#it's probably the only thing that really annoys me no matter how much time passes

[nomohmoss]

i hate it here

[dustydaddyyy]

sweetheart | joel miller x fem! reader

pairing: joel miller x fem! reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Duh,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You coming?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You started it,” 

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

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

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

“It’s not that kind of date,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel is late. 

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

You look up as Joel walks in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Joel,” 

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

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

from: joel. 10:39 PM  

pls call if getting murdered 

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

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

to: joel 10:40 PM

i’ll try my best

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

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

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

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

"Kiddo, you still with me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To give Laura credit, the bar is fun.

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

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

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

Joel (?!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When, not if.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christ, this man had you in his grip. 

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

"Indulge me, sweetheart,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too,” 

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

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

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

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

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

"Didn't you bring a sweater?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joel just shrugs. "Nobody special,"

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

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

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

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

Finally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hook.

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

"Don't do that,"

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

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

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

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

Line–

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

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

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

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

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

–and sinker.

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

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

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

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

Stop.

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

And then, at last, Joel Miller gives in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I think I can do that," 

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

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

[hencheri]

18+. mdni.

pairing: mean toxic bf!haechan x fem!reader

warnings: noncon, toxic relationship, gaslighting.

wc: 1.2k

.

you're watching a movie in the living room, but you're distracted, focused on your thoughts instead of the flashing screen in front of you. it's 3 a.m. and you can hear haechan playing video games in your bedroom.

he hasn't talked to you for hours, hasn't said a word or even looked in your way. it's bothering you a lot. you have a constant knot in your stomach and your heart accelerates at the mere thought of haechan ignoring you.

you hate when he does this, it makes you feel bad. so fucking bad.

you get up from the couch, going to your bedroom. you push the door open, hesitantly walking in. you need to talk to him.

"hyuck?"

he stares at his computer's screen, pressing down on the keys of his keyboard, concentrated on his game. he has his headset on, maybe he hasn't heard you.

"johnny!" haechan calls into his microphone, "quick, come save me."

"hyuckie..." you stand beside him and you know he can see you from the corner of his eye. you bite down on your bottom lip, waiting for an answer that doesn't come.

he continues to play like you're not there. it upsets you so much, could he not be petty for once?

"we need to talk, please," you demand, still trying to get his attention. you know he hears you now since he's quiet.

a few seconds pass before he replies back, "we have nothing to say."

you sigh, exasperated. there are plenty of things you need to discuss about actually, and not just what happened a couple of hours ago. it makes you cringe thinking about the previous events, but you can't just brush it off, especially when haechan's still sour about it.

you were both in bed about to go sleep soon. he made a move, touching your hips up and down, pressing his crotch against your butt. you weren't in the mood, so you told him to stop. he didn't at first and you pushed him away, which really offended him.

he then turned on his pc before you could say anything and you went to the living to watch a movie, a poor attempt to forget about this ridiculous fight.

"but-" you begin, a little annoyed, "we do."

your voice is covered by johnny yelling something to haechan, once again ignored by your boyfriend. "here, here, here! i need to heal you," he yells back, fingers hurriedly pressing down on the keys, "shit, these guys are rough."

"hyuck-" you try, placing your hand on his arm, but he grabs your wrist before you can and shoves your hand away.

you frown, hurt by his action.

"what? we won!?" haechan exclaims, brows shooting up in surprise. you hear johnny talking back without deciphering his words. "ah, they missed the base," he laughs, "yeah, it was close."

he removes his headset and puts it on his desk. but he still decides to not acknowledge you, even when his game is done.

"please," you beg a bit desperately.

"what's the matter?" he sighs loudly, throwing his head back against the headrest of his chair.

"haechan! you've just ignored me the whole night! you can't always do that," you explain to him even though he'll probably only understand what he wants as usual.

he rolls his eyes, "yeah and it's always my fault, right?" he says.

"what- no, that's not-"

"it is," he affirms. he turns his head to you, "every time we so 'need to talk' it's about how i'm wrong, how i shouldn't do this or that, how i should just agree to everything you say and shut my mouth."

you're agape. is this really what he thinks you do? that you only want to complain about him?

"that's not true," you deny, "hyuck, i just want us to communicate, it's important."

he scoffs, "no, you're always the one talking. you don't actually want to hear what i have to say." he looks at you like he's hurt and you start wondering if he might be right. are you really that self-centred? "that's not really what i call communication, you know."

"do you ever ask yourself how i'm feeling? how constantly being rejected makes me feel?" he questions, his gaze not leaving you.

"i don't constantly reject you," you rectify. "sometimes i'm simply not in the mood to sleep with you..."

haechan winces upon hearing your words. "because you are for others?"

your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. that's not how you should have said it. "no, that's not what i meant-" but your boyfriend cuts you off, rising up from his gaming chair.

"yeah, no," he shakes his head, "you know what? i've had this feeling that you don't love me like you say you do." he goes around you and you follow him, wanting to reason with him, but he isn't done talking yet.

"we haven't fucked in days and the only thing you let me do is jerk off with your hand. how- how should i interpret that, huh?" haechan sounds genuinely hurt and upset, but that was never your intention to make him feel this way. how could he even doubt your love for him?

"hyuck, please, sit down," you ask, wrapping your hand around his arm to pull him back against you, but he slips away from you.

he turns around and faces you. "are you seeing someone else? is that why?" he suddenly bursts out and you're totally shocked.

"what? no way, how can you think that!?"

he approaches you and this time, you're the one stepping back until the back of your thighs hit the edge of the bed. you look up at haechan, heart beating faster and faster.

"you're not denying it," he points out, now only a few inches separating you from him. "you're cheating on me... how can you be so fucking heartless?"

you shake your head from side to side, gulping down. this isn't true. you've always stayed faithful to your boyfriend, but the knot in your throat prevents you from speaking up, eyes swelling up in tears.

he clasps his hand around your bicep, digging his fingers into your flesh, pulling you flushed to his chest.

"i can't believe it," he breathes out, "my girlfriend is a fucking whore."

you're still in shock when he crashes his mouth on you, smacking his lips to yours and pushing his tongue inside. your whines are muffled, weak hands pushing on his chest to get him off of you, but to no avail.

you fall on the bed and haechan crushes you with his weight, trapping you under him. you squirm around, not liking the way he doesn't listen to your protests and how he forces himself on you.

his lips descend to your neck, planting quick kisses as if he's in a hurry, going down to the valley of your breasts.

"hyuck, please, stop," you cry, but he doesn't listen.

his fingers hook into your shorts, pulling them down with your underwear, too. your breath is caught in your throat, only exhaling when you feel the familiar push of his cock inside of your unprepared pussy.

"you're mine," he moans, the squeeze of your cunt around him making him frown, "when will you finally understand it..."

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 4.4k words

warnings: explicit language, angst, mentions of reader’s strained relationship with her parents

summary: the first night in mexico with steve is not as weird as you thought it would be, but it’s hard to avoid thinking about everything that happened with eddie

CHAPTER TWELVE | ❝𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖❞

Fall Semester 2016

You figured that the first night was weird because the first night in a new place was usually always weird.

But then the next two nights were somehow worse. Alone in a room that you were slowly starting to wonder if it would ever feel like “home.”

You sat in your bed and stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours, but when you looked at your phone, you saw that only twenty minutes had passed since the last time you’d checked it. An annoyed sigh left your lips as you closed your eyes again, willing sleep to come. 

Unsurprisingly, after another few minutes, it didn’t, and that made you grab your phone and call the one person that you wanted to talk to at that moment. 

When Eddie answered with a soft and tired “Hi,” you asked, “Hey, are you busy right now?”

“At one in the morning? Not really, no.” When you didn’t laugh at his joke, he became serious. “You okay?” 

“This is probably dumb and I already feel that way for asking this, but can you come over?”

“Yeah, of course,” He didn’t hesitate to answer and then things got quiet for a second before he asked again. “You okay?”

“I’ll explain when you get here,” You said, not wanting to go on what you felt like would be a neverending ramble about your current thoughts over the phone. “You can even take the bed if you want. I’ll sleep on the floor. Doesn’t matter to me.” 

“I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed,” You could practically hear him shaking his head at your offer. “I’ll be there in ten.”

He actually made it in five minutes and you were greeting him with a small smile and a promise to give him as many blankets as he needed to be comfortable on the floor when you opened your door. 

“So, what made you wanna do this impromptu sleepover?” Eddie asked once he was settled and you were back in your bed. You knew what the lighthearted question was really saying, What’s wrong? 

“I feel dumb because I should’ve known that this was gonna happen,” You said, starting your answer in the middle because you knew that he’d catch on immediately. “We both know how I am when things are too quiet. But, after my roommate situation last year, I thought this single dorm thing would be better. But, actually, it sucks. Now, I weirdly miss the nights where I had to fall asleep to the sound of her talking on the phone.”

