#i wonder if Sarah comes back as a manager

[goldenpinof]

i think most of the issues with irl lies with martyn. he's always come across as way too laid back and kinda a coattail rider to me. and working with family is always tough like there's no way phil would ever stand up to martyn about issues and it put dan in an awkward position too. when dnp were on hiatus he started a new influencer company and seems to have turned all his attention to that (and whatever crypto bs is on trend atm) plus he and corn live on iom now which must make it difficult to make in person business connections.

i don't think dnp are involved in running irl merch at all. when Cornelia was an employee i think most decisions were made by Martyn and her together. but after Freja was born + moving to IoM, i don't think Cornelia even has time to get updates. officially she isn't working for/with irl merch anymore, and i don't think she is involved on a family level much either. Sarah was basically a senior manager, and i think she knew more than Martyn, mostly because she was actually involved in everything. and after she left (and Martyn let her go, which is bizarre to me. like, i would fight for someone like that. salary? conditions? give her everything, bro), i'm not sure there's a senior manager who could replace her. if Matryn found a replacement for Ryann (an account manager), good for him, but it's clearly not enough.

"i don't think dnp are involved in running irl merch" that being said, i think they should be involved. it's their business just as Martyn's. only they are also the faces of it, which kinda adds some responsibility. if anything actually bad happens with irl, dnp's public image can be damaged. Martyn's? not so much. (me, trying to explain the correlation)

anon, i agree with you, btw. Martyn can be a problem. he is a managing director with the lack of managing skills (allegedly, in my opinion. don't sue me).

[greynatomy]

maybe this time

alessia russo x reader

i haven’t written in a few weeks, but i couldn’t get this song/idea out of my head

inspired by : maybe this time - sarah geronimo

———

Running out the door, paper in hand, she made her way to another house, obnoxiously knocking on the door. Getting impatient, she knocks a bit louder, the door opening seconds later.

“Hi! Bye!” She greets the woman, running past her and up the stairs, barging into a room like she owned it.

“Woah, Alessia! You can’t just come in without knocking! What if I was naked?”

“Oh, please. You’re acting like it’s something I haven’t seen before.”

Your mouth opens and closes, speechless. “That was because you barged into my room! Like right now!”

“Anyway, guess what I got?”

“What is it?”

“You’re looking at the Tar Heel’s newest football player!”

“Tar Heel? What’s that?” You’ve not heard of a team called the Tar Heels in your neighborhood.

“It’s the school I applied for in the states and got  a full scholarship!”

“The states?”

“Did I not tell you? I applied for a school in North Carolina and I got in! Isn’t that just amazing?”

“Oh. When do you leave?”

“In a month.”

A month.

The weeks leading up to Alessia leaving home went differently than what she thought it would be. Normally being attached to one another, you were distant and she didn’t know why.

Sitting at the table, eating dinner with her parents, her mum speaks up.

“Are you sure you want to go all the way to North Carolina honey?”

“Yeah, why?”

“What about Y/N?”

Her eyebrows furrow. “What about her?”

“How did she take the news?”

“Pretty well I’d say.”

“Really?”

“Why?”

“Just wondering cause you’ve both been talking about going to Uni together, living on your own together, but now she’s staying here and you’re going away.”

Alessia didn’t say a word the rest of the dinner, her mind occupied on thoughts about you.

‘Was that why you’ve been distant?’ She thought.

A week before she had to leave, you’re stood outside her house and knocked on the door. After a few seconds, the door opens, revealing Alessia.

“Hi.”

She looked shocked to see you. “Hello. What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to know if you want to go on a walk with me?” Nodding, she puts her shoes on and follows you out. “I wanted to apologize. I haven’t been fair and started ignoring you. I just didn’t know what to think.”

“I should apologize too. I should’ve told you I was applying for schools out of the country.”

You both make it to the park, sitting on a bench facing the playground.

“Yeah. I don’t know when you decided on that because all our lives we’ve talked about going to University together, living together and all that stuff, but if you think it’s the right decision for you then I am okay with it.”

“I know it’s the right decision for me and I am sorry for leaving you here.”

“Just don’t forget about me when you’re all famous.” You nudge your shoulder into her’s. “I’ll text you everyday.”

“And I will do the same.”

You were back to being inseparable the whole week. Making up for lost times and the times you won’t have for a while in the future.

The week goes by fast. Here you are, standing at the airport, by her gate, watching Alessia embrace her family goodbye. Letting go of her dad, she turns to face you. 

Her best friend. Her almost something.

She approached you, dragging her suitcases behind her, eyes locked on yours with a mix of sadness and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“So,” she started, her voice soft, “this is it.”

You swallowed hard. “Yeah,” you managed to say, throat tight. “I guess it is.”

For a moment, you both just stood there, silence heavy between you, filled with the unspoken words, the missed opportunities, the what-ifs. You reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, your touch lingering more than it should.

“I’m going to miss you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Alessia tried to smile, but it wavered, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I’ll miss you too,” she replied, and it was the understatement of the century. She would miss everything about you—your laugh, the way you always knew how to make her smile, the way you looked at her when you thought she wasn’t paying attention. She was.

Alessia took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “Y/N, I—” she started, but the announcement for her flight cut her off. You both jumped slightly, reality crashing down around you.

You let out a shaky laugh. “Timing, huh?”

Alessia nodded, biting her lip. “Always perfect.”

You pulled her into a tight hug, arms wrapping around her like they never wanted to let go. She buried her face in your chest, breathing the familiar scent of you, trying to memorize it, to hold onto it.

“Keep in touch?” you murmured into her hair, still holding her close.

“Of course,” she said, voice muffled into your jacket. “But it won’t be the same.”

“No,” you agreed, pulling back slightly to look at her. “It won’t.”

You stood there for a moment, faces inches apart, the world around them blurring into nothingness. Your gaze dropped to her lips, and for a second, she thought—hoped—you might close the distance.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, a gentle, lingering touch that said all the things you couldn’t.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, though they both knew that “soon” was an unknown promise.

Alessia nodded, blinking back tears as you pulled away completely. You watched as she turned and headed toward the gate, every step taking her further from you. You wanted to call out to her, to ask her to stay, to tell her how you really felt—but the words lodged in your throat, too heavy to speak.

And then, just before she disappeared through the gate, she turned around one last time. Their eyes met across the distance, and in that moment, Alessia knew that things would never be the same.

But at least, she thought as you gave her a small, sad smile, they had this. This moment. This goodbye.

And maybe, just maybe, it was enough.

As Alessia boarded his plane, you stood there, rooted to the spot, watching until the plane disappeared into the clouds. you finally let the tears fall, feeling the weight of everything you hadn’t said.

Maybe someday, you’d find the courage to tell her. But for now, you whispered your feelings into the empty space where she used to be, hoping that somehow, she could still hear them.

“I love you, Alessia. I always have.”

But the words came too late, carried away by the winds of time and distance.

And as you walked away from the gate, you felt the emptiness left behind by the goodbye that wasn’t quite enough, and the love that was never quite spoken.

You felt a presence behind you, a hind coming to rest on the back of your neck, gripping tightly.

“You’ll see her again soon,” it was Alessia’s dad making a promise you didn’t want to hear. “This isn’t goodbye.

Holding back tears, he pulled you close, walking back to the car park, trying to forget the words that went unspoken.

—

Practice just ended and Alessia was sitting on the grass with Lotte and Emily taking her boots off.

“Have you’ve read the news lately?” Lotte asked the two.

“No, why? What’s happening?”

“There’s this virus going around and we might have to go on lockdown.”

“What about football? Are we still able to play if we do go into lockdown?”

“That’s also unknown. Everything is crazy right now.”

Not even a few days later they get an email from the athletics department stating a cancellation of the sports currently in season, which unfortunately for Alessia, was her sport. 

Thankfully she had a backup plan just in case.

Grabbing her phone, she dials a number, waiting for the person on the other side to pickup.

“Mum,” she started, packing the last of her clothes in her suitcase, “I’m coming home.”

—

Alessia Russo stepped off the plane, her heart racing with a mixt of excitement and nerves. It had been three years since she’d left home for her scholarship in North Carolina. Three years since she had seen her family, her friends, and the person she thought about almost every day since she left.

The familiar chill of the English air greeted her as she exited airport. Her brother was waiting at the gate, waving enthusiastically. She hugged him tightly, comforted by his familiar scents and warmth. It felt good to be home.

The drive to her childhood home was filled with chatter about her time in America, her football team’s victories, and the memories they had missed sharing. But even as Alessia laughed and talked, her thoughts kept drifting to one person—Y/N.

You’ve had been her best friend, her confidant, and her first love. You both had spent countless hours together before she left, and parting had been harder than anything she had ever done. She had promised to keep in touch, and they did for a while. But life had a way of pulling them in different directions. Football was taking up all her time, throw in a few of her classes, she felt like she didn’t have time for anything. She didn’t mean to do it on purpose, as time went on, the calls became less frequent, the messages shorter, until one day, they simply stopped.

Alessia’s parents had thrown a welcome home dinner for her, and she was eager to see everyone again, but mostly she was eager to see you. She had imagined what it would be like a thousand times—how you would look, what she would say to you. She wondered if you had missed her as much as she had missed you.

The dinner was in full swing by the time they arrived. The house was filled with the laughter of her parents, aunts and uncles, the clinking of glasses, and the scent of home-cooked food. Alessia was enveloped in hugs and well-wishes, but as she scanned the room, she realized that you wasn’t there.

“Have you seen Y/N?” she asked her mum.

She exchanged a quick glance around before looking away, something unspoken passing between them. “I… I haven’t seen her in a while, Less.”

Alessia’s heart sank, a sinking feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. “Oh, okay. Maybe she’ll come by later,” she said, trying to sound hopeful.

As the night went on, Alessia tried to enjoy herself, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Her parents eventually pulled her aside into the quiet of the living room.

“Alessia,” her mother began, her voice soft, “there’s something we need to tell you.”

Her father cleared his throat, his expression solemn. “Y/N isn’t coming tonight, love.”

“Why not?” Alessia asked, her voice trembling.

“They… they enlisted in the navy a year ago,” her mother explained, her eyes filled with concern. “She’s deployed now.”

Alessia felt like the ground had shifted beneath her. You had enlisted? The Y/N who hated violence, who always dreamed of traveling the world, who said they wanted to make a difference in a different way? It didn’t make sense.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We didn’t want to worry you while you were so far away,” her father said gently. “And Y/N didn’t want to burden you with it. They wanted you to focus on football and your future.”

Tears welled up in Alessia’s eyes. She had come back expecting to pick up where they left off, but now… now everything had changed.

“Do you know where they are?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Her parents exchanged a glance. “We don’t know the exact details, but they’re safe. They’re doing important work.”

Alessia nodded, though her heart was breaking. She had imagined so many different scenarios for this moment, but this… this wasn’t one of them.

She excused herself from the room, retreating to her old bedroom. Everything was just as she had left it, but it didn’t feel the same. She sat on the edge of her bed, looking out the window at the darkened sky. Somewhere, you were out there, and she couldn’t reach you.

She pulled out her phone and scrolled through their old messages, the ones she hadn’t been able to delete. A tear slipped down her cheek as she re-read your last text from months ago: “Take care, Lessi. I’ll always be with you, no matter where life takes us.”

She didn’t get to reply back, not even noticing that you’d texted her and that being the last text you had sent. In a way, it was you saying goodbye, not knowing how long you’d be gone for.

Alessia held the phone to her chest, closing her eyes. She didnt regret many things, but pulling away from you was her biggest regret, wishing she could turn back time and not let things get in the way, no matter how important it was because to her, you were most important.

—

Alessia went to play for Manchester United with little to no crowds, but she loved it. She knew she made the right decision for her career coming back home early, but there was always a you sized hole in her heart.

These are milestones she wished that you were here for, but she can only blame herself for it.

A few years playing in Manchester, Alessia got an opportunity she couldn’t turn down and here she was in London, having unpacked her things from the countless boxes littered throughout the apartment.

Needing a break from all the unpacking, Alessia decided to take a walk through her neighborhood, through London to familiarize herself to her home the next couple of years. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. This has always been her favorite time of the day, but it somehow felt bittersweet. There was something in the air— a nostalgic feeling that tugged at her heart in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

She walked by countless people, not giving them any mind. It was crowded, people bumping into her left and right until one person’s scent filled the air around her. 

It smelled like home.

Quickly turning around, Alessia tries to find that familiarity, lightly pushing people away who blocked her path. She was lost, head swiveling around, hoping to find -what- who she needed, when she lays her eyes on the bridge. 

A loner figure leaning against it, staring out, back to Alessia. It was you. Still dressed in uniform, clean and crisp, contrasting the setting sun. Your once long hair was now cut short, looking more mature, more grounded. But even from behind, Alessia would recognize you anywhere. The way you held yourself with quiet confidence—it was unmistakable.

For a moment, Alessia felt like she was eighteen again, in the airport, walking away from you, unknowingly being the last time she’d ever see you, ‘til right now. She remembered the way her heart ached, the way she held her tears from falling down her face, wishing she would’ve turned back around and ran into your arms, and say that she wasn’t leaving after all.

But Alessia didn’t turn back. She kept walking, disappearing into the unknown future that didn’t include you.

Alessia’s feet moved on their own, carrying her closer to you, until she was just a few steps away. Her heart pounded in her chest, anxiety and anticipation radiated off her body. It’s been so long. Would you even recognize her? Would you care?

“Y/N?” She called out. Her voice was soft, almost drowned out by the noise of the city, but you heard it. She saw you body stiffen, almost scared to turn around, but you did, as if not daring to believe your ears.

When your eyes met, it was like time stood still. Your face was a mix of surprise and something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. Alessia felt a lump form in her throat, feeling a bit overwhelmed with emotions.

“Alessia,” You said, voice barely above a whisper. You blinked, as if you’re trying to figure out of your eyes were playing tricks on you. “It’s-it’s you.”

“Yeah. It’s me. And it’s you.”

You took and step closer, your gaze sweeping over Alessia’s face, taking in every detail as if you were trying to make up for the years you had lost. “You look… you look good,” you stated, a soft smile tugging at your lips. It was the same smile that made Alessia’s heart skip a beat, and she felt it happen again now, after all this time.

“So do you,” Alessia replied, voice trembling slightly. “You look… different. Older. But still you.”

You chuckled. There goes Alessia’s heart again. 

“I guess the navy will do that to you. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Way too long.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with all the words that were left unsaid over the years. You wanted to say so much, to ask why she stoped replying to your messages, declining all your calls, but most importantly, to say that you missed her. But the words were stuck in your throat, too heavy to push past.

Alessia seemed to sense this, because she took another step forward, closing the distance in between. “Y/N,” she said softly, yourself melting from the way she said your name. “I-I never meant to disappear like that. I thought about you all the time, but… I was scared.”

“Scared of what?” You asked, voice cracking as you were finally able to ask the question that haunted you for so long.

“Of what I felt. So I distracted myself with more work, more football to block everything out,” Alessia admitted, not being able to look you in the eyes. “That you’d forgotten about me. I thought… maybe if I pulled away first, it would be easier to face you when I’d find out that you had moved on.”

Alessia felt a tear slip down her cheek, quickly wiping it away, but not before you noticed. Your expression softened, and you reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently brushing the back of your fingers against Alessia’s cheek. She melted at you touch.

“I never forgot you,” You said, voice choked with emotion. “How could I?”

“I’m so sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to-to ignore you. I should’ve communicated better. I should’ve been braver. I…I—”

“—Hey, hey.” You interrupted her rambling:

“I was a coward.”

“No!” You gently, but firmly, grabbed her face with both your hands, pulling her close and forcing her to look into your eyes. “You are not a coward,” Your voice soft. “You were just afraid and that’s okay.”

“But I lost you even when I was trying to prevent that from ever happening.”

“Who said you lost me? Cause you haven’t.”

“You joined the navy when you had never mentioned being interested it it at all!”

“That’s not on you. That was all me. No matter how pathetic it sounds, I couldn’t go through with going to Uni without you when it was our-my dream to experience it with you.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“And I forgive you even if you have nothing to apologize for. I mean look at you now,” You step back, gesturing your hands as if to present her, “Alessia Russo, European champion and back heel queen.”

“Stop it.” Alessia covers her face, not wanting you to see it reddening.

You hold your hand out towards her, hoping she gets the hint. Fortunately for you, she does. holding her hand, you lead her away from the bridge. 

“You know,” you started, leading her to a nice path with less people, “you didn’t leave me behind, no matter what you think. You were always with me, in here.” You placed your free hand over your heart, your gaze locked with Alessia’s.

Alessia looked at you for a moment, as if she was searching something in your eyes. And then, slowly, she leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours. “Maybe this time… maybe we can finally get it right.”

You felt a warmth spread throughout your body at her words. “No more beating around the bush?”

“No,” Alessia answered, voice soft. She closed her eyes when she saw your face leaning more towards her’s. “I don’t want to let you go, not when we’ve been given a second chance.”

You felt your heart swell with hope, nodding, her smile widens. “Then let’s give this a go. Let’s see where this takes us.”

You led her away again, talking as you walked, catching up on everything that you missed in each other’s lives. You told her about your time in the navy, the places you had seen, the people you had met. And Alessia shared her own stories, how America was, her football career, the friends she made.

All the walking and talking, Alessia hadn’t noticed that she led you all the way to her apartment.

“Oh,” Alessia’s lips turned to a frown, realizing her time with you has come to and end. “I guess this is me.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for tonight,” Alessia said softly, voice tinged with a bittersweet note that tugged at your heart. Her blue eyes met your brown ones, and for a moment, it felt like you were kids again, sneaking out late at night to watch the stars .

“Yeah, it was… amazing,” You replied, shoving your hands in your pocket. You didn’t want to leave. 

Alessia turns to look at you, her face turning serious. “I know we can’t just pick up where we left off,” she said, her voice gentle. “But I want you to try. I want to be in your life’s If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I’ll have you. I want that too and everything more. I am yours Alessia. I always have been.” Silence filled the air around you, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was a silence filled with comfort. 

