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weasleyreidstyles · 5 months

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Serendipity

chapter eight

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+ content, unprotected sex (use protection obvs), rough undertones but not really, bro's possessive as fuck

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Your old Professor had given you some much needed insight over the Christmas holidays. Harry had dragged you and Ron to sit in agonising silence as he and Remus had a back and forth battle of wills over Harry's wild theories. Remus was certain that Voldemort wouldn't recruit inexperienced, young adults who were barely eighteen, but you knew he was wrong about that, especially considering he was recruited into the Order as soon as he was no longer a Hogwarts student.

Theo had not replied to a single letter; you'd sent countless over the small three week break.

Remus had yelled at Harry for making such harsh accusations, then had apologised not ten minutes later. It was a full moon after all, and he was still grieving over Sirius' death. Before that had sullied the peaceful evening, you confided in your old Professor before lunch had been served, who was more than willing to offer his profound wisdom to you.

"Sir? Can I-" you hesitate in the doorway of the Burrow's living room, feet teetering on the edge of the threshold, the smell of Mrs Weasley's cooking permeating the calm air. Before you could continue, Professor Lupin let out a hoarse chuckle and invited you to settle in the cushioned sofa next to him.

"I'm not your Professor anymore," he spoke your name softly, "please call me Remus."

"Okay sorry. Can I ask you something, Remus?"

"Of course. I'll try to help in anyway I can." his encouraging smile led to you spilling what was on your mind – he'd always been easy to confide in.

"I've been doing some extra reading on further subjects," you start, chewing on a hangnail on your thumb. "about- about siphons."

Remus stilled. If you weren't so nervous you would have narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

"What have you learned so far?" his response was slow and curious; carefully constructed.

"Well other than the fact that they don't draw magic from their cores...nothing. And every book in the library says the same thing." you let out a frustrated sigh and he seems to take pity on you.

"Siphons are extremely rare, which you know, of course." one of his hands cups his jaw contemplatively, as if he's choosing his words with careful precision. "That's why there's so little information, because there are very few people alive who have been able to record their true nature.

What we do know, is that siphons can completely draw out sources of magic into themselves; drain it to nothing to gain that power. They're very volatile in thats sense because no one knows how much power they can truely handle."

He gave no indication that he saw the way your flinched at his words. You were grateful for it.

"But surely harbouring that much power would be dangerous? Nature demands a balance." you say in a small voice.

He mumbles your name with a knowing look of understanding before patting your shoulder, indicating an end to the conversation but you still catch his parting words: "Look in the restricted section, in books about forbidden magical and mythical creatures and you'll find what you're looking for. Consult Professor Dumbledore too, it would be more useful than soley relying on my account."

"Thankyou sir- Remus." he leaves you there, chuckling quietly at your correction as he let you know that he'd see you at dinner later in the day. You're left infinitely more confused than before you initiated the conversation, but as you left through the opposite door that led to the bedrooms upstairs to find Ginny, you failed to see the curious eyes of you best friend, hidden under his cloak of invisibility.

~∞~

Something had changed over the holidays. The air around the castle was different; a dark, sinister energy permeating the comforting warmth that the magical wards usually bathed the castle grounds in. You didn't know how you felt the shift moreso than your friends. Maybe it was the January weather, or the fact that you missed the comfort of home, but you knew in your gut that things were different now. Your stubbornness didn't want to admit that it could be a result of your new abilities that hadn't shown since Katie Bell's incident.

It became evident in your patrol evenings with Theodore, too. He was withdrawn, sullen and constantly aggravated; if he bothered to show up at all sometimes. You knew what it meant and you kept this piece of information to yourself, lest it gave your friends one more reason for you to avoid the Slytherins.

But you made a promise; one that you wouldn't break.

The change was even more evident in your sessions with Mattheo. He was pushing you to your limit, and getting exceedingly frustrated with you, for no reason. He was angry at the world and at you, apparently.

After a considerably hard yank at your innermost thoughts, you shoved him out with a glare, which he returned tenfold.

"Okay. Ow? Why are you being so aggressive?" you snap, massaging your throbbing temples. He scoffed at you and moved to stand, beginning to pace.

"What? You don't think someone trying to infiltrate your mind won't be? Don't be so naive, I can see all your thoughts. Shut. Me. Out." He spat your name out like it was filth to him, and you suppose it was at one point in time. Pushing youself to stand, you make your way to him so you were chest to chest.

"What is your problem?" you question, narrowing your eyes at him as he stared back with deadly, onyx eyes. He scoffed and turned away from you, fingers rubbing at his temples as if this whole conversation was giving him a headache.

"It is giving me a headache." he spat and your glare intensified. "You're not focused, your mind is unraveling at the seams. It's like you haven't made any progress at all."

You startled him with the cold laugh that escaped you. "That's rich." you spat, your pointer finger digging into his strong chest. "You're a hypocrite Mattheo. You have been unfocused for the last week. So answer me this: what is your issue?"

In seconds he had you pinned against a wall that you hadn't noticed he had been backing you into, his breathing heavy and cold as ice. His hand was wrapped loosely around the base of your throat, not tight enough to harm but enough to pose a threat.

"You know nothing about me, Princess." his voice was a low and deadly rasp that sent coils of dread right down to the tips of your toes, but you couldn't deny the blatent arousal that was beginning to fester. "You know nothing, yet you're still willing to be in a room with me. Willing to let me do things to you that your friends would abhor you for. Willing to keep secrets from the very people you should trust with your life."

You cursed the flush in your cheeks, and the lust in your eyes.

"You've been dancing with the devil for months, sweetheart." his voice was a nocuous whisper as his lips grazed your's with controlled precision. The sharp feeling of his teeth piercing your bottom lip invaded all your senses along with the metallic taste of blood. "You should've expected that I'd behave as such."

He kissed you then, an art of carefully thought out distraction as he sucked on the wound he created. But he underestimated you as you raked your fingers through his unruly, dark curls. Wandlessly, wordlessly, you willed the Legillimens spell to take hold and you were thrust into his mind, barraging through his fortified shields as if they were mere shadows ready to be swept away.

You were thrown into a seat at an overly large dinner table, that could seat at least thirty people, Bellatrix Lestrange seated adjacent to the seat opposite you, causing you to flinch at the phantom feeling of her cruciatus curse from the Department of Mysteries. The room was vast, with a towering ceiling filled with delicate Jacobean decor, it was dark and foreboding; you didn't want to be here.

You were sat to the right of Death himself.

Voldemort didn't acknowledge you and the words he spoke were a garbled blur of nothing as your attention was brought to the back of the room, by the double doors to the Entrance Hall. Draco Malfoy walked in, followed by Lorenzo and....and Theodore.

The next moment made you want to scream and cry as Mattheo was forced to stand before his friends, before Voldemort's loyal followers who were a mere spillage of darkness to your vision, and tortured by his own father. Somehow this was more painful than the memories you'd seen of his in those first few lessons; knowing it had been as recent as the week before. You gaped as Voldemort merely turned to Enzo and Theo; you fought tooth and nail to stop the inevitable as you watched them writhe and scream as the Dark Mark appeared on their left forearms.

You were shoved so violently from his mind that your head collided painfully with the wall behind you. You were staring at him, wide eyed and wincing as he glared down at you, murderously.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't- I'm sorry." you tried to catch your breath, only now realising that the hold he had on your throat had tightened upon reflex. Your hands flew to the singular wrist that helf your life in his hands, clawing as it flexed. "Mattheo-"

You watched in understandable horror as a smirk painted his beautiful face. Your wrists continued their assault with renewed vigour.

"I'm very impressed." he mumbled, his face drawing closer to your's, his voice a sensual whisper in your ear. "No one has ever been able to do what you just did."

He pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear and you trembled as the hold he had on your throat did not let up.

"What are you going to do to me?" you whispered hoarsely, fear painting your tone. He snickered at your predicament and the tightness surrounding your throat lessened considerably, but he maintained a loose grip, a warning.

"I want to do unspeakable things to you, sweetheart." he said, his voice a reflection of the arousal that was pressing heavily against your abdomen. His smirk widened as you shuddered at the way he said your name. "I'd like to think that I'm an honourable man. And I want to do the honourable thing, but I've resisted you for far too long."

Weeks worth of avoidance came to head in that moment as he surged forward, finally pressing his lips to your's. You could taste cigarettes on his tongue and his cologne filled your lungs with every breathe you managed to gasp between heated kisses. The wound on your lip pulsed from the attention, the pain causing a whine to crawl up the back of your throat. The kiss deepened.

His hands roamed over your entire body; hips, waist, thighs. Like he didn't know where to settle them, while his body pressed you further into the wall with pure male strength – you wanted to climb him like a tree. Somehow you managed to pull away from his ministrations, heavy breath mingling with his.

"You're not angry that I just broke through your shields?" you ask with a furrowed brow. He only lets out a quiet laugh as he shakes his head, leaning down to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck, then soothing the marred skin with presses of his lips and swipes of his tongue. You breathed out an airy moan at the sensation, tilting your head back to grant him more access.

"A little miffed." he mumbled agaist your skin. "But not angry. No one has ever been able to do that, except you apparently. Smart girl."

He didn't speak for another minute or so, content with marking your smooth skin instead.

"I'm proud. These lessons are paying off, it seems." and you hear it in the tone of his voice, the pride. You respond with a stifled laugh as he bites into the sensitive flesh of your collarbone and you swat at his shoulders.

"You're always content in making my life difficult." you tut, but make no move to stop him as he begins to unravel the knot in your tie. "Do you know how long it takes to cover these up? With and without magic!"

"Don't want you to cover them up." he mumbles, so quietly that you almost miss it. But you don't miss the possessive gleam that ignited in his onyx eyes. "You're mine."

You're mine. The words echoed through every corner of your mind.

"Am I?" you challenge and you pull him closer to you as you weave the fabric of his tie through your fingers. He growls as he rips your school shirt in two, ignoring your admonishing protests as he pulls it from your body. This continues until your stood in nothing but your under garments.

"Beautiful." he mumbles as he traces featherlight touches down your body with his calloused hands. "Absolutely breathtaking."

"Well I don't think it's very fair that I'm the only one whose indecent." you snark, though your attempts at hiding your anticipation were rubbish at best.

"So undress me, darling." he says after a split second of reluctance, his voice low and demanding, it makes your thighs clench. Looking at him through dark lashes, you begin to unknot his tie, slow and teasing. The buttons of his shirt are next, popped one by one by your nimble fingers; when you raise to your tiptoes to smoothly remove his shirt from his shoulders he tenses as you come face to face with his lean, quidditch built torso.

That's when you see it. Ink black and imposing against his tanned, muscular forearm. Covered in thick scars, old and new, was the Dark Mark. Your breath hitched in your throat as you trailed your fingers lightly across it. Mattheo shivered at the feeling.

"Scared?" he asks, voice low, you almost detect a hint of shame...or something else.

"Of you?" you ask, taking his left hand in both of your's, fingers running soft circles across his palm. "No."

"You should be." he says it like he believes it to be true. His fingers flex in your hold and then tighten, squeezing your's in earnest.

"I'm scared for you, Mattheo. For all of you. This," your pointer finger trails against the Mark, "isn't fair."

He smiles at you then, all soft and sad and heartbreaking. "This is the life I've been dealt, love. No use in trying to stop it."