“You’ll get used to this,” He said, but you weren’t entirely sure if that was possible. You did appreciate how encouraging he sounded, though. “Hey, do you want this old TV that my uncle’s been meaning to get rid of? It’s just sitting in my room back home collecting dust right now. You can leave it on all night and it’ll probably make it easier to sleep.”

“Shit, that makes so much sense,” You said. It was the easiest fix and you were now realizing that it probably should’ve hit you before.

“We can get it this weekend,” Eddie told you. “I’ll even give you the old VHS tapes I used to play on it all the time. Lots of horror movies.” 

You let out a quiet laugh. “I don’t know if falling asleep to Friday the 13th or Halloween every night is the greatest idea.” 

“Okay, yeah, makes sense. There are also some cartoons.”

You smiled then. “Now that sounds great. I get to find out what cartoons Eddie Munson loved as a kid.” 

He laughed. “It was a lot of things that were just weird knockoffs of Barney because that’s all my uncle would buy.” 

“That sounds very cute,” You said, still smiling. “Thank you, though. Seriously. And thank you for being here right now too.” 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

Not even with Chrissy? You wanted to ask that, but you didn’t because you had a feeling what his answer would be and you didn’t want to make things weird or awkward. 

So, instead, you said, “Thank you for ruining your back for me.” You shifted a bit, turning on your side toward him. “We can still switch if you want. I’m fine with taking the floor.”

“Not gonna happen,” He told you and you decided against once again trying to convince him otherwise.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

There was a mourning period that came and went. And it didn’t even feel that overdramatic to call it that. 

Stupidly, you expected to wake up the day after the moment you had with Eddie at his apartment and be completely over him— because you now knew that he’d never see you as anything other than as his best friend. There was no point in having even a little bit of hope for something equivalent to “a fairytale ending,” so you expected every other part of you to understand that too. But, apparently, an almost three-year-long crush couldn’t end that easily.

A part of you felt like you were back to Freshman year— pretending that everything was fine and normal. When, in reality, nothing was fine, and instead your life now felt like you were stuck in a really bad movie or nightmare. 

You didn’t just feel hurt by the rejection— which technically wasn’t an outward rejection, but it felt just the same— you also felt embarrassed about everything you’d done over the past month. Even when days passed and the hurt faded into a wholehearted acceptance that still also felt a little sad, everything else stayed. 

Steve was the only person that you could possibly admit any of this to since he was a part of the whole fake dating thing. You could tell him that it all ended up being an entire waste of time for you. However, somehow the thought of telling him only made you feel even more embarrassed. 

He was so settled on the idea that this would work for you, and he continued doing things in hopes of making something happen over the last few days. It all felt so wrong now, but you simply pretended that it didn’t because you found it too hard to be honest.

You instead actively forced yourself to stop thinking about how everything had changed and how you were the only one who was aware of that fact. And it actually wasn’t the hardest thing to do. Except on the nights when it seemed as if there was nothing to do but think. 

It was usually easy to drown out your thoughts with the sounds of whatever was happening within your apartment, but the circumstances were different at this moment since you weren’t in your room or the apartment at all. Instead, you were in a different country in a random bed with Steve sleeping right next to you. 

You’d been exhausted after the flight and the hour drive to the fancy resort, but once you were actually settled in the huge bed that barely filled out the even bigger room, you couldn’t seem to sleep. Neither you nor Steve had been able to figure out the TV, you couldn’t even find the remote, but you figured that was fine because you thought you’d fall asleep easily. Clearly, you were wrong, though. And you now couldn’t stand to lay in the silence anymore.

You slowly pulled the blanket off of you and got out of your side of the bed— the left had been designated as yours and the right was Steve’s. The bed was also big enough that you had declined his earlier offer about putting a sort of pillow divider to make things more comfortable for you. In your head, sharing a bed with him probably wouldn’t end up being the weirdest part of this trip. 

You maneuvered pretty well in the dark. Finding your sneakers that sat by your already haphazardly picked through suitcase and slipping them on, and then grabbing your phone and room key off of the nightstand and slipping both into the small pocket of the pajama shorts you were wearing. 

It would’ve been easier if you just left without saying anything to Steve because you’d probably be back before he could even notice that you’d been gone. But, for some reason, it didn’t feel entirely right to do that.

“Hey,” You whispered as you stepped a little closer to him. “Steve?”

His eyes didn’t open as he shifted a bit and let out a soft, “Hmm?”

“I’ll, um, I’ll be right back.”

“Where you going?” He asked, words quiet and slightly mumbled. 

“I can’t really sleep, so I think I’m gonna check out that twenty-four-hour buffet for a bit. The one that they mentioned when we were checking in.”

“Okay,” He said, eyes opening and he rubbed them for a second before pushing a quick hand through his hair and getting out of the bed. 

You shook your head at his actions. “You don’t have to come.”

“I know,” He said but kept moving, standing up and going to grab his sneakers. 

“You really don’t have to come,” You told him. “I already feel bad about waking you up.” 

“It’s the middle of the night, and Robin told me that if anything bad happens to you during this trip, she’ll kill me.” 

Hearing that made you laugh, and it didn’t entirely surprise you. “When did she say that?”

“Yesterday, when we were all watching TV at your place,” He answered as he grabbed his phone and pocketed it in his sweatpants. “It reminded me a lot of the game night conversation.”

“It also felt like The Godfather to you?” You asked, pulling open the door as he walked over to you. Abruptly going from the darkness in the room to the harsh and bright lighting in the hallway made you squint. 

“Yeah, it did,” Steve told you and then rubbed his eyes again. “Jesus, it’s really bright out here.”

“Please go back to sleep. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Wow, good to know that you want me to get murdered by your friend,” He joked. 

You smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. I promise I’ll protect you.”

He kept walking with you, though— heading down the hallway toward the elevators— instead of turning around and going back to the room. You wondered if Robin hadn’t playfully threatened him (in your head, the only way you could imagine it was playful) would he still be this adamant about being with you right then. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

“Did we really come here just so you could get cereal?”

“I told you not to come,” You said as you picked around the dry bowl of Cheerios. “Also, nothing would have happened to me if I was alone right now. Unless you think that that drunk couple would’ve kidnapped me or something if you weren’t here.”

You gestured in the direction of said couple that were the only other people at this buffet aside from a few workers; they were sitting barely twenty feet away from you and Steve and looked as if they were in their entirely own world as they shared a bowl of ice cream. 

Both you and Steve abruptly looked away when they started passionately making out with each other. 

You let out a quiet laugh. “Wow.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve started, grabbing a handful of cheerios from your bowl. “I don’t think kidnapping you would’ve been on either of their minds right now.”

You weren’t going to admit it, but you were actually glad that he stayed with you. Sitting at this random table with him in this near-empty room was a lot better than being alone with your thoughts. 

You suddenly wondered what time it was, but you also didn’t care enough to check your phone. “What time do we have to meet your parents in the morning?”

“They wanna get breakfast at eight,” He answered, and you nodded at that. “Apparently, they’re really excited to see you.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “Normally, I would think that’s a good thing, but is it in this case?”

Steve shrugged. “Yes and no. At this point, I think it’s just gonna be a lot more of interrogating you— them trying to see if you’re truly the “right person for me” and all that bullshit. Pretty much the same thing that happened at the dinner, but it’ll probably feel a little worse since we’re gonna be seeing them a lot for the next few days. But still, even if they didn’t like you, they wouldn’t tell me to break up with you or anything, they’re mainly just happy that I’m in something serious.”

You nodded again. “I know your parents can be super intense and overbearing, but in some weird way, I think it’s actually kinda nice that they, at least, care, I guess, about your “love life.” I sometimes wish mine did.”

Steve shook his head. “Yeah, but mine don’t actually care, though. They’re only so focused on my love life because they care about themselves and their image.”

Maybe that should’ve been obvious to you. Because hearing him say that, and when you thought about all of the other things that he had told you before about his parents, it made a lot of sense. “Okay, I fully take back my previous statement.” 

“What’s up with your parents, though? You never really talk about them,” Steve said. “How do they feel about you going on vacation with a guy you just met?”

You shrugged halfheartedly. “I don’t know how they feel about it because I kinda forgot to tell them. Well, not kinda, I did. I did forget to tell them about this.”

It had been the farthest thing from your mind. And deep down, you could even admit that you purposely pushed away the thought of telling them because you knew that they probably wouldn’t have cared that much about it, anyway. 

“Oh,” Steve said, and then things became quiet. You wondered how insane you probably sounded to him right then, or how fucked he must’ve thought your relationships with your parents were if you didn’t tell them about this. “Okay, so if I don’t end up getting murdered by Robin after this trip, it’ll definitely be your dad then.”