“It’s late,” Lesia broke the silence, hands fiddling with her keys. “You should probably go.”

“I should,” You replied, but instead of leaving, you stepped closer to her, leaving no space in between.

The air between the both of you changed, and before she could think, before any doubt creeps in her head, you leaned in. Your lips hovered just above hers, giving her a chance to pull away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

You closed the gap, a gasp makes its way out of her mouth. Her arms make their way around your neck, pulling you closer. This first kiss tentative, almost fragile, as if afraid that one wrong move would break the moment. The kiss was deepened, pouring every missed opportunity, every hidden feeling into it. 

When you finally broke apart, breathless and hearts racing, you rested your foreheads together, the weight of your shared history and newfound hope settling around them. 

“We should’ve done that ages ago,” Alessia said with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” you agreed, thumbs brushing across her cheeks. “But I think now was the right time.”

Alessia bit her bottom lip, hesitant to say what she wants to say. “Do you… do you want to come in?”

You didn’t have to think twice. “Yeah,” you said, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’d like that.”

Walking through the threshold felt like the start of their new lives. Two old friends who met again after years, wearing older faces, finding the love they had from years ago.

And for the first time in a long time, Alessia felt like maybe, just maybe, everything was falling into place. 

[marvelfanfics1]

Rafe from s2 two, with the sweetest reader, who is completely crazy about the idea of nedding to be in control of *something* in his life, and little reader being his safe place because he gets to take care of her, he is going al psycho and just about to act impulsive again but then he remembers he has her, so everything is going to be fine, he tells himself🤧

Rafe stands on the balcony, pressing the balls of his hands into his eyes to stop himself from crying after just hearing from his dad how 'he fucked up everything'.

"Man up..." He mutters to himself, a choked sob escaping him.

His attention gets drawn to a phone dinging nearby multiple times, glancing to his left he sees Wheezie's phone laying on a table. After checking that no one's there he walks over to grab the phone, looking at all the messages from an unknown number.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out who it is, his anger and frustration building up again. Sarah, the golden child. Every time it's about her and it pisses him off. This whole ordeal with his dad a few minutes ago was, again, just because of her.

A moment of hesitation passes as he thinks about confronting Sarah, to make sure she keeps her mouth shut about everything that happened. He's about to message her back over Wheezie's phone but he stops, he isn't in the right mind to act rational and this could all go south quickly knowing that somehow Sarah always manages to rile him up simply for just existing.

"No, no..." He mumbles, erasing what was about to send and delete the messages all together, blocking the number he places the phone back on the table.

Rafe steps back again just in time as Wheezie comes out. "Have you seen my phone?"

"What?" He turns to her.

"Have you seen my phone?" She repeats and Rafe sighs, acting all nonchalant.

"No I haven't seen your damn phone."

She groans and is about to leave, stopping in the doorway. "Oh, and Y/n is here. Said she'll wait in your room."

He visibly relaxes at the mere mention of your name, nodding his head he walks past his sister. "Thanks."

He makes his way to his room, opening the door and quickly locking it behind him his gaze softens the moment his eyes lock with yours, your bright smile and the happiness radiating off you just by seeing him.

"Hey baby." He smiles a little, striding over to you he cups your face in his large hands, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. "What y'doing here, hm?"

You frown at him. "You forget? You said we make disney night today..."

"Nah, 'course I didn't forget. It's- I was just wondering that you're here so early. Even went to get your favorite snacks yesterday." He says, letting go of your face he walks over to the dresser and opens a drawer, pulling out various snacks and throwing them on the bed beside you.

Rafe chuckles at your wide eyes from seeing all the sugar, knowing he'll have one hell of an energetic little on his hands but he couldn't care less right now. Your happiness is all he needs right now.

You're practically his therapy, it's funny how regressing is your type of dealing with all the stuff you go or went through but somehow heal him as well by letting him take care of you and making him feel appreciated for the things he does, unlike his dad.

The only thing he hasn't messed up yet surprisingly is his relationship with you. You're still looking at him like he's the only person on the planet, the only one you can run to when things get rough and Rafe relishes in that fact. It makes him have control of at least something.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when he hears you talk to him, holding up a bag of gummy worms. "Help pwease."

With a smile he walks over to stand in front of you again, taking the bag and ripping it open, dropping a few worms onto your awaiting palm before popping one in his mouth as well.

"So, what should we watch first?" He asks, grabbing the remote from his bedside he lays down beside you with his arm behind his head.

"Mmm...Beauty and the Beast!" You grin.

"A'ight, whatever the princess wants." He searches for the movie, huffing out a breath when you collapse beside him, letting you snuggle into his side with your lamb plushie tucked under your arm.

As the movie starts playing he wraps an arm around you, his cheek pressed against your head. "Y'know I love you, right? More than anything..."

You lift your head to look at him. "I love you too daddy. Mm, more than my lamb."

"Damn, that's...that's gotta mean something."

As long as he has you by his side everything will be alright, in his eyes at least.

Taglist

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For Rafe:

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[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Chic Magazine interview with the Good Omens cast and crew by Keeley Ryan, August 2023 :)

'It was wonderful to get the Good Omens family back together'

There were plenty of miracles, mysteries and mayhem when Good Omens returned to the small screen for a second season.

The PrimeVideo series, which was originally based on Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman's best-selling novel, is heading beyond the source material this season.

The six-part series highlights the ineffable friendship between Aziraphale, a fussy angel and rare-book dealer, and the fast-living demon Crowley.

And while the duo put a stop to the apocalypse last time, there are the sparks of a new mystery that will take viewers from before The Beginning, to biblical times to grave robbing in Victorian Edinburgh; the Blitz of 1940s England to the modern day.

The cast includes David Tennant and Michael Sheen as Crowley and Aziraphale, Jon Hamm, Maggie Service, Nina Sosanya, Miranda Richardson, Shelley Conn, and Derek Jacobi also star in the series.

And Michael Sheen told how the Good Omens "world has grown" with season two - and opened up about his first day back at Aziraphale's bookshop.

In an interview conducted before the SAG strike, he said, "It was lovely to be back in the bookshop after having seen it burnt down the ground.

"Clearly I had managed to save a few books! Actually, it was extraordinary - your brain does a double take - my desk, the cash machine, the record player - everything is all so familiar even though it is a totally different location.

But we have expanded - there is much more of the world of Soho here including Aziraphale's favourite the magic shop and my favourite the pub - our world has grown."

The actor also praised Neil Gaiman's writing, noting how there's "something about the way Neil sees the mundane that is extraordinary."

He said, "His writing has such a breadth of reference and yet is so accessible and entertaining even when taking on big epic or philosophical issues.

There's something about the way Neil sees the mundane that is extraordinary. When things filter through his imagination they emerge in an entirely unique way and yet it feels like it's always been there.

Add in the sprinkling of the imagination of Terry Pratchett and cocktail has been created - utterly familiar."

Producer Sarah-Kate Fenelon told Chic how the second season of Good Omens is "building on the universe" - and how they had been "sowing the seeds of a second season without anybody knowing" last season. "

She said, "I work with Neil Gaiman and know in part that Gabriel, who is played by Jon Hamm, his character is not in the book of Good Omens - but it was included in the first season. We were sowing the seed of a second season without anybody knowing.

"That character was written by Neil and Terry as a potential second book. They never got to write it, but now we're able to tell Gabriel's story. It's kind of a lovely evolution, where we're just expanding the universe.

"A lot of locations on the set are locations from season one. We've also been able to explore new shops, like we've got the record shop and we've got The Dirty Donkey pub, which we go into - it was in season one, but we never got to go into it.

"Season two is just building on the universe."

The Wicklow native added that it was "wonderful to get the Good Omens family back together" for a second season.

She said, "We were lucky that a lot of our crew and creative talent were able to come back for a second season. But also, we had our cast return. Miranda Richardson plays a totally different character this season and we have a new Beelzebub.

"And then obviously, we've got Maggie and Nina playing themselves, Maggie and Nina, as written by Neil. It was wonderful to get the Good Omens family back together again."

Noel Corbally, who works as an associate producer on the series, recalled how they marked a special anniversary of the first season's release while prepping for season two.

The Irishman said, "We went for dinner that night to relive the celebration, happy to be back again.

"Even now, it's been more than a year since we wrapped and to be able to come back into the studio that's just been frozen in time with everything wrapped up — we had a week to turn it back to life, have it be a live street again.

"It's been a week. But it's been amazing. We had our original lighting team come back, our original art department — and they've just done a fantastic job."

And while there are plenty of easter eggs for fans to spot throughout the six episodes, the pair shared their favourites.

Noel shared, "I think that my favourite easter egg is actually in the record shop. It's a song that we play in the background. It's so subtle, but it's from the musical Happy As A Sandbag.

"Maggie's character Maggie runs the record shop, which was owned by her grandfather in the story. But the musical, Happy As A Sandbag, Maggie Service the actress - her mother and father met on the musical and fell in love. Having that was an homage to them for bringing us Maggie."

Sarah-Kate said, "I quite like the easter eggs in the title sequence. If you look really closely, there is a Gabriel or Jim in every shot, which people tend not to notice. It's like Where's Wally?"

Rob Wilkins, who manages Terry Pratchett's estate and serves as narrative EP, told how he was "elated" for the second season to be out — and about moving beyond the book's source material.

He explained, "There were lots of nerves, because there is no source material. There's no book. I went through the whole of season one with the mantra that we've got a beginning, a middle and an end.

"And at the end of season one, which was the only season at the time, I felt very relaxed - we're all grounded through Terry and Neil's words, and that's fine. We know where we're going, we've got the novel to refer to.

"And so with season two, of course there's going to be nerves — there's no source material.

"But Neil is 50% of the creative team that brought you Good Omens, so in him we trust. And we genuinely do, from the bottom of my heart - of course we do.

"There's excitement about what Neil is going to bring from the page and from the page to the screen, but trepidation as well — I'm a fan as much as anybody else, I want to know where the stories are going."

Rob added that some of his own favourite easter eggs within the second season include a nod to Terry in The Dirty Donkey pub - as well as a special sight in the bookshop.

He said, "I love the fact that in the bookshop, Teny's hat and scarf are just hanging there. Terry, as a huge patron of bookshops around the world, he just left his hat and scarf in there and moved on one day and left them behind.

"That's a lovely one for me, as well - it means more to me, I think, than anything else."

Rob opened up about the success of the first season - and why it was something that he didn't necessarily expect.

He continued, "There's the Terry Pratchett fandom, there's the Neil Gaiman fandom and push them together and there's a big crossover. But what we created with season one, we created Good Omens fandom from the show.

"People came to Neil's work and Terry's work through the show. It created something entirely individual of its own making, and that freaked me out because I didn't see that one coming.

"I didn't see that as a thing. I thought the fans would be rooted in Terry or Neil. I didn't realise that the ineffable husbands in all of that - I love David and Michael, but I didn't realise the love people would have for them as our demon and our angel.

"I shouldn't be surprised. It's just my admiration for them as actors and for what they do, and for people getting it I think that that's the thing that's meant a lot to me, that people have understood what we tried to do."

Costume designer Kate Carin told how having the opportunity to join Good Omens' second season was a "gift" - and opened up about why it was impossible to pick a favourite scene.

She explained, "When you see the whole show - you think, when you're watching episode one, you're like, 'oh my god, that's the best'. But then you watch something in episode two and it's like, 'that's awesome!'

"I would say that I'm a disciple of the show now. I didn't know the book when I was approached about the job. I'd obviously heard of it, and I'd seen season one — as a punter, I watched it.

"To get the opportunity to come and work on season two, it's a gift for a costume designer.

"You do fantasy, you do period, you do contemporary and all of the wavy lines in- between - you're given a lot of rope to play with."

The character of Shax, played by Miranda Richardson, was a "really fun character to design for" - as Kate told how plenty of ideas jumped to mind after reading the description.

She said, "When Neil writes on the page that you have a 50s inspired female demon, that gives you a lot of scope to play with. "

And when I started drawing her, I actually had to stop myself because I kept coming up with ideas."

And with the series jampacked with magical moments and settings, set decorator Bronwyn Franklin told how there was one particular shop that has a "certain magic'!

She said, "I actually think the magic shop is my favourite shop. The bookshop used to be, but now that l've done it twice - it's still beautiful. It is Aziraphale's home. It feels more magical because Aziraphale lives there, and there's the whole angelic side.

"But this one, it really has a certain magic. From a set decorator's point of view, it's a joy. Will Godstone, he gets to sit there and he's got his little cash register and if he's got no customers, he can sit there and have a little cup of tea.

"You just have to feel that person, live that person and think that it's yours. I always come into a space like this and think, 'how would I like to be?' Because if it makes me happy, it'll make the cast member happy, it'll make the viewers happy."

Michael Ralph, who is the series' production designer, told how while it's impossible to pick a favourite set, the bookshop is "one that will resonate most'.'

Aziraphale's bookshop contains more than 7,000 real books and Michael noted that it was important for the setting to feel real, not just for the audiences at home but for the cast and crew.

He said, "There's not a fake book in here. Couldn't do that. In a way, if you look at any bookshelf - I spent almost a day just moving books around, to make the bookshelves look like they're real. They could be flat dressed, and then they're not real. But this is real, when they're just moved around a little bit; or people have pulled them out and put them in incorrectly.. .that's what's real about a bookshop."

[catelyngrant]

So I'm thinking about the Fourteenth Doctor, and the bi-generation, and how he may have come to an end. What happened to him after those years he spent with Donna and her family, and with so many other friends on Earth (oh, I am headcanon-ing, friends), existing day-to-day and beginning to heal? After he learned how to let himself be loved, and shown compassion, and forgiven—and, eventually, learned to love, forgive, and care for himself? What happened when, at the end of this journey, his regeneration energy (I assume?) traveled back (in some hand-wavey fashion) to become the Fifteenth Doctor, who is born out of that love and forgiveness and compassion and is ready to move forward in the universe?

Fourteen becomes Fifteen—but what about the TARDIS?

Fourteen's TARDIS was created for the same reason Fourteen was: they needed to slow down, to be gentle. They needed to find a home that wasn't moving at the speed of light. So maybe this TARDIS is a little gentler, too. Maybe she's a little more careful of herself and her charges.

When Fourteen takes Rose to Mars, they land right where they're supposed to, and Rose sees wonders. Nothing bad happens, and they return home five minutes after they left.

When Shaun wants to see a football match from 1988, he opens the TARDIS door and she takes him right there, flying all by herself, to Fourteen's chagrin.

When Fourteen takes Mel to New York, they have adventures that don't involve running, or hiding, or screaming with anything but laughter. When Fourteen takes Jo, Ace, and Tegan to the Jurassic era, the only danger he faces is when he makes an age joke.

When, after Sarah Jane dies (yeeeears in the future, tyvm), Fourteen takes Luke, Maria, Clyde, and Rani to see Florana—the place he promised to take Sarah Jane all those years ago—the TARDIS chooses the safest, most beautiful moment in time for them to honor her memory.

When Donna and Martha and Yaz and Shirley sneak in for a joyride, they have the time of their lives, and the TARDIS covers for them. (Fourteen suspects, but can't prove it.)

When Fourteen is struggling, and chafing at life on Earth, and just needs to run, to fix things, to solve puzzles, to get away from the day-to-day of it all, the TARDIS lets him. She takes him so many places he's never been before, and they're all beautiful and wild and remind him what he loves about the universe.

(He tries, a few times, to go places that might bring him pain, and she gently refuses.)

And every now and then, someone will try to get in. This TARDIS doesn't have a key; she just opens to those in her care, and refuses entry to those she doesn't trust. She is safe, and so are they.

When Donna's in her eighties and can't get around as easily, the TARDIS takes her where she can manage. When Rose is overwhelmed with the pain of the world, the TARDIS takes her to places where none of that pain exists, and lets her stay as long as she needs to.

They live magnificent lives, and the TARDIS takes care of them. And then, at the end of it, Fourteen is ready for what comes next, and he becomes Fifteen. There's only one Doctor again.

But this TARDIS...

I think she stays, right in the corner of that yard. She leaves and then lands so precisely that roots and ivy grow over her. The Doctor is gone, and eventually Mel and Sarah Jane and Jo and Donna and Martha and everyone that traveled with the Doctor once upon a time in a different TARDIS are gone too.

But Rose is still there. Luke, Maria, Rani, and Clyde are still there. Their families, their kids. The TARDIS opens to them, and shows them the universe. She takes them only where she chooses to, and it's always exactly where they need to go.

She always takes them home, to the garden that once belonged to Donna Noble.

The Doctor finds new companions. Some of them come home to Earth after awhile, but they're not stuck dreaming of the universe. You showed me the furthest reaches of the galaxy, Sarah Jane said. You showed me supernovas, intergalactic battles, and then you just dropped me back on Earth. How could anything compare to that? We get a taste of that splendor, but then we have to go back.

These new companions, they return to Earth and their lives there, but every now and then, they swing by that old house that the Noble family has lived in for generations. They say hello to this old/new box, and she invites them in.

They don't have to say goodbye to the universe. She's right there in Chiswick, waiting for them.

And sometimes—on rare occasions, when they need it, or when he (or she, or they) does—she takes them to the Doctor.

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 8

Part 8: Art woke up with his head in her neck and a hand on her chest, starting to think that maybe this is how he would always wake up if she were next to him. He managed to detach himself without waking Liana and took advantage of these minutes to look at her a bit.