You brought his forearm level with your face and begin to press gentle kisses to his marred skin. His breath hitches and you can't place the look he gives you.

"You're not a monster." you mumble between soft caresses. "You're kind and intelligent, and compassionate and honourable. You've been dealt an awful card, yet you haven't let it ruin you. Not entirely. That says everything and more, Matty."

"Say that again." he says, onyx eyes staring resolutely into your's.

"Say what?" you ask, brows furrowed as he practically rips his arm from your hold, only to pull you closer to him by your waist. You both seem to realise that you're both near naked – only your underwear and his trousers separating the two of you. Your cheeks heat.

"My name. Say it."

"Make me." you say with a barely contained smirk. He lets out a near growl as he cups the back of your neck in his giant palms and presses a demanding kiss to your kiss-swollen lips.

It's not pretty. It's all teeth-gnashing and lip biting and purely animalistic.

You'd both been resisting eachother past blind fumbles in the dark and post-session make outs but you'd never been this exposed to each other before. It was exhilarating.

"Fuck!" he gritted against you. "You're so fucking pretty."

You whimpered against him as he sucked at your tongue, and that seemed to push him past his controlled limit. One of his hands guides your thigh to rest against his hip and he battles with his trousers to get them low enough to release his painfully hard cock.

You're not one to beg often, but your desire for the boy in front of you was too great to ignore. With a mewl and a whisper of pleas he pushed the fabric of your panties aside and pushed into you. The tightness and the pain of the action made you both groan in unison.

"Gods, sweetheart. You feel so much better than I imagined." he says against your lips as he pushes in to the hilt. He presses away the tears that fall from your eyes.

"Please move." you say as you attach your lips to his neck in an effort to stifle your moans as he begins at a slow pace, graciously letting you adjust to his size. He's bigger than anyone you'd had before him, the tip of him grazing places you didn't think was possible to reach. You were a mess of whines and moans as he adjusted you in his hold; letting out a shriek when he begins to repeatedly ram against a spot inside you that brought you immediate pleasure.

"Gods! Right there Matty, fuck....please!"

He smiles a wicked, sinister smile at you as he drags one moan after another from your lips. He takes both your hands into one of his and pins them above your head, restricting you to the wall.

"That's it, sweetheart." Mattheo rasps, revelling in the way you clench around him. "Moan my name."

His movements are precise and controlled. His pleasure deriving from the way he was making you come undone at the seams. He brings his free hand to the apex of your thighs, brushing them against your throbbing clit, smirking as his motion draws you closer to your orgasm.

You're not certain how long has passed since he entered you, but you feel like you're having an out of body experience as he rips an orgasm from you so suddenly that you don't know where the pleasure starts and ends.

You're a whimpering, moaning mess as he uses the extra slick to speed up his movements, which become erratic and lose their rhythm as he gets closer to his own release. The only sound to be heard are your soft whines, his grunts and the sound of skin slapping against skin as he finally reaches his own climax.

His forehead rests against your's, both gleaming with a light layer of sweat as you bask in the feeling of him. His dark brows furrow as you let out a soft laugh.

"What's so funny?" he asks, a light smile gracing his face as he memorises every inch of your skin.

"I think you just ruined me for anyone else." you say, breathless.

"Good." he growls, that possessive gleam in his eyes again as you feel him harden inside you. "As far as I'm concerned no one else can have you."

He's rolling his hips against your's before you can utter a snarky response.

~∞~

The next time you see Mattheo is in the Potions classroom the following day.

"How are you so good at everything you do, Meadow?" Ron grumbled as he read through the instructions of the healing potion Slughorn was making you all brew.

You had just finished an apparition lesson; by the end of the two hours, only you, Hermione, Mattheo's group of friends and a handful of others had managed to apparate from one side of the room to the hoop at the other. Harry and Ron were not part of that group.

"Well unlike you, Won-Won," Hermione sneered from across the table, "she takes pride in her academic accomplishments."

The redhead scoffed. "Mione come on-"

"Don't call me that." she snapped, going on a rant about Ron's incompetence. He only spluttered in response. You and Harry only exchanged uneasy looks as they continued arguing.

"I thought this would've ended by now." you say under your breathe as you drop in your next ingredient, huffing when it does the opposite of what it should. Harry mumbled his agreement as he completed his own potion. You looked between his and your's incredulously. "Why does your's look different to mine? Is it that book?"

You glared at him with pleading eyes and Harry huffed as he slid the Halfblood Prince's book so you could see. Your body ached as you read through the annotations. You winced as you rolled your neck to get rid of the tightness and Harry noticed your discomfort straight away.

"You okay, Meadow?" he asks, his hand gracing your shoulder blade. You both looked up at the sound of a knife clattering against a table top. Mattheo was glaring at the hand that Harry still kept on your shoulder, you huffed as you turned to your friend.

"Fine. Just sore from apparition lessons is all." you smiled reassuringly which seems to convince him as Harry removes his hand from you.

Faintly you hear Pansy question why Mattheo was acting so strangely and you try your hardest to ignore it. Until you couldn't any longer, because he was in your head.

Why the fuck was he touching you like that? His voice was a dark growl in your mind.

Wow possessive much? You reply with a mental scoff. He was asking if I was okay.

The agression in his tone softened and he sent a wave of concern your way. Are you? Okay, I mean? What's wrong?

You can't help the smile that paints your face, and you have to duck your head to hide it from your oblivious friends. I'm fine.

You can practically see as well as feel the look he gives you all the way across the room. You clearly aren't. Tell me what's wrong.

You look like you're about to incinerate the tabletop. I'm okay, Matty, really. Just sore. You curse him internally as he smirks wickedly, onyx eyes dancing with pride and hunger.

I'd gladly satisfy you again, darling. Just say the word.

You kick him from your mind, ignoring the flush that overtakes your heated face. Then you send flares of annoyance to him as you hear his snickering laughter that he barely conceals.

~∞~

when i was researching siphoner lore literally the only thing that came up was vampire diaries theories 😭😭😭

the smut took a different direction to what i intended tbh but i wanted to include some soft Matty 😅

taglist:

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @topguncultleader @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23

#mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle #harry potter #serendipity series

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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

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Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (Saturday)

Summary | Back together as a family, but with a secret confession burning in your pocket. How is Tommy going to take the fact that you love his brother more than you probably should?

Word Count | 4.8K

Chapter Warnings | Our family back together. Mentions of consumption of alcohol & food. Explicit sex. Unprotecting PiV, breeding kink, (double)creampie (I said what I said👀), cum play, a sprinkling of anal/ass play, threesome dynamics (MMF), dirty talk, Tommy back to being our favourite cuck in the room kinda, Joel back to being our favourite breeding stud.

Authors Note | I.... actually think I hate this lmao. It's the first time I've felt meh about a chapter of this story, but the longer I look at it, the more I know I'll hate it, so I'm sharing it anyway. It's refreshing to have our trio back together though, they're as filthy as ever so I hope you all enjoy it! Two more chapters to go until we wrap up with these three and I am so emotional. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting, reblogging or coming into my ask box to scream with me. And, as always, If you want to support me, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.

A reminder that I no longer use taglists - to keep up with my writing, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to keep up to date.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Joel wakes the next morning to you wriggling about in his arms. He cracks an eye open just enough to see you clambering to straddle his lap, palms resting on his biceps to steady yourself as you lower your pussy onto him, already hard, to drag him through your folds, already soaked for him, or maybe still soaked from him from last night.

“Mornin’ trouble,” He speaks, voice still heavy with sleep, “What are you up to?”

His hands shift to your hips so you don’t stop those slow glides of your silken folds across him, watching as you shift your face from watching between you, to his own face. You bite at your bottom lip, bashful like a child who has been caught doing something they shouldn’t be.

“We could have fucked all day yesterday,” You drawl out, gasping as the head of his cock brushes against your clit, “I’m just trying to make up for lost time before we have a houseful of people.”

He drags your hips back and forth over him, watching as you toss your head back and gasp with every pass of him over your clit. He’s trying not to think about the fact that in a few short hours, you’re not going to be his anymore, you’ll go back to being his brother’s, a façade kept up for the sake of the rest of your family. He pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind, sitting up so he can wrap his arms around your back and kiss you.

“You gonna ride me, pretty girl?” He murmurs against your lips, “Gonna sit on my cock and make yourself feel good?”

You pull back, look right into his eyes, hips still grinding against his, “Fuck yeah,” You breathe, “Can I?”

“Such a good girl,” He growls into the skin of your neck, “Askin’ all pretty and polite like that,” He settles himself back on the bed, head on the pillows, “Go on, pretty girl, take whatever you need from me.”

You use your hands that are back on his chest to push yourself up a little, reaching one hand down between you to grip the base of his cock, lining it up to your soaked core, before you sink down onto him in one go, burying him inside you to the hilt. He groans, and you cry out, feeling that twinge of pain along with the pleasure that has been so prevalent over those past few days.

You lift yourself up, almost all the way off him, sinking back down, finding your rhythm, which Joel quickly adheres to, thrusting himself up into you on your downward strokes so his cock is brushing against your cervix almost every time. His hands favour your tits this morning, cupping the weight of them in his palms as his fingers roll your nipples into peaks, squeezing perfectly every once in a while, to add to the mix of pleasure you get from him spearing his cock into you.

You lean back, motions moving to more of a grind on his cock as you cup his balls in your hand, rolling them gently in your hand, as Joel’s own fingers slip down your body and find your swollen clit, thumb rubbing circles across it as you continue to grind on him.

“You gonna come on my cock, pretty girl?” He asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

Heat is licking at the base of your spine, threatening to topple you over at any moment, and you can tell from the way his hips are stuttering up into you, that Joel is close as well. You’ve had each other too many times this week for this to last very long.

“Fuck- keep going,” You groan, feeling that tight knot threatening to come undone in your tummy, “I’m – holy shit – I’m gonna come.”

“Go on, pretty girl,” Joel coaxes, thumb staying exactly where it is, doing exactly what it needs to do, “Come for me.”

And you do. Pussy clenching around his cock as you fall forward. Joel’s arms wrapped around you, keeping you pressed to his chest as he takes control, thrusting up into you as you moan into the skin of his neck. He chases your high with his own, spilling into you just seconds after your own climax hits, his fingers digging into the skin of your back as he holds you tightly to his body.

As you both lie there, catching your breath, he wants to say something. Wants to push the hair from your face, kiss the tip of your nose and tell you that he wishes this didn’t have to end. Wishes that he didn’t have to wait a month to find out if he was successful in giving you another baby. Joel selfishly wishes he hasn’t, just so he doesn’t have to go back to waiting for that one night a year. He remembers though, his words from last night, that he’s trusting you to fix this, to come up with some solution that means he can have you differently going forward, so he keeps his mouth shut, only opening it once he’s pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.”

Breakfast is a cobbled together affair of fruit and coffee considering most of the groceries you’d bought together have been eaten. You sent Tommy a list of things for him to pick up on his way to you. He’d set off yesterday, stopping halfway to spend the night somewhere, not convinced that Joshua would cope with doing the whole journey at once, and it shouldn’t be long until they’re here, Sarah too.

“Excited, baby?” Joel asks, pressing you against the counter to dip and kiss you once you’ve both finished the washing up.

“I am going to give my baby the biggest squeeze known to man,” You smile against his mouth, “As much as he exhausts me sometimes, I’ve missed him.”