You were immediately grateful for his lighthearted comment. You could feel yourself inwardly sighing in relief. The tenseness— that was probably only firmly planted on your side of things— quickly washed away. “That would never happen, but if it did, I’ll once again protect you.”

“Thank you, that’s all I ask,” He joked, smiling at you.  

You were abruptly reaching over the table to fix his hair, there was a part of it that was sticking out weirdly— it was the bedhead, you figured. “Sorry, that was kinda bothering me. Anyway, this is very random and a complete one-eighty from what we were just talking about, but do you ever think about how different some things in your life would be, maybe even how better they would be, if certain things had ended up working out, or if they had ended up happening?” 

Maybe it was the slight sleep deprivation that made you ask that question— that felt like it was the only thing that could correctly explain the abruptness of it. A similar version of that slightly confusing question had also been the exact thing that you’d been wondering about barely thirty minutes ago before you refused to continue to sit in silence and in your thoughts about Eddie.

You were pretty certain what your answer to it was— a resounding yes; you thought about “what-ifs” a lot, probably too much.

A part of you expected Steve to ask why you were asking that question, but he didn’t. “In what way do you mean?” He asked instead.

“Romantically,” You didn’t hesitate to answer, and then you shook your head at yourself when you realized what you were saying. “Actually, that’s probably so dumb of me to ask you since you don’t care about relationships and all of that.” 

“I do think about it,” He told you. “Old relationships and stuff. What went wrong, what could’ve gone better…” He trailed off, letting out an awkward laugh and breaking your gaze. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, this is probably way too much for a middle-of-the-night conversation,” You said and realized just how true that was. You now wished that you had brought up some random lighthearted question about a movie or something.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve just never really talked about this before,” Steve said, and you were about to tell him that he didn’t have to talk about it now if he didn’t want to, but he continued before you could say anything. “Um, I think saying old relationships is a stretch, actually. I’ve mainly just thought a lot about the last one, I guess.”

The high school relationship that he had mentioned to you on Valentine’s Day, you remembered. It was the last serious one he’d been in. You wondered what it had been like, how equal parts amazing and devastating it must’ve been if it turned him off of relationships completely for the foreseeable future. 

“This question is probably so stupid, so please feel free to tell me exactly that, but do you ever miss her?” 

“Sometimes, sure, yeah. But, it never really happens that much anymore. And whenever I feel like I miss her now, I think it’s more of me just missing what we used to be instead of me really missing her specifically. Does that make sense?” He looked up at you then and you nodded. You honestly felt as if you understood him completely— missing the picture itself but not necessarily who was in it. 

It was that analogy that somehow made you realize something that you maybe should’ve realized earlier. Specifically, during the moment also on Valentine’s Day when you asked him why he didn’t do relationships and he pretty much said that he didn’t want to get his heart broken again. He was scared of it now, of love and relationships. It wasn’t just about it being easier not being in relationships and not falling for someone, it was about it being a scary fucking thing to do again. 

It honestly made a lot of sense. So much sense that you really didn’t understand why it didn’t hit you sooner. 

You didn’t say this to him, though, because it didn’t feel right to, and a part of you also really hoped that you were entirely wrong about it. Because this would shift everything that you thought you knew and understood about him. 

It would be a thousand times easier if you solely took everything that he previously said to you at face value. If your understanding of him and who he was and what he wanted was as simple as what he had told you that night outside the arcade and what he’d been telling you this entire past month. He didn’t want to get involved in anything serious for simply that exact reason— he didn’t want to.

You had only nodded in response to his “Does that make sense?” question and you knew that you probably should’ve said actual words, but you couldn’t think of what exactly to say right then. And then Steve was speaking again before you could figure something out.

“And I guess that’s when I kinda think about that question you asked— wondering about how different things would be if it all had actually worked out,” He said. You’d completely forgotten that that question had even started this conversation. “But, it’s kinda hopeless and dumb to think about it, though, right? Because the outcome can never change, so what’s the point of even wondering about it?” 

“Yeah, exactly,” You said softly, abruptly thinking about Eddie again. “What’s the point…” 

Steve looked at you for a second before giving you a small smile. “Why was that question on your mind at,” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. “One-thirteen in the morning?”

You suddenly felt really close to telling him what happened at Eddie’s place days ago, and the conclusion that you had come to about everything; the timing honestly felt pretty perfect. But, you still couldn’t do it.

It wasn’t about you feeling sad about the entire thing, it was about feeling stupid. And you honestly didn’t even think that Steve would judge you or think that you were stupid— he’d probably feel bad for you, you realized, which somehow felt a thousand times worse. 

“I don’t know… I’m always getting randomly existential in the middle of the night, I think,” You answered, and then immediately shifted the subject. “Hey, what’s the name of your cousin who’s getting married?” 

“Charlotte.”

“Okay, got it,” You nodded. “I felt like that was information I should probably know.” 

“And her fiance’s name is Charlie.”

A part of you wanted to laugh, but you held it back. “Woah.”

Steve nodded, also recognizing how slightly ridiculous that was. “Yeah. Once again, I’m sorry that I’m putting you through this whole thing.” 

You gave him a playful smile. “As long as you protect me from any weird family members, like I’m protecting you from Robin, I’ll be fine.” 

You remembered then that this fake dating thing wasn’t at all about you anymore, it was about him. And you quickly decided that you’d make sure to play the “happy and in love” girlfriend part really well— just like he had for you this past month— so that he could get what he needed out of this. Because, at this point, that was all that really mattered. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You gave Steve’s hand a quick squeeze. “Kiss me.”

“What?” 

“Your parents are looking over here. Just do like a quick peck thing,” You said, looking up at him. 

He didn’t question you further and instead closed the small bit of distance between you two and pressed his lips against yours. You weren’t sure if you expected it to feel weird or unnatural, but it didn’t. Actually, it happened so quickly that it really didn’t feel like anything at all.

When he pulled away, you gave him the sweetest smile that you hoped didn’t seem too exaggerated or fake, as you two continued walking toward his parents and a handful of his other family members. 

That would probably be the easiest part of the next few hours. Before you were forced to embark on a hike that you weren’t at all excited for, but Steve couldn’t get you two out of. It was during breakfast when his mom mentioned it and she was so adamant about making you and Steve come along too. 

“It’s gonna be fun. According to the tour guide, we’re going to get to see the prettiest view of a waterfall,” Anne had said and you finally nodded and agreed to go because you knew that she wasn’t going to take Steve’s attempts to say no as an answer.   

Now it was two hours after that forced yes and you were in an outfit that didn’t feel entirely great for a hike— denim shorts and a black tank top— but it was the best that you could do; you hadn’t prepared “hiking outfits,” or any sort of workout attire for that matter. And walking over to Steve’s parents and other family members, which he quickly whispered to you were a few of his cousins and aunt and uncle, and seeing them look a lot more prepared than you were, didn’t do much to ease your sudden out-of-place feelings. 

“We still have a few minutes before we have to leave, come to the gift shop with me,” Anne said to you before either you or Steve could say any sort of greeting to her and his dad.  

You gave her a small smile and let your hand drop from Steve’s. “Okay.” 

You met his eyes for the briefest second and he gave you an encouraging look, and then you were following his mom to the gift shop that was right next to the lobby. 

“How’s everything going?” Anne asked you as she started looking around the small shop, stopping at a shelf of ceramic mugs.

The question felt weirdly vague, but you still answered it as if you weren’t slightly confused. “It’s been good. Thank you again for everything. You really didn’t have to invite me to this whole thing.”

“Yes, of course, no problem. Tom and I are happy you’re here,” She smiled at you. “And we can tell that Steve is too.”

Inwardly, you waited for the shoe to drop. For her to suddenly come out and say that she and Tom actually hated you because you weren’t from “their world” and you hadn’t been handpicked by them. 

However, with what Steve reminded you about last night, you remembered that it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about them liking or not liking you as a person, it was about them being happy that Steve was simply in a “serious relationship.” And all you and him had to do was show that.

“I’m glad that you guys approve of our relationship,” You said, looking away from the bracelet in your hand that cost way too much and made you realize that this gift shop was way too fancy. You met Anne’s eyes. “Steve was worried about that. It was why he waited so many months before telling you guys about us.”

“Well, it’s probably obvious that you’re not exactly who we would’ve chosen for him. We always wanted him to be with a certain type of girl from a specific kind of family, you know?” You nodded at her words because it felt like that was all there was to do. “But, maybe this is better for him; at least, for now. And it’s so easy to see that you make him happy— probably more than Nancy ever did all those years ago— so that’s great.” 

Nancy. Finally knowing her name made her feel more real to you. You still knew absolutely nothing about her, though, aside from the fact that she and Steve had been happy and in love at one point in time.  