His head ached from all the alcohol, and for a moment he wondered if everything that happened last night had really happened. But she was wearing his shirt and sleeping in his bed, so apparently, it had. This made him smile and get out of bed. He put on a pair of sweatpants and went downstairs to the kitchen. He made two cups of coffee and put a box of painkillers in his pocket. "Good morning," he heard his mother and smiled automatically. "Hey, Mom," he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "How was your evening?" she asked, and he updated her that it was okay, without giving too many explanations. While she was moving towards the living room, turning her back to him, she said, "Tell Liana she's welcome to come down for breakfast." Art stopped, feeling himself blush and realizing that she had heard them last night. Him and Liana. Liana, whom she had known since the day she was born. Liana, the daughter of her best friend. His mother had heard her moaning in her son's bed. "What..." he mumbled, not knowing what to do. "The coffee, it's for Liana, right?" His mother turned back to him, amused by the whole situation. "Oh, relax, Art, it was just a matter of time, and Liana is always welcome to eat with us. Don't chase her out the back door," she winked at him and concluded the conversation. His heart was beating so fast he didn't know what to do. She would surely tell Liana's parents, and then Liana would never let him touch her again out of embarrassment. He placed the cups on the counter and followed her into the living room. "You can't tell Sarah," he stated. He was terrified at the thought of their parents sitting one evening and just talking about his and Liana's sex life as if it were a legitimate dinner table conversation. "Art, what I do or do not tell Sarah, my best friend, the woman who also raised you when you think about it, is my business," she was still speaking with complete nonchalance. "Mom, I'm begging you. Don't tell her. Does Dad know too? Do I need to ask him as well?" he tried to understand how deep the damage control he needed to do was. "You weren't exactly quiet when you broke the vase Grandma gave us last Christmas," his mom looked at him with a sharp look. Art tried to understand what she was talking about and vaguely remembered how they had come in, and he had bumped into something, causing both him and Liana to choke with laughter. "Shit. God. I'll buy you a new vase. I promise." He smiled a toothy smile. One that was his mother's weak spot. "Mom, please. Don't tell them." He saw on her face that she was about to relent. "It's very new, and we're still trying to figure out what we're doing," Art told her and sighed. "How new?" she asked, surprised. What she and her husband heard last night (unfortunately for them) did not sound like the beginning of something. "Very. I'm pretty sure it's new from yesterday..." his hand went over his neck for a second. He was nervous. "I can't have our parents talking about this before we've talked about it. Please, Mom, just pretend you didn't hear anything." He pleaded, and the woman in front of him nodded. "Okay," she rolled her eyes, and he gave her a kiss on the cheek. She saw her son stand up with a smile and head toward the kitchen. "Art," she made him turn around, "don't hurt her, okay?" she said, looking at him sharply. "Of course not, it's Liana." He had no choice but to nod. He didn't think there was a scenario where he was the one hurting Liana and not the other way around. Liana woke up in an empty room, taking a second to remember that this was Art Donaldson's room. Her heart beat uncontrollably fast as she recalled all the things she did last night with Art. Annoying Art who used to wipe snot on her when they were four. Art who would change the channel every time she wanted to watch 'The Lion King' at five. Art who, if she closed her eyes, she would see woven into every significant memory she had of this life.

She got up slowly, adjusting to the slight dizziness that hit her, and walked to the bathroom, brushing her teeth with the spare brush she found there yesterday and washing her face. What if he didn't want to talk about it? What if he decided there was nothing to talk about? What if it was all in her head? She heard the door to the room open and saw him come in with two cups of what she could imagine were coffee. "My hero," she blurted and snatched one of them from his hand, causing him to chuckle while she blushed from her own choice of words. Art took a sip while examining her. She was still wearing his shirt, and her hair was messy. She did everything to avoid looking at him. "Can we talk about it?" he realized he needed to take matters into his own hands because if he relied on the verbal abilities of the girl in front of him, they would talk about it at ninety when they would be in a retirement home. "Do you want to?" she asked, passing a neurotic hand over her nose. It was her tick when she was nervous. She had a few. The twitching leg and the hand on the nose betrayed her the quickest. "Li, can we be mature about this? Please?" he sighed and sat next to her on the edge of the bed. He hated that he had to beg. She took another sip of the coffee, looked at him, and nodded. "It was fun, right?" she asked hesitantly, again looking forward instead of at him. "It could be more fun if you manage to look me in the eyes for more than five seconds..." he tried to sound calm and amused, but this new situation was strange for him too. He didn't expect this. He didn't expect to look at Liana in a sexual way. He didn't expect his good luck charm from the moment he started playing tennis to be simultaneously the best blowjob he had ever had. It could confuse anyone, but him probably especially. "I can look at you for more than five seconds..." she rolled her eyes and brought her gaze back to him, not moving but blushing. This made him chuckle in frustration. "We're a bit stupid, aren't we?" he said, and she laughed too. "It wasn't a mistake, right?" she asked, feeling a bit more comfortable. "It was everything but a mistake, Li." He stated. "We can just take it slow and try to figure out what's going on? Stay us and add new things to it..." he suggested. "Art, what about Tashi?" she asked suddenly, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "What about her?" he returned the question, a little confused by the new direction of the conversation. "You talk about her all day, you definitely want to be with her," she seemed frustrated. "I don't want to be with Tashi," he felt the need to defend himself, not understanding how instead of talking about how great their night was, they were talking about Tashi Duncan. "She's also with Patrick. I'm not in love with her or anything." He spoke faster than usual, afraid that the opportunity he had now with Liana would slip through his fingers because of something hypothetical that wouldn't happen with Tashi anyway. "I didn't say you were in love with her..." she sighed, and again her hand was on her nose for a second. In her opinion, Art had given himself away. Art placed the cup he was holding on the floor and turned his whole body towards her, examining her closely. He was almost sure he would never get used to Liana wearing his clothes. He would never get used to seeing the marks he left on her neck, silently screaming that she was his. Completely his. "Li, I won't force you, but I think you want this too." He tried a new direction. Feeling he had to steer the conversation away from Tashi. Of course, he wanted Tashi; every man with eyes wanted Tashi. But he knows for sure that what happened last night with Liana would be the only thing he could think about until the next time he heard her moan his name. "You can't know that," she said in a childish voice and crossed her arms under her chest, causing him to chuckle.

"You're such a brat, God," he chuckled again, because he knew she was just being stubborn. Just by looking at her at that moment, with the flushed cheeks, he knew he had won this argument. "No, I'm not. I'm a person who knows what they want." She stood up, taking a few steps to move away from him. Liana felt she had to think deeply about this. Every warning light she had was flashing. This is Art Donaldson. You can't give your all to Art Donaldson. He will crush you. She knew. He stood up with her, every step she took backward hesitantly, he took forward confidently until they reached a dead-end; his closet. She lifted her gaze and met his blue eyes, looking at her as if she held the moon in her hands. "What do you want?" he asked in a whisper, not taking his eyes off her for a second. Almost managing to see the shiver she felt when he spoke so close to her. "I can help you understand. It's Us. It’s just you and me." He spoke near her ear, and she closed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts. One of his fingers gently brushed her neck, over the marks he had left, causing her to sigh. "Just say it. You're a big girl, you can say what you want." By this point, both of them were breathing heavily, and she opened her eyes, seeing his darken with a spark of something she couldn't identify. "Art..." she whispered, unable to find the words. He was so beautiful. How had she not noticed over the years how beautiful Art Donaldson was? "I'm not going to say it for you." His voice was steady, demanding. Not hesitant. "Use your words." His nose touched hers, and her chest brushed against his with every breath she took. "The moment you say what you want, you'll get it." His breaths were heavy too. It almost felt like the fate of their lives depended on this moment. "I want it. I want you." Her voice was weak; she couldn't swallow or breathe. "Good girl." He responded, and saw how her expression changed. The moment he said that, it was like a switch, she pressed her lips to his, almost angrily, upset that he had made her so desperate. Upset that he knew exactly how to lead her where he wanted. Upset that his hand was still not under her shirt, even though all she wanted right now was his touch. He completely controlled her ability to function independently right now. Just knowing she was good for him. They pulled away from each other, breathing heavily. Art's smile was genuine but also mischievous. They both knew he had won. He simply knew it was a tie, and that she could crush him with one wrong word. "So, we'll take it slow." He said, and she chuckled. "Yeah, huh? Slow seems to be our strength." She rolled her eyes and laughed too, concluding they would be fine. "I need to go home, my parents think I'm at Rebecca's..." she said while they lay in bed, not exchanging many words. His hand was around her, and her head was on his shoulder, still trying to catch their breath from the emotional turmoil of the past two days. "Your parents know you're here," he chuckled, remembering the conversation with his mom earlier. Liana looked at him and sat up quickly. Her hand scratched her nose for a moment, and her eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean???" Her voice raised an octave, and her cheeks flushed red. "My parents heard us. We weren't exactly quiet." He sounded amused, but to his defense, he had at least an hour more than her to get used to the idea. "What are you talking about? Why are you laughing, Art?! This is so embarrassing!!!" Her hands were on her face, trying to hide the level of embarrassment. He gently removed them, and she looked at him with the most frustrated look she had ever given him. He couldn't believe there were still so many of Liana's facial expressions he didn't know. "Mom lied to me earlier that she wouldn’t tell Sarah, but-" he started, trying to explain how he knew. "As if they can keep anything from each other. Ugh. So embarrassing, Art." "She also said they knew this would happen," he tried to comfort her, to explain that maybe it wasn't so bad that they knew. That now they didn't have to explain themselves.

"So fucking embarrassing." She repeated. "Patrick is coming tomorrow, remember?" He suddenly asked after a few more minutes of silence. "Oh my God, Patrick. We can't tell Patrick." She mumbled, half to Art, half to herself. "What?" He looked confused by her sudden change in behavior. She seemed to freeze next to him. He watched her get out of bed and start pacing back and forth. "We can't tell him, Art. Promise me." She stopped and looked at him. "Why?" He felt his stomach turning. Why didn't she want Patrick to know? Patrick, whom Art knew was in love with her. Patrick, who talked to her for hours on the phone. Patrick, whom Art introduced to her. "Because everything is already complicated in his life, and I don't want to add something else that will make him feel weird," she tried to explain herself but couldn't. Liana's heart was racing. The thought of Patrick knowing she and Art were trying things and exploring each other's bodies made her uncomfortable. "Why would knowing that you and I are together make him feel weird?" His heart was pounding. He understood; She knew. She would never admit it, but deep down, Liana knew Patrick was in love with her. "Because everything is changing for him, and he already feels like we're all leaving him. Art. Please. Let's figure out where this is going first and only then tell him. Promise me." She landed on the floor by the bed. "Please, Art, he and I are already in a weird place right now." She added, lowering her head. "Why are you in a weird place?" He knew something was wrong in their relationship. He just didn't want to ask either of them. To be honest, the fact that Liana and Patrick barely talked in the past month didn't bother Art at all. When Patrick would casually ask him on the phone how Liana was (as if he were asking about the weather), Art would say everything was fine with her and that he saw her a lot, even though he barely saw her at all, and that would be the end of the conversation about Liana. "Because I was stressed about my exams and mad about something he said to me. It doesn't matter, I'll apologize when he comes," she shrugged and didn't look at him anymore. "Did you choose a major?" He asked suddenly, and she leaned back on the floor and sighed. "Yes. We'll see where it goes when the grades come… I applied to both Architecture and Business." She shrugged. "Damn, no wonder you were so stressed. Why did you do that???" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Why would anyone apply to both? "Long story, and I don't feel like dealing with it right now." She sighed. How was she supposed to tell him now that if she got into Architecture like she wanted, she would probably leave Stanford for a while?

During Christmas dinner, with the small Hanukkah menorah in the window, Patrick, Liana, and Art snuck outside and sat on the grass, passing around a bottle of champagne they managed to sneak with them. "Finally, some peace," Liana said and giggled. Art's hand automatically found its way to her leg, making gentle movements. Patrick didn't miss it. He remembered the conversation with Tashi. Conversation. Whatever it was with Tashi. If he could, Art would bend her over the table. Show her who she belonged to. Those words were burned into his mind. Could it be they were really fucking? No way. Liana would tell him. Art would tell him. "So, what's new with you guys? Tell me about life at Stanford. Are you already the greatest tennis player in America?" He asked. "She doesn't come to my practices, so I can't be the greatest in America," Art joked, and Liana rolled her eyes and stood up. "I'm going to the bathroom. Don't encourage him too much," she started to walk away. "You're not going to tell me?" Patrick asked, and Art just looked at him, raising an eyebrow while half-smiling. "I'm not stupid, Art, what's going on?" His heart was beating faster than expected. "You know…" Art shrugged, and his smile widened. But it wasn't an innocent or a sincere smile. It was his victory smile. A territorial smile. One that couldn't resist saying the last word. Patrick was angry. He tried to breathe, but he felt his stomach clenching. How, while he was trying to be the person Liana needed, did Art get Liana? Art, who wasn't even trying. Art, who for most of his life didn't know what he had right under his nose. "What will you do when she leaves?" He heard himself say, and Art looked at him in confusion. "Come on, Art, you know she'll pass that test and get accepted, right?" He realized with every word he spoke that Art had no idea. He didn't know Liana was planning a year outside of America. "What are you talking about?" Art asked with visible panic in his voice. Patrick tried, but he couldn't stop his smile. Art thought he had won. Art was wrong.

Hey, it's a long chapter, and I'd like to hear your thoughts as always. I hope you enjoy it even tho I understand that the pace is slow. I just hate rushing things for the sake of something interesting happening. You know what I mean?  Next part we'll have more of Patrick, don't worry. pls pls pls keep sending me your opinions in the comments and in the ask box. It makes my day. As usual, if you want to be on the tag list, just ask 💜

taglist: @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @swetearss @ganana @yoitsme-04 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @izzywags478

[echobx]

Rafe x reader request:

In episode "Parcel 9," the group plans to cut off a house's power, but they accidentally alert the elderly resident, who defends her home with gunfire. Reader gets injured, and despite objections, they're forced to leave her behind. Later, Rafe overhears their conversation, outraged by their abandonment. Determined to make things right, he enlists Barry to rescue Reader. Rafe finds Reader injured but alive, becoming her unexpected hero, and they bond through the ordeal.

Sorry it’s so long Xx

The Cellar - Rafe Cameron × fem!reader

summary: see ask

warnings: mention of reader's leg being injured, other than that none

word count: 1k

author's note: idk why it took me so long to finish this 😭 and now the formatting is (imo) bad bc I don't have my laptop here with me but I wanted to post this anyway. it's roughly edited but not much.

“We don't have a choice,” John B yells and pulls Sarah with him, leaving you stuck under the wooden pillar.

“Sarah!” you cry out but her boyfriend has already pulled her away, out of the cellar and away from you.

You do your best to contain your sobs and cries of pain, not wanting to alert the old lady again. Time passes slowly and you feel yourself growing weaker.

Unbeknownst to you Rafe has his ears perked, listening to John B promise Sarah to go back later that night to get you, but he doesn't sound convincing. Rafe quickly pulls out his phone and texts Barry to meet him at the Crain house.

When they get there it's already getting darker, and they have to use their flashlights to see around the garden and find their way into the cellar.

“John B? JJ?” you whisper as you hear someone enter the cellar, but the voice that answers is not one you are familiar with.

“You really think those two are gonna come back to get you?” Barry laughs quietly before you can see him.

“How'd this happen?” Rafe asks, reaching over to brush over your cheek, removing your tears.

“The old witch shot at us and then this thing fell on my leg and-” You stop before you start crying again and Rafe nods.

“Gonna get you out of here, love,” he promises and turns to Barry. They lift the pillar and you manage to scoot out from under it.

Rafe picks you up and carries you out and towards his car. He saved your life and you don't even know how he knew where to find you. But most of all you wonder why he cares enough to do it.

The ride is quiet, apart from his rather aggressive taps against the steering wheel, or the fact that he's 10 mph over the speed limit.

“Why did you come and get me?” you ask quietly after he puts you down on the couch in his home.

“Because you deserve better to be left alone and all,” Rafe runs his hand over the back of his neck. You have never seen him nervous. As a matter of fact, you have never seen much of him at all, especially not on your own. But now that he's standing in front of you, you get a clear look at him; furrowed brows, lips pressed to a thin line, his hair hanging into his face.

“The doctor will be here in a bit to check on you,” Rafe pulls your attention back to the present.

“Oh, I'm fine, really,” you lie and try to get up, but he catches you just as your legs start to give out from under you.

“I can see that,” he huffs and puts you back down on the sofa.

The doctor comes and leaves rather quickly, only prescribing bed rest and a special ointment for the bruises on your leg, as well as pain medication.

“Maybe I should get you cleaned up before we start the bed rest part of this,” Rafe mumbles and picks you up to go upstairs without you being allowed to say anything about it. It's like he has taken over and you're unsure if you really want to complain about it, about giving parts of your freedom away to him.

He helps you undress with his eyes closed. It's a funny game because he really doesn't want to cross a boundary with you, but he also can't see which makes you giggle when he accidentally grabs your boob instead of your arm and then he jumps back and nearly falls over all by himself.

“I didn't mean to do that,” he apologizes but you keep laughing.

“It's okay.”

His eyes are still closed when he helps you in the bathtub, only opening them after you have confirmed that your bubble bath is covering you completely.

“You can open your eyes again,” you giggle, and he peeks one eye open before looking at you fully. “Didn't think you'd be so weird about potentially seeing some boobs.”

“I'm trying this new thing called, being respectful. Apparently, girls are into that kinda shit,” Rafe says and flashes his eyebrows at you while pulling a small stool over to sit down next to the tub.

“Is it?” you ask and he nods, gnawing at his bottom lip.

“No way!” you fake a gasp and he smiles.

“Yeah, you would be surprised how well it's working.”

“Can I be honest with you?” you ask and he nods. “I always thought you were worse. I mean, you're not the best, still-”

“Not my fault you hang out with assholes,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“I hang out with Sarah, and Sarah has friends who are not always as bad as you think. I know JJ would've come back to get me,” you argue.

“Did he, though?” Rafe remarks snidely.

“Eventually they would’ve.” You are sure of it, your friends had never left you behind before, surely it had been a mistake.

“I can bring you back there if you're so sure,” Rafe suggests and you shudder.

