye is the warts-and-all story of the man who would improve the health of countless millions of us and how he did it.

Nye died almost 15 years to the day he founded the NHS from stomach cancer and the conceit here is that he’s in hospital at the end of his life having a fever dream and wanders, pink pyjama-clad, through moments of importance.

Reading the article by former Labour leader Neil Kinnock in the programme about Bevan we discover his education was cut short at 13 when he followed his miner father down the pits to work in 1910.

In an almost reverse of film Dead Poets Society we meet the bullying schoolteacher who would cane a young Nye because of his speech impediment, the classmates who would protect him and the very Manic Street Preachers-like realisation that free libraries could give him the power to overcome his stammer by finding alternative words to those he could not utter.

Riffing on Dennis Potter’s Singing Detective Sheen’s Nye even sings Judy Garland’s Get Happy at 1 point as he and his miner colleagues use the time unemployment has afforded them to bone up on the way their home town of Tredegar in Wales is run and get themselves elected onto the boards of the bodies involved to finally do good by its people.

From our 4th row seats we see director Rufus Norris, also outgoing artistic director and chief executive of the National Theatre, tread the boards at the beginning of this 1st preview to remind us as such there might have to be a pause in proceedings because of the freshness of the material but perhaps 1 of the reasons its star Sheen is beaming so much during the curtain call (see picture below) is because it all actually went so well.

The action is staged as if in a hospital ward for much of the time with beds on wheels used to great effect and curtains around beds featuring prominently and at 1 point, rather brilliantly, lowering to become rows of seats in Parliament.

Tony Jayawardena (Marjorie Prime, Menier) is quite brilliant as Nye’s nemesis Winston Churchill, a man who succeeds in doing what Labour were unable to by uniting all classes in opposition to world war.

Sharon Small (Good, Harold Pinter Theatre) is more than a match for a revelatory performance by Sheen, at 1 point seemingly channelling the boyish enthusiasm of a young Declan Donnelly from Ant and Dec, as she explains the sacrifices she made to support her husband.

There’s a lot of injustice to make the audience angry here and there’s some terrific political theatre in London at the moment to both challenge the mind and make the heart soar – An Enemy Of The People and Standing At The Sky’s Edge for example.

Like the outstanding Dear England, this is an example of a venue at the top of its game doing exactly what it should be doing in offering insight into stories of those who have shaped our country and influenced the people we have become.

---------

Another one who sang "Get Happy":

youtube

#Michael Sheen #theatre #National Theatre #Nye #Aneurin Bevan #review #Youtube

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scrollonso · 1 month

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First Kiss (Race 15)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.3k words, seblance, so cute, then ANGST. but then fluff?) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {I don't like the end of this but fuck it we ball!!! and now writers block starts}

last part - masterlist - next part

Lance walked into the grid with Sebastian, he was going to be driving for Sauber during free practice so the two got to catch up until then.

They'd been in karting together for years before Formula 1 was even an atainable goal for the boys but now that one was a race winner and the other was negotiating a contract it was insane. Sometimes Lance wondered if him and Nico got on so well because he'd practically grown up with Seb and the two were pretty similar.

"Scared?" Lance asked, looking down at his friend as they just wandered around the paddock, it felt nice today.

"Should I be?" The German boy laughed, overgrown blonde hair being blown all over the place as they walked

"Five Germans on the grid today, I'm scared." He laughed as well, grabbing his shoulder in response to his friend smacking him

"Piss off" Sebastian groaned, speeding up to pass Lance, smiling as he heard his foot steps speed up, the Canadian pleading for him to slow down

Sebastian did well during free practice, Lance going to the Sauber garage straigjt away to congratulate his friend

"Kumpel" He called, pulling the shorter boy into his arms as he patted his back "Good job, Sebby"

"Sebby is insane." The German laughed, hugging his friend back

"Expected you to crash" He added, smiling once Seb pushed him away, cursing at him under his breath "Joking, joking, I knew you'd do good."

Qualifying came to an end, Lance in 8th, Fernando in 10th, and Nico in 19th. A very diverse group.

"Nando" Lance said, having found his boyfriend first because he'd been to busy with Sebastian to find him any earlier

"Hola, Lancito" The Spaniard smiled, it looked like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders just because he saw the Canadian. "How are you, mi vida?"

"I'm good" He nodded, Fernandos smile contagious. "Are you okay?"

"Si, why wouldn't I be?" Fernando questioned, not caring what place he qualified now that he was talking to Lance.

"Brad told me Quali wasn't the best for you are Fisichella, I figured you'd be upset."

"Am fine, just slower than usual. Engineers are looking at my car, not sure what is wrong." Lie.