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to Anne’s words that felt like the kind of compliment that was actually more of an insult. It was almost funny because there it finally was, somewhat of a shoedrop. She really didn’t like you. 

But, clearly, the show you and Steve were putting on was working, and you were inwardly sighing in relief at that realization because that was all that mattered. Ultimately, you decided to simply smile at her. “Thank you. He makes me really happy too.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual , @munsonburn3r , @negomi123 , @khena , @facexthexsunshine , @seatbacksandtraytables , @suckerfordylansstuff

(if your user is crossed out it means i can’t tag you</3)

[talkbycolor]

I deserve this

A/N; at this point its obvious that i inspire in rebzyyx songs

Pairing; "Your Boyfriend" x AFAB!Reader (cus people are scared of the word trans)

CW; reader becomes willing at the end i swear / unhealthy, obsessive and possesive love / sensitive topics such as mental health, depression, anxiety, fear of abandonment, dissociation, suicidal thoughts / a crazy concept: he talks about his emotions!! / non-con, violence, like, i cry while i masturbate

It's quite blurry trying to remember how it all started, it seemed harmless to accept a date from a stranger, he gave you a beautiful rose and was quite kind to you.

Feeling that people could like you, that someone could be romantically interested in you, because of who you are, your personality, that they knew your… desires?

Because you had dreams, of course.

…

Your dream was to live, to live a quiet life, a stable, pleasant job, with good pay, a normal and peaceful life, where the deep emptiness in your heart was non-existent, years had passed and the monotonous feeling did not disappear, you had already accepted the pain, after all, if you felt that constantly it was probably because you did something wrong at some point, right?

But that was a personal dream that would never be shared.

And it's not like that matters now, not when you're in… A room, that's funny, your last memory is of Peter slamming you against the table to tie your limbs since their last date didn't end as expected and It was time to go home.

Return to an empty home, for what? Peter was more than willing to take care of you, why was he so scary? Accepting it would have made things easier, but you ruined everything by trying to run away, you even fought tooth and nail, that was too pathetic now that you remember it, maybe you DO deserve all the shit that is happening.

You could have saved yourself so much terror and attacks.

"PETER ENOUGH! PLEASE! LET ME GO! NO! NO! FUCK, PLEASE!" You tore out your throat with terrified screams and tried to claw at his skin until your fingers were bloody, biting the hands that tried to stop your screams, hitting his face with your elbows and kicking him away, crawling like a dying animal away from him. "PETER!" You sobbed sharply before losing consciousness.

But nothing worked, resisting only made all that shit worse and now you were tied up, in Your boyfriend's old clothes.

You barely remember how you got to that place, or if time passed, anyway that doesn't matter anymore, from one day to the next you find a very small piece of clothing that turned out to be yours, time passed, your body grew but your mind didn't, they keep lying but you know that your life will depend on how well you do it.

And you're not doing it right, you tried to adopt toxic happiness but you couldn't even maintain it for a while before exploding, sadness was already an everyday thing and you just weren't feeling it anymore.

"Dear?"

Just peace please, how hard could that be? It was annoying, you even felt angry for feeling so empty, because people were so rude and the constant rejection killed you socially.

It was hard to breathe, wasn't it?

"Love? Do you hear me?"

It feels like the end, your soul is bleeding, you wish your stupid job made you feel a little more alive and motivated to continue.

And now you have done so many things to escape from that monster that pulls you back to the room to devour you under the bed.

"Darling!" Your boyfriend's voice echoed through the room, making you look at him once and for all, your eyes tired despite having been unconscious most of the time.

"…" You wanted to respond, really, but what were you supposed to say?

"You must be exhausted, you didn't even touch dinner" It was a tricky phrase, he had tried to feed you since you were tied up.

"Peter-…"

"I already told you that I prefer to be called other way, honey" He responded with a smile and a definitely not irritated tone.

"I want to sleep" He left your lips, he was being so caring, taking care of your health.

He kidnapped you.

And you couldn't even thank him for it.

He knocked you out.

You really were an ungrateful shit, weren't you?

He locked you up.

You wanted to return the signs of affection.

Soon the ropes left your body, Peter helped you stand up and you both walked to the bedroom, he was still carrying a small plate with a light dinner, he refused to let you go to bed without having eaten dinner.

Once in bed, he made sure that you had a proper dinner, and he helped you change your clothes so that you would be comfortable in bed, he also did the same with his attire and now you were both lying down. It always made your stomach churn when he looked at your half-naked body.

"Dear" He murmured next to you while you tried to sleep as soon as possible, so many things had happened those last few days that the only way out was to sleep, you had probably already been fired from your job for not showing up. "Honey, love, darling," he said sweetly as his hand went up to your cheek, he simply looked at you with a huge and probably painful smile on his face, almost tattooed, you made him so happy with your mere presence.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked, your mind still cloudy enough to refuse anything, so you just went up to kiss him, the room was very dark and there weren't even crickets echoing at night, the amount of silence was overwhelming… of course, that didn't count the lip-smacking they shared.

So it continued.

For a long time.

"Pet-…uhm, I mean, honey, I'm tired and I want to sleep" You interrupted the honey session.

"Please, you don't have to do anything, just let me love you, darling" his voice was soft, soothing to that darkness but not to the painful weight in your heart and the knot in your stomach, his touches felt strange.

You know that's wrong, you don't like it.

You didn't stop him, just like he said, you let him love you as you closed your eyes and a buzzing sound echoed in your head, like television static, your bottom clothes had disappeared, but that didn't matter.

You couldn't hear anything, you didn't see anything, your body reacted but your mind was very far from that place, you wandered through your memories, fantasies of a life you were never going to have.

It was really digging into your cunt, huh? Even when your mind wanted to flee somewhere else, it was undeniable how he held your thighs and you gasped heavily with each thrust.

His member was still dripping his seed, did he use protection? You don't know, you don't care.

It doesn't matter.

B e cau se s oon y o u w il l b e d ea d.

"Honey? Didn't you enjoy it?" Peter asked with a worried frown.

What the hell is wrong with you? Do you no longer have respect for yourself? You know it's going to hurt you.

Don't you mind dying? You lost hope and you don't even try to help yourself anymore, damned and pathetic attempt at being human, really unnecessary.

"Honey…" Peter caressed your cheeks and brought his forehead to yours, sighing softly and carrying your body to the bathroom in the room.

You didn't say anything either, you just felt how it was cleaning your body, the water was warm, the bathtub full of bubbles, and it smelled pretty good, like coconut soap. Peter hummed quietly as he treated your body with the utmost affection, you were sure he was whispering things in your ear but you were barely aware of your surroundings.

When your eyes finally focused on something you could see the ceiling of the room thanks to the moonlight, Peter was behind you, hugging your body, caressing your hair, and sniffing the soapy fragrance.

"You are so sweet, so unique, so kind, so special to me, a truly exceptional person, I will do everything to make you feel comfortable, darling, I love you so much, my adorable-…"

"Peter"

"… Yes love?" This time he didn't argue about that name, you were finally talking and that was good.

"I'm sorry I feel so alone, I know you're here but…" You wish you could give him an answer but that was something even you hadn't figured out yet.

"It's okay, honey, I'll be with you to hold you, forever."

♡

[alotofrandomfangirling]

hi, could you do a x reader oneshot on live action Roronoa Zoro from the live action One Piece series!

Roronoa Zoro x reader oneshot (Netflix live action)

Summary: you tend to Zoro's wounds after he is hurt on a fight

Warnings: cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions of blood, me pretending to understand medical matters 🤡 (sorry about that, it was for fangirling purposes only ajskajakja)

A/n: hello anon! Thanks a lot for the request 🥰 this is probably set after s1? Sorry for any plot or grammar mistakes 🙏🏻 i hope you like it 🩷

The salty sea breeze hit your skin as you looked out the Going Merry trying to spot your friends.

The straw hats had left to a village to try to confront another crew. Apparently another annoying guy was threatening Luffy and he was not going to let that pass. It was stupid, you thought, but, when Luffy had something in mind, absolutely no one could convince him otherwise.

Luffy had asked you to stay on the ship in case anything happened. Being the crew's doctor, you had to be prepared for any emergency regarding the crew's well being.

Yep, you were the doctor in the straw hats crew.

You had met when Luffy saw you helping hurt people in the middle of a fight at the small island you lived. He was so impressed at how good you were, how you helped everyone with ability but also with a kindness in your eyes that he had never seen before in anyone.

Having lived your entire life with your doctor grandparents, you had learned from them and was just as skilled as them, so you were always ready to help those who needed.

But you were also a dreamer and wanted to go around the world meeting new people and new places, so when Luffy asked you to join his crew you happily said yes.

- we already have a navigator, a cook... we could use a talented doctor like you. I just know it's you. So, what do you say? - he asked, with that excited smile of his.