“No, thank you. The old witch had a fucking rifle.”

“See,” Rafe chuckles softly and you can't help but gaze at him, at how pretty he looks.

You keep talking, getting to know him better, really. You learn that he, just like you, doesn't have the best relationship with his dad, always trying to get approval from the parent. And you learn that he likes bikes, and only golfs to annoy the old fuckers on the course.

And after you're done bathing he gives you some clothes he found in Sarah's room and you lie down on his bed, eating pizza and watching a movie.

“It's the best because they are both doing the same thing and in the end, all their efforts go out of the window because they realize they belong together,” you sigh happily as the movie starts playing. Rafe pulls you into his side, and you let him. And although he's not a fan of rom-coms, he sits with you, more focused on your reactions to the film than the actual screen.

And while he's watching you, he can't help but thank your dumb Pogue friends for leaving you behind and giving him a chance to win you over.

part 2

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart @notdxbya

[talaok]

Hello, I have an idea.

how about something cute, about pedro and the reader at the Beyoncé concert, and Pedro being a little jealous and possessive, because of all the attention the reader is drawing to herself.

aries men are extremely possessive and jealous. LOL

Thank you. ♥️

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x reader

The amount of attention the people around you were paying to Beyonce, the woman they had paid good money to see perform, had decreased exponentially since they'd realized " the Y/n fucking Y/l/n" (as Pedro had overheard one of them saying) was standing between them.

And when you had started dancing... well let's say the situation had only worsened.

Sarah, yes as in Sarah Paulson, Pedro's good friend, had hooked you up with tickets, and when you'd heard about it, you almost fainted by how happy you were.

I mean who wouldn't be, it's fucking Beyonce we're talking about.

You had dressed up, of course, a tight, silver, sparkly dress hugged every curve of your body, and as much as you had tried to persuade Pedro to do the same, all you managed to achieve was to paint one of his fingernails silver to match your outfit.

You both spent the first twenty minutes of the concert looking up at the stage in awe, and wondering how the fuck you got so lucky.

But now as you were dancing and screaming the words to every song at the top of your lungs, he was starting to come to the realization that a lot of people in the crowd were enjoying that same pretty outfit you'd put on, and not just him.

Like the two dudes in the row behind you, whose eyes were wandering a little too much for his liking.

But he didn't want to disturb your experience, so at first, he just started standing closer, reminding everyone how he was your boyfriend, and only he could touch you.

And when that wasn't enough, one of his hands found the small of your back, and god but the moment you turned to him and flashed that stupidly happy smile at him he felt like the luckiest man in the world, and forgot all about his worries for a while, loosing himself in the music.

Until a chuckled "dude!" made its way to his ears, and he turned around to see one of the guys he'd already spotted pointing at you as he elbowed his friend.

Yeah that's definitely a fucking no

All it took was for him to shoot them both a look, and suddenly their eyes were only able to point to the ground.

But of course, he knew that wouldn't be enough, so for good measure, he stepped behind you and brought his arms around your torso, hugging you from behind.

"hey there" you talked over the music, slightly out of breath

"hey," he kissed your sweaty cheek.

You were really going all in tonight.

Even under that lighting, he could see tints of crimson painting your cheeks

"what are you doing?" 

"I'm just making sure people don't get to see more than they paid to"

"What?" you frowned

"don't worry about it baby" he shook his head 

"no, I wanna know"

God, but he could never say no to you, no matter how much fun you'd make of him after.

"It's just people are staring at you, that's all"

"so?" you asked "I'm sure they're staring at you too"

An amused smile pulled at his lips "No see, they're... well they're staring at you a little too much"

"ahh" You smirked at that, finally getting it "So you're jealous"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"Is that so?" you tilted your head, a mischievous glint to your eyes

"Yup" he nodded, "And for no reason at all I'm just gonna stay here for the rest of the night if you don't mind"

"Oh I don't mind" You smiled "just as long as you can keep up"

Image: @thesweetestdecline

[thecameronchronicles]

Just The Three Of Us

TW: femxfemxfem. Smut. Language. Overstimulation. 

SUMMARY: a threesome with Kiara and Sarah after you're caught getting a bit overheated. 

WORD COUNT: 1600

REQUESTED

hey hun, absolutely love you’re work.

I was just wondering if you would write another sarah and kie smut story.

I absolutely adore your last one and I need another.

🫶

Just The Three of Us

You have spent the last three months with only your fingers for company. Your recent breakup with some boneheaded Kook enough for him to threaten anyone near you to have to face his fist. And the one time you managed to get anywhere with a tourist, it was lackluster at best. But that was three months ago and you were desperate for an orgasm that wasn't a let down. Even your vibrator lost its appeal with how often you forgot to charge it, left waiting, and ultimately falling asleep. Nothing was working. 

Except today. 

Alone in the hottub at the Chateau, you leaned forward until your back to get a tan before the jet hit your clit just right. You were thankful to be alone for the plea it pulled from your lips. And this was what brought you riding against its pulsation with slow vigor. Of all the times you gave JJ shit about buying the Cat's ass, right now you would gladly blow him for it. That thought was just another reason your orgasm was rushing hard against you. 

Climbing. 

Cresting. 

Pulsating. 

Oh God... It was gonna be good. But you still needed more. Your fingers weren't anywhere near enough but it brought you to that edge so you could convulse to a release. Thankful enough to be too blissed to notice the fact you had an audience. 

Sarah was the first one you noticed as she pushed her sunglasses through her flaxen hair.  The sound of a crunching bag flashing your eyes to Kiara as she rolled it closed and crossed her arms. 

"Well that's one way..." She teased as you flushed, swallowed hard, and moved back from the jet. Mentally promising to make a habit of riding it whenever you could get time alone. 

"You do that a lot?" Kiara asked while moving closer as Sarah followed closely behind, both girls leaning on either side of you. Kiara's fingers dipped into the water, so close to your breasts that were begging for her touch. 

Wait. No. 

She was one of your best friends. 

But so loving. And spirited. And beautiful. Molasses skin that always smelled so damn good it made you wet again just to think about. 

"Was it good?" Sarah's question made you blush as your eyes moved to her lips. Full and tempting. But not more than her breasts spilling effortlessly from her bikini top you'd gladly suffocate in. 

You chalked it up to being horny. They were your best friends. They never even-

"Kie-" You gasped at the fingers circling your nipples over your suit. 

"That was so hot I'm soaked through my panties..." Sarah nodded, doing the same to your other breast but with more effort. Where Kie pulled softly at your nipples, Sarah took your entire breast. Kneading it as you moaned. 

"I'm actually jealous..." Sarah added. "You sounded better coming from that jet..." Her hand descended down between your legs. "Bet I can make you louder..." Before you could fight it, not that you would, she sunk a finger into you. Kiara now favoring both of your breasts. 

"What about...the guys..." You moaned to the second finger and soft waves made by her soft jerking motions that increased her speed. 

"They don't need to know how good we can make each other feel...it's all experimental..."

"Sarah?" Kie chuckled. 

"She's gonna come...oh my God...she feels so tight, Kie...she's riding my fingers and I fucking love it..." Your eyes rolled before Kiara was suddenly in the water. 

"Not before I get to touch her..." Taking turns, Sarah pulled away and Kiara's fingers replaced. The absence edging you as they took turns with their fingers and you began to plead by only the use of their names. Kiara set you across her in a straddle.

"Aw, you wanna come again? So fast?" Kie teased as you nodded before Sarah unlatched your bikini top. 

"I've always wanted to play with these..."

"She never shuts up about it..." Your eyes widened. 

"You guys have..."

"Oh yeah...when John B can't get me off...Kiara makes me squirt..."

"And between shifts when I'm tense, Sarah helps me in the backroom..."

"Oh my God!"

"She loves it!" Sarah narrated as you straddled Kie while rolling your hips. 

"We almost got caught last week when JJ came into the chateau...was actually your fault..." You gasped to Kiara nibbling at your naked breast as Sarah reached around and proceeded to finger fuck you in perfect but slow precision. 

"You came here wearing that little bikini we wanted to tear off of you. I saw you watching me with John B but I didn't know if you wanted this..."

"She's throbbing..."

"Good...she's gonna come so pretty for us...isn't she?" You nodded. 

"Loud too. She's a screamer and I love it..." Kiara spoke between breasts before you were pulled back against Sarah. 

"She's better with her mouth..." Before you could deny it, Sarah spread your legs and Kiara was under the water working your clit. The waves you made came drastically over the sides of the hot tub as nobody cared. 

"Wait until she does both-" you gasped as Sarah massages your thighs and Kiara came up for a breath before kissing your breast and coming back down this time with two fingers pistoning your inner walls and against your g-spot.

"Oh she found it...good girl...let her make you come...it's so fucking beautiful..."

"Oh God...Sarah..."

"I'm expecting it louder...it's better isn't it?"

"Fuck yeah..." You moaned moving against Sarah as she kissed your shoulder and widened you more, holding you up even wider for Kiara. 

"Let her tongue feel how wet you are...ooh...yes...like that..."

"I'm gonna come...I'm gonna fucking come..."

"Not without telling us..." She tapped for Kiara. 

"She wants to come quietly, Kie...after you worked so hard doing so well..." They kissed and fondled each other long enough to make your hand drift between your thighs. 

"Maybe we should torture her a bit? Maybe come?"

"I'm gonna have to soon or that jet has my name on it..." Sarah cocked a brow before pulling Kiara's shorts down. 

"Use it...I'll use the other one..." Both girls were nude from the waist down and gripping the sides of the tub as the water sloshed as they rode against the jets. 

"Fuck!" Kie cries first. 

"Touch me...please..." Sarah lost her dominance and became needy. The begging making you clench and finger yourself wildly over your clit. 

"I like when you beg..." You explained as Kiara wanted you, nodding. 

"It is pretty, isn't it?" She moaned, knuckles white as she pumped two fingers into herself. 

"Please play with my nipples..." She turned and nearly mauled you as the jet at your back came against your ass. The expression made Sarah beam. 

"You like it here?" Your ass was parted as the jet shot at your delicate hole. 

"Kie!"

"I'm coming!" Sarah hovered over your lips. 

"Look at Kie..." She jolted and bent over the tub while Sarah widened your ass. As Kie came down, you pressed a soft kiss to Sarah's lips. Her tongue quick to claim your mouth before Kiaras fingers came between your legs. 

"I'm making her come like this ...it's so fucking hot..." Sarah explained when the kiss broke. Kiara took over your lips while Sarah rocked you against the jet and harder against Kiara’s fingers. 

"Fuck..." You whimpered as both girls nodded. Aware Sarah hasn't come, you cupped her naked pussy and set two fingers as she had done to you. 

"Yes! Like that! I'm already close...just bend a little-FUCK!" She shattered for you as Kiara kisses her neck enough to make her grin. 

"Yes!" She exclaimed with contentment. 

"Forget it...you're gonna fucking squirt..." 

"But I..." Before you could deny it, you were positioned between both girls. Each of your bare asses in a seat with your backs pointed to the Chateau as Kie held down one of your legs and Sarah held the other. 

"Louder than with the jet or I'm gonna take it as an insult, okay?" She grinned as her fingers worked hard and fast. 

"Slow down, I'm enjoying her expressions..." Kiara traced your face and kissed your lips, jaw, and neck, before the girls took turns with that role. 

Kiara was softer with her thrusting fingers but deeper as Sarah was quick but rough. Sarah kissed leisurely with a teasing tongue and Kiara bit your lip to make you moan. Both girls gave equal affection to your breasts. But it would be the vicious trade of fast fingers fucking you that had you on that edge. 

"Yes..."

"It's so good! I've never-"

"I figured...but it's okay...I'll make you for me."

"And me." Kie added. 

Kisses. Thrusts. Dirty promises. Everything collected to that crest. 

"Fuuuuuck..." You warned. 

"Better hurry. The guys are back..." The Twinkie sounding up the gravel made you tighten. 

"You're coming whether they see or not..."

"Please come for us...I don't want them knowing our little secret..." Kiara kisses you quickly as it was her soft lips and Sarah's rough fingers that made you finally expire. Jolt after jolt of your hips as her fingers rode you through it. The convulsions of her inner walls set off as sparks while you recovered. 

"This is just for the three of us..." Sarah smirked while sucking you off her fingers. And you nodded, aware the promise you made earlier to the jet was also true to your two best friends. 

This would be happening whenever you had the chance.

TAGLIST: @rafesmoon @maybankslover @puzziepoppin @gillybear17 @onclouds999@penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf

MASTERLIST 

SARAH CAMERON MASTERLIST

KIARA CARRERA MASTERLIST

[slutforln4]

worship — joel miller.

summary. to believe in god is to commit to his rules. joel miller managed to make you break one of them.

pairing. dbf!joel & christian!fem!reader

warnings. your dad's best friend? more like your controversially old sex buddy! 😂 (reader is in their early 20s, joel is in his mid 40s), jesus freak sucks dick!! (m receiving oral), smut, edging, dirty talk, fingering, lots of religious references, joel is compared to god and reader sorta worships him idk

this goes without saying, 18+ MDNI, i'm not responsible for what media you consume, beware for your own good

word count. 3k

author's note. hellooo everyone :) i hope this fic doesnt offend the hearts of anyone christian who shall read this (... are you really christian if you read this filth...) but i hope you enjoy! completely unrelated note— the happy trail makes me go crazy.

taglist. @cordeliapaugou

“Hey, kiddo.”

The last thing you expected to wake up to was your father and Joel Miller drinking coffee at the dining table. If you had known you’d be waking up to guests, you would’ve at least put your PJ pants back on— instead, you’re just in your pink underwear.

“Uh,” you tiredly rub your eye, “hey, Joel.” Your father looks at you with narrow eyes, so you correct yourself. "Mr.Miller.”

Joel shakes his head, “no need for the formality, honey, it’s just Joel.”

You give your dad a look, a small and proud smile on your face. You’re not fourteen anymore and Mr. Miller is Joel to your twenty year old self. Your dad just sometimes forgets that you’re no longer his little girl.

“What’re ya talkin’ about?” You ask, setting on the kettle to make some tea for yourself.

“Just stuff,” Joel shrugs. “Since when did ya get a texan accent?”

You can see your father’s shoulders slightly shake with a chuckle. ��She’s been spending too much time with her mom down south, picking up her accent and all.”

“It ain’t as bad as ya make it out to be, dad.” You roll your eyes. “Besides, it only comes out when speaking to someone else who’s a Texan, like Joel.”

You make yourself the tea, turning your attention to making sure not to spill meanwhile your father’s talking about going to a city a few days away and how he can't just leave you at home.

You can't help but look at Joel from the corner of your eye as you blow your tea, him staring right back at you. His arms are large and you can see the outline of toned muscles underneath that flannel he’s wearing, and God the way his hair is naturally messy, but it suits him so perfectly, it makes your knees buckle just at the thought of your fingers tangled in it.

Was this weird? He’s been your dad’s best friend since you were like eleven, you only met him when you were fourteen and even then, he showed you love as if you were his own daughter.

You wondered what went through that mind of his when he traced his eyes down your body, gaze lingering on your pink panties for a little too long. Did he think this was weird, too? The way he licked his lips when you sat down on the island in your kitchen, slightly spreading your knees apart, made you think differently.

“You okay with that, hon?” Your father's voice pulls you back into reality.

“Hm?”

Your dad walked over to you, leaving Joel to sit alone at the dining table. “I’ve got a work trip for the next week, you think Joel could keep an eye out for you?”

“I don't need a babysitter, dad.” You roll your eyes, taking a small sip of your tea. It’s a smidge too sweet, but there's not much to change now.

“I know, I know,” he sighs. “But you know how there's these girls on TV? The one’s going missing?” You nod, hesitantly. “I don't want to see you on TV, honey. Joel was gonna stay with us anyway, since he’s visiting.”

You think it over, silencing the butterflies in your tummy. “Okay, fine. Just promise he ain't a big ol’ grump like Sarah said he was.” You laugh and he pinches your cheek. “Good luck at work, dad.”

“Be a good girl, alright?”

You watch your dad’s car pull out of the driveway, waving goodbye to him. He goes on trips like these often, but they take place conveniently when you’re visiting your mother, so it's weird being home alone.

Except, you’re not home alone. Joel’s here.

The same Joel who was sitting in your dining room a few hours prior and watching you in your underwear like a predator hunting its prey. Much like the hunting nonsense Joel is watching, as he’s sprawled out on the couch.

You walk past him and up into your room, leaving a slight gap between the door and doorframe. You have college stuff to catch up on, so you open up your computer and open up your assignments.

About twenty minutes in, halfway through an essay about human evolution and what difference it made to their psychology, you hear a knock on your door.

You turn around and see Joel’s head peeking into your room, eyes scanning it as if he won't be checking up on you for the next week. “Hey, kid. I ordered pizza, should be delivered in half an hour.”

“Oh,” you swallow dryly. “Alright, I’ll be down then.”

“Ya alright?”

“Mhm, just doin’ some college work.” You smile softly. “I’ll be done until the pizza’s here.”

Joel nods, and you get the feeling that there's something more he wants to say, but he’s holding back. Before you can ask, he’s halfway down the stairs.

Another twenty minutes pass and you’re done with the essay. You jog down the stairs, your loose shorts bouncing along with you. Joel’s in the kitchen, pulling out a couple plates when you walk in. “Hey, I was just boutta call ya.”

“What kinda pizza did you get?” You ask, watching as he opens the box to reveal a cheesy, pepperoni pizza. “Nice,” you smile up at him.

He hands you a plate with a slice in the middle of it. “So, how’s college?”

You shrug, taking a bite of the pizza. “It's fine. Not much is fun ‘bout it.”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, I remember my college days. I was rowdy back then. Unlike you. Goody two shoes, eh?” He raises a brow in your direction and you feel the butterflies blooming in your stomach again.

“I guess so.” You smile, softly. “I got a naughty side to me, ya know.” You notice the way Joel’s lip quirks up at the side, as if he’s satisfied with your answer.