“We talking about Joshua or Tommy?” Joel teases, hands wrapping around you to grip the globes of your ass through your jeans.

You laugh, feeling light again. This man is the Joel you know, the Joel you love. The man who loves his brother just as much as you do, probably even more, and who takes his duties as Uncle incredibly seriously. You peer over his shoulder, looking at the clock on the wall, there’s enough time for a quickie, is what you think. You start trailing your hand down his chest, resting it on the front of his jeans, palming him through the material. You’re about to start dragging down the zipper when the front door opens.

“Dad?!”

Joel pulls back from you like you’re on fire, putting enough distance between you so as to not look suspicious as he calls out to Sarah.

“In here, kiddo!”

He gives you a look that tells you he’s sorry, that he wants nothing more than to have that one final moment with you on your own. You shake your head, heat flushing across your face at almost being caught, motioning for him to go to his daughter. Sarah finds the kitchen first, embracing her dad as he kisses the crown of her head.

“Hello brainbox,” You greet her when Joel lets her go, pulling her into a hug of your own, “You look good!” You say when you finally let her go, keeping her at an arm’s length to really look at her.

“Thanks,” She smiles, looking around for a second, “Where’s Uncle Tommy?”

You look at Joel over her head, because right. The story he concocted for her meant that he’s been here all week with Joshua and the two of them are nowhere to be seen, and neither is his truck.

“Uhhhhh…” You glare at Joel’s response, quickly trying to come up with something in your mind.

“He’s out grocery shopping,” You say quickly, Joel nodding in acceptance, “Ran out of stuff this morning so he’s taken Joshua into town to stock up.”

She nods, accepting your answer, moving back to give her dad another hug, “Which room is mine?” She asks, “I’ll go and drop my bag.”

“First door on the left.” Joel speaks, pointing down the hallway across from the kitchen.

“Alright, I might get changed too,” Sarah nods her head outside, “It’s a nice day, maybe we can take Joshua swimming?”

“Of course,” You smile, “Take your time, bug, there’s no rush.”

Once she’s started off down the hall, you fish your phone from your back pocket, punching in a text to Tommy, as Joel shifts back closer to you, not being able to bear being away from you too long.

Sarah arrived. Covered for your absence. Message me when you’re on your way from town and I’ll meet you outside.

You lean up into Joel’s face, letting him kiss you as you put your phone on the side. You push up into his mouth, opening your lips against him to taste his tongue when your phone vibrates on the side.

Just leaving town now sugar, great timing. See you soon.

You put a hand on Joel’s chest, leaning up to give him one last peck on the lips, “Tommy’s almost here,” You say against his mouth, okay, now this is the last kiss as you press them back to his, “I’ll wait outside for them.” He smiles but his eyes are sad. You’ve spent long enough staring into them to know that look. You press one final kiss to his mouth now, “Remember I love you,” You insist, “And I’m gonna make this right.”

“I believe you,” He relents, squeezing your hand as you move around him to head to the front door, “And I love you too.”

“Mama!”

“Oh, my baby boy!” You exclaim, pulling Joshua out of his car seat and into your arms, holding him tight to your chest as his small arms try and wrap around your neck, “I missed you so much baby.”

As much as this trip had given you the opportunity to be a woman again, not just a mother, the way your son fits into your arms, the way he smells when you take a breath of his hair into your lungs and the way he nuzzles into your face make motherhood all worth it. You have never loved something as much as this boy in your arms. Not your husband, and not his brother, and that’s something you never thought would be true. Something you’d never thought you’d ever understand.

Tommy is rounding the front of the truck, slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans as you lean your face up, kissing him, “Missed you too, handsome,” You smile, pulling your attention back to Joshua, giving his cheek a kiss, “Have you and daddy had fun this week?”

“Yeah!” Joshua exclaims, wriggling about in your arms, he’s almost too big for you to hold like this anymore, “We played lots!”

“That sounds like fun,” You smile, turning back to Tommy, “We told Sarah you’d gone to town for supplies, so that,” You motion to his and Joshua’s overnight bags, “Will have to stay hidden until we can sneak them in.”

Joshua wriggles a bit more in your arms, “Uncle Joel!”

You turn slightly towards the lodge, where Joel is coming down the steps. He reaches out and claps his brother on the back in their usual greeting, before he reaches over and pinches Joshua’s cheek gently between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Hey bud,” He greets, “You’re getting so big!”

Joshua unwraps his arms from your neck and reaches out to Joel, flexing his fingers in the way he does when he wants something. Joel laughs, “Let me help your dad get everythin’ outta the car bud,” He smiles, “Then we’ll have a cuddle, okay?”

You smile at Tommy as Joel rounds to the back of the truck, opening the back door to reach in and grab some of the grocery bags, “Help your brother,” You smile at Tommy, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “I’ll take this little monster inside.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tommy speaks, a little two-finger salute added for effect.

It’s been a wonderful day. The sun has started to dip behind the trees, a cool breeze opening up a little. Sarah and Joel are still playing in the water with Joshua, their laughs mixed with his as they splash each other in the water. You’re sat on a towel by the shore, head leant against Tommy’s damp shoulder, his hand resting on your knee.

You’ve been in and out of the water all day, floating around with Sarah and Joshua, watching as Sarah plays with him on her own, sitting off to the side as Joel and Tommy sip beers and catch up. You smile the whole day, laugh for most of it too, but there’s always that fear that threatens to spill over when you think about what you have to do.

There are nerves bubbling in your tummy. You have to tell him. You have to speak to him. Looking out at the water, to where Joshua is perched on Joel’s shoulders and Sarah is splashing water at her dad, you know you have to tell him, but you’re still not quite sure how he’s going to react. You’ve run through this conversation so many times in your head over the last twenty-four hours, switching your opening sentence, developing your defence, but none of that comes out now, what comes out surprises even you.

“I love him.” Easiest to tear the band-aid straight off, you think.

Tommy barks a laugh next to you which surprises you. You lift your head off his shoulder and look at him, he’s smiling, “I know you do.”

“But I love you too.” You quickly add.

“I know that too,” He’s looking back at you now, clearly understanding the confusion on your face, “Why do you think I had no problem lettin’ you come here with him, huh?” He asks, squeezing the hand he’s got resting on your knee, “Or the way I’ve never complained about letting you go with him for his birthday?”

“Are you not mad?” You ask, biting at your bottom lip.

“No sugar, I’m not mad,” He leans down, kissing your cheek, “I love that man more than you will ever understand, he’s always had my back, always bailed me outta the shitty situations I’ve got myself into, never once thought about himself since that little girl was born,” He nods his head towards Sarah, “You make each other so happy, I ain’t ever seen Joel so happy since he started helpin’ us out, and I want nothing more than to keep makin’ him happy.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” You insist, your own hand resting on his thigh.

“I know you don’t, I don’t want you to leave either,” You can feel your eyes start to well with tears, “I’ve been sharin’ you for years baby, and I ain’t gonna stop because you two have finally admitted you love each other.”

“Finally?” You ask, using your free hand to wipe at your eyes, “What do you mean?”

“Baby, I’ve been watchin’ you fuck him for months, I know I’m slow sometimes, but I’d have to be fuckin’ blind not to see what you mean to each other.”

You maneuver yourself so you’re practically sat in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you cry into his shoulder a little. You wonder in this moment what it was that you did to deserve him, to deserve them both. Two men who love you unconditionally, who just want you to be the happiest you can be, and two brothers who just want to see the other happy too.

You pull back, clutching Tommy’s face in your hands, “So you don’t mind if I want to see him more often?” You ask timidly.

“Not at all, sugar,” He leans forward, kissing your lips, "That man has never once thought about himself, put himself first, not since Sarah came along, and it's about time he did something for himself, we've just gotta help him right?" He asks, to which you nod in response, “We’re lucky men to have you.”

“And I’m a lucky girl to have you both.”

Things had seemed so normal over dinner. Tommy had grilled an insane amount of meat that’d you’d all devoured. You’d drank beers together, Joshua had sat on Joel’s lap for most of the night, favouring his uncle over anyone else. It felt like it always did when you were all together as a family, Sarah feeding small bits of food to Joshua, Tommy’s hand on your knee under the table as you all talk about different things – how Sarah is getting on at college, how this time next year Joshua will have started school. You know they’re different now though, although Joel doesn’t. You wonder if he’d seen you speaking with Tommy earlier, if he did then he must know that things are okay, right? That there wasn’t an argument so it must be okay. You want to tell him, want to take his face in your hands and kiss him at the table so he knows everything is okay.

You’re propped up against the pillows of your bed now – those so familiar to you now after this week. Reading the book you’d been trying so hard to focus on this whole week and still finding you can’t quite concentrate on it. Tommy had put Joshua to bed a few hours ago, Sarah had gone to bed at the same time as you, leaving the brothers on their own to clean up and catch up. You wonder now what they might be talking about.

It's not long before you find out exactly what they’ve been talking about. There’s a soft knock at the door before it opens, revealing Tommy, who steps into the dimly lit room, closely followed by Joel, who closes the door behind him gently.

“Hello.” You greet, looking up from your book.

“Joel’s been tellin’ me what a good girl you’ve been for him all week,” Tommy speaks, “He’s given you a glowing report, sugar.”

Oh. So that’s what they’ve been talking about. You wonder if Tommy told him? Wonder whether he’s given his brother the permission he needed to have you like he wants. You close your book and set it on the nightstand, turning back to them.

“We’ve been trying really hard baby,” You speak, voice sweet, “Haven’t we Joel?” You look into that familiar face, “I’ve been so full all week trying real hard for this baby.”

Tommy walks slowly to your side of the bed, gripping your chin to tilt your face up to look at him whilst Joel watches on.

“You gonna show me what you’ve been gettin’ up to?” He asks softly, “Gonna let me fuck you?”

Tommy pulls back the duvet, letting his fingers gently trace down between the valley of your breasts, covered by your nightdress. He trails further down to the hem, letting his hand sneak under the material. You spread your legs for him slightly, keeping your eyes on his as his fingers slip between your folds finding you already wet for them both.

“Looks like the answer is yes,” He chuckles, dipping down to kiss you as he drags his slick fingers up to your clit to circle gently, “How about you give Joel your pretty mouth, baby?” He asks, “I’ve missed this pussy, I gotta be inside you.”

He takes his hand away from you, letting you shift so you’re on your hands and knees, nightdress pushed up to the small of your back, so you’re spread and on display for Tommy. You reach out a hand and motion with a finger for Joel to come to you, which he does, hands already moving to unzip his jeans. Joel lets them pool on the floor before he gets onto the bed in front of you, fist around the base of his already hard cock, guiding it to your mouth at the exact same time as Tommy nudges himself inside you, sliding in slowly until you’re full of him, Joel doing the exact same to your mouth, letting his cock slip across the length of your tongue until he hits the back of your throat.

He feels absolutely delicious inside of you, like he always has done for all these years, angling just perfectly inside you to brush against that spot that's been so stimulated this past week. Your moans are muffled, vibrating around Joel's cock as you take him down into your throat, saliva pooling around the edges of your mouth.

This, you think, is what you were made for. To have two men, two of the most beautiful men in the world, taking their pleasure from you, but giving you twice that in return.