And that's how you became a part of this special crew. Everyone was so nice to you, so it didn't take much time for you to get along with them all, specially with their cute swordsman.

Yeah, it was like you clicked. You started getting closer, closer... and before you knew you were dating.

That's why you were specially worried today. You were really afraid your boyfriend was going to do something stupid and get himself hurt again (you still had nightmares about the whole Mihawk thing).

You were lost in your thoughts when you heard your friends coming back to the ship. You immediatly ran to check on them.

- is everyone okay? - you asked worried.

- we're fine, we were lucky. Can't say the same about your man over there - Sanji said and your heart dropped. What did this stubborn do this time?

- shut up, Sanji, i'm fine - you heard Zoro say as he entered the ship too.

You ran to him doing a quick check up with your eyes. That's when you noticed the big red stain on the side of his shirt.

- oh my gosh, Zoro, you're bleeding! - you said terrified.

- this? Nah, this is just a scratch - he said shrugging and trying to play tough, even though you could clearly see he was in pain.

- no, it's not! - you said, in a stern way - come on, we have to bandage you up.

You carefully led him inside and brought your medical kit to start tending to his wounds. He sat down as you began.

- take your shirt off - you ordered.

- Wow you're that eager, huh? - he said smirking, but instantly regretting and wincing with pain.

- Zoro! Will you stop being a brat and let me take care of you? - you said angrily - i can see you're in pain and you're not going anywhere until we fix that up!

You were usually a very chill person, but you couldn't stand seeing your friends and loved ones in pain. That activated a side of you people were even a bit scared of lol

- okay, boss - he said, a bit annoyed but finally giving up.

The way he called you 'boss' made you feel all tingly inside. You were sure going to have to talk to him about it later (and maybe share some ideas 👀) but now it wasn't the time. You had a wound to treat.

He took his shirt off and you couldn't help but take in a sharp breath at the sight (even though you had seen it before lol). Boy was sure shredded.

Focus, (Y/N).

You checked him and noticed he had a knife wound just above his hip. It was ugly, but you could do it.

You grabbed a piece of cloth to start cleaning the wound.

- my love, i apologize in advance, but this is going to hurt.

You started the cleaning.

- shit, that hurts! - he hissed.

- i know, i'm sorry.

You knew you had to do it, but you couldn't stand seeing the man you loved suffering like that. You had to distract him out of it so you could finish your work.

- umm baby, could you tell me again about that time you beat three pirates at once with only one sword?

- what? Now? Why? - he looked so cute furrowing his brows in confusion.

- it's just that... i like to work listening to your voice - you quickly made that up lol

Well, it wasn't totally a lie, you did enjoy listening to his voice, but of course it was mostly to keep him distracted ajskjakaja

He was still a bit suspicious but started telling the story since you asked him (trust me, there was nothing you asked Zoro he wouldn't do for you). Your strategy worked cause you cleaned the wound and bandaged it without him wincing too much.

By the time he finished the story, you had finished your work too. You also gave him some painkillers for him to feel better soon.

- there you go - you said softly and kissed his forehead.

He closed his eyes and melted under your touch, not only because of how tired he was, but also because he felt super safe with you.

- thank you, (Y/N) - he said squeezing your hand.

You smiled at him.

- now please lay down and try to rest a bit, or this thing won't heal - you said in a stern tone, but nearly begging for your boyfriend to take care of himself.

You gathered your medical stuff and were starting to leave the room when he said:

- (Y/N), wait!

- what is it? - you asked, worried he was starting to feel pain again.

- I... I might not be feeling 100% yet. I think you should stay and lay down with me just in case it gets worse - he said in a really nonchalant way.

You rolled your eyes at his completely obvious attempt, but couldn't help smiling and blushing a bit at the thought of the great Roronoa Zoro wanting you to stay with him.

- you're the worst, Zoro - you said playfully as you carefully laid down next to him and put your hand on his chest.

- yeah, but you love me - he replied with that smug smile of his and that deep voice that drove you crazy.

You chuckled at his response.

- yes, I do - you said smiling.

His next words came out merely a whisper, but were enough to give you a thousand butterflies in your stomach:

- and I love you more.

[specialagentlokitty]

Carlisle x Teen!reader - my family

Hey could you do one with the Cullens and a female teen reader, like maybe they save her from other vampires that are hunting in the area, but then she’s scared of them because she knows their secret, and they’re like reassuring her that they’d never hurt her, and maybe adopt her? With some emphasis on Carlisle because he’s like the sweetest dad 😅. Thanks! 💜 - @marvelfanfn2187a113 💜

You had no idea what happened, one moment you were walking home from your part time job, and the next moment you were screaming and in pain from being slammed against a building.

“Oh you humans are so annoying when you scream.” The man scoffed.

His red eyes pierced yours, and he crouched down in front of you, gripping your wrist tightly in his hand and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t pull it away.

Before he could hurt you, he was thrown away, and a woman was helping you stand up.

“Come on, quickly now.” She said softly.

She ushered you towards her car and put you inside and she got in the drivers side.

“What about them?” You asked.

“They’ll be alright don’t worry.” She smiled.

You nodded your head, you were dazed, and in the pain you didn’t really think about not getting in a car with a stranger.

But your vision was fuzzy, and you head was pounding, and before you knew it you had fallen unconscious.

When you came too, the pain in your head wasn’t as bad it was before, but it still hurt.

“Hey, you’re awake. How’re you feeling?”

You furrowed your brows a little and sat up, rubbing your head, and your fingers brushed against some stitches and you stopped.

“You only need a couple, it’ll be healed in no time don’t worry.”

You looked at the voice and your confusion grew.

“Dr Cullen?”

You looked around.

“Where am I?”

“My house, my wife brought you here when you passed out in her car. Do you remember anything of what happened?” He asked.

You thought for a few minutes before slowly nodding your head.

“All of it.. he… red eyes… he was so fast… and strong..”

Carlisle sighed heavily, looking back at his family who were standing behind him waiting to hear what was going to be said.

“We should probably have a talk.” He said softly.

He didn’t want to, but at this point he had no choice but to explain everything to you, you already knew too much.

And while he was explaining everything you slowly stood up, backing away from them, tripping over something.

Esme acted quickly and without thinking, she was behind you in a second and you pulled away.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Okay. Okay I’m sorry.”

She backed away and Carlisle stood up, holding his hands up as he slowly moved around the couch.

“We’re not going to hurt you.” He spoke gently.

“You’re vampires… you hurt people…”

“No, no, we only feed in animals. I promise, it’s why we have different eyes.” He explained.

You still hesitant, and he understood it.

If he was in your shoes he’d be terrified as well.

“We wouldn’t hurt you (Y/N), you trust us right? We always hang out at school.” Alice smiled.

You turned to look at the Cullen children, and you stared at them all.

She was right, you were usually with her or Emmett during school, they were your two best friends and they had never hurt you.

They had always made sure you got home safe, got you food if you were hungry, helped you with homework and things you didn’t quite understand.

They were your best friends.

But they were vampires.

And you were conflicted.

“We haven’t hurt you before have we?” Emmett asked.

You shook your head and he grinned a little bit.

“So, you can trust us now right?”

“You’re vampires… oh god there’s vampires in my apartment building… I thought they were wearing contacts…”

“What?” Rosalie asked.

You looked at her with wide eyes.

“A few people moved into the apartment building… there was a few empty apartments and they were rented out… I thought it was just party people… contacts…”

“(Y/N) is there anyone else in your apartment? Parents?” Carlisle asked.

“No… it’s just me…”

He quickly nodded his head, and he walked over, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“We can’t do anything about it yet, it’s too dangerous. You can stay here for now, okay?”

You looked up at him and slowly nodded your head.

You wanted to go home, but you felt safer there then you did in your apartment complex now.

So they set you up in Alice’s room, they got you a bed and anything else you might need, and you stayed with them.

At first, you stayed away, but soon you grew to accept them, and got used to them.

They were working on a way to safely and quietly get rid of the other vampires, and you had all your stuff moved into the Cullens home.

You basically lived there now.

Sitting in the kitchen, you watched as Carlisle made you some lunch.

“You can cook really well for someone who can’t eat it.”

He chuckled a little and looked at you.

“Have to blend in somehow.”

“True. That’s very true.”

You looked at your homework, finishing off the questions.

“Mr Cullen?”

“You can call me Carlisle you know.”

“I know. It’s weird though, but… I want thank you for looking after me…”

Carlisle stopped what he was doing and walked over, resting his arms on the counter and he took your pen so you looked up at him.

He smiled softly at you.

“You don’t have to thank me, if anything I should be thanking you for taking our secret and accepting us for it. I know they would be devastated if they lost you as a friend, especially Alice and Emmett. Do you mind if I ask you one thing?”

You shook your head.