“Yeah?” He locks his eyes with yours, the gaze alone making your knees buckle. Good thing you’re sitting on the kitchen island or else you’d be a melted puddle by his feet. “I guess all good girls are bad girls, in some ways.”

“Mhm, exactly that.” you set your plate down and bite your bottom lip, palms resting on the surface you’re sitting on. “I’m a good girl for the most part.”

“I know ya are,” he smiles at you and follows you to the dining room, where you sit and eat together, catching up since the last time he saw you. He tells you about his daughter and how she’s getting married soon. You tell him about your college major and plans after you graduate, which intrigues him more than anything.

The strong gaze from a much older man is more than enough to make a girl like you flustered.

Joel noticed the red rush to your cheeks, the way your eyes didn't meet his for the rest of the meal, and the way your fingers fiddled with each other.

Joel asks if you still go to church, and you nod. You know that he asks this to know if you still worship the Lord enough to not give into the sin. “Do you?”

Joel shakes his head. “Haven’t been to church in years. Don’t trust God no more.”

“I’m sure there's still a part of you that loves God, no?” You ask. “The good Lord wants us to worship him, and that’s what we should be doing.”

When Joel doesn't answer, instead looking at you with a crease between his brows, you get up with your plate and go wash it in the sink. Washing dishes has gotta be your least favourite chore, so you’ve learnt to adapt and get over it, and that is by occupying the rest of your body as your hands work on the dish.

Meaning that you hum some sorta song while swaying your hips along to it.

You can’t hear Joel coming into the kitchen, so you continue swaying your hips in those shorts of yours, as you mumble the lyrics to whatever song you’re thinking about.

It’s only when you feel a hand on your waist and his face close to your ear, that you realise Joel is there. He leans into your ear, pressing himself against you. You can feel his erection against the thin material of your shorts, causing a damp spot form in your underwear.

“You enjoyin’ yourself, sugar?” He whispers, his hand sliding down from your waist and pressing on your belly. “You enjoy teasin’ me, hm?”

“Teasing? I wasn't- I-”

Joel chuckles. “Don’t think I didn't see ya starin’ at me this mornin’. Spreadin’ your pretty little legs for me, hm?” You feel his fingers slide down under the waistband of your shorts, getting dangerously close.

Joel’s fingers ghost over your clothed clit and you jolt back at the feeling, accidentally rubbing yourself up against his erection again. His pointer finger trails down from your clothed clit and to the dampness in your underwear.

“You said you’re a saint, hm? Gettin’ so wet for me,” he kisses on your neck. “Ain’t that a sin, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “It’s just… Fuck,” his fingers pull the waistband of your underwear up, making way for them so slide between it. His pointer finger teases your clit, earning more whimpers from you.

“It’s just what, honey?”

“It’s just human nature.” You stifle a gasp when his finger pushes into your core, gathering some of your wetness before dragging up to your clit. He starts rubbing slow circles on your clit, kissing on your neck and grinding his dick against your ass. A moan leaves your lips and you feel him smirk against your neck.

“Human nature, hm?” He mumbles. “Will it be human nature when I bend ya over the sink and fuck you like the little slut ya are?”

You whimper at his words, his finger applying pressure to your clit as he twirls it. “No, Joel, we should-... We should stop.” You contradict your own statement by arching your back and rubbing up against his hard cock, when his middle finger teases your hole.

“If ya want me to stop, why are ya grinding on my cock, hm?” His other hand grabs your jaw and turns your face to him, tears already threatening to spill at the feeling of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. Joel gets so close to your lips that he might just kiss you, and his fingers thrust in and out of you at a pace that’ll for sure make you cum, and when you think he’ll let you spill all over his fingers… He pulls away.

His hand is no longer on your soaked pussy and his lips are no longer mere inches away from your lips. You’re left dumbfounded, standing there by the sink.

You follow him to the living room. “What was that?”

Joel shrugs. “Ya wanted to stop, so I stopped.”

“Yes, but-” you groan, annoyed. He sits down on the couch, immediately manspreading and doing nothing about his erect cock as he turns on the TV and crosses his arms behind his head. You look down at his lap, at his thighs and the way his arms look in that tight t-shirt of his. Fuck, how badly you want that cock twitching inside of you.

But it goes against your religion and you’re not willing to sacrifice it for him, or his masculine bliss that would surely turn a girl like you into a woman.

Your feet work faster than your mind and all of a sudden you’re standing between his legs, tugging off your shorts and panties. Joel’s eyes widen when you sit down, hands propped up against his chest, and begin rubbing yourself against his thigh. After a few moments, your waist is embraced by his large hands and he’s guiding you.

There’s already a wet spot on his jeans, and Joel smirks at the sight. “Ain’t you a lil’ sinner, hm?”

“N-No.” You say, firmly, as his hands guide you to continue riding his thigh.

“The Good Lord wants us to worship in a different way, sometimes.” Joel says, his lips on your jaw, sending a trail of kisses down to your neck. He gently bites the skin and sucks on it, leaving his mark on you.

“Fuck,” you moan as you near your orgasm. You feel your clit throb against the material of his jeans and he feels it, too. His hands find your clit and rub it as you continue riding his thigh, his eyes not leaving your face. He watches as your face contorts into a look of pleasure, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Let go, baby,” he praises. “Let go.”

You feel yourself grip onto his arm, nails digging into his skin as you cum all over his jeans, a loud moan erupting when you do.

“Naughty, naughty girl you are, hm?” He smirks when you gladly take his soaked finger into your mouth, sucking it off. Joel’s eyes are half-lidded and lustful, making you feel butterflies. “Be a good girl and go clean yourself up.”

“But what about…” You point to the bulge in his jeans. You’re such a sweetheart, Joel thinks, as his fingers pry open your mouth. He puts his thumb into your mouth and you suck on it, as he undoes his belt with one hand. Joel’s finger pushes back the waistband of his boxers and your eyes widen at his dick as it springs up and hits Joel’s belly.

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting it to your lips. He spreads it on his tip, mixing in with the pre-cum, before he taps it against your lips.

You open your mouth and he pushes the tip past your lips, going slightly deeper into your throat with every second. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek as he continues guiding his cock down your throat. When he hits the back of it, you gag and he pulls it out immediately. “We don't gotta do anythin’ you don't want to, darlin’.”

“I want to do this for you,” you mumble, licking your lips. The taste of his precum enters your mouth and you feel yourself slipping into the sinful path of lust.

When Joel’s eyes meet yours, and the change from a soft gaze to something lustful made his dick twitch in his hand.

“Alright, then open up, sweetheart,” he puts his dick up to your lips again.

You part your lips, he slips inside, every prayer and holy word dissolves on the tip of your tongue. He tastes like sin and clandestine pleasure, such God would not approve of. But you don't care. With every inch he enters your mouth, you feel yourself fluttering and all those butterflies in your stomach blooming into some new release.

The sounds Joel makes are enough for you to consider this a new type of worship, just like Joel said. His moans could easily suffice the worship of God and you wouldn't mind.

When you feel him twitch, a moan erupts from your throat and rumbles through your mouth. Joel moans your name, thrusting himself deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag, all while you’re whimpering and tears are rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m ‘bout to come, baby,” he warns you, but you surprise him by keeping his dick in your mouth. Your hand comes up to stroke the base of his cock, adding that last bit of pleasure before you feel his hotness release down your throat. He pulls it out, a few strings of cum landing on your lips. He brings his thumb up to clean it, but you lick your lips clean with a devilish smile on your face.

The salty sweetness he released slides down your throat like it's holy water. When Joel’s fingertips wipe away the tears from your eyes, you’re kissing on his palms and mumbling sweet nothings.

Joel sits you in his lap after he stuffs it back into his pants, his hands on your thighs as you straddle him. His gaze is on your face, memorising every detail of it as if he were to forget it as soon as he closed his eyes.

The fiery touch of his makes shockwaves erupt on your skin, making their way to your brain and multiplying that fuzzy feeling in it.

“Go clean up,” he says, his lips placing tender kisses on your neck. In all honesty, you’re content right then and there. You nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, drawing circles on his revealed collarbone with your finger. “Ya want to cuddle?”

“Mhm,” you hum against his neck. “All this worship’s made me tired.”

Joel laughs at your little joke. “‘M sure it has, baby.” He kisses the top of your head and caresses your back, as gentle as you felt God’s word. You could get used to this— the slow and gentle worship, one that you don't have to be forced into.

You could stop going to church and instead kneel in front of Joel, the hardwood floor imprinting on your knees as you two’s moans replace every prayer.

Joel’s strong arms pick you up and he carries you upstairs, opening the door to your bedroom. When he sets you down, you tug on his bicep. “Lay with me.”

“Anythin’ ya want, baby,” he hums, pulling the covers over the both of you as he lays down next to you. His arms hug your waist and you put your face in his chest, inhaling his scent. This is as close as you'll ever get to heaven— the strong smell of Joel’s cologne, his arms warming your body and heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

You wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him tighter to yourself as sleep overruns your body. “Goodnight, Joel.”

Joel’s lips press to your forehead and he caresses your hair. You both know how wrong this is, but God, you can't stop. Joel is so gentle with you, in his touch, in his words, you feel like he’s actually treating you like you deserve to be treated. And he doesn't regret it one bit. He would do it all over again.

He doesn't reject the words that come out of his lips, because he knows they’re true.

“I worship you, princess. Sleep tight.”

[hellishjoel]

Delicate - Chapter Three: I Wish You Would

2.5k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

summary: After making a bad impression on his first date, Joel nearly gives up - until fate in the form of his daughter Sarah intervenes; Joel and Petal come to a deal.

A/N: truth be told, @thetriumphantpanda and I completely forgot this series existed and got caught up in other projects BUT we're continuing it! because we still love our little baby!

warnings: joel and reader are single parents, rom-com vibes, foul language, Joel being terrible at dating in general, a lil angst

“It’s okay,” she said so reassuringly, looming by the cab as dark clouds began to form over the city. “It takes some time to get used to this again. I was the same.” He didn’t even have the nerve to look her in the eye anymore, brown droopy eyes finding solace in staring at the concrete. “It’ll get easier each time you do it, I promise.” 

His heart felt ripped from his chest, let down by his actions. 

Part of him wonders if he did it on purpose, leaned into ruining the date so he could give Sarah the excuses he’s been making up in his head. That it didn’t work out, that they weren’t a match, that dating just wasn’t his thing, and that he should just be left alone. 

But then he met you. And his heart beat so fast in his chest, he worried it might give him a damn heart attack. 

He’d never seen someone so pretty, with such a bright smile and warm energy that melted the cold exterior shell he had built up over the years. He had no excuses to give, and he didn’t mind. But then nerves took over. 

Joel sighs quietly, staring blankly ahead at his closed garage door. He sits in his parked truck, radio coming in and out of signal as the storm worsens overhead. He flips his wrist and tears the keys from the ignition. 

He’s back home now. Has been for maybe twenty minutes. He just can’t stop thinking about how fucking stupid he felt. Rain pitter-patters on his windshield, and he supposes it’s time to start going inside. Maybe then, Sarah would stop spying on him from the front windows in the living room. 

With a large huff, Joel steps out and makes his way up the porch, rain dotting his disheveled hair and half-decent ensemble. 

Upon pushing the front door open, he sees Sarah run back to the couch with Uncle Tommy just in time. 

“Hey,” she greets casually, fiddling with the remote and pretending to surf for something to watch, “Soooooo,” she coos, “How was your date?” 

Joel watches as Sarah’s face slowly sinks at the sight of him, large rounded-off eyes reading dismissively as he glances from her to Uncle Tommy. 

By now, Tommy is making a worried face, hiding behind a hand over his mouth, panic blaring across his eyes. Sarah’s a smart girl; it doesn’t take her long to look between the two. 

“Oh god, what happened, dad?” She asks with a strained tone, following Joel into the kitchen, where he fishes out a beer and sets his phone absently on the counter along with his keys. He lines the bottle cap to the lip of the counter and pops it open with ease, hearing the bottle hiss with the release of pressure before he takes a long drink. 

Sarah’s glaring eyes slowly turn to her Uncle Tommy. “What did you do?” 

“I-well-no, see, I tried- uh-” Tommy stutters haphazardly. 

“Ain’t Tommy’s fault,” Joel grumbles, the first words he’s spoken in an hour that couldn’t be farther from the truth. There’s a moment of silence as Tommy and Sarah share an empathetic look to Joel. “S’my fault.” 

After some begging and dragging, Sarah manages to get her dad to sit in the living room, the television’s volume set to mute. She rolls Joel’s phone around in her hand, swiping it open and finding the dating app he met his date on. 

Her pictures were beautiful. She was her dad’s type, too. Confident looking, with a sweet smile and a love for adventure. Even with a kid of her own. She understood now why they both found it important to make good first impressions. 

So, what the hell happened? 

“Jus’ tell’er what I said, Joel. I gave ya bad advice.” 

“Horrible advice, Tommy.”

“What advice? I thought this dating operation was a trio effort, and you left the Captain out of a very important dating advice conversation?” Sarah accuses, Tommy shrugs casually beside her on the couch. 

Condensation from Joel’s beer bottle makes a dark ring on the upper thigh of his jeans. He stares long and hard before continuing.  

“I was gettin’ ready for my date, tryin’ to find somethin’ to wear. Tommy helped an’-”

“And?” Sarah pressed, watching Tommy sink further into the couch, hoping to disappear between the cushions.

Joel grumbles quietly and continues, "Told him how nervous I was. Been forever since I had been on a proper date. So he gave me some advice that worked for him.”

“You took advice from your player of a brother? Who can’t find a wife to save his life?”

Tommy playfully scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I could find a wife if I wanted to-”

“Anyway,” Joel butts in, “He said I should try to sound uninterested. Play hard t’get, or whatever. Not ask too many questions. And uh… what did you call it Tommy? A twisted compliment?”

Sarah harshly gasps, turning to her Uncle Tommy as he drops his jaw, looking helpless at Sarah’s genuine anger. 

“You never do that! Ne-ver! Never ever!” She said, starting to swat angrily at his arm and shoulder. 

“Alright, alright, mercy! Mercy!” Tommy looks apologetically at Joel, shaking his head in dismay. “M’sorry, big brother. I thought it would work for you, as it works for me. The type of women I try it on works pretty well.” 

Joel shook his head, eyes drooping again. 

“She wasn’t like other women. She was…” He trails off, unable to articulate how wonderful of a woman he met tonight. And how fucking horribly he screwed it up. 

Joel closes his eyes and puts his palm to his forehead, fingers tugging at his untamed dark waves. 

A frown tugs at the corners of Sarah’s lips, a sinking feeling cascading over her chest. He could try again, find someone else, but now that Sarah has seen her profile and knows how perfect of a match they would be, she knows she has to do something to fix it. 

She casually clears her throat and uses the voice memo option in her dad’s messages. 

“So… what was she like? Your date?” Sarah posed, watching out of the corner of her eye as the recording picked up her question. 

Joel’s had a terrible night, and he’s not sure how much more vulnerability he can spare, especially after how badly he embarrassed himself. 

“Not tonight, Sarah.” He says dismissively. Joel lets out a heavy breath, and for the first time tonight, a little smile tangles on his lips. His eyes lose focus as he relays the moment his eyes set on you.  

“She was… everything. You should’ve seen her, Sarah. She’s got real pretty eyes and a gorgeous smile. When she smiled, it was hard not to smile with her. But she was more than just physically beautiful. She had this energy about her, uplifting and optimistic. Funny, too,” Joel pauses to shake his head, a fond smile on his lips like he was reliving a lost memory. 

His amber eyes slowly begin to droop in disappointment at what he had lost. 

“It felt like seeing a shooting star. She was rare. And I screwed it up. S’my fault.” Joel bites down on his lower lip and tastes the salt of his own wounds. “Just hadn’t had a date in so long. Tried to act cool. I don’t even know what cool is. I don’t know what I was thinkin’. Wish I would’ve just been myself.  Too worried about makin’ a fool of myself that I gave her a bad first impression, y’know? But she was everything. She really was.” 

Joel could hear everyone’s heartbeat, all in sync, all listening. They sat together unmoving, breathing in gentle lulls. No one moved, not even when the room became dark and the gentle rain outside turned into a heavy downpour. 

After Tommy had left for the night with a solemn hug to his older brother and Joel disappeared to sulk in his bedroom, Sarah replayed the sound bite she had captured. 

Her father was being himself, kind and honest. He was a good man, just a bit misled. Sarah wanted his date to know the truth, even if she didn’t give Joel a second chance. She didn’t need some poor woman thinking he was a sleazy jerk. Sure, Uncle Tommy, yeah, but not her father. 

Sarah stares longingly at the woman’s profile once more. This could have been his person, and it breaks her heart to think how remorseful her father was tonight. Like he lost something he should have never let go of. 

Her plan was hatched. This woman would hear how her dad truly speaks of her. The true Joel Miller. She types with ferocity into their existing chat on Hinge. 

Hello, mystery woman. Please don’t give up on him. Believe it or not, my dad deep down is a really shy and sensitive guy. I’m sorry he screwed up. Please know this is what he really thought of you tonight. I know this is a delicate situation, but I thought you should know the man you really went on a date with tonight. -Joel’s favorite daughter, Sarah

You’re not sure how many times you relistened to the Hinge message. 

You’d imagine yourself waking up early and throwing yourself into the endless housework that needs to be done. The laundry piles up, and you should meal-prep for the rest of the week. But you received this message so late last night, long after you had passed out, hoping to forget the terrible first date that you had been on. The last thing you expected was to wake up to another message seemingly from Joel. 

Hearing his deep voice echo his mistakes makes you rethink everything about your date with Joel last night. He sounds sincere, so incredibly nervous behind his seemingly confident bravado. How wrong was your first impression? 

After a bit of pacing and rehearsed dialogue, you get up the nerve to send Joel your number, which he calls not long after. You tell him the truth: that his daughter has sent you a voice note of his apology. 