Lance and Fernando spoke for a little longer before they began lining up on the grid, both Renault's in row 5 behind him and De La Rosa.

The race got off to a much better start but only 10 laps in Brad told him Nico was retiring, driveshaft issue, but his car seemed to be perfectly fine.

He didn't respond, just nodded to himself like Brad could see him.

In the next 20 laps both him and Fernando had managed to go up 3 and 4 spots, in 5th and 6th place respectively. Yamamoto and De La Rosa had also retired so now it was down to 19.

Another 13 laps went by smoothly, Lance and Fernando now in 4th and 5th until the Spaniard lost control and his engine blew, leaving a cloud of smoke and a worried Lance on the track

"Is Fernando okay?"

"Is Alonso the renault whos off the track?"

"Yes, is he okay?"

"He is, now focus, Lance." Brad said, unsure if the man was okay but he knew telling the Canadian that would just hurt his performance.

Lance ended the race in 4th, 8 seconds behind Robert but he couldn't bring himself to care as he went straight to looking for Fernando, his engineer telling the boy where he was.

He knocked on Fernandos drivers room, waiting for a second with no response so he knocked again "Nando?"

The door opened right away and before he could speak the Spaniard was hugging him

They spoke for a bit, going over the race together.

"You did so good, mi vida, so impressive for a rookie."

"I'm sorry about your race"

"Is okay, I do not care anyway." Lie. Fernando shrugged, simply brushing off the fact that his engine blew on track and he didn't finish.

"You don't care?" His eyebrows furrowed, wearing his emotions on his face.

"Lancito, am not sure why exactly you are upset, you finished the race in the points. I do not care about me not finishing, I simply have to try harder next week" Fernando was calm, how was he so calm. Michael Schumacher was 2 points behind him in the world championship. A seven time world champion was 2 points behind him in the world championship.

"Exactly, Nando, that's the problem! We're so close to the end of the season and you're so close to winning the world championship again and you just- you don't care? How can you not care?"

"The championship doesn't matter to me, all the media and hastle of being on the podium, is not what I look forward to, I love my job, Lancito, you know I do, but is not the only thing I have anymore." Lie.

"I know, you've said it a hundred times, Fernando. Of course I know you love racing. But I just- god I feel like it's my fault distracting you, I hate knowing that you're okay with losing because you get to see me, I hate to see you lose, you were born to win, you're too talented to give it up because of me."

"Lancito-" Fernando paused, running his hands through his messy hair "am sorry but you are wrong, that is not why I am fine with not winning, you are not at fault here, mi sol." Lie.

"Fine, but that doesn't change the fact that you have something good here, Nando, being a two time world champion is fantastic, I just-" Lance knew what he meant he just had no idea how to put it into words, he felt like the Spaniard wasn't understanding where he was coming from. He didn't want Fernando to throw anything away, he didn't want him to make any decisions where he considered Lance before his career. He loved having Fernandos attention, he loved being alone with him, he loved loving him, but the championship should be more important than that.

"Is that really what this is about? Me winning the championship?" Fernando asked, knitting his eyebrows together, somehow not surprised that the world championship is what Lance is most worried about "If this is about the title, Michael can take it. I don't want it without you."

"Fernando. Don't waste your talent because of me. You have a hunger." Lance shook his head, stepping away from him as the Spaniard desperately came after him "You're brilliant, you want to win, you want to be the best, and you are. Don't settle for second because of me."

"Okay, am sorry." Lie. He spoke softly, just wanting to end the conversation as his arms reached out and pulled the Canadian to him, one hand on the small of his back as the other stroked the boys hair, feeling how shakey his breaths were, he almost regretted lying about being sorry but now part of him was. "The rest of the season I'll be on that podium for you."

Lance didn't respond, he just settled his head in the crook of the Spaniards neck, eyes shutting as he took in the scent of the older man, embarrassed at how worked up he'd gotten himself over another persons race

"I'll win again, I'll win for us." Fernando said with false confidence, truly not caring whether he won or not. It was weird. He'd never cared about anything how he cares about Lance. He's never enjoyed losing but now he didn't mind it as long as he got to see Lance when it was over. But now he knew to never admit that to Lance so he would lie, just a little white lie.

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rorywritesjunk · 7 months

Text

I can’t tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story.

Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He’s young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him.

Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy’s in his early 20s. He’s an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. There’s 3 new characters thrown in because why not? Future Wife gets a name as well! Also, in this chapter, Buggy's an asshole and the Reader is just a bit as well. A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he’s a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. I just started on the 4th chapter but I’m excited to write it out! I had fun with the original fic and decided to write the prequel to how they met. Enjoy! I also wanted to get this posted because I work the next six days in a row, and I may get some things posted but I wanted to get this chapter up soon because I may have teared up a bit writing it.