“Why do you live alone (Y/N)?”

You sighed a little.

“My uh.. my parents passed away a few years back… I’ve been working since I turned 16 and moved out of the care home to live on my own…”

He nodded a little.

“You must be exhausted.”

You shrugged a little.

“Got to work for what we want in life.”

He hummed a little and got up to finish making your lunch and he set it in front of you, moving your homework out of the way.

“You can stay here if you’d like.”

“As in live here?”

Carlisle nodded as he washed up.

“We’ve got the room, we can clear one of the other rooms into a bedroom just for you.”

“I can’t do that, it’s okay. I suppose I don’t mind living on my own.”

“You wouldn’t have to work, you’d just have to attend school that’s all, plus I know everyone loves having you around.”

“I dunno…”

Carlisle chuckled a little.

“Just think about it, alright?”

“Okay.”

So you did, you thought about it for a few days and finally you agreed, and you got your own room.

They became your family, and you finally had time to relax and rest after nearly a year of working nonstop.

Months passed, and you were cooking yourself something to eat for dinner when everyone came filing into the room.

“It’s weird you guys watching me cook.”

Everyone laughed a little.

“We’ve actually got something for you.” Esme said.

You turned around and walked over.

“For me?”

You looked at the vampires all grinning from ear to ear, and Carlisle handed you some papers and you carefully read them.

“You.. want to adopt me..?”

“We do. You’ve become part of the family, you’re our daughter now.” Esme smiled.

“You don’t have to become a vampire if you don’t want to.” Jasper said.

You glanced at him then back to Esme and Carlisle.

“This is all your choice, but the offer stands no matter how long you want to think about it.”

“Yes.”

You set the papers in the table.

“I want you to adopt me.”

He smiled brightly and hugged you, and everyone joined for a group hug and you smiled brightly.

This was your family, and they would forever be your family no matter what

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my Grandma I'm not going to have a specific conversation with her and just walking away?

So context, I (28) am currently between jobs because one of my ex-coworkers was the asshole who got me fired, and I haven't found anything new.

My mother (50) and I both live in my Grandma (80)'s house which is divided into an upstairs and a downstairs. Grandma lives in the downstairs. So do my mom and sister. I live alone in a two bedroom upstairs which belonged to my late aunt.

Right after my aunt died, I wanted to clean the apartment, organize, donate, toss, keep her stuff. To make sure everything gets where it'd ought best go, but my mother told me I had no right to go through my aunt's things alone and sort keepsake from takaway; if I was to do anything it was to be with her.

Well, three years of me trying to get my mom up here to sort through it with me because I want to respect her wishes, and my stuff accruing in a layer over top of my aunts stuff because I can't get rid of it, and the apartment is a lifetime and three years mess. My mom never made the time to do what she told me I wasn't allowed to do without her, me respecting these wishes which she probably doesn't even remember. I've been living up here too afraid of trespassing against my aunts memory to clean the cobwebs full of her red hair. Because my mother said, I had no right to do it.

And that cleaning anxiety is on top of executive dysfunction, depression, having too much shit, being a sprawler type adhd, and working a 40 h/week 'part-time' retail position. I didn't have it in me to clean by myself, and the mess kept getting worse and no one would substancially help me no matter how much I asked. Not my mom and not my sister (who gets a pass because she's got post-exertional malases from Long Covid).

Now fast foreward to two weeks ago. My mother final finds the motivation to clean the upstairs apartment because she's got a boyfriend now, and they wanna have sex upstairs where my grandma can't hear it. They didn't ask me if it was okay or anything: just decided that my space is now OUR space because it's convinent to her. I don't really care, and I'm annoyed, but finally someone to clean the fucking apartment with. She said, two weeks ago that he'd be coming around in about four months time. We spent the day getting a lot of cleaning done. Not anywhere near all of it, but a lot. And I've finally gotten what I see as permission to start sortitioning my aunts things. I'm pacing myself cleaning on that four month timetable.

And then today she bursts into the apartment to announce that BF will be here in a week, and she starts hauling major ass with my late aunt's heavy as shit sewing supplies. For my part, I vent the new timeline to my friends and then get to work cleaning my bedroom so I can move the stuff I have sprawled over the living room into my bedroom. Because my bedroom being messy is what's getting in my way the most.

When she's done hauling boxes, she goes to start cleaning the bathroom, and because she's in too much of a hurry on this new self-imposed and sprung upon me timeline, she hurts herself cleaning the toilet. Spasms her wrist, locks up her back. I help her downstairs but she's obviously done for the day, probably done for the week even. I get back to light cleaning with breaks, pacing myself to the new timeline I have to deal with. And I get a call from my grandma.

G: "Hey anon can you come down here." A: "I'll be down in a minute." I pull on pants and a shirt and head down.

And here we get to the key events all that context was building toward.

G: "What happened with your mom." A: "She hurt herself cleaning." G: "I know that, I mean why was she cleaning your apartment. You're an adult who's lived here for three years, and she's the only one working, and now she can't move. Why's the apartment you live in such a state that she needs to clean it for you."

Now, I know my grandma. A mule would be jealous of her stubborn demeanor. She's on an oxygen machine 24 hours a day and she still smokes two packs a week. You can't change her mind once she's made it up.

So I'm doing calculations in my head while she's laying into me, and I conclude she's made her mind up: She thinks I'm 100% in the wrong and nothing that came out my mouth would convince her that my mom is just as much an adult as I am who is responsible for her own decisions that got her to overworking when cleaning and hurting herself in the process, and also several inter-related key factors in why so much cleaning needs to be done on an 'oh fuck, immediately' timescale.

Doing the math makes me a bit angry, and I don't like the type of person I get to acting like when I'm angry, especially because anything I say will just make her more upset, so I say, "Grandma, I'm not going to have this conversation with you."

And I walk away. I leave while she yells at me to come back and let myself be yelled at. I'm angry, so I mindfully do not to slam her door on my way out and go back up stairs

After some scrumbling and a bit more light cleaning with breaks to pace myself, best I can, to this newly imposed and unreasonable timetable, my room is 90% clean and ready for me to put my stuff in it. And now that I'm not as angry anymore, I started to feel guilty that I didn't even try to explain anything to her. I just decided she'd made up her mind and made up mine to walk away without even trying. So, I typed this up to ask:

AITA for refusing to engage her in that conversation and just walking away?

What are these acronyms?

[silverskye13]

that update's got me curious

what's tango and wels been up to since the last time guish was on hermitcraft?

Tango crouched on a tangle of redstone lines, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. He liked fixing redstone. Redstone was kind. Straightforward. It either worked or it didn't. Forget some dust here, flip too many ticks on a repeater there, and it broke. Set it to order and everything was fine again. The challenge was only in figuring out where he'd gone wrong. Retracing his steps.

Tango rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept yet, and the gritty, sandpaper feeling of fatigue in his eyelids was starting to get annoying. But he needed to set this right. He needed to set something right.

<No wonder he thinks you can't take care of yourself, you collapsed... What? A month ago? Collapsed and didn't get back up again for almost a week.>

"It's been longer than a month," he said to himself.

Tango blinked uncomprehendingly down at the redstone line. He abruptly decided the problem wasn't here and moved on, walking carefully down the line, trying not to bump into anything unforgiving of random Tango bumps. He glanced down at his watch, where a little window told him who, out of the other hermits, was awake. Most of the list read "inactive," though a few people, like Xisuma and Grian, had emergency calls enabled, which meant they were probably asleep but might not mind being bothered.

"I need a rubber duck," Tango scowled.

<He needed Tanguish.>

Tango shook his head and stopped walking down the line. He scrolled through the list again.

Doc was awake. Doc was always awake when he should be asleep. He could call Doc. It would take him awhile to get here from the Perimeter, but he could take a break from breaking the world to help Tango un-break his redstone. Doc was the kind of person who could talk about a lot of nothing, just like Tanguish could. And Doc would <if Tango asked very firmly> ignore the redstone so Tango could actually fix it, instead of Doc pulling things apart and breaking it six ways before inevitably coming up with a more efficient way to do it.

However, Doc had been the one to help him recover when he'd collapsed. There was a strong chance Doc would zip over and flip that funny little dial by his redstone eye that turned on what he called his "people diagnostics", which meant he was going to poke and prod and really, really lean into the doctor part of Docm77. Or worse, he would turn the dial one tick further and pull up his mental health database, and Tango didn't want to talk about his feelings right now, no matter how much Xisuma said everyone should schedule "wellness time" for it.

<Besides, Xisuma is a robot. He doesn't get feelings.>

Tango sighed out loud at himself.

"Xisuma feels feelings just fine. They're just... Robot feelings. Not Tango feelings." He stood and reassessed that statement. "They're Xisuma feelings."

Tango continued walking.