Joel's hand grips your chin as he starts shallow thrusts into your mouth, you look up at him, your own eyes rimmed with tears, his blown out and dark from lust as he fucks your mouth, groaning in pleasure when you do.

"You're a lucky girl, ain't ya sugar?" Tommy husks from behind you, his skin slapping against yours, "Two men here to adore ya," He leans over and kisses at the skin covering your spine, "Always were meant to be the centre of attention."

Joel lets his cock slip from your mouth, looking down at you with one eyebrow cock, his hand around your jaw to get you to look at him, “He’s right, ain’t he, pretty girl?” He asks, running a thumb over you spit soaked bottom lip, “Love bein’ the centre of attention, don’t ya?” You nod, totally overwhelmed by the feeling of Tommy’s pace behind you, but Joel taps your cheek, “Words, pretty girl,” He chastises, “Use your big girl words.”

Tommy’s hands grip your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrusts into you, making you cry out, “Yes!” You gasp, realising you have to try and keep quiet, Sarah’s only just down the hall.

“Yes what?”

“I love it,” You whimper, looking up at him, “Love being the centre of attention.”

“Course ya do,” Tommy quips from behind you, “We love you bein’ the centre of attention too.”

Joel uses his fist to guide his cock back into the warmth of your mouth, resuming his short thrusts into your mouth as Tommy pounds into you from behind. The sounds in the room are obscene – there’s the sound of Tommy’s skin hitting your own, the sound of you almost gagging on Joel’s cock, and the mixture of grunts and groans that are pulled from their mouths as they use your body to make themselves feel good. You almost wish you could see yourself right now, speared at both ends of your body by these two men.

Joel trails his fingers as far down your arm as he can, and you think he’s asking for you to put your hand on his balls as you take him in your mouth, so you do, but he’s swatting it away, gripping your wrist as you look up at him again, tears falling down your face.

“Put it on your pussy,” He instructs, “Make yourself come for us.”

You snake your hand down, fingers circling your clit, slick as always. You start working in fast movements just as you feel Tommy’s thumb start to tease the tight ring of muscle of your ass. You whimper again around Joel’s cock as his hands gather your hair, using it to drag your mouth up and down him.

“You want it, sugar?” Tommy asks, pulling his thumb away before you hear him spit, the warmth spreading down your ass as his thumb works the wet into your skin there.

Joel, once again, pulls his cock from the wet heat of your mouth, motioning for you to talk, “Go on, pretty girl,” He coaxes, “Tell him you want it, we know you love it.”

“Please,” You breathe out a beg, pushing back lightly into his finger, “Please, Tommy.”

“Always sound so fucking pretty when you beg for it baby,” He chuckles behind you, “I’ll give it to ya, don’t worry.”

When his thumb pushes inside of you, as the same time as Joel feeds you his cock once more, it’s almost immediate, the way your orgasm slams into you. Stuffed full in every possible way, as Tommy’s thumb presses gently into your ass, as Joel’s cock hits the back of your throat over and over again and the way Tommy is pounding into that delicious spot inside you as always. The knot of pleasure snaps, Joel’s cock muffling your cries as your pussy clenches around Tommy, walls fluttering as you work your clit through the aftershocks, body convulsing almost violently.

“God damn it sugar,” Tommy groans behind you, “Gonna – fuck – m’gonna come baby, where?”

“Inside,” You moan, pulling off Joel’s cock, “Please, inside me baby.”

He gives you exactly what you want just seconds later, stilling behind you, with his cock buried as deep as he’ll go. He lets out that sound that you love, a high-pitched whine that’s similar to some of the sounds he and his brother draw from you as you feel him fill you up. He’s not giving you much time to recover, groaning lightly as he pulls out, stopping briefly to watch as his cum drips from your spent pussy.

You roll onto your back, fingers drifting down and inside of you, slowly pumping in and out as Joel comes into view. He stands at the side of your bed, pulls at your legs so the backs of your thighs are pressed against his chest, ankles by his face. He pulls your hand away from your pussy, pushing your fingers into your mouth as you clean Tommy’s cum off them.

“Go on brother,” Tommy encourages, settling himself on the bed behind you, “You’ve still got a job to do.”

“Ain’t no way she’s not full of my baby,” Joel growls as he sinks his cock into your pussy, your slick and the cum his brother’s just filled you with making it so easy for him to slide in all the way, “Is there, pretty girl?”

His hands are splayed over your stomach now as he pounds his cock into you, the squelch of your pussy filling the room, “Filled me up so good, Joel,” You moan, hands palming at your tits as your head turns to look at Tommy, “Been full of him all week baby.” You say in his direction.

The attention you’ve been giving Joel with your mouth means he’s already on the edge, “Sucked me so good, pretty girl,” He mumbles, “Gonna come for you.”

You’re gripping the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer to you as he ruts himself as hard and fast into you as he can manage, “Please Joel,” You sob, feeling the head of his cock bruising at your cervix, “Give it to me, please.”

“Quit your crying,” He spits, “You know I’m gonna give it to you.”

And like clockwork he does. He groans out, low and loud as always, as you feel the hot spurts of his cum filling you up, mixing with what Tommy gave you just minutes ago. He slips out of you, watching as his cum mixed with his brother’s drips from your used cunt. He runs his fingers down the folds of your pussy, scooping up what’s left you, pushing it back in, because he’s got to be sure, got to be sure that he’s given you every drop of himself.

You expect the aftermath to be a little strange as you pull the hem of your nightdress back down. Tommy’s already half asleep on the bed, clothes haphazardly thrown back on as he shuffles himself under the sheets. You follow suit, watching as Joel puts him underwear back on.

Tommy has already wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you to his body, light breath fanning against the skin of your neck. You’re watching Joel as he straightens up.

“Hey,” You speak softly, grabbing his attention, you reach out a hand which he takes, “Stay.” You say simply, tapping the empty side of the bed, the side of the bed that had been his all week.

He smiles, squeezing your hand, and you think he might refuse, opting to take the final bedroom, but he doesn’t. He climbs onto the bed, far enough away that your bodies don’t touch, respecting the claim Tommy has staked by holding your body close to his, but keeps his hand in yours, as physical reminder that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. He leans forward, soft kiss pressed to your lips, before his other hand pushes your hair back from your face.

“Sleep, pretty girl,” He insists softly, “Tomorrow is a new day.”

And sleep you do – one Miller brother strong against your back, arm draped over your waist, other Miller brother led facing you, chocolate brown eyes watching you as you drift off to sleep, your hand clutched in his to anchor you to him just as much as you’re anchored to his brother. As your eyes close and you drift off, you realise you’re exactly where you want to be, held by both the men you love, and that’s absolutely enough for you right now.

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katiexpunk · 5 months

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To Protect & Serve, Part 1 | Pairing officer!Joel Miller X fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a small-town reporter, living a life dedicated solely to your work and the relentless pursuit of truth. It's all pretty routine, almost too easy, albeit exhausting. Little did you know that the one thing you could never have predicted was the arrival of Officer Joel Miller. Suddenly, your story takes an unexpected turn, writing itself in ways you could have only dreamt of as he shows you what it really means to protect and serve. Part 1 Summary: You spent all day in the newsroom again, only to wake up at midnight. Your drive home is anything but smooth. You end up on the side of the road, freezing and wet from the relentless rain, struggling to change your tire. You're about to give up hope, that is until Officer Joel Miller shows up to assist. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~5.1K Part 1 Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. Honestly, you should just expect that from me at this point (Katie Core Slow Burn™). Set in 1994 because I said so. Reader has no major physical descriptions. Joel is literally a cop in this -- so typical cop references (guns, badges, uniforms, bulletproof vests, radios, a Crown Vic cruiser, etc.). Reader has a Nokia brick phone. Reader is a reporter, so heavy on the news and reporter references (her story and what she is investigating will come in future parts). Sarah is alive and well in this and is into art. Reader has a bad day. Blown tire. Rain. Bad luck. Competency kink. Uniform kink. Bad dad jokes. Flirting. Joel and reader share a piece of cherry pie. Officer Joel Miller is a gentleman. Authors Note: Happy 2024! My first fic of the year. Minimally edited, sorry if there are typos. This series will eventually be VERY heavy on the smut, and on back story, and will slowly build up the world they both live in. You're in this one for the long haul with me, babes. Buckle up -- it's the law. ;)

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January 1994

You blink your eyes open and groan, the aroma of stale coffee and the faint hint of ink lingers in your nostrils.

Your desk is strewn with stacks of notes, crumpled papers, and empty takeout cartons that bare the remnants of hurried meals consumed during your relentless pursuit of the truth.

Crime surely doesn’t stop for a proper lunch break, so why should you? It was your resolution this year to pack more healthy lunches, but here you are – not even three weeks into the New Year and already knee-deep in Pad Thai.

The soft glow from your desk lamp highlights the fatigue etched on your face as you rub your tired eyes. You check the strappy black watch on your wrist – just past midnight.

Another night of burning the midnight oil.

You stare at the computer screen, and the blinking cursor patiently waiting for you to pick up where you left off. You consider staying another hour, but think twice of it; sure that the rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain on the windows in the newsroom would soothe you like a lullaby and you’d end up spending an all nighter in the newsroom. Again.

With a sigh, you gather the papers that have collected on your desk in masses as of late and stuff them into your briefcase in no real order. You know they’ll just end up fanned out on your desk tomorrow morning, anyway. You turn off the computer, and an audible mechanic sound of it powering down gives the impression that it’s grateful for the much-needed break as you are.

As you grab your coat and make your way to the exit, the newsroom seems to exhale, settling into a peaceful calm. The door behind you slams closed, and the distant echo of thunder snaps at the same time, causing you to jump a little at the sound. You really should lay off the caffeine. Navigating the dimly lit hallway, you reach the elevator, its soft chime signaling your descent to ground level. Each step feels heavy, your body pleading for rest.

Once in the elevator it hits you that you don’t have an umbrella.

Shit.

++++

You sprint to your silver sedan as fast as you can in the loafers you chose for the day. Cute and comfy enough, but not exactly ideal to relive your glory days on the track team. By the time you get to your car, you’re out of breath and soaked, your makeshift umbrella with your coat barely sparing you from the rain.

You slide into the worn driver's seat, and the familiar scent of aged leather and cigarette smoke surrounds you as you turn the key in the ignition, and the engine roars to life. You blast the air, but turn it off once you realize how cold it is. You decide to wait until the car is warmed up, not wanting to turn into a popsicle in your wet blouse.

You sit in the parking lot for what feels like an hour, holding your hands under your armpits for warmth, before deciding the engine is warm enough to turn the heat back on. You place one hand behind the passenger seat headrest and look over your shoulder as you pull out of the parking lot.

The rain continues to cascade down, and your shitty windshield wipers struggle to keep up, giving a deafening squeak with each pass across the glass. Annoyed, you turn the radio dial up just enough to drown out the sound of the whirring blades with Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody. Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality.

You try to focus on the poorly lit road ahead of you, the dashed white lines blurring behind the wall of water on your windshield as the downpour intensifies. Water congregates in small pools on the edges of the weathered road, occasionally splashing all the way up on the sides of the car, and under the tire wells.