He seemed quite embarrassed that what he wanted to say was truly heard. 

You reminded yourself that not so long ago, you were making the same mistakes. Dating again was difficult, but you would want Joel to succeed with whomever he finds in the future. Just because things didn’t work out between you and Joel doesn’t mean you couldn’t help him. 

“I think we should have a proper conversation about last night. Would you wanna stop by for a cup of coffee or something?” 

Strangled, deafening silence. “I like coffee,” Joel finally musters up. 

After a short drive in his pickup truck, he’s pulling into your driveway within twenty minutes. You can hear his engine rumbling before turning off on the pavement outside. 

“So, about last night-”

“You don’t-” he starts, but you both pause as the coffee machine stutters. 

Seeing him in daylight evokes the familiar fluttering sensation in your stomach that you first experienced when messaging Joel for the first time. Despite the autumn setting, the dark green flannel he wears shows signs of frequent wear and seems to be a staple in his wardrobe—suitable for any season, any day. It fits his figure, like it’s nearly grown around him. 

You force your eyes to drag their attention away from his broad shoulders and tan skin, clearing your throat and turning on your faucet. It barely trickles, which leaves you huffing. 

Joel takes an interest, rising from where you sat him at the breakfast bar with his empty mug. 

“Low pressure?”  He asks, voice low and honeyed. 

“The plumber came last week and swore it was fixed. It’s fine, I’ll figure it out.”

Joel purses his lips, and before you can stop him, his heavy boots are already backpedaling out of the kitchen. “I’ve got tools in my truck,” he juts his thumb behind him, “wouldn’t take me more than a few minutes.”

“You don’t have to, really, Joel. I don’t want you to work on your day off.”

“S’not a problem. Sit tight.”

He returns with a Milwaukee toolbox, cherry red with a white logo highlighted by lightning strike-looking font. 

You don’t realize you’re still wide-eyed until he looks between you and the lower sink cabinets. 

“Sorry.” You mutter with embarrassment as you move out of the way. He grunts softly as he moves to the linoleum, his knees digging into the tile as he starts moving aside the cleaning supplies stowed below. He squints his eyes, the skin around wrinkling with focus. 

Just start talking about why you asked him here. 

“So—” you start as you pace the kitchen, watching him move onto his back to eye over your sink’s anatomy. “I know our date last night didn’t go as well as we both had hoped and—” your eyes stray to see the hem of his flannel nudge up his front as his hands go to work with a wrench, hearing him mutter something about how he was still listening to you.  But all you can see is the bare skin of his waist, dark hairs stippled down the center of his belly. 

“Right, well, I think what I’m trying to say, or rather failing to say, is that I think I could help you.” The wrench’s clicking comes to a stop. Joel pauses and slowly ducks his head out from the shadows. 

“Help me?” He questions. His tone only inflects slight offense taken. 

“Or- help each other.” You take a moment and kneel on the floor beside where he’s working, watching him sit up on his elbows as his greying eyebrows knit together with curiosity. “It’s hard dating as an adult. Believe me, I know. The apps, and-and the having kids,” your eyes soften as Joel’s gaze falls. “You don’t need me to explain how hard it is. I was horrible at first. There was so much fear surrounding it for me, and I just know that after those voice notes your daughter sent me, you have a lot of potential.”

Joel chuckles dryly before he continues to look up at your sink, slowly loosening a fitting on a pipe. “You think there’s hope?” He says, sarcasm-laced. 

“I’m not going to lie and say it’ll be easy. But love isn’t just for teenagers. We both deserve to experience it again. Maybe it’s not with me, but you’re a real catch, Joel Miller. You’re smart, and you’re handsome,”

Joel chuckles again, but this time it’s more whimsical. The sound is joyful and echoes through around the wooden cabinet he’s working in.  

“So, you’re tryin’ t’offer me datin’ lessons? Is that it?”

You will yourself not to roll your eyes. “Yes, dating lessons. What do you think?”

With a long and forced sigh, Joel ducks out from under the sink and stands to his full, looming height. You scrabble off the floor, taking in how his eyes glimmer like honey in the sunlight. 

He ponders before flipping your tap on, watching the water flow with nothing holding it back. You grin with ease, your eyes flicking to his own.

“Little miss fixer-upper, aren’t ya?” Joel says snidely, taking a moment to offer your proposition. 

A shrug and a sweet smile later have him convinced. 

“Alright. I’m in.” 

[tkwrites]

I miss you. Quinn Hughes x ofc

Photo from Pinterest

Title: I miss you.

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc) 

Warnings: Mostly fluff, mentions of smut & p in v, but nothing particularly graphic.

Summary: After their longest separation of the summer, Quinn and Sarah reunite.

Word Count: 3,000

Comments: You all happened to pick the piece I had the most progress on for my next post, so good on you! This is way beyond the timeline I’ve posted so far. I have so much more planned for their summer, so stay tuned. 

Thank you for all the support for this fic. I sometimes have to remind myself it isn’t a dream.  Please let me know what you think, and if there’s anything in this series you’d like to see. Sending all the love.

I miss you.

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

Sarah was at the aquarium, taking samples from the tanks when her watch dinged with a text. 

She knew it would be from Quinn. It was mid day in Michigan, about the time he finished with his morning workouts. He'd be headed home for lunch before whatever plans he had for the evening. She would call him on her break. It was their daily routine while they were in this less than ideal summer situation.

When she finally got the samples set to be tested and out of her gloves and lab coat, she pulled her phone from her bag. 

“I'm taking my break,” she told Joshua, walking outside before he could respond.

Miss you like crazy, Quinn had sent along with a picture of the sun glinting off the water of their lake. Call me when you're free. 

The phone didn't even have a chance to ring before his voice filled her ear, “hi.” 

“Hey, that was quick.”

“I was already on my phone,” he said, “answered as soon as it popped up.”

She giggled. 

“What are you up to today?” he asked. 

She heard a chair scraping against the floor. 

“Working,” she said, leaning against the building, letting the warmth from the brick soak into her back. “I'm testing our tanks for invasive micro algae.”

“That sounds thrilling,” he said. 

She wondered if he was going outside when she heard a door shut. Maybe he was going into his room. 

“It's tedious,” she agreed, “but if we catch it early we don't have to deal with a full on bloom later, which is a bitch to clean up. How about you?”

“Gym this morning,” he said even though she knew that part of his schedule. 

“How’s your stick defending coming along?” she asked. 

“Good,” he said, smiling that she remembered he was focusing on that today. “I finally managed to strip the puck from Jack pretty consistently.” 

“Look at you go,” she praised. “What’s on the calendar for tonight?”

“We're going out for Penn's birthday.”

“That sounds fun.” 

“More fun if you were here.”

“We both know that's not true,” she chastised. “I'm the worst at a party.”

“Well, it would be more fun for me.”

She snorted. 

“Plus it would mean I could leave early.”

“You can still leave early.”

“Yeah, but it's easier when you're there.”

“I'm beginning to think half of this relationship is just the convenience of getting you out of social situations.”

He laughed. 

She smiled at the sound. “God, I miss you so much.”

“I know. Me too. You're sure I can't fly you up for a weekend?” 

“As much as I would love that, I don't want to interfere with family time.”

“You're not interfering with family time,” he insisted, “they'd be here too.”

“I mean,” she bit her lip, even though he couldn't see her, “I'd want you all to myself, and that's not fair when you don't see your family much as it is.”

“You want me all to yourself?” he repeated, his tone light and teasing. 

“I do.” 

“And why would you want that, Sarah Roberts?”

Her cheeks flamed, but she persisted, “so I don't have to just dream about you being inside me anymore.” 

He groaned. “You dream about that?” 

“For the past week,” she admitted. “I dream about it every night and then I wake up and you're not here.” She sighed, “and then I just have to try to figure it out by myself.”

He was booking a ticket to see her. She couldn't say something like that and expect him to just stay in Michigan. If she didn't want to come here, he'd go there. Or they could meet in the middle somewhere. 

“I hear Utah’s beautiful this time of year,” he said.  

She laughed. “Utah?”

“Yeah. We could meet in the middle. You know, see some red rocks.”

She hummed, grinning. 

“Or I could just come back to Van and we could spend the weekend in my apartment.”

“Now that you say it, Utah does sound pretty appealing.”

Her tone was teasing, but he still found himself groaning. 

“Come on," she said, "you could hike in some shorts and I can fantasize about your thighs all day.” 

Quinn felt his face get hot, instantly glad he'd come out to the porch. 

He knew she had a bit of a fetish for his thighs. He didn't understand it, but if it got her hot and bothered for him, he didn't really mind. “I can just do squats in my boxers like that one time.”

A few weeks after they started sleeping together, she was lounging in his bed the night before a game. When he thought she’d fallen asleep, he slipped on his boxers and did a round of squats, trying to keep his legs nimble. It was a routine he'd built in college and he didn't sleep well if he didn't do it, even now. 

“Your thighs are so sexy,” she had said as she watched from the bed. 

They'd had sex again, and she asked for reverse cowgirl, something they hadn't done yet. She rode him gripping his thighs so hard he was surprised he didn't have bruises the next day. He loved watching her back and feeling her at a new angle. Loved that after she came hard - fluttering around him, and milking him dry - she collapsed against him, back to chest, breathing hard. It was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced.

Sarah often thought and dreamed about that night when they were apart - how his powerful thighs flexed under her grip when she rode him that way. It was a surefire way to get her riled up. The next time she saw him, she was going to lick him from knee to hip. 

Something nagged at the back of her mind. “That's still taking you away from your family,” she said, “and I don’t want to disrupt your training.” 

“Sar, my family gets it. We went from seeing each other every day to living in different countries. They know we miss each other. Besides, it would just be a weekend. I could fly in on Friday night and come back on Monday morning. I'd really only miss one day of training.”

There was a pause before she said, “Friday afternoon.”

“What?” 

“I work a half day on Friday, so you should come in the afternoon.”

“Done.” 

“Joshua's giving me the evil eye," she said as he looked at her pointedly through the window even though it had barely been ten minutes. "I have to get back to work.”

“That micro algae doesn’t wait.” 

She laughed.

"I’ll let you know when I book my ticket.”

“I can’t wait to see you.” 

Three days. Only three days. 

Sarah was already in the parking lot when Quinn texted that his flight had landed. She’d come straight from work, not wanting to go home, even if it meant an extra thirty minutes in the cell phone lot.

Relaxing in the reclined drivers seat, she waited for him to tell her he was ready to be picked up. 

After reading the same page four times, she tossed the book into the back seat. The thought of Quinn being by her side for the first time in 24 days was too distracting. 

Closing her eyes, she thought about kissing him. She couldn’t wait to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, no need to feel rushed, or worry that someone might come home earlier than expected. 

The ache in her belly and the empty feeling in her mouth intensified. 

Walking down now. 

When she pulled up, he threw his bags in the back and threw himself into the passenger seat before she could get out to hug him. 

“Welcome back,” she said with a grin.

He returned it as he leaned over the center console to kiss her cheek, “I missed you so much," he said, catching a whiff of her perfume. 

As much as she wanted to kiss him right there, she knew the airport pickup lane wouldn't be the best place. There were already a few people looking at them. So she put the car in drive and started into the city as they talked about his flight. 

He took her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. The need in her stomach deepened. 

The city slipped by as she drove. She somehow got to his street, though she didn’t remember making any of the turns. 

Just as she was turning into the parking garage, Quinn remembered, “Oh, we can’t go to my place.”. 

Sarah looked over at him, crestfallen. “Why not?” They were so close. 

“They’re doing some kind of roof repair. I told them these dates were fine at the beginning of the summer, but didn’t remember until I got a notice from the building last night,” he said. 

“So we go to mine?”

“I booked us a hotel so we wouldn't make your roommates uncomfortable,” Quinn said. 

A smile melted onto Sarah’s face. He was so thoughtful. He made her feel seen and understood, loved and cared for. It was somehow more evident through their separation. He called every day, and always remembered what she was working on. His attention spelled love to her.

“What hotel?” she asked. 

He pulled it up on his phone. It was a bed and breakfast he’d asked his mom to help him pick out. It was a ways out of the city, along the coast. 

“Oh,” Sarah said, “we’ll have to stop by my place so I can pack.” 

“You didn’t pack already?” 

“None of my skincare and stuff, that’s already at your place." 

Even knowing this was his fault for not telling her last night, Quinn found himself wishing she had somehow known so there wouldn’t be another delay to finally be alone together out of the car. Having her so close, and not kissing her was driving him wild. 

After another twenty minutes that felt more like fourty, he followed her up to her apartment like a lost puppy. 

When the door swung shut behind him, he finally - finally - wrapped his arms around her, sighing when she returned the embrace. He’d been waiting so long, too long. 

“Are your roommates home?” he asked, nuzzling his nose into her neck. 

“Jane might be,” Sarah said, backing into her room. She felt like she would explode if she put off kissing him one second longer. 

The door to her room clicked shut, and Quinn pinned her against it, crushing his mouth to hers. He needed - he needed - God, he needed her. He’d been dreaming about it for too long without having her near enough to satisfy any of his hunger. 

This arrangement wasn’t going to work for another year. Either she’d have to come to Michigan, or he’d have to stay in Vancouver. Maybe they could split the summer between the two.

The kiss was all at once passionate. Falling together into the heat of a moment that had been building for weeks apart and minutes separated by a car console. 

His hands wandered over her body. He knew she wouldn’t be comfortable having sex here, so he brushed it aside and went on kissing her, refilling the Sarah shaped well inside him. He had been surviving on fumes and memories for far too long. 

“I missed you so much.” he said against her mouth. 

She pulled back so she could look into his eyes. They looked hazel in the light filtering through the sheer green curtains. “I’ve missed you too. Thank you for coming.”

“Like you could have stopped me after telling me you were dreaming about me,” he teased, leaning in to skim his lips over hers. 

He often dreamed of her while they were apart, but the night after her admission, his dreams had been so intense that the next day, while they were out on the lake, Jack started teasing him for moaning and crying out in his sleep. 

“Sarah,” he’d mocked, his voice thrown into a dramatic, porn star moan. “Oh, Sarah!”  

Everyone else in the boat laughed.

None of them got it. Some of the guys had girlfriends, but they were all either living together or, at the very least, in the same state for the summer. Quinn was the only one separated from the woman he loved by several thousand miles. 

When he'd told the family he was going to Van for the weekend, Jack had sighed dramatically and said, "finally I can get some sleep."

Quinn had flipped him off. 

Sarah’s hands wove into his hair, and pulled his mouth flush to hers. Kissing him was…

Kissing Quinn was a symphony. Plush lips and warm tongue, the bitter zing of coffee mixed with the tart sweetness of cream in his mouth, the softness of his hair, the very real warmth of his skin, the smell of his cologne. God the smell of him, she’d missed it so much. 

The door to the apartment opened and closed and the moment popped like a delicate soap bubble. Someone was home. 

Quinn pulled away and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. 

“I should pack,” Sarah said, nearly whispering. 

“Sarah?” Jane asked, “I saw your car. Are you okay? I thought Quinn was coming in today.”

Sarah turned and opened the door, “he did. I’m just packing before we go for the weekend.” 

Quinn leaned around her to smile at Jane. 

“Oh,” she said. “Have fun then.” 

Sarah pulled out her weekender bag and threw some things into it. Truthfully, she did have things packed in the car, but they weren’t things for polite company when they would likely be going out to dinner instead of ordering doordash to his apartment. She needed some more normal clothes and her toiletries for this different weekend that he had suddenly sprung on her. 

“See you Monday,” Sarah said, waving as they left. 

Quinn collapsed onto the bed as soon as they got through the door. His backpack thudded off the side, and he didn’t even care. 

“Tired?” Sarah asked as she crawled on the bed to lay next to him. 

Rolling onto his side, he wrapped his arms around her. “Yeah. Give me thirty minutes and I’ll be raring to go.” 

“It’s fine,” she said, brushing her hand up his forearm.

“But, we’re supposed to…” 

“We’re supposed to be together,” she said gently, leaning in to brush her lips over his. “I’ve missed having sex with you, but I’ve missed cuddling, and talking face to face, and sleeping in the same bed with you too.” 

Her voice was gentle and it put him in a kind of trance, relaxing him all over. 

“You don’t mind?”

“No. We’ve got all weekend, and frankly I don’t want our first time back together to be sloppy tired.”

Letting out a relieved sigh, he pulled her against him. “I love you,” he said into her hair. 

“I love you too, Quinn.” 

When he woke, Sarah wasn’t with him. He looked around and found her on the balcony, reading her book. She looked so beautiful there, with the ocean behind her, and the breeze gently mussing her hair. He dug his phone out to snap a picture before she realized he was awake.

Glancing at the time, he was surprised to find he’d slept for two and a half hours. 

He hauled himself out of bed and walked to the open sliding glass door, “why are you out here?”

She jumped, “Jesus, I didn't even hear you get up.”

He laughed.

She put a marker in her book. “I had to get up to go to the bathroom, and I didn’t want to wake you up getting back in bed, so I came out here.”

“Come back inside,” he said, extending his hand. The hair on the left side of his head was pushed up, and he looked adorable: warm and sleepy. 

She followed him, slipping the book onto the breakfast table as they passed. 

“No more waiting,” Quinn said quietly, pulling her against him. 

“No more waiting,” she agreed before she pressed her lips to his. 

Every time they had been together that summer, it had been rushed, racing to get to the end before anyone walked in on them. This kiss, though, this kiss was slow and passionate. It made Quinn’s knees weak. A small noise escaped his throat. 

Sarah giggled against his mouth. 

“Don't make fun,” he chastised, backing up until his legs hit the bed. 

She pushed on his chest so he fell back. Scooting to the pillows, he tore off his shirt, desperate to have her skin against his.  

“I'm not making fun,” she said, as she straddled his hips, “I'm just glad that it still works.” She reached for the hem of her top and stripped it off. 