<He knew what he was feeling right now anyway. And he knew who he was feeling the feelings he knew he was feeling about.>

It was a marvel Tango even had alone time, really. Welsknight had become a second, frustrating shadow. And it wasn't just that he kept popping in to "check in". It was that he pointedly popped in at random times, for random amounts of time. There was no consistency, except that, eventually, like right now, Welsknight had to sleep. Then, and only then, did Welsknight leave. Not that it mattered. Tango hadn't seen Tanguish in his reflection since Wels had done... That.

Tango realized he'd passed the module he had intended to check next. He sighed. He rubbed his eyes again. He backtracked.

<That was awful. Poor Tanguish must've been scared out of his mind. Welsknight had to be scary. Tango had thought he was scary, and he knew the guy for heaven's sakes!>

The command had really sealed it. Up until then, it was mostly just... Well, it was Wels. He got white-knight-y sometimes. Most of the time it wasn't violent, or if it was, it wasn't turned against anyone important. When Doc had lost some withers on the server, Wels had popped up looking all formal and official -- he and False were a lot alike like that. People asked for help killing monsters and they just. Showed up. Geared and serious. Welsknight had a habit of holding the door for people, and letting the ladies on the server enter buildings first. Whenever people visited Wels was vigilant in making sure they didn't overstep any bounds. But also Welsknight was funny, and quirky, and he had a sense of humor. And also this was Hermitcraft and knights didn't have to slay dragons here. So maybe that's why Tango hadn't expected Welsknight to try to slay Tanguish.

Do you know what that thing is?

Tango stopped. He'd passed the redstone module again. He sighed. He rubbed his eyes. He turned around.

<He missed Tanguish.>

Wels just... Didn't get it. Tanguish made Tango think straight. It was like. It was like. It was like Tango's mind kept running in circles. He could stop, he could set it to order, but it was hard. It took work. It took self control. It took. It took getting a regular amount of sleep for one thing. It took knowing when and where to stop, and being able to focus, and being able to control where his thoughts were going. Tanguish did that for him. It was the ice, Tango thought. His fire ran rampant until ice was in the room. He needed the cold and dark to stop his mind from running. Without it, he just sparked in every direction and inevitably burned himself. Tanguish talked, and Tango's brain stopped being unmanageable, and he got work done twice as fast, and it was great.

Tango stopped. He looked around. It took a few moments of blinking to realize he hadn't passed his module. He kept walking down the redstone line.

"You don't understand what those things do to you," Welsknight had told him, all stern and concerned, like a disappointed dad, which was funny, because Tango was pretty sure he was older. That was the worst part, really. Welsknight had this pitying look on his face, like he was telling a kid Santa Clause wasn't real. "I know you think he's your friend but he's not."

"He is my friend! He's not like you and Helsknight! I don't know how many different ways I have to say that before it sinks in!" Tango had lost all pretense of being reasonable after the third or fourth time Welsknight had insisted he knew better. "We don't try to kill each other every time we see each other! We enjoy each other's company! He's helping me build Decked Out!"

"You don't understand--"

"I understand perfectly Wels!"

Tango stopped walking. He looked around. He rubbed his eyes. There was a brief moment where he couldn't recognize where he was.

<He really should get some sleep.>

"Just after I fix this."

<He couldn't remember what he was trying to fix.>

Tango looked around. He forced himself to think about nothing until he found the module. He stared at it. He rubbed his eyes again. They were really starting to hurt. It was the pervasive kind of fatigue migraine that sat right behind his pupils and applied pressure until all he wanted to do was curl up with his face pressed against his hands. Except his hands were always hot and uncomfortable to him. That's why he liked having Tanguish around. He was like soothing a burn.

"It doesn't matter." Welsknight had told him, his voice all controlled and reasonable and stern. "Listen Tango, you haven't dealt with them like I have. That's how they start out. They act like they're helping you, or that they're reasonable, but they don't stay that way. And when they get bad, they get really bad. You've seen what Hels does to me."

"Uhm, actually I haven't. You don't talk about it. We try to get you to talk about it, and you don't talk about it," Tango spat angrily. "All we see are the death messages in chat, and even then, those have been gone for ages? He sure doesn't seem to be bothering you all that much."

That was mean spirited, but it finally got a reaction, the crinkling around Welsknight's eyes as his concerned frown turned into something more emotional and fraught.

"That's because I've worked really hard to get him off my back."

"From what Tanguish says, you're the one bothering him," Tango sniffed. Welsknight opened his mouth to argue, but Tango was already shouting over him, "Look! It doesn't matter because this isn't about you Wels. This is about me, and my helsmet, and how mine is nice. I'm sorry you're all knightly and fraught over this or whatever, but Tanguish has never once hurt me. Not even unintentionally. Sometimes I wonder if they guy even knows how to think for himself."

<That was unfair. Tanguish had done a lot of thinking for himself since he met Helsknight. Maybe even before, but Tango just hadn't noticed.>

"Then you're doing something already that he wants you to do," Welsknight insisted.

"Oh get over yourself Wels."

"I'm serious Tango, this is concerning. He shouldn't be this attached to you. They're made to make us worse. He's probably hiding something from you."

Tango lightly kicked a hopper in his module, and watched as the redstone blinked and everything powered. He rubbed his eyes. His head was really starting to hurt. It was hard to focus. He also kind of wanted to cry, which was very, very stupid.

<Wels can't say things like that. He should know he can't say things like that. He should know Tango couldn't hear things like that. He couldn't deal with people hiding things from him. Deceitfulness. 3rd Life, Last Life, Whatever Life had ruined him. He needed transparency, he needed to trust people, he needed. He got. He wasn't paranoid he was just scared. That his friends didn't like him like they used to. That they were capable of deceiving him for a game, for a laugh, because they were trying to get to someone else hurt someone else, because he was a footnote in someone else's story, a means to an end. That's what Decked Out was about wasnt it? Control? He could be the master for once.>

"I'm building a game I want my friends to play," Tango told himself, and he rubbed his eyes harder. He wasn't crying, it was the migraine. He needed sleep. "Because I like my friends and I'm proud of my work, and I want them to enjoy something with me. I'm not doing it because I'm scared of them."

"You know what your problem is?" Tango had yelled at Welsknight. "You're upset because Helsknight forces you to feel stuff, and that makes you uncomfortable."

"That's ridiculous." Like a disappointed dad rolling his eyes at a kid who insisted the Tooth Fairy was real.

"You're always so composed," Tango said scathingly, all sparks, and redstone, and fire, and the desire to break something, because if he was loud enough he could scream the paranoia away. "You're always trying to do things right, and then he shows up and suddenly you get angry, and you say emotional things in chat, and you talk to people about what scares you and--"

"He's a demon, Tango," Welsknight snapped, suddenly much less aloof. "They're all demons. They are fighting over our souls with us."

"They're filling needs." Tango said. "You're just jealous mine knew I needed a friend, and you needed someone to remind you you're not perfect."

That one hadn't felt good. Well, it felt good at the time. But everyone knew, in that unspoken way everyone knew you didn't joke with Doc about losing limbs, and you didn't question False's memories, that Welsknight was hurt by his helsmet. One too many times buying health potions. One too many times seeking quiet company late at night after an ominous death message in chat. One too many times caught scrubbing blood out of armor. One too many self-deprecative comments that seemed to come out of nowhere, evidence of bitter meditation on something told him by a cruel tongue. It had felt good at the time. But Welsknight had looked at him like he'd been stabbed. And like a man viciously trying to ignore a stab wound, he said, in that voice of reason like sunlight: "Say what you want Tango, but I'm not letting you go through this alone. I'm sorry."

And then, because anything else would've led to more unkind words, he'd left.

Tango looked down at the redstone line. He didn't remember walking back down it again, but he was pretty sure the module he'd been checking wasn't broken. He wished it were broken. He could set it to order and go to bed. But it wasn't broken. It was working as intended. He didn't know what to do about it. Something in this line was broken. It wasn't working right. He needed it to work right. He needed sleep. He needed Welsknight to stop being so noble, and confident. Because noble and confident people always sounded right, even if they weren't, and Welsknight couldn't be right.

<He left you alone for weeks, while you were recovering.>

<He found other friends to replace you with.>

<He came back.>

<He's never hurt you before.>

No helsmet is harmless.

They are demons fighting over our souls.

If he isn't hurting you, it's because you're already doing what he wants.

<Welsknight had never hurt you before either, until he used his voice to bind you to his will.>

Tango scrubbed his eyes with his hands.

<Everyone knew about Welsknight's voice. Just like they knew Doc could put a world eater on spawn. Just like they knew Grian could influence the celestial events like moonfall. Just like they knew Mumbo could eat souls. And Tango had fire, and the ability to read redstone like a roadmap. We could always hurt each other.>

Tango scowled and buried his face in his hands.