A knot tightens in your stomach as the road becomes a murky blur, adding a layer of stress you most definitely don’t need right now. It’s nights like tonight that you wish you had actually gotten new tires, like you have meant to for the past four – okay, six – months. Your bald tires are barely hanging on like a thread. It’s really only a matter of time before –

Suddenly, a deafening pop echos through the car, startling you. The steering wheel transforms into a wild animal, one you struggle to wrangle back into submission. You grab the leather steering wheel with a death grip, and steer into the skid and pump your brakes, eventually managing to bring the car to a safe stop on the side of the road.

Your eyes fall closed as soon as the car is totally still. You lean back into the leather headrest and try to recenter yourself, level out the adrenaline pulsing through your veins. You silently kick yourself. Oh, they’ll be fine. I just drive to work and back, you reasoned with yourself, the guys at the shop are probably trying to get you to buy new tires before you even need them. Some shit-grinning, mansplaining mechanic sounds good right about now.

You reach into your briefcase for your Nokia, patting around the mix of papers for the device, but it’s nowhere to be found.

As if this night couldn’t get any worse.

Oh wait, it can. You’re at least three miles from anything. Most of the time you don’t mind living in a small town, but with the way tonight is going, you swear you’re gonna move East to some big city, live out your days with people on every corner, nary a cow or an empty road in sight.

But for right now, you’re on your own.

You’ve changed a tire before, sure. It was one of the first things your dad insisted you know how to do before getting your license. “If you’re gonna drive a vehicle, you gotta know how to take care of it, sweet pea,” he said. God, you hate it when he’s right.

Already drenched, you decide to lean into it, this time fully zipping up your coat for warmth, knowing it’s not going to really do much, but it’s better than nothing. You brace for impact as you open the car door and assess the damage – the back passenger side tire is shredded, and the vehicle leans at an awkward slant from the missing support.

You open the trunk and struggle to retrieve the spare tire, wiggling it out by the base. You roll it over to the blown tire and grab the rest of the necessary tools neatly packaged in a workbag.

As you work in the pouring rain, a chill seeping deep into your bones, you struggle to loosen one of the lug nuts. Your frustration only grows from the wet wrench that keeps slipping out of your hands. “Oh comeeeee on, you bastard,” you yell at the bolt, hoping it might somehow understand and decide to loosen. You pause, your breaths a little short and your fingers sore from your bruising grip. You give it one more go, letting out a loud groan as you put all of your strength into twisting the bolt to loosen it, but it’s a futile effort.

“Fuck!” you scream out, your hair tacked to your face, your knees and shins now muddy, your entire outfit drenched. You drop the wrench in your palms, and replace it with your forehead. You’re beginning to cry, when out of the peripheral of your vision, you see it – the flashing lights of a cop car rolling up behind your vehicle.

The beam of the headlights slightly blinds you as you watch a tall, broad man step out of the vehicle. You can’t really see his face, only his silhouette, but you feel your body warm by an entire degree when his voice, low and smooth, calls out.

“Having some car trouble here, ma’am?” he inquiries, a blend of professionalism and concern behind his tone. You blink up at him through wet lashes and watch as he strides closer to you. His heavy boots hit the pavement with a thud, and the raindrops bounce off the greased tops of them.

You scan him from the ground up; his fitted uniform pants, a duty belt with several accessories pinned to it, most notably the firearm holstered on his right hip; a bulletproof vest affixed tightly to his frame, a little bit of belly poking out between his belt and the edge of the vest. He’s clad in a warm puffy coat that seems to repeal the water still barreling down on the pair of you.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you scan past his badge, catching a glimpse of his nameplate that’s partially covered by his jacket. You continue up his firm neck, over the thin line of his lips, his aquiline nose, and pause once your gaze meets his. And whoa.

Even in the dark and the rain, you can tell he is dangerously handsome, which is saying something given his profession. His beard is threaded with lines of silver, and neatly kept. His skin is a little sun-weathered, but it gives him a warm look to him, one that you’d love nothing more than to dive into like a pool right about now. He has bold, deep brown eyes, ones that convey a mix of softness and a no nonsense demeanor. He has a commanding presence but somehow feels safe.

Still kneeling on the ground, you reflexively wrap your arms around your own body in an attempt to get warm. You’re positive you must look like a sad wet stray, all puppy dog eyes begging for help; helpless and alone.

“My u–uh, my, my tire blew out,” you stammer, your teeth clacking against one another as your whole body shakes. At least when you were dueling with the lug nut, you didn’t have to think about how cold you actually are right now. “Forgot phone, umbrella – bolt not loosening,” you try to continue, but your words aren’t really making much sense, too caught up in your body’s response to the frigid air. “Jesus, sweetheart. Gonna catch your death out here all wet like this. Come here, let me help you up,” he says as he offers you his large palm. You place yours into it and rise to stand, and even though his hands are just as exposed as yours, he radiates heat.

You sigh in relief as he guides you to the passenger side of his cruiser. He opens the door and encourages you inside, “watch your head now,” he cautions, as you sink down into the vinyl seat.

Water pools onto the floor beneath and you squeeze your own frame and try to ignore the sting of your cold appendages and your numb toes. He leans across you to turn the heat all the way up and he tilts the vents to face you. With him this close, you pick up the faint smell of coffee and spearmint gum. As he backs away, his eyes catch yours, and you don’t miss the way they flicker to your lips for a brief moment.

“Stay here,” he commands, before he’s rounding around to his trunk to grab something.

He returns with an oversized black sweater, a badge embroidered onto the breast of it. It’s a little damp from the short walk from the trunk back to your door, but certainly drier than any part of you. He also has a small towel in hand.

“Here, this should help you warm up a bit,” he says, and you greedily accept them. “I’ll see what I can do about that tire of yours” he offers, “can I have your keys, please?” he asks, and you reach into your pocket and hand them over to him. Before you can get in a word of thanks, the corner his lip lifts in a small smile and he’s nods before he shuts the passenger door and walks over to your car.

You hastily swap out your jacket and your damp blouse for the sweater and melt into the thick wool fibers of it, grateful for even the little bit of reprieve, even if the fabric is a little scratchy. You use the small towel to scrunch some of the water from your hair, dry your face, and clear the mud from your legs. Your bottom half is still drenched, but it’s considerably better than before.

With the hot air of the heater blasting on high, your skin slowly starts to warm and the goosebumps that once littered your body begin to recede. Now able to focus, you take in your surroundings.

There’s a thermos of what you can assume is coffee given the aroma in the car in the drivers side door. A blinking radio, mounted to the center of the dash, sits adjacent to the microphone next to it. To your back, the middle of the car is split with a cage, the back of the car looks cold and hard. There’s a series of switches next to the gear shift, the lights and sirens you assume. A lone chocolate Hostess cupcake sits in the center console cup holder, next to a pack of spearmint gum. Called it.

You bring your attention back to the windshield, watching the officer engage in the same battle you did with the wrench. You haven’t seen his arms, but given the general size of him, you wager he’s probably pretty fit, and yet – he struggles.

You’re not trying to stare, not really, but there’s something endearing about watching a man at work, not at all bothered by the fuss or annoyance around him, and if he is, he doesn’t show it. As he’s working with it, there’s another crack of thunder that causes you to jump, and the night sky illuminates with the strong strike of lightening for a brief moment.

You watch as he works at it for a few moments longer, before he himself eventually decides to give up. He makes quick work of putting everything back into the trunk of your car, and locks your doors before he does a little sprint back to the drivers side of his cruiser.

Once inside the car, he cards his fingers through his now soaking hair. He’s nearly as wet as you were, but he certainly wears it better than you, you think. You hand him the damp hand towel and he uses it to wipe off his hands.

“Sorry Darlin’, the bolts are on there pretty good. Couldn’t even get it to budge. Think you’re gonna have to call for a tow,” he says, his voice thick like honey.

“Ugh, I thought so. Thank you so much for trying, Officer –” you trail off, granting him the space to give you his name.

“Miller,” he adds, “at your service, ma’am” he concludes with a smile. He extends his large palm to you for the second time tonight. You return his kindness by extending yours and offering him your name. He holds it for a beat second longer than etiquette would say to, only breaking the grip once his attention navigates to the sight of you in his sweater.

He thinks about flirting with you, saying something along the lines of him having to cite you for looking too cute like this, but he thinks twice about it. He’s good at a lot of things, but his flirting is well out of practice. Instead, he says –

“You hungry? There’s this little cafe not too far from here – Jo, JoJo somethin’ or other,” he asks. You look at him and can’t help the little smile that curls on your lips.

“Joe’s Cafe,” you say, helping him out. He must be new here.

“That’s the one,” he says, snapping his fingers. “Hear they have the best cherry pie in the whole state, I’ve been meaning to check it out since I moved here. Beats waiting here in the rain for the tow,” he adds, trying to play it cool, but he thinks you might notice the eagerness in his voice anyway.

“Officer Miller, you’re really kind, but I’m sure you have better things to do than sit in a diner and keep me company while I wait for a tow,” you add. Your words don’t reflect it, but deep down you secretly hope he pushes further.

“Who said anything about me keeping you company? I gotta date with that pie, baby. Was on my way there when I ran into you. You’re just along for the ride,” he says with a confident wink. Okay, maybe he’s not totally out of practice.

“Oh great, a third wheel to a slice of a pie. Talk about a cherry on top of my night,” you say, a teasing tone behind your voice, a little too proud of your terrible joke, a little flustered by the fact that he called you baby.

He looks at you with a wide smile and shakes his head as he pulls out from behind your car, the wet gravel crunching under the tires as he does. You watch it disappear in the passenger side mirror.

“Names Joel,” by the way, he says, shifting his eyes from the road to glance at you.

“Joel,” you whisper, and the way his name rolls off your tongue is easy.

A little too easy. Warm and sweet, like the last bite of a cinnamon roll.

++++

On your way to the diner, you ask Joel to borrow his cell phone so you can call for a tow. The man on the other line sounds half awake when he answers, “Yeah? Ray’s Towing,” he says, a curt tone behind his voice. You tell him you need a tow, and Joel confidently tells you the mile marker your vehicle is parked closest to, and you relay it over the line to who you can only assume is Ray himself.

“You’re clear across town, not gonna be able to make it out to you tonight. Can swing by to pick it up in the morning, though,” he says. You try to protest, but it’s a pointless fight, you can already tell he’s not going to budge.

In the middle of your negotiation, Joel pulls up to the cafe and kills the engine as he waits for you to finish up. You notice the small crease in between his brows, now clearly visible under the illumination of the 24/7 red neon sign that hangs in the window. You don’t notice it right away, but the rain has eased up, now only coming down in a light mist. “Okay. Tomorrow then. Mile Marker 181, it’s a Silver Sedan – you can’t miss it. Tow it to Tess’ place, and I’ll meet you there,” you tell him. The man gives a gruff grunt of agreement, “8am,” he says, hanging up before you can get another word in.

You drop the phone from your ear, staring at it, slightly in disbelief. You look back at Joel, and hand the heavy brick back to him.

“He’s not gonna pick it up tonight, won’t come till tomorrow morning,” you say, and Joel senses the hint of concern behind your voice. “I don’t know how i’m gonna get to work tomorrow,” he says.

“I can take you,” he offers, a sincerity behind his voice.

“Joel, I can’t – that’s too much, no,” you respond, shaking your head side to side as you do.

“No really, it’s not a problem. My shift starts at 9, I can take you there on my way to the station,” he offers casually, reassuring; like this isn’t the second time he’s saved your ass and you’ve only known him for less than an hour.