Title comes from “Wake Me Up” by Avicii.

TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates @the-angriest-angel @tiredemomama @valen-yamyam16 @i-reblog-fics-i-like @plethora-of-fickleness

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 5

Buggy managed to find you sitting by yourself on a blanket at the lake. There were ducks coming up to you, quacking as you tossed seeds to them. It only took him an hour of asking around to find out where he might be able to find you. He didn’t even go to the shop to ask because he wasn’t keen on coming face to face with Miss Pins after she hit him with the broom the other night. He made sure his hat was perched right on his head and that his jacket was buttoned right before he marched over to you.

You heard someone approaching but only looked up when a shadow was cast over you. When you looked up and saw Buggy, you couldn’t help but smile. How he managed to find you, you weren’t sure, but there also weren’t that many places in town with ducks so it shouldn’t have been too hard. You scooted over on the blanket and patted a spot beside you for him to sit.

“I thought ducks were boring.” You said as he sat down. He tensed up when you said that, looking away as he said nothing in return. “There isn’t anything more exciting for you to be doing, Buggy?”

“I… yes, there is, always.” He grumbled. “I’m a pirate after all. There’s always something exciting to be done.”

“But you came to sit with me while I fed the ducks.” You pointed out. He looked back at you, glaring as you dipped an apple slice into peanut butter and held it out to him. “Snack?”

He grumbled and took it from you, shoving it into his mouth before he replied. “I wanted to… wish you a happy birthday, but I didn’t get you anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” You handed him a napkin but he didn’t take it. “I mean, I like that we seem to be becoming friends, but you didn’t have to come wish me happy birthday or get me a gift. I know you’re busy but don’t go out of your way for this.”

“I-I can do whatever I want!” He sputtered, staring at you in disbelief. How could you be telling him what not to do? He could do whatever he wanted, and if he wanted to wish you a happy birthday while you fed the damn ducks then he would. “I don’t have to answer to anyone, and, and I don’t-”

You cut him off by pushing an apple slice against his lips. His cheeks flushed and he glared at you, but he took it out of your hand before shoving it into his mouth like the other piece.

“Well, thank you, Buggy. I appreciate it.” You smiled at him as you looked back at the ducks. Several of the mamas were quacking at you, wanting food, while one of the ducklings pulled at your skirt. You tossed more seeds out to them and looked back at the pirate. “Miss Pins doesn’t want you coming around the shop anymore.”

“She can’t turn my business away!” Buggy exclaimed. “I’m a well paying customer!”

“She’s convinced you’re lovesick and will steal me away.” You chuckled. “This morning she warned me again about seeing you because she doesn’t want you to steal me from her.”

Buggy crossed his arms and looked away again. “Well, can’t you make your own decisions? You’re an adult. She can’t tell you what you can and can’t do.”

“Are you planning on stealing me away then?” You asked as you tossed more seeds for the ducks. Buggy refused to look at you. “Buggy-”

“How can I when I still don’t know your name?” He shot back. “You never told me.”

“Miss Pins said it in front of you.” You told him with a shrug. “At least once.”

“Once isn’t enough to remember!” He snapped. “Not to mention I rarely see you, so how can you expect me to remember something stupid like your name?!”

And as soon as he said that he realized he should have shut up. He didn’t like the way you were looking at him just then, no traces of a smile or that look you had in your eyes when you talked with him, of warmth and kindness. Instead there was disappointment, maybe even hurt, and before he knew it you were gathering your things into a basket.

“I need to get back to the shop.”

“It’s your birthday, you said you had a few days free.” Buggy replied as he stood up. “Let’s go do something, I’ll take you on my ship and, and we can go do whatever you want!”

“No, I need to get back to the shop.” You told him as you gathered your blanket into your arms. You weren’t looking at him and he hated that, he didn’t want you to look away from him.

“We should do something!” Buggy insisted as he reached for your arm, but you jerked away and glared at him. He stopped moving in that moment, horrified to see tears in your eyes. Did he cause that? Did his stupid behavior lead to this?

“No.” You said as you brushed past him. “And Miss Pins doesn’t want you coming by the shop anymore, Captain, so please don’t come around.”

He stood and watched you leave. He fucked up, didn’t he? One of the only people to be kind to him and he managed to ruin it by being an ass. He wasn’t lovesick, he just wanted a friend, but the way his heart was feeling right then as he watched you walk away was different from how his friendship with Shanks ended. His heart hurt and felt heavy, like it was sinking into his stomach and weighing him down. You didn’t even say his name, just called him Captain before walking off. He didn’t follow after you, his legs wouldn’t work, but he wanted to. He wanted to call you back to him, make a stupid joke to get you to laugh and smile. He didn’t like seeing tears in your eyes because of him, but maybe he should stay away if he was just going to upset you.