<So why couldn't he fix it?>

Tango yanked his pickaxe from his inventory and threw it as hard as he could off the side of his redstone line, watching it slam into two other lines on its way down into the bowels of Decked Out. When the last clatter had stopped sounding, his watch beeped. Tango read it with bleary, exhausted eyes. It took a few times to read it correctly.

[You are on Do Not Disturb]

[Incoming Message from Welsknight. Allow notification?]

[Y/N]

Tango felt a nauseous twist in his stomach.

"I want Tanguish," he said to the empty room.

He denied the message. He started walking down the redstone line. He needed to fix something before he went to bed.

[rebelliousstories]

Ten Thousand Candles

Kiss Me You Animal

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Zylia “The Freak” Shelley

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Strong Language, Mentions of Death and Killing

Word Count: 711

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

//Chapter Two//

Kiss Me You Animal Masterlist: Here

Summary: Cooper is not too sure if he is impressed or fed up with this new girl. Probably both.

Have you ever seen someone who just looks like if you say the wrong thing, no matter how small, they would hurt you and everyone in the immediate vicinity? That was Cooper Howard right now. He was tearing through the town faster than a bat out of hell, trailing after a girl. Why was he following this girl? Because just a few minutes ago they met, as she stole his bounty that she was now cashing in on.

Walking into town, he just caught the trail of the unearthly colored hair disappearing into the shop where the bounty originated. He gritted his teeth, and waited outside until she was to return. Cooper found a rocking chair, and waited. He was a patient man, and that was being put to the test as he sat there. Most people passed by him without so much as a glance, but others took one look at him and scurried away. It did not much matter to him anymore. He had two hundred years to come to terms with his new state.

Seeing her white hair come through the door, he took note and noticed her shoving something in her bag. He stood up slowly, marching his way up to her while she was distracted.

“Well, gotta say, sure as shit been a long time since someone stole my bounty from right under me.” Howard drawled, almost jovial in his speech. The woman’s head whipped up to see The Ghoul in front of her once more.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so slow then, Ghoulie.” She teased, finding joy in annoying him.

“I wasn’t slow,” he growled, “you were just a sneaky little minx who can’t keep her sticky fingers away from what’s not hers.” Cooper stepped closer to the woman, assessing whether or not he needed to draw his gun. But she just laughed.

“That ain’t how I remember it.” The still unknown woman got even closer to Cooper, and toyed with the edge of his jacket. He snatched it away, and stepped away with a flourish.

“Now, only time Imma tell you. Give me the caps that you got paid for my bounty, and we’ll be on our way.” His hand rested on his pistol while the other was outstretched.

“And if I don’t give you my caps for my bounty?” She replied, brushing a hand through her hair nonchalantly.

“I’d hate to kill someone as pretty as you now darlin’.” Cooper smiled, and hoped she would do the right thing. As she stood there, contemplating, The Ghoul was steadily losing his patience. She came closer and closer to his outstretched gloved hand, until it was resting right against her stomach. Sifting through her bag, she placed a singular bottle cap in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

“For you troubles. Name’s Zylia, by the way. Next time don’t be so slow.” The now named woman patted Cooper on the shoulder, and began to walk away from him. However, he had different plans. Howard stood there with the cap in his hand, and a million thoughts running through his head. Pocketing the cap, he turned to where Zylia was walking away.

“Do you have a death wish?” He called, making her stop for a brief moment. Even from all this distance, the pink eyes she held pierced his very soul.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?” Zylia responded, toying with a strand of hair.

“Do you know who I am?” Cooper questioned again, fully turning his body to face her.

“No. Should I?” Once more, his patience was being tested. Cooper moved his duster out of the way and rested a hand on his pistol that was still holstered.

“Little girl, I’m really not in the mood for this. Give me the caps.” He repeated, fully ready for a shoot out.

“Little girl? Well, I might be little, but not young enough to be a girl. I’m just gonna be on my way if that’s alright with you, Ghoul.” Again, Zylia turned around and began to walk away from the man. He chuckled softly, before drawing his pistol and aiming it at the girl.

It all happened in a flash, but the sound was one that was an everyday occurrence in the Wastelands.

Bang!

[tryingtograspctrl]

GLASS: SAM WILSON X BLACK PLUS SIZE READER

SUMMARY - You move from your small town in Louisiana all the way to New york and land yourself a job as the Avenger’s personal chef, just when you think you’ve built a comfy life outside of your sister she finds her way in again and manages to turn your world upside down.

A/N - I decided to dabble into the invisible sister trope and let me just say mannnn this is gonna be long but i promise it’s not gonna be boring so stick with me please!

Warning: mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of anxiety attacks, manipulative behavior and foul language.

The two of you had been compared to each other since you were toddlers.

You were always the clumsy one, the one that cried too much, the one that didn't keep anyone entertained for long enough.

As you both grew into young adults it was obvious that you weren't as liked as your older sister. She was fun and outgoing, a party girl, someone that people could hold a conversation with, a favorite not only amongst friends but relatives too.

It really hurt when you began to notice that everyone ignored you and gravitated towards her, if you got the chance to talk to anybody all they'd care about was her.

Its not like you were super insecure, you knew you were pretty, you liked how you looked, you thought you were pretty funny and had a lot of interesting things to say but that didn't matter when you were next to your sister. You knew that if it came down to the two of you, you wouldn't exactly be first pick.

Your sister wasn't always the nicest to you either, neither were you to her but that's just the way the two of you were. Like every other sibling relationship sometimes you fought and didn't speak to each other, other times it was like the both of you against the world.

When other people were around it was a different story, obviously fueled by all the praise she'd treat you like shit, often using you as a stepping stone to boost her own ego, to attract more attention to herself.

Despite how rocky your relationship could be you two were attached at the hip, doing nearly everything together so it came as quite a shock when you packed up all your things and decided to leave your small home in Louisiana for New york.

"What the hell am i supposed to do on my own?!" She huffed throwing a tantrum like a child.

"What you always do, don't act like you can't survive without me. We both know you got a bit more pull in this town than me." You snorted.

"I'm serious y/n if you leave i'll jump off the roof of this house." She whined.

"Would you stop it?" You started to get annoyed.

"No you stop it! You can be so stupid sometimes you know that? Dropping everything and leaving your home, your family? You tremble like a scared puppy at the thought of going to the grocery store alone but you can move halfway across the country by yourself? Please you're probably gonna have one of your little anxiety attacks in the uber on the way to the airport.”

"You know i really thought for once you'd be supportive of a decision i decided to make on my own, but you never do change do you? All my life i've stuck beside you, going where you went, doing what you wanted to do being your fucking shadow. For once i want to take control of my own life, i want to go somewhere and start fresh, go somewhere where i could possibly be known by my own name, not just as your sister." You spat, hot angry tears streaming down your face.

"This was never about you missing me when I'm gone, it was about you hating the fact that you won't have your puppet with you wherever you go anymore." You grabbed your bags loading them up into your car.

Your sister never showed up to the airport to see you off, she didn't call you when you landed, and she hasn't spoken to you since that night at your home.

Three years had passed and you'd be lying if you said your move to New york was all sunshine and rainbows.

Your passion was cooking but you loved to make sweet treats so you always leaned towards those sorts of jobs and you had been through many in your first year in the big apple.

One shitty bakery job after another had you ready to eat your words and pack your bags to move back home but you'd never give your sister the satisfaction, not after everything she said.

So you stuck it out, bouncing around hoping that one day you'd land somewhere worthwhile and eventually you did in the most unexpected fashion.

It had been a long day at work, you were swamped the entire time because you were the only employee in the shop. Frank was a cheap son of a bitch that couldn't stand the idea of hiring more workers and having to pay them as-well so he insisted that you do the work of multiple people, you baked all the goods, took orders, cleaned the shop and pretty much everything else one person alone shouldn't be doing.

And to make matters worse everyone insisted on being an ass, you weren't sure if it was god punishing you or if there was just something in the air that morning but everyone decided to give you a hard time.

"Hey could you hurry the fuck up? I'm already 10 minutes late." A man yelled as you went to the back to grab another pan of donuts.

"Listen i'm doing the best i can here, i only have two hands and as you can see i'm the only one here." You sighed handing the man his pastry.

"Yeah what the hell ever." He snatched the bag and left.

"Morning sir what can i get for you?" You wiped the sweat off your forehead doing your best to smile.

"I'll take a dozen, and you'll be taking the rest of the day off. Sorry folks shop's closed!" The guy announced.

A bunch of curses and groans were thrown around but nonetheless they all cleared out.

"Sir you can't do that! My boss is gonna have my head." You frowned in protest.

"Considering the fact that i now own this place whatever i say goes and i say you have the rest of the day off. Mind taking a walk with me?" He took a bite out of