You stare back at him, and you can tell from the way he looks at you, that he’s not going to take no for an answer.

“If you’re sure, then,” you say, a questioning tone behind your voice.

“‘M sure,” he responds confidently. “Now c’mon, don’t want my date to think I’m late,” he jokes and you let out a genuine laugh for what feels like the first time in a long time.

“Can’t have that,” you retort. You go to pull the handle on your door, but Joel stops you. “I got it,” he says, opening his and quickly maneuvering around the front of the car to your door, pulling it open for you.

“Such a gentleman,” you tell him. You attempt to compose yourself – trying not to think too hard about the fact that you must look like a hot mess right now – as you follow Joel to the entrance. He opens the door for you, because of course, he does.

“After you, darlin’,” he says.

++++

The soft hum of the cafe’s neon lights casts a warm glow on the worn checkered tablecloth as you sit in the booth across from one another. The waitress doesn’t even bother to ask, she can tell from one look that you’re both in desperate need of something warm to drink.

“Decaf or regular” she says, setting the mugs down on the table. “Decaf,” you and Joel both say at the same time. She fills filling them both with a long stream of hot black liquid from the carafe with the orange handle before she turns around to place the pot on the table behind her.

“You ready to order,” she asks, pulling the pen from behind her ear, steadying it over pad.

“Well I think we’re still waiting on one more,” you start to joke, your eyes locked on Joels as you lift the ceramic mug to your lips in an attempt to hide your smile. A warmth creeps up on your face as he gives you a stern look.

“Don’t listen to her,” he tells the waitress, “we’ll take a piece of cherry pie, please.”

“Mhmm,” the waitress nods, annoyed that she even took out her pen in the first place for such a small order. “That all?”

“And a side of vanilla ice cream,” you pipe up.

“Got it,” she says, before walking away, leaving you and Joel alone in the booth. Given the hour, you’re the only ones in the restaurant apart from the waitress and the chef in the back.

“Ice cream?” he asks, one of his eyebrows raised. “You were just freezing like 20 minutes ago,” he says, confused. He fidgets with the spoon that rests on the white paper napkin as he waits for you to respond. You wonder if you make him nervous.

“Yeah, vanilla ice cream. It’s a must with this pie,” you say, reaching across the table for the sugar. You rip it open and pour in the contents of the pink packet into the mug and stir, “especially for your first time…trust me,” you conclude, letting out a satisfied hum at the sweet black liquid that warms your insides.

“I trust you,” he says with a smile, his eyes trained on your face. Finally seeing him under normal lighting conditions permits you to notice the flecks of amber around his irises, but that’s not the only thing you notice. A heat swirls in your belly, and not just from the coffee, once you see the single dimple on his right cheek.

“So tell me, Joel, where are you from? Cuz you’re certainly not from around here,” you ask.

“What makes you say that?” he asks, leaning into your playful tone, nursing his own coffee.

“Well, for starters, you didn’t know the name of this place, and it’s like an institution in these parts. And to top it off, I’ve lived here my whole life. You can’t have been here long or I’m sure we would have met,” you say, a confident tone behind your voice, like it’s a matter of fact.

“That so? Why’s that?” he asks, not denying any of your initial assessment.

“I’m a reporter for the Tribune. It’s my job to know things, to know people, especially hot mystery cops who like to fix tires in the rain for random women on the side of the road,” you say.

“You think I’m hot?” He asks, a blush to his cheeks. And shit. Freudian slip.

“No, that’s no – that’s not, I mean, you are hot, but that’s not what I,” but before you can continue, you’re interrupted by the waitress placing a rather large piece of cherry pie in the middle of the table.

“‘S alright, Darlin.’ You think I’m hot, you can admit it,” he says, grabbing the spoon, dipping it into the thick red mess of cherry and crust, the colors diluting to pink with the melt of the vanilla ice cream.

He takes a big bite, and groans in delight, letting his eyes close as he savors the taste. “‘Sides, you’re not wrong. I haven’t been here for long. Just got here last month, moved here from Austin,” he says, already digging in for a second bite by the time you’re going for your first.

You look at him intently, patiently, waiting for him to continue in between bites, “My daughter, Sarah, got accepted into a young artists program here. ‘S all she talks about. And well, I was able to make a lateral transfer to this station from Austin, so it was a no-brainer, really,” he says.

“How old’s your daughter?” you ask, your spoon dancing with his for the sweet goodness for a second as you do.

“14 going on 25,” he jokes, “keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure. Keep hoping she won’t start bringing boys around for another, oh I don’t know, 15 years or so, but I feel like that’s a battle ‘m set to lose,” he sighs, as he takes the second to last bite of pie, pushing the plate to you, his eyes telling you that the last bite is all yours.

You can’t help but smile at the thought of Joel, a man who faces more frightening things daily, nervous for his teenage daughter to go on a date. You scoop up the final bite of pie and swallow it. You keep the spoon in your mouth, running the cool metal of it over your tongue, relishing in the way Joel can't seem to look at anything but the way it moves over your plush lips.

“What about you then? Did you always want to be a reporter?” he asks, finishing off the rest of his coffee.

“Since I was a little girl,” you admit. "I used to eavesdrop on conversations at family gatherings, sneakily flip through my parents' old photo albums, imagining the tales behind each photo" you continue, your eyes flickering with a spark of that same childlike curiosity you had then. "And I had this little notepad where I'd jot down my observations, like a tiny detective with a pen and paper."

Joel Chuckles, "Sounds like you were a reporter-in-training from the start."

You nod, a soft laughter escaping you. "I suppose you could say that. I loved the idea of bringing untold stories to light, giving voices to the unheard. It felt like a calling even before I fully understood what it meant,” you conclude, running the pad of your finger over your now empty coffee cup. Transfixed, Joel watches the simple movement. And once again, the waitress with her impeccably terrible timing, interrupts once again, stopping Joel before he can continue with his questions. You immediately dart your hand out to grab the bill, and he does the same, but you are faster. His heavy palm lands on top of yours, and your eyes lock in charged silence. "Officer Miller, you've been a real help. Seriously, let me cover this one. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me tonight," you insist, your gratitude evident in your voice.

"It's just Joel, darlin'," he replies, releasing your hand to allow you to grab the bill. "And thank you," he adds, a sincerity laced behind his words.

With a decisive motion, you throw a twenty on the table, checking the time. "Getting late -- I should probably head home," you say, and Joel nods in agreement. However, inexplicably, you both linger, anchored to your seats. It's as if the sensible part of your brain urges departure, yet your bodies resist the inevitable parting. The cafe's ambiance seems to cocoon you both in a lingering warmth, the afterglow of the moment refusing to dissipate.

Joel stands up first, and you follow suit. His large hand finds the small of your back, and he guides you back to his cruiser. He opens the passenger for you again, but this time he doesn’t tell you to watch your head, you already know. You give him your address, and you both ride in comfortable silence.

Joel pulls up into your driveway, the engine purrs softly before falling silent. You both pause in silence. He turns to you, a smirk on his lips “We’re here,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of I don’t want to say goodbye yet behind it.

He walks you to your front door. The tension in the air is palpable as you both stand there, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a simple white business card, and hands it to you. You look down and see the words Officer Joel Miller printed on it in dull black ink, his badge number and phone number under it. There's an emboss of a police badge to the right of the text, giving your thumbs something pleasant to glide over.

“You know, I’m not sure driving reporters around is part of the oath to protect and serve,” you say.

“Means a lot more than you might think, Darlin’,” he responds.

You fiddle with the paper card in your hand, before offering him a kind smile.

“See you tomorrow, then,” you say sweetly, before pressing the door open.

“Tomorrow,” he nods before heading back down your porch.

Closing the door behind you, you lean your back against it, feeling the solid support. A smile, blooms on your face, radiating a joy that mirrors the first buds of spring. It’s been so long since you’ve felt an excitement about something that wasn’t work.

As Joel walks back to his cruiser, he too, can’t help the cheesy grin that washes across his face.

He likes to think of himself as an intuitive man. It’s part of what makes him a good cop, and part of what he thinks will make him an excellent detective one day.

And if there’s one thing he can tell for certain right now is that you’re going to be trouble – lots and lots of trouble.

And fuck, he hopes you are.

TO BE CONTINUED

Tags: @endlessthxxghts @sydneyinacoma @javipispunk @pedrostories @meabhogr @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81 @lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @brittmb115 @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @morallyinept @tobesolovelysstuff @notsosecretspy @alokaerza @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @morgaussy @missladym1981 @magpiepillsjunior @noneofmyshipsarereal

As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). I'll still be using my tag list for now, but I just started a notifs blog, so will be transitioning to that eventually. Please follow @katiexpunkupdates to get notified when I post fics.xx

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller series #officer!Joel Miller #joel miller #uniform kink #competency kink #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories

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nextstopparis · 1 year

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i really just need good like mid to long length fix recs please i’m begging

hey bestie, i didnt know if you had any specific type of fic in mind or just length and what u consider mid so here are a few fics with 25k+ word counts and thats basically all they have in common🫶 also these are all more or less merthur im so sorry. i hope u find something new here!!!

Arthur, Sincerely by MerlinLikeTheBird (47.8k) (THE FLUFF IN THIS MADE ME CRY also its canon era)

To Begin Anew (need ao3 acc) by ohHeyThereBigBadWolf (27.7k) (ive read this like five times. i think about it constantly. canon divergence)

that lightning-strike feel by TheLurkingContessa (32.5k) (cmon merthur training with weapons together??? also canon era)

An Illusion of Sorts by lordvoldemortsnipple (133.7k) (ive also read this like 3 times which is sorta insane bc its 100k+ words omfg… modern au w magic)

Annum Inanis (The Empty Year) (need ao3 acc) by anonymintea (43.2k) (i DIED. canon era)

Charting Stars On A Stained Glass Ceiling by mornmeril (80k) (my note on ao3 under this is just OHMYGOD a bunch of times so. future au with magic)

a thimble of light for an acre of sky by celaenos (36.2k) (THIS IS NOT MERTHUR well theres like a hint of merthur at the very end but mostly its pendragon siblings and morgwen. I DIED. canon divergence)

Chasing Spring (ok TECHNICALLY this is a series but overall its 58.7k words so) by Gimli_s_Pickaxe (god merlin au do i really need to say anything else. canon era)

Keep the Magic Secret (73.5k) (i feel like i cant say I DIED again or else it’ll start losing its meaning to you but really i did. canon era)

M-RYS by mornmeril (123.2k) (ive also read this three times and was actually just craving a reread yesterday so. hmm. future au with magic)

We Pull These Jobs To Make A Little Money (No One Gets Hurt If They Don’t Act Funny) by leashy_bebes (48.9k) (this fic left me speechless all i could muster in my ao3 notes was “oh my god” not even capitalized like it shook me to my core. modern au)

You’ve Got My Heart, I’ve Got Your Hand by FervidAsAFlame (29.3k) (ive read this about five times it makrs me cry its so sweet i Love Them. modern au)

The Tournament of All Magicks by Cori Lannam (corilannam) (41.3k) (CMONNNN merlin fighting in a TOURNAMENT??? cmon. ohh craving a reread for this one too now… canon era)

The Future Soon by lady_ragnell (30.2k) (i loved this fic so so much. like theres just something about the vibe of it that im obsessed with. could also be the enemies to lovers thing. modern au with magic)

Sweeter Dreams by Tierfal (35.3k) (FREED VIVIAN OF MEN! i mean what more could i want. canon divergence)

Truth Is a Whisper by seperis (25k) (im being so serious go read everything by seperis. everything. GO. FIRST TINTAGEL bc that is my fav fic of all time probably but its 20k words so i couldnt put it here. GO!! theyre my fav author it took EVERYTHING not to rec all their fics. canon divergence)

Accidental Memory in the Case of Death by derryere (74.9k) (theres just something so. So. I DONT KNOW. overwhelming about them in this. its reincarnation au which might be why. one line made me cry)

The Ivy Crown by dayari (derryday) (252.2k) (ive read this three times. look at the word count. i will probably read it again. green knight au thing. theyre just. ohmygod)

Dower the Stars by RurouniHime (40.6k) (LISTEN. actually idek what i can say about this. except for the fact that its the PERFECT FIC. literally. its perfect. im especially in love with arthur and gwens friendship in this but anyway. canon divergence.)