He was an idiot.

A duck quacked at him before it nipped at his ankle, startling him. No, he decided he wouldn’t stay away. Yea, he was an idiot, but he liked being around you. Buggy scowled and crossed his arms. He didn’t want to lose you.

You didn’t speak to Miss Pins or the girls as you went up the stairs and to your room. It was nice being the oldest as you were given your own room, you didn’t have to share like the younger two did. You shut the door and set your things down before falling face first onto your bed, hiding your face in the blankets as you sighed heavily.

Buggy was rude from time to time, but that was the first time he was mean to you. Why did he have to react like that? You were sure it wasn’t intentional but it still hurt. And it hurt enough that you weren’t sure you wanted to see him again, but it made you wonder why he was so insistent on seeing you in the first place. Did he want to be friends with you, or was Miss Pins right, he wanted to steal you away from here? You weren’t sure about that part. While you were nearing the end of your apprenticeship with her, you hoped to stick around a bit longer to help her out.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed. This wasn’t how you wanted your birthday to go. You only wanted to relax and watch the ducks but he had to come along and ruin it. Maybe you could do something tomorrow to make up for it, but you didn’t want to risk the chance of running into Buggy.

Maybe you’d just hide in your room for a while.

It was five weeks before you saw Buggy again.

Every time the door opened to the shop you’d look up, hoping it was him, only to be disappointed that it was someone else each time. He wasn’t coming back even though you still had two pairs of socks for him. Maybe he decided to listen to you when you told him Miss Pins didn’t want him coming around anymore.

The girls left the apprenticeship, deciding they didn’t want to deal with pirates anymore. Miss Pins had been out of the shop and you were in charge when a big and very threatening pirate came along, scaring the girls into quitting, so it had just been you and Miss Pins taking on all the customers and tasks for a few weeks until the new apprentice showed up and honestly, you were relieved.

Benji was only 13 but he was happy to fight any pirates that came along being rude to either you or Miss Pins. Honestly, it was kind of adorable but you made sure not to say that to him. He quickly became fiercely protective of the two of you and it became apparent when the shop door opened one afternoon and Benji was met with a scowl. He glared back at the pirate and crossed his arms.

“What?”

The pirate made a face when he saw him. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” Benji shot back.

“I’m Captain Buggy!”

“Oh, you’re that pirate.” Benji moved around the counter and crossed his arms as he glared up at him. “Miss Pins doesn’t want your business so you can leave.”

“I don’t care what she says and I’m not here for her anyways!” Buggy snapped. “I’m… I’m here for…”

“Benji, what’s going on?” You sighed as you stepped out of the back. While you appreciated the protective nature, you hated how he talked to customers. You were working with him on that. When you saw Buggy you stopped in your tracks. Benji turned around to look at you.

“I’m just chasing this good for nothin’ pirate off, Sunny.” He said with a grin. “So no worries, okay? I got this.”

Buggy resisted pushing the kid away. He wanted to make amends with you, not make it worse. He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth. “I’m here to see Sunny, not the old lady, kid.”

Benji looked back at him. “No, you’re not welcome here. Boss’s orders.”

“Miss Pins isn’t in right now.” You reminded him. “So it means I’m in charge.”

Benji narrowed his eyes at Buggy before looking back at you. “Do you want him in here then?”

That was a fair question and you weren’t sure how to answer it. Part of you wanted him to stay around and talk about what happened on your birthday, but the other part of you was still hurt. He said your name just now but you knew it was because Benji just said it; Buggy didn’t know your name until now. Was it fair to be upset at him for this? When Miss Pins said your name that day, he had just hit his head and been insulted all in the same five minutes, but he thought it was stupid and that had hurt when he said it.

“Boss?” Benji asked as Buggy pushed past him. “Do you want me to kick him out?”

Honestly, you did, but you didn’t want Benji involved in this nonsense. You crossed your arms and looked at Buggy.

“I don’t have any services to offer you today, Captain, so please leave the shop.” You said as politely as possible, ignoring the look on his face that went from anger to confusion to heartbreak all in seconds. “I’m busy with orders.”

You and Buggy locked eyes for a moment; you almost wanted to take your words back but he straightened up and knocked into Benji as he turned around to storm out of the shop. Fine. He wouldn’t come back if you didn’t want him around.

Benji followed after him and shut the door before looking back at you, giving you a thumbs up. “Good job, boss! I’ll let Miss Pins know you got rid of him quickly.”

“Thanks.” You smiled sadly as you headed to the backroom to finish your tasks. Your heart was hurting from that interaction and you wondered if you went too far.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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