His eyes grew wide. The bra she had on was light purple with a lace panel covering the center of each breast. Other than that, it was sheer. 

He gulped. “Have you been wearing that all day?”

She nodded, leaning down to kiss him. 

Thank God he hadn't known that before. He would have certainly done something stupid if he did. 

They took their time, slowly making love in a way that had been taken from them since May. They held eye contact, and touched with reverence. 

When at last, he collapsed on top of her, his face in her neck, Quinn mumbled, “I am never going this long without seeing you again.” 

She laughed and agreed. 

After a few minutes of his weight fully on hers as they caught their breath, Sarah tapped his hip. “I need to get up,” she whispered. 

“No,” he whined teasingly. 

“Yes,” she insisted, wriggling underneath him. 

He rolled to the side with a groan, and watched her pad to the bathroom. 

After cleaning up, she went back to the bed, ready to lay down and be held by him. 

He brought her against him. They were both still a bit flushed, and she relished the feeling of his heated skin against hers. 

“I'm so glad you're here,” she said quietly. 

"I'm so glad you're still mine," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“It’s not like I threatened to leave.”

“I know.” He paused, adjusting to slot one of his legs between hers. “I just - I know it hasn’t been easy.” 

“Nothing worth having ever is.” 

Bonus scene here.

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[psychedelic-ink]

For the writing game: Maybe love potion / flower shop AU. I was thinking maybe the reader owns the shop and gets aphrodisiac petals or something as a gift and doesn’t think they’ll work but then they DO. With Joel please.

thank you for requesting anon! and sorry for the wait 💗

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: flower shop AU

word count: 1.6k

summary: after seeing a delivery of supposedly aphrodisiac petals, you give them a try, convinced that they wouldn't work. Joel finds you in a not-so-professional position.

warnings: aphrodisiac (only reader is affected), female masturbation, accidental voyeurism, piv

Through the creaking wooden door, a gust of chilly wind infiltrates the flower shop, causing the faded brass bell above to quiver faintly. The scent of flowers permeates the air, mingling with the rich aroma of old books and polished wood. You’re staring at the walls that are adorned with ancient botanical prints with a bored expression. Days like these are always boring. 

Raindrops tap rhythmically on the foggy windows. 

Your eyes are drawn to the new shipment, hastily unloaded from a weathered truck parked just outside. The cardboard boxes, marked with fading ink. You rush to collect them, your fingers tingling with anticipation. Finally, something to do. 

Thanking the delivery man, you head back inside. Normally, by this hour, you would have at least a couple of people within the shop. No one runs to by flowers when it’s raining cats and dogs. 

While you slowly cut open the boxes, taking out the tulips and daffodils, your mind wonders to a particular visitor that comes in almost everyday. You wonder if he’ll show up today too. Probably not. Besides he’s a busy man, Joel Miller. One day he popped into your store by mistake, thinking it was a bakery—how he thought that you had no idea—and ever since he’s been a constant present in your life. He always buys a bouquet before he leaves. You never asked who they were for.

Sometimes he even helps with the shop. Fixing the leaking ceiling and the sink in the back. He had a habit of calling you wildflower, which made your insides churn with searing heat. 

Placing all the flowers meticulously on the table, your hands deftly arranging each stem, your eyes search for the scissors. But something catches your attention—a smaller box discreetly tucked behind the larger ones. You open the cardboard box. Inside rests a smaller, more ornate box, adorned with intricate designs. Your eyes narrow when you notice something inscribed on top of it. 

Gently running your fingers over the polished surface, you decipher the inscription etched on top in elegant script: "Edible Petals, Beware Aphrodisiac."

You raise an eyebrow and lift lid off the box, a profusion of vibrant petals greets your gaze. 

“What the fuck?” you whisper to no one, bringing your nose close. You delicately inhale their subtle aroma, a heady sweetness fills the air, mingling with the dampness of rain-soaked blossoms.

This must be a joke, you think, a low chuckle parting your lips. As if eating a flower petal would ever get you horny. You dig the tips of your fingers into the small box, feeling the cool, velvety petals against your cold skin. It feels nice, you’ll give them that at least. 

Your curiousity gets the better of you and you place one purple petal on top of your outstretched tongue.

Joel feels like an idiot. 

He knew it was going to rain today. He had a plan. A very nice and smooth plan, something that neither Tommy nor Sarah believed that he came up with it on his own but he did. 

It was a very nice, simple plan. Yet, he even managed to screw that up. Of all the thinking he did, he hadn’t considered the traffic slowing him down. He should’ve been at the flower shop hours ago. He’d even bought two chocolate croissants, the ones that you can’t seem to get enough of. But the paper bag was now soaked and so was he. 

All week he thought about you and how he would spend the day with you, alone, in that cozy little flower shop. 

The bell chimed upon his entry like it always does. The sound automatically soothing his stuttering heart. He quickly scans his surroundings, empty. The shop is empty. Joel swallows down his disappointment when he doesn’t see you arranging flowers in your usual spot—maybe you were already done for the day? 

He shakes his head. That couldn’t be it, the shop is still open. 

“Wildflower?” he calls out, placing the wet bag on the counter. “You there?” 

Starting to get worried, Joel heads to the back, hoping that you might be in the walk-in floral cooler. “Wildflower?” he repeats. 

Just as he’s greeted with the familiar sight of fresh flowers— Joel hears you. 

A soft moan, a barely there sound. He steps closer, the sounds getting louder and louder. He hears a whimper, then another, louder, moan. When he steps around the corner Joel sees you, the sight shooting directly to his cock. 

Your jeans, along with your panties, were pooled around your ankles, your hand between your legs. His mouth floods at the sight of your fingers disappearing into your soaked heat. Your lips parted, your eyes roll back. Arousal stirs in his gut when you grind down, your other hand shakily lifts your shirt and you pinch a nipple. Hard. 

“Joel. . .” 

His eyes go wide. Did you see him? 

Another loud moan. 

“Joel. . . harder—fuck—please,” with a whimper you throw your head back, igivng him a delicious view of your neck and chest. “God—You feel so good. . .” 

Joel swallows, his cock now fully hard under his jeans. His eyes fixed on you, he adjust himself with the rough stroke of his palm. He needs to let you know that he’s here, even if he doesn’t want to— he’s much rather watch and enjoy the show. His chest heaves as he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, whatever happens next, at least he’ll have your debouched expression forever engraved into his mind. 

“Wildflower,” he says loudly, opening the door. “I—” 

“Joel!?” 

You nearly fall, stumbling back thanks to your jeans acting like a rope around your feet, he jumps forward. He manages to grab your waist and yanks you flush against him, you shudder. 

“Joel. . .” you say again, nuzzling his chest. Joel’s brows furrow, something feels. . . off. “Joel,” you parrot and inhale him. You start rolling your hips, nuzzling your face into his chest. Every muscle on his body grows taut. “Joel, I need you to fuck me,” you breathe out. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I–I—” you look at him with teary eyes. “I accidentally ate an aphrodisiac petal and now I can’t stop. Please.” 

“How the hell do you eat that accidentally?” there’s a slight teasing lilt to his voice, one he can’t help. Smiling, he pushes his hand between your thighs, feeling you with his fingers. He groans. You’re soaking wet. “Fuck—how long were you going at it sweetheart?” 

“I have no idea,” you answer, you inhale sharply when he traces a circle around your aching clit. “Please, I need you.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes yes,” you say quickly. “Please, I think I might die if I don’t feel you splitting me into two, Joel.” 

When your tears catches along the fabric of his shirt, he cradles your cheek and wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. He shushes you. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Don’t worry,” he unclasps his belt with one hand. “You’ll be feelin’ good really soon.” 

You sigh in relief, “O-Okay.” 

You don’t have time to feel embarrassed. 

Joel buries himself deep with one smooth thrust. He has your legs shaking around the width of him in an instant, your ass planted firmly against the hard surface of the table. You flutter around him. His head drops, your foreheads pressed together while your noses touch. You moan in relief. 

“That good?” 

“So good,” you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck. “More, please.” 

He doesn’t make you say it twice. The slam of his hips deafens you, his cock sliding in and out with ease. Your body feels as if it’s burning from the inside out. Arousal constantly coarsing through your veins. With every thrust, he goes deeper, drilling himself into you. He nips your chin, then kisses the corner of your lips. Your brain vaguely signals you that he’s holding back and as soon as you get the memo, you fully press your lips against his in an all consuming kiss. Joel slips his tongue between your lips. He tastes like coffee and vanilla, you can’t get enough of it. 

As he licks himself deepr into your mouth, you feel his fingers deftly circling your clit. With a jolt of pleasure you break the kiss and moan loudly, your legs starting to shake. He sets a frenzied pace, the bulbous head of his cock hitting a spot so deep that you’re seeing stars. 

“You gonna come for me?” he groans, pressing into your harder. “I wanna feel you, wildflower. Let me feel how wet you get for me—” 

His teeth sink into your neck and you’re gone, thrown off the ledge by his hands. You pussy throbs almost violently, you feel wetness growing between your legs, dripping down his length as he continues to fuck himseld deeper into you. 

“Atta girl,” he hums. “You feel so good, honey—fuck,” Joel pulls out and after a few firm strokes, he spills over your stomach, his head falling to your shoulder. You shudder at the way his spend trickles down your skin, mixing with the mess between your legs. 

“Oh god, that felt incredible,” you say as your head starts to clear. But with the fog lifting, subtle hint of embarrassment also start to appear. “J-Joel, I’m so sorry—” 

“Don’t,” he cuts you off and lifts his head, starting directly into your eyes. “You have nothin’ to apologize for. That was delightful, better than I could ever imagine.” 

“Still. . .” you argue, drawing your brows together. “What I did wasn’t exactly professional.” 

“I didn’t come her for professional,” he smiles, cupping your cheeks. “I came here to spend time with you. Alone. If you catch my drift.” 

“Oh,” you answer, and when his words sink in, you grin. “Oh. . .I catch your drift alright.” 

He nods and helps you off the table, “Good. Now, I brought you some croissants but they’re probably all mushy by now.” 

“We can order in? I know this great burger place.” 

Your cheeks feel warm as he holds out his hand, “That sounds great, wildflower.” 

[ruewrote]

𝑖𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛. . . 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦.

PAIRING: jj maybank x gn!reader WARNINGS: 'unreciprocated' feelings GENRE: angst/fluff SONG INSPIRATION: back to you by selena gomez WORD COUNT: 757

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all you’ve ever wanted was to be loved, like the sort of love that you’d find in hallmark movies and romance novels. 

maybe it was because it always seems to work out for the two best friends who realize that they’re in love with each other years down the line, doing the whole running to stop the train scene or booking the first flight to wherever the person was because they couldn’t help not being without them for another second.

yeah well this definitely isn't a movie this is real life. where you're in love with your playboy best friend. who has very clearly not shown any interest in you in the whole six years of your friendship, you should probably stop doting over him. 

then again it is quite difficult to do that since you can't help being attracted to him since he's the literal guy version of you, not in looks but in personality you were practically the same person.

sarah and kiera always comforted you whenever you'd see him chasing another girl. even though john and pope never said anything, you could see their obvious side glances at you.

you just couldn't wrap your head around why he couldn't see what was right in front of him, quite literally! 

pining over someone that wouldn't even look in your direction romantically doesn't really do wonders for your mental health. that’s how you ended up wrapped up in your covers with a large pizza with sweet home alabama playing in the background. the other pogues were at some party that you weren’t wanting to go to so you opted for the ‘self care’ night you were currently having.

your parents had conveniently gone out for a date night so you could sulk in peace.

ding dong!

“seriously? maybe if i stay quiet they'll just go away–” you think but were cut off by the constant ringing of the door bell.

groaning as you dragged yourself out of bed and downstairs, the doorbell still being rang in a songlike manner, looking through your peephole being met with a soaked jj.

You twisted the key and pulled the door open for him. “what are you doing here jay?” 

“nice to see you too, now if..you… don't mind.” he squeezed past you into your home, his clothes still dripping, grabbing a towel for him so he couldn't soak the carpet more than he already had, trying to spare yourself the lecture from your parents later.

“i thought you were at that party?” you questioned him as you watched him drag the towel across his body briefly before ruffling his hair with it.

“oh yeah! there was a noise complaint, cops showed up and they shut it down blah blah blah.” he let the towel hang over his shoulders as he approached you.

“thought i'd come and see my favourite person instead!” he smiled at you, looking up into his eyes. it was always a dangerous game with jj, that intoxicating blue had the tightest hold on you. he didn’t know that all he'd have to do is look at you to get pretty much anything he wanted.

you’d keep that to yourself though. 

“yeah, yeah. you're lucky i didn't leave you out in the cold.” you snorted, making your way back up to your room, him trailing close behind you.

“you know the drill, maybank.” 

“I know, no outside clothes on the bed,” he whined, standing at the bottom of your bed playfully throwing his head back, impatiently waiting for you to come back with the spare clothes he left with you. It made sense to leave some since he stayed over so often.

with a salute he shut the bathroom door.

you totally forgot what you were worried about with the way that jj made you laugh as you both joked and stuffed your faces with cold pizza. as the night went on you did manage to finish your movie with protests coming from the sleepy blonde.

not knowing how it happened but the two of you ended up cuddling, him being the big spoon you laying on his splayed out arm, the other thrown over your stomach. hearing his evened out breaths from behind you knowing he was asleep as the credits rolled.

smiling to yourself knowing he would doze off before the movie finishes since he always does.

“it hurts me, just how much i ache for you.” you whisper out loud before drifting to sleep..

Not knowing that he was actually awake beside you.

© ruewrote.

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 7: A Child Would Have Cried

Blood Runs Thicker than Water - Joel & F!Reader (Platonic DBF!)

Summary: Joel fianlly has his girl back in his arms and he'll do anything to keep her safe.

Word Count: 2.6k

Tags: Glimpse of raider!joel, reunion, mentions of Sarah, Child!reader, Worried!Tommy - feel like i've missed some so let me know if i have.

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on AO3

Chapter 7 - A Child Would Have Cried

Joel's heart swells with a strange mix of emotions he hasn’t felt in years as he holds her tightly. In this moment, the weight of the world seems to momentarily lift as he cradles her gently against his chest. The steady rise and fall of her breathing serves as a tangible reminder of her presence, a beacon of hope that pierces through the darkness he’s been surviving in. A mixture of elation, relief, and contentment washes over him. With her safe in his arms, a profound sense of vitality surges within him, stirring dormant emotions that had long since been buried deep within his soul.

Joel had been roaming the deserted streets in solitude, a solitary figure amidst the ruins of the world as he searched the streets for any stragglers from the group they spotted miles out that managed to escape their ambush. He found solace in the moments he spent away from the hustle and bustle of his group, relishing the solitude that allowed him to temporarily forget the harsh realities that had become their norm. The empty streets seemed to echo the stillness of the world, as if time itself had come to a standstill in the wake of the apocalypse.

And then he saw her; a ghost. Joel's breath had caught in his throat as his eyes settled on her. For a moment, he questioned the reality before him, wondering if his mind was playing cruel tricks on him once more. But this time, the sight that met his eyes felt different, more tangible and vivid than the illusions that had haunted him before. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched her run across the street, unsure if she was a mirage or a miracle in the harsh, lifeless world.

Joel's heart skipped a beat as he approached on slow feet, his eyes drinking in the sight of her from down the street, changed yet unmistakably familiar. The shortened strands of her hair, the added inches to her height - they confirmed what his heart refused to believe. It was her, his baby girl, grown and transformed by the relentless march of time.

Joel watched her enter the store, a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of his consciousness. Unseen to the kid, he had noticed the others from the group lurking in the shadows, trailing her every move. As she disappeared through the threshold, his gut clenched, a mixture of concern and protectiveness welling up within him.

The world around him faded into insignificance as he surged into a sprint, propelled by an urge that consumed his entire being. The thought of her in danger, even if she might not be his girl, ignited a primal protective instinct within him. Time seemed to slow as adrenaline coursed through his veins, every muscle straining with the single-minded determination to reach her before the others did. He wasn’t letting them touch her.

And now in this moment, as he cradles her tightly in his arms, a tear runs Joel’s face. The bittersweet feeling of contentment washes over him as he gazes down at her, the sight of her clinging to him echoing the memories from years past. He realizes that his tumultuous journey, marked by the shadows of guilt and the weight of his past transgressions, has somehow led him back to his girl - his reason, his purpose. In this tender reunion, everything he's done, both good and bad, suddenly seems worth it, leading him back home to her, breathing and alive.

As she pulls away, an intense desire flares within him to pull her back, holding onto her tightly out of a fear that she may disintegrate beneath his fingertips if he lets go. The raw emotion in his eyes betrays the turmoil that rages within his heart, torn between the fear of losing her again and the desperate need to keep her close, to prevent the shadows from stealing her away once more.

“You’re alive.” She whispers between breaths as she looks up at him. Joel gently cups her face in his hands, his fingers gently tracing the lines of her face as if to convince himself that she is truly there, alive and real before him. A genuine smile graces his features as he meets her gaze, a flicker of vulnerability and affection shining through the usually stoic facade he wore like armor.

And he thinks, as he holds her gaze and feels the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, that for the first time in years he feels truly alive.

“You’re alive.” He echoes her words in a bemused chuckle, a mixture of disbelief and joy lacing his voice. As he pulls her back into his chest, his arms enveloping her in a tight embrace. The reality of her presence, the sheer impossibility of it, washes over him, leaving him breathless in its wake.

She abruptly pushes away from his arms, her eyes widening with a mix of panic and urgency. "My dad, you need to help him."

Joel's eyes widen, and a mix of disbelief and hopefulness washes over him. He stares at her, questioning if he has heard her correctly. "Myles is alive?" he repeats, his voice carrying a mixture of shock and wonder. The revelation that his friend not only survived the harsh realities of the wasteland but also managed to reunite with his daughter is almost too much to fathom.