#i sorta just assumed u meant merlin fics omg #BUT IF YOU WANT I ALSO HAVE A FEW KANEJ FICS!#also these are just a few from my bookmarks i have more too #ok well. can u believe this is th e first proper ask ive answered in like a year omg #happy pride xoxoxoxo #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fic rec #ask

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telomeke · 1 month

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WANDEE GOODDAY EPISODE 2

WDGD Ep.2 was a pleasant enough watch, continuing the lightness of Ep.1 and laying the groundwork for the episodes to come.

It's too early to be sure in what direction they're going to be taking this series, so I'm not looking too closely at things just yet.

And I've never gotten a sense that Director Golf has quite the same penchant for intellectual gamery that other directors (like Khun Aof Noppharnach) have, so WDGD might turn out to be not much more than a straight-up recounting of a romance (and that would be fine too). Nonetheless we are getting glimpses (little sparks really) of details tucked in here and there that suggest the series may yet narrate other messages on a deeper level in future episodes.

Director Golf is known for their political awareness (having spent time as the first trans politician in the Thai Parliament's House of Representatives), and this leaning was abjectly manifest when they directed The Eclipse. I'm not seeing the same heavy-handedness in WDGD though (and I think that's a good thing).

Part of me is wondering if the highly unusual method of determining who gets the orthopedic scholarship (patients and staff will get to vote on this, really? 👀) will re-surface later as a comment on the Thai political situation (always a rollicking ride). No guarantees, but odds are pretty good on this one.

Just a reminder that Khun Golf was ejected from Parliament through the application of a controversial law (banning lawmakers from having shares in any media companies), the same one I think that was also used to help obstruct Pita Limjaroenrat from becoming PM even though his Move Forward Party won the most votes in last year's election (it's also Khun Golf's political party). So any time the democratic electoral process gets referenced in a Thai BL (see this example linked here), the chances are high that the canvas is being primed for a political painting of some sort.

Anyway, just some light-hearted observations for now:

The novel that WDGD the series is based on is (by most accounts) quite trashy and throwaway, but you wouldn't know it watching Episodes 1 and 2 so far. The set-up out the starting gate was so squarely and comically blue-collar v. white collar, brawn v. brains, half-naked sweaty men v. lavender-scrubsuited physicians that I wasn't expecting to get much more than a shallow good time with a lot of tittering at man tits and macho tushies. But they've elevated the source material, imbuing it with a gentle sentimentality and treating the sexual element with humor and good sense (e.g., the condom and lube talk in Ep.1, and the discussion between YY and Dee establishing the ground rules for their Friends with Benefits arrangement). Quite impressively done, especially considering the lightness of its touch.

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [4/4] 6.28 – YY and Dee discuss the ground rules for their Friends With Benefits arrangement, against the backdrop of a neon sign that loudly proclaims "Less Expectations More Satisfaction" (which is, of course, the most basic ground rule for any FWB liaison)

‌

About that sentimentality: WDGD's glowing emotional core continues to take the unlikely form of Yoryak, and Great seals the deal with his performance in Wandee Goodday's quieter moments.

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [3‌/4] 2.23 and the return of the wet towel trope – Yoryak and the neon sign above the bed demonstrate together how love in action speaks louder than words

The tough kickboxer has fallen hard for Dee, and you can really read the tender pining behind his muay thai bravado. (I think he does lovelorn yearning better than outright lust though.)

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [3‌/4] 3.53 – Yoryak plants a little sniff-kiss as he embraces a barely-conscious Dee in bed; he's fully-clothed, yet far more naked and vulnerable than when they were actually having full-on sex before

There's surely going to be emotional devastation in store for Yak because a Friends With Benefits arrangement soon becomes a wrecking ball to the heart if you're unlucky enough to have caught feelings. And things can only get worse for our dear boy once he and Dee enter into their fake dating phase. Can you imagine coping with all that physical intimacy and also having to display emotional intimacy in public, but then being forced to deny it in private where you want it the most? Only pain looms on the foreseeable horizon for our macho fighter (su su na!), but it should make for some mightily delicious and pleasurably guilty viewing as he journeys through it all (if only for the payoff at the end; Golf please don't fail us! 😬).

‌

There have been cameos and callbacks galore in just these two episodes. The hospital is named Tanwarin, which is also Director Golf's formal first name and this may mean they've cast themselves in the role of a healer here, with this series.

There are also the clips of The Eclipse that our boys watch onscreen (possibly foreshadowing some more political commentary to come).

And screenwriter Yokee Apirak Chaipanha (who also did The Eclipse with Director Golf) guests as Dr. Apichart, the head of the Orthopedic Department.

Of course Ep.2's Café for All is also a callback to The Eclipse (it was prominently featured in there as well, with Director Golf in a cameo as the black-and-white clad proprietor/server).

(top) The Eclipse – Ep.4 [3‌/4] 4.31; (bottom) WDGD Ep.2 [3‌/4] 7.28

And my read then was that The Eclipse, just like the café with Khun Golf at the helm, was meant as a welcoming, non-judgemental space for reflection on LGBTQ+ issues. Possibly the same is being said for WDGD here, though its general unseriousness doesn't seem quite the same or even an appropriate forum for any discussion of weight. Perhaps like in the second appearance of Café for All, what's being served up here in WDGD seems to be less heavy drama and more fluffy confection. Not that there's anything wrong with that! 🍰👍

‌

Another possible cameo that's caught my eye – the oft-referenced, once heard but never seen Dr. Nop.

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [2/4] 0.50 – Yoryak looks disappointed when the nurses tell him they've switched his physician from Wandee back to Dr. Nop (while his t-shirt proclaims "Heart Melt")

I can't help thinking that this is a reference to Aof Noppharnach Chaiyahwimhon, who's on hiatus from GMMTV directorial duties for the time being. He's cameo'd as a Nop before (see these write-ups linked here and here) and this may be a reference to his being unseen, but still acknowledged and not unheard during his present time off (I've written about possible reasons for his time away, in this write-up linked here).

‌

Others have pointed out before I could do it, but yes cleaning the refrigerator does refer to rimming in Thai slang. 😂

(above) Wandee Goodday Ep.2 [4/4] 9.33 – YY turns up at Dee's unit 609 (possibly a reference to 609 Bedtime Story, that was also created by Director Golf and screenwriter Yokee Apirak) appropriately togged out with a gas mask, goggles and bodysuit, all ready to give Wandee's "fridge" a thorough scrub and rub

This thread on the Pantip forum (linked here) explains the term. And the same thread also explains that washing the dishes can mean either sloppy seconds or oral, which lends weight to Li Ming's laang jaan comeback to Jim as payback for infantilizing him during the market scene in Moonlight Chicken:

‌

OK, so I didn't find anything truly earth-shaking about WDGD Ep.2, but that's typically the case for second and third episodes in any series while they set things up for plot developments to come.

Still, Wandee Goodday is already glowing with a comforting warmth, peppered with light comedic turns even as it foreshadows darker shifts in the future. I hope they build on the solid foundations of Episodes 1 and 2, and serve up the remaining ten episodes ripened to their fullest potential (because there's lots in there they can play with). Here's to hoping! 🥰

‌

#wandee goodday

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arienai · 1 year

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You've heard the Miyazawa memes, now it's time to

Read Otherside Picnic

A post by me

What is it? Otherside Picnic is a book series by Japanese author Iori Miyazawa. They are often called light novels for marketing purposes, but are technically considered "full" science fiction novels. The series is loosely based off of Soviet science fiction novel Roadside Picnic, which itself inspired the film Stalker as well as the video game STALKER.

What is it about? At its core, Otherside Picnic is about two girls who stumble into a weird alternate universe filled with creatures from Japanese internet myths and creepypastas. They go into that world frequently to explore it.

It is primarily a series of novels as I mentioned, however, there are also anime and manga adaptations.

Otherside Picnic is yuri (F/F), explicitly so, however, only the novels have reached this point in the story. If you want canon lesbians, you want to read the novels. I cannot stress this enough.

Okay but what about the characters, are they good? I'm super biased but honestly these are some of the most tumblrina characters I've seen in a while and I'm shocked they aren't more popular.

Sorawo Kamikoshi had a deeply traumatic childhood (though she likes to deny it) and today is a self professed "grumpy otaku" at university who is extremely into spooky shit and creepypastas, which she tends to infodump about. She is very bad at making friends and before discovering the Otherside she often spent her time watching Dark Souls Let's Plays and Minecraft build videos. No, like, canonically. She is a huge loser and I love her so much.

Toriko Nishina was born and raised in Canada with her two lesbian moms but now she's going to university in Japan. She is extremely gay and knows it but is also a complete disaster about it. She has an outgoing personality but struggles to make friends unless she's attaching herself to a new cute girl. I don't want to get too far into spoiler territory but she has a violent streak and has some hot and extremely badass Tiktok Lesbian With an Axe moments.

There are a lot of other great characters too, but you'll have to read to meet them!

And it's explicitly gay, you say? YES, this is a lesbian romance story. Girls hold hands. Girls kiss (with tongue!) Girls ogle other girls' boobs. Apparently the latest volume (not yet available in English) amps it up even more 😳

You're telling me it's literally gay despite being written by the meme "yuri is two wild beasts/a field/etc." Guy? Yes.

Where did the memes come from then? They come from a couple of interviews with Miyazawa where he compared various abstract concepts to yuri. Some of this can be seen in his work, but for the most part it is a straightforward and easy to read lesbian story.

Okay! Where do I read it!: Since they are novels you can find them at many bookstores! You can also buy the ebooks for relatively cheap and read them on your phone.

I hate reading, can't I do the manga/anime? You can if you want but the anime doesn't really go beyond flirty territory with the two girls and the manga is still ongoing and hasn't hit the gay stuff yet. So it's up to you.

Is the series finished? No, it's ongoing. There are currently seven volumes available in English. But we have an extremely dedicated fanbase. Join ussssss you know you want to. Look at these two cuties

Anyway I have so many good things to say about this series, I love the way the main characters are outcasts who come together and help each other learn to love themselves. I love the spooky setting, I love the side characters and of course I love how gay it is, I feel like most weirdo disaster gays on here will find something here to like. And the characters are in their 20's!!! That's still relatively young but it's so nice to read gay stuff about people who are old enough to drink (which they do a lot of).