Joel remains on his knees, his heart breaking yet swelling with a bittersweet mix of emotions as he watches her smile as she stands, a sight that both shatters yet rejuvenates him. His eyes follow her movements as she walks over to retrieve her knife that he had thrown earlier. “Yeah, found me after you left.” Her words trail off as she puts her knife back on her belt.

The realization that Myles found her after he left floods him with a mixture of guilt and relief. The sight of her strong and resilient standing before him, stirs a tangle of emotions within him. Both bittersweet and hopeful.

As she moves past him, a frown forms on Joel's face, his mind immediately recognizing the gravity of the situation. Panic floods his features as he realizes the destruction and horror he had left behind in the other room. Joel lets out a sharp inhale, his eyes shifting towards the other room where he had left carnage.

Joel stands hastily, his movements urgent as he steps forward, reaching out to hold her arm to halt her progress. But his efforts are in vain, as she has already made her way into the other room, her actions surprising and concerning him. His eyes widen in shock as he witnesses her standing before the lifeless form, extracting the knife from the dead man's neck with a practiced ease. The sight of her wiping the blood on her once vibrant sweater leaves him stunned. His gaze flicks between her and the knife held out for him, his mind struggling to process her actions.

With a slow nod, Joel silently takes the knife back from her as his eyes lock on hers, attempting to discern the depth of the impact this world has had on her. The sight of her standing there, seemingly unfazed by the bloodshed that surrounds them, serves as a reminder of the harsh realities she must have faced. Joel's grip tightens on the knife, the weight of the realization settling heavily upon him.

Joel's thoughts are interrupted as she steps over the bodies without batting an eye, her focus unyielding. It takes him a moment to snap out of his reverie and realize that she is already heading towards the front of the shop. The ringing bell jolts him back to the present, forcing him to shake off the dark thoughts that had consumed his mind. He calls out to her, breaking into a jog as he follows her, his footsteps echoing in the empty store.

Joel finally catches up outside the store, his grip firm yet gentle as he spins her around to face him. The sternness in his voice is palpable as he demands, "Where do you think you’re going?" A deep frown etches his face, his brows furrowed with concern as he gazes down at her.

Joel's gaze hardens as she retorts with frustration in her voice, her words echoing her determination to help her dad. "Didn't you hear me? My dad’s back there, we gotta go help him," she argues, her eyebrows raised in defiance. Joel's grip on her arms tightens slightly, his eyes locking onto hers with an intense look.

Joel's gaze remains steady as he firmly asserts, "We," he lets go of her as he points between them for emphasis, "are not going anywhere." He speaks with authority, his tone leaving no room for argument. As she begins to open her mouth to respond, he raises his hand, effectively cutting her off. Frustration flits across her face, but she holds her tongue, releasing a huff in response.

Joel sighs, his hands finding their place on his hips as he gazes down at her with a conflicted expression on his face as he ponders the choices before them. After a moment, he offers his plan, “Fine. I’ll take you back to Tommy where it's safe and I’ll head out to look for your Dad.” He watches as her eyes widen and a smile forms on her face at the mention of Tommy's name.

Her voice carries a hint of relief as she asks, "Tommy's okay?" A huff escapes her lips as she processes the news. Her next question, "What about Sarah, is she with Tommy?" catches him off guard, the question he dreaded to hear. With a heavy heart, he softly shakes his head. The mention of Sarah cuts through him like a knife, the pain and grief of losing her still raw.

Joel watches as she looks down at the ground, her mind slowly absorbing the information he had just given her. She crosses her arms, letting out a sigh, and nods her head in acknowledgment. Then, with a forced smile, she looks back up at him and asks, "So, which way are we heading?" As her eyes meet his, he can sense the hidden pain beneath the surface, carefully concealed behind the flicker of a smile.

A child would have cried in the old world.

Joel's fingers grasp firmly onto the back of her sweater as they approach the raiders' hideout. He lifts her gently onto the ledge and follows behind, carefully climbing through the hole in the wall of the old office building where the group has sought refuge.

Joel leads her through the ruined office building, his grip still firm yet tender on her arm. On the third floor, they reach a heavy fire escape door. He pushes it open, leading her into the main area where his group resides. As they make their way through the room, faces turn in their direction, their eyes falling to the floor as they catch the sight of Joel. Ignoring their reaction, he guides her past them, continuing to lead her through the dilapidated space.

Joel guides her down a long hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath their feet with each step. The air carries a cold bite, seeping through the holes in the walls and swirling with the howling wind. She breaks the silence, her voice carrying concern as she asks, “Why did they look at you like that?” He spares her a quick glance before returning his gaze to the path before them as they turn another corner.

Joel's voice takes on a puzzled tone as he asks, "Like what?" His eyes briefly flick over to the door that had just opened and closed hastily. Someone had emerged into the hallway, only to quickly retreat into their room at the sight of Joel.

She lets out a chuckle as she points towards the door that had closed so swiftly. "Like that," she explains, referring to the abrupt exit. She turns her gaze back to Joel, her expression filled with intrigue as she remarks, "Like they're scared of you." He gives her a quick glance, his face stoic and unyielding, unwilling to reveal the truth behind their reaction.

Joel shakes his head dismissively, his eyes flickering with a hint of annoyance. "Ignore them," he instructs, his voice laced with a tone of authority. He reaches the end of the hallway, coming to a halt in front of a closed door. Opening the door, he enters the room he shares with his brother, gently ushering her inside.

Tommy's head jerks towards them as they enter the room, his expression immediately softening as he lays his eyes on Joel. From his spot on the couch against the wall, Tommy watches as Joel ushers the young girl into the room, his eyes widening in astonishment before he breaks into a warm smile. Pushing himself off the couch, he moves closer to greet them.

"Jesus Christ, Joel. Where did you find her?" Tommy exclaims, his voice filled with disbelief. He falls to his knees, arms open wide to embrace the girl as she rushes towards him. Joel stands near the door, leaning against the desk, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he witnesses the heartwarming reunion between them.

"I'm sure she'll tell you all about it," Joel murmurs, his voice carrying a note of certainty. He pushes himself off the desk, shifting the weight of his bag as he watches Tommy pull away from the embrace.

Tommy's tone betrays confusion and urgency as he demands, "What do you mean? Where are you off to?" He quickly relieves her of her bag, setting it down against the couch before turning his attention back to Joel.

“Shit. This blood yours?” Tommy frowns as he begins to move Joel’s coat to search for signs of injury. Joel pushes his brother’s hands off him and shakes his head.

Joel's voice lowers as he offers an explanation, "Myles is out there, he was part of the group we spotted." He pauses, his gaze shifting briefly towards the girl as she sinks into the couch, her eyes fluttering closed in contentment.

Tommy nods emphatically, his jaw taut with determination. His head turns to follow Joel's gaze, his own eyes settling on the young girl. A sigh of resignation escapes him as he refocuses on Joel. "I'll keep her safe. You do what you gotta do," he reassures, his voice filled with a mix of concern and understanding.

Joel responds with a firm nod, expressing his silent gratitude to Tommy. In response, Tommy squeezes Joel’s shoulder, offering silent strength and support. With a subtle nudge, he pushes Joel forward, silently encouraging him to leave.

Joel turns his focus towards the girl on the couch, his voice filled with a warm but stern tone. "You be good for Tommy now,” he begins, his eyes meeting hers as he scratches the stubble on his chin. “I’ll be back before you know it."

The girl smirks, her expression brimming with mischief. “I’ll give him hell,” she affirms, her voice dripping with playful defiance.

Joel's laughter fills the room, his head shaking in response to her spirited remark. "Atta girl," he muses, a gruff chuckle escaping his lips before he finally turns to leave. With a final glimpse of her, he softly closes the door behind him.

Joel pauses momentarily in the hallway, his eyes closing as he takes a deep breath, a determined look on his face. The sound of his neck cracking echoes softly in the empty corridor. With a steely gleam in his eyes, he makes his decision. He will do whatever it takes to bring back Myles and reunite him with the girl.

He doesn’t care how much blood will be on his hands after today.

Click here for Chapter 8

Notes

A glimpse of joel getting his light back! Also a glimpse of the horror of raider!joel. Also reader does not give a shit about raider joel, baby girl as seen things in her life.

Next chapter Sneak Peak!

lol sorry everything from the next chapter is just a spoiler fest. you'll just have to wait for this one.

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

tags: @sunandmuun , @rain-soaked-sun, @frootloops1213 , @samarav , @geralallfandoms , @joelmillersblog , @severussimp, @kitdjarin1

[guess-my-next-obsession]

would you ever consider doing an elementary extension that includes them finding out they’re pregnant with iris? no pressure just wondering!!

The Birthday

pairing: elementary!joel x f!reader (Elementary-verse)

rating: M (talks of pregnancy, steamy moments, talks of vomiting)

wc: 1.9k

series masterlist

— September 26, 2003 —

You stirred awake later than usual, your body working overtime now that after months of trying, you were finally pregnant. You had yet to tell Joel the news, wanting to wait until the appointment you made for this afternoon to confirm the results of the four at-home tests you took before you got his hopes up.

Crawling out of bed, you stretched your arms out wide, letting out a hearty yawn before turning to look at Joel’s shirtless body still fast asleep in bed, sprawled out like usual, his feet nearly hanging off your side of the bed. You smiled at him and all of his quirks that would get under your skin if he were anybody else, your hand smoothing over your nonexistent bump. Though you’d been unable to fight off your morning sickness all week, somehow the thought of carrying his child and your wedding next month seemed to cure the nausea threatening to creep up on you.

Catching the alarm on his nightstand before it could ring out its harsh and piercing cry, you leaned over his form and pressed a kiss to his temple, your palm rubbing over the muscles on his smooth and warm back.

“Mm,” he hummed, rolling over onto his back. He rubbed at his eyes as he stirred awake, and after a big yawn, he focused his vision on you sitting on the edge. “Mornin’, baby.”

“Morning, birthday boy,” you greeted him with a smile, rubbing at his chest. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Shit—“ He sighed, raking one of his hands over his face. “Promised Sarah we’d have pancakes this mornin’ but I forgot to get it at the store.”

“Eggs and bacon then?” Joel gave you a soft smile and nodded. 

As you moved to stand, he caught your hand and tugged you back to him, beckoning you to lean down for a kiss which you happily obliged. Joel hummed against your lips, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tugged you to lay on top of him, your thighs straddling his hips as his kisses trailed down your chin to your jaw. 

“We can call off work,” Joel mumbled against your ear as he placed a kiss there, his hands wandering over your thighs to rest on your hips. “Spend all day in bed.”

“I have an important…meeting,” you lied. “Superintendent is coming. Can’t miss it.”

Joel pouted as you sat upright, your hands resting on his chest as you smiled down at him. 

“God, you make it hard to think rationally,” you laughed, lifting a hand to squish his cheeks together, his pout turning into a pair of fish lips. “That’s better.”

Joel laughed and patted your hip, letting you climb off of him so that he could stand up. 

“Gonna shower,” he said. “You’re welcome to join.”

“So persistent this morning,” you teased, swatting his ass as he passed you. “I’ll take a raincheck.”

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me, I guess.”

With a smirk, you threw on your robe and padded your feet downstairs, finding Sarah sitting at the kitchen table finishing up her homework.

“Morning,” she greeted you with a smile. “How are you feeling? Did you throw up again?”

“No, I’m managing to keep it down today, or…at least for now. Knock on wood.”

After getting the coffee pot going, you pulled two pans from the cupboard and placed them on the gas stove, turning the heat on before walking over to the fridge to grab what remained of the eggs and bacon.

“You gonna tell dad today?” Sarah asked, whispering so that Joel didn’t accidentally overhear the news you’d shared with Sarah almost immediately after finding out yourself, her round, insistent eyes winning over your inner-strength.

“If everything goes well at the doctors,” you replied, looking over your shoulder at her while you cracked some of the eggs into the buttered pan. “You still wanna get his watch fixed?”

“I was hoping, but my allowance money is running a little low.” You looked back to see her shrugging with a frown, but quickly shook your head at her and walked over to your purse that rested on the counter, pulling out three twenties and handing them over. “No, I can’t—“

“You can and you will,” you replied, giving her a playfully stern look. “We’ll just say it’s from both of us.”

“Dad’s gonna love it,” she beamed, sticking the cash in her backpack. “We might see some tears tonight.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Joel’s quick and heavy footsteps sounded as he jogged down the stairs, finding you at the stove and Sarah hard at work on her algebra worksheet. He walked over and kissed her on the top of the head before walking into the kitchen, giving your ass a loving tap as he pulled three mugs out of the cabinet.

“Tommy coming by?” you asked as you watched him divvy up the coffee pot equally into all three cups. As if a lightbulb rang in your head, you realized caffeine might not be the best thing for you given the pregnancy. “Oh, actually…you don’t need to pour me one.”

Both Joel and Sarah gave you an odd look, having never seen you turn down your morning coffee.

“Just…I don’t want to be jittery and anxious for my meeting,“ you lied. 

“You have coffee every mornin’,” he countered, his brows furrowed as he watched you try to form a better excuse.

“Not when I’m already anxious,” you returned, doubling down on your lie. “Coffee will just make it worse.”

“Mm,” Joel narrowed his eyes at you as he lifted his mug to his mouth to take a sip. “You’re lyin’ ‘bout somethin’.”

“No, I’m not,” you quickly denied his claim with a giggle.

“Yeah, you are,” he chuckled. “But it’s alright, I’ll let you have your lie for now.”

“Mornin’, mornin’!” Tommy walked in with a wide smile, rubbing his hands together as he peered over your shoulder at the eggs. “Make sure to put some cheese on mine, sis.”

“She ain’t your personal chef,” Joel barked. 

“Shh,” you hushed your guard dog of a fiancé with a smile before looking over at Sarah. “You want cheese with yours, Sarah?”

“No, I’m okay,” she replied as she stuck her binder in her backpack. “I would like some OJ, though.”

“Bought a new jug of it yesterday,” Joel announced, moving to grab a glass from the cabinet behind him. “Baby, you want a glass, too? Since you’re not havin’ coffee for whatever reason.”

“Yes, please,” you replied, flashing him a thankful smile.

“Why ain’t you havin’ coffee? That’s new,” Tommy noted as he took a seat beside Sarah at the table.

“Why are you both so interested in what she does and doesn’t drink?” Sarah asked, coming to your defense.

“Alright, alright—“ Joel held his hands up in defense. “Didn’t know it was a touchy subject.”

“It’s not, now come help me carry these plates to the table,” you ordered, taking two of the plates in your hands while Joel set his coffee down to grab the other two. You set the plates down in front of Tommy and Sarah before taking your usual seat beside her, Joel joining shortly after.

“You think you’ll be home on time today?” you asked, looking to your fiancé as he stuffed his mouth full of bacon.

“Doubt it,” Tommy interjected. “We gotta wait for the cement guys to come and they take fuckin’ ages—“

“I’ll try my best,” Joel interjected with a glare aimed at his brother. “‘Specially if this one doesn’t drag ass again.”

As if your body suddenly remembered its current condition, the nausea that was nowhere to be found just minutes ago began to take root deep in your stomach. The smile on your face as you watched Joel and Tommy go back and forth faded into a look of worry as things spiraled faster than you could act. Your hand lifted to your mouth as you abruptly slid your chair back on the tile, drawing all eyes to you as you sprinted towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you and just barely making it to the toilet. 

“Baby, you alright?” Joel’s voice sounded from the other side of the door as every bit of this morning’s breakfast came back up until you were left dry heaving. “Can I come in?”

“It’s gross,” you croaked, hoping it was loud enough for him to hear. It seemed he didn’t care much about your warning as he turned the doorknob and let himself in, finding his seat on the edge of the bathtub. 

“You alright?” he asked, his voice low and soothing as he rubbed your upper back. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, reaching to flush the toilet before moving to sit against the tub beside him, your head resting on his leg. “Must be the nerves.”

“You still goin’ with that lie?” he smiled down at you. “C’mon, baby.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you said, smiling nervously as you looked up at him. “A confirmed surprise.”

“Confirmed?” he repeated, his brows lacing together. You took a deep, calming breath and let it out in a slow sigh before meeting his eyes again, a grin spreading across your face. 

“I, uh, I was feeling off a couple weeks ago and so I went and got some tests—“ Joel’s brow softened, his eyes going round. “And they were positive.”

“You’re telling me…what?” he chuckled. “You’re…you’re pregnant?” 

“Yeah,” you giggled and nodded, wiping a tear that flooded your waterline. 

“Really?” he swooned, reaching out to help you onto your feet so that he could wrap his arms around you. “You ain’t punk-in’ me, or whatever that Ashton Kutcher show says, right?”

You laughed and shook your head as you squeezed his shoulders, his face buried in your neck. 

“No, you’re not getting punk’d,” you said. 

“Does this mean y’aint got an important meeting with the Superintendent today?” he asked as he pulled back to stare at you, his thumb stroking over your cheek. 

“No,” you smirked, looking down at his belt. “I am technically sick.” 

“Exactly,” he smirked. “And it’s my birthday.”

“Sounds like we’ve got some calls to make,” you said, biting your lip. “But first I think I need to scrub my entire mouth clean because that was—“

“I can’t believe we’re having a baby,” he interrupted your less than sweet talk with some tear-inducing sincerity. “Does Sarah know?”

“Yeah, she got it out of me pretty much right after I took the tests,” you laughed. “She’s excited, I think.”

“I’d kiss you if your breath didn’t smell so bad,” he teased, making you gasp and pinch his side. “Fine, I’ll kiss you anyways.”

“If it wasn’t your birthday—“

“But it is,” he smiled at you devilishly as his hands rested on your hips and tugged you closer to him, his lips leaning in to hover over your pulse before pressing a petal soft kiss there. “Go call off work and do what you gotta do. All I want for my birthday is you in my bed all damn day, alright?”

“Whatever you want…daddy,” you purred, a grin spreading across your face at the groan he let out. 

“Lord,” he sighed, shaking his head as he pulled back to look at you. “Go call out.”