So yes in closing

Read Otherside Picnic

#my posts #otherside picnic #HERE IT IS THE MASTER POST

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monsterhugger · 8 months

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illumi and hisoka, pure awful villain love

so. i love illumi and hisoka. I think they’re perfect for each other. I also think they’re more than just a quirky villain couple. it’s not just “he’s killed people but I still love him.” they’re truly the worst of the worst.

by which I mean CW for child abuse and pedophilia. it’s pretty core to their relationship and to this analysis. nothing that isn’t brought up in canon but like, fair warning

first off, i love this interaction between them. the way illumi is just like “i know what you are. anyway not my problem." hisoka isn’t exactly subtle about his feelings for gon so I’m not giving illumi a ton of credit for picking up on it this early in their relationship but it’s telling how easily he jumps over this hurdle.

also makes for a good parallel to this exchange:

when hisoka threatens to “make a move” on killua, illumi reacts so strongly not because he’s disturbed by this side of hisoka but because That’s His Brother. hisoka can have gon but killua is His.

(imo, hisoka definitely doesn’t mean “kill” here. the wording is ambiguous in japanese and can be translated as “kill” or “fuck” but the inclusion of that hand gesture was clearly intentional.)

(both manga and anime cap here bc i like the way it's phrased in the anime lol)

i love how hisoka compares himself to illumi here. like not only is he self-aware abt his obsession with gon, he sees that obsession in illumi's relationship with killua.

illumi’s love for killua is deep. it’s toxic and obsessive and smothering. and hisoka knows this and looks at illumi and goes “we’re not so different, you and I.”

illumi is able to accept hisoka’s proclivities because his upbringing has basically ruined his sense of morality, especially when it comes to child abuse. he likes hisoka because hisoka is useful to him and he doesn’t care about the rest as long as hisoka stays away from his brother.

that’s the other thing abt this that makes illumi so terrifying imo: he’s not completely soulless and unfeeling. his love for killua is REAL. sure it’s a deeply unhealthy and abusive love but it’s love. he truly cares about his little brother, and yet he’s still capable of horrific things. illumi isn’t a monster, he’s a person capable of love with something he wants to protect and he STILL does what he does.

and as for hisoka, i think it gives him some depth too. it’s interesting how self-aware he is, especially considering how blatant he is about his attraction to Gon particularly in the earlier parts of the series. he doesn’t feel remorse for it, but he knows what he’s feeling and doing is wrong (which, imo, makes it scarier).

their relationship is so… idk how to describe it. I guess give and take works. they look at each other and go “you’re a horrible person but who am I to judge?” they’re useful to each other. they like messing with each other just to see what happens. they’ve mutually agreed not to fuck with each other’s favorite 12-year-old boy. they’re both depraved, awful people and they’re meant for each other.

they’re amazing villains with a batshit insane relationship and I love them for it

#hisoillu #hisoka morow #illumi zoldyck #hxh #hunter x hunter #meta #they’ve been on my mind!!!#apologies for this being so heavy but yknow #kinda don’t want to sugarcoat this. that’s the whole point #they’re awful. they’re so fucking awful. let them be awful

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lovelytayforce · 3 months

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Alright, KFP fandom, we gotta talk about "Discrimination" 🎉

Cause, not even to be mean, y'all kinda dumb. Y'all sound like the type of person to tell me "No racism exists in the North" and lemme tell ya as someone from the North, there is but it's DIFFERENT. And before you ask, Yes this is about The Chameleon (who will be called Cammy cause I am lazy and deserve to be paid for this shit.) and the fandoms massive misunderstanding of her single line about being denied access to Kung Fu because she's "little". And I see your lil fingers tapping away to howl about "MASTER MANTIS" and some LOA rejects. And remember that earlier example I brought up about discrimination existing in the north but its just different from the South? Yeah, its the same thing. Some people can get past that challenge but some of us aren't that lucky and you all forget about my MAIN MAN, THE GOAT, Crane!!!

Yeah, the brother whose almost as tall as Tigress, yeah he was discriminated against for his skinny frame and detered from trying out and I think it's funny y'all leave my boy out but that doesn't fit your little gotcha, now does it?

but that's okay, that's why you have me, to be your funny and slightly cute know it all~💕 Back to the topic at hand, this conversation also leaves out how Po wanted Shifu to change him, after all the verbal abuse that lil man hurled at him. This is where that line "We're not so different, you and I." comes to shine. Cammy didn't have an event such as Oogway's death to shake those Master's to their core to train her. No, they were probably just proud teachers who denied all those beneath them, which is not uncommon, you can see this in a lot of Kung fu flicks, keeping certain arts from certain territories close and always wanting to prove whose kung fu is superior. Again, NORMIES GO WATCH IP MAN! Go watch peak cinema!!!! It's on YOUTUBE FOR FREE: https://youtu.be/zGD9OFmxYXM?si=XL-aetJOnCSftIP_

Anyways, I hope this enlightened you all a bit so we can stop this very shallow puddle of an argument against her words cause you sound ignorant doing that considering all the discrimination present in the series as it is, especially Tigress. Whoo, that needs its own post! That's next level of discrimination upon a child. 💀 Anyways, stop forgetting about Crane!!!!

#kung fu panda #master crane #the chameleon #taylor talks #im sorry but yall do sound ignorant going oh but what about #bruh thats like saying why MJ reach the top and I haven't #well I cant dance for one but ssshhh #you get my point #different people different experiences #thinking is good guys I promise

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shadowtraveled · 1 month

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what TMA entities would you assign the dungeon lords, esp mithrun? was discussing this (bc marcille is sooo End) and consulting your Seminal Mithrun Meta when i remembered you also went here!

anon i want you to know i was thinking about this nonstop like two weeks ago oh my god. i’d love to hear your thoughts on this if you’re so inclined 👁‍🗨 (and wheeze thank you i don’t know about seminal but i’m glad it passed peer review)

putting a readmore here for spoilers

to preface this, i understand the fears aren’t really separate and it’s all just fear etc but they function as distinct in the way the demons do and in the sense that they each had to mark jon to come into the world. so. distinctive facets of a unified whole. anyway i have two criteria for assigning someone a tma entity: it has to be something they deeply fear, and it has to be something they choose anyway.

and with that being said, marcille is SO end-aligned in a very gentle and chill way i think fits the end so nicely… her intense fear of death is sort of a fear of loss, which would typically be considered the desolation’s domain, especially when coupled with her aptitude for explosion/fire magic and the part of her arc where she tries to expand the dungeon, but she wasn't choosing destruction or hopelessness in either of those cases—there’s something to be said for the carnage she was willing to leave in her wake, but at the end of the day she was trying to eliminate loss. she's fundamentally incompatible with the desolation because she continually rejects it, and the loss itself doesn't form the core of her fear. the inevitability of death, though, does, and she accepts it when she gives up the dungeon and lets falin go. absolutely the end.

i think thistle is another easy designation. he clings to control to the point it corrupts him, and he creates an environment that forbids death, but his desire is not for control and his fear is not of death or loss—those are delgal's. instead, his fear that he won't be able to measure up to the too-large too-heavy responsibility placed on his shoulders is what drives him, and because we know it drives him, we know that he takes it on anyway. he even brings melini underground. extremely the buried.

laios, meanwhile. is difficult for me to assign. his fears (rejection, ostracism, that he isn't able to connect with people, that he hates people) feel very lonely, and he does withdraw from people a fair amount, but he has connections he does not and would not choose to sever. you could make an argument for the hunt (he's drawn to not only monsters but the concept of the food chain itself and his place on it as a part of the natural world, and he ends the series with the object of his fascination out of his reach), but i don't think there's enough fear there. in laios' case, the lack of strict definition between fears and the idea that they're all just muddled subcategories of a singular thing is actually really helpful, because i think i'm assigning him to the vast. it was said at some point that the vast and the lonely aren't too dissimilar—you won't realize how alone you are without distance, and that sort of mental/emotional distance and disconnect is what has haunted laios his entire life. and i think that's, in part, what makes the cosmic insignificance of seeing yourself as just another part of your environment so comforting to him. his choices... definitely make him cosmically significant lmfao but even though he chooses to be the one to go up against Infinity Itself and its endless hunger and even though he chooses to be king, he fits himself right back into the position of being a single piece of a much larger puzzle. he became lord of the dungeon to become a part of the food chain that would stand a chance to preserve it (via eating the demon's hunger). he's king because there was a gap that needed to be filled. even then, he wants his body to be scattered after death, so that he can be devoured like any other living thing would be. god i love this manga. anyway, tentative but i think the vast is the only thing i can justify at this time. actually, accepting the hunger of the infinite could itself be seen as accepting the vast into himself…….

and finally, mithrun! surprising absolutely nobody given my take on his backstory, i'd give him to the lonely, with the caveat that he does eventually sever his connection to it. prior to becoming lord of a dungeon, we know he thought the worst of people (and again i think this was intentional of him), but we also know he put up a front that was undeniably kind. milsiril says that everyone loved him for the front, but its very existence acted as a barrier between himself and others: milsiril had no idea how miserable he was, and neither did anyone else. he'd already begun choosing isolation, and he chose it ultimately when he became lord of a dungeon, literally cutting himself off from everyone in a pocket dimension where he surrounded himself with facsimiles of people he loved until... they dwindled. and they did, until he was alone again, with only the demon and the unresponsive chimera construction of the person he considered to be the one he loved. after he was eaten, we see themes of emptiness typical of the lonely coupled with his disconnection from his team—in one of the extras it says they don't really know how to approach him, and i think it shows. so in a way, he ends up back where he started: surrounded by people who care about him and who he ostensibly cares about in return, but emotionally alone. as for fear, i think a lot of his are tied up in the concept of insignificance, but that insignificance isn't cosmic—it's personal. that's why watching himself be replaced was so unbearable for him and why the thought of being left unfinished was so horrific.

as an aside, i did also consider the corruption. the idea of leftovers abandoned carries the connotation of rot and i love the concept of 'the rot within you' etc. it gets me every time, and i think there's something to be said about that with regard to the way mithrun views the person he once was. furthermore, the... eating... scene... is framed as sexual and extremely invasive (and, as a result of the combination, is very evocative of disgust) in a way we see most often with the corruption (though imo tma would never see something like this as it toes the line of jonny's "no sexual trauma horror" rule too closely), and we have to remember that for all that it terrified mithrun, he was trying to get it to happen again. but i don't think disgust is enough of a factor for him. most of his disgust is aimed at himself, and while he doesn't shy away from it, he isn't really drawn to it either. rather, i think his dialogue in the extra comic in the complete edition of the adventurer's bible ("there's nothing so kind as a demon. suddenly losing that kind of love opens a hole in your heart[...]") goes a long way in terms of defining what being eaten meant to him. the corruption focuses on a feeling of belonging and community. mithrun wanted to disappear forever knowing that in the last moment he lived he was loved. ultimately, the fear of being abandoned coupled with his attraction to being unknown and eventually entirely gone read as lonely-aligned to me.

anyway i'd LOVE to hear where you're at with this please come chat literally whenever this is the most excited i’ve ever been about anything

#anon #ask #dungeon meshi spoilers #the magnus archives spoilers #tma spoilers #dungeon meshi #marcille donato #thistle #laios touden #mithrun #mithrun got an entire extra paragraph but in my defense this does say 'especially mithrun' and i do play favorites #and the corruption is just fun to talk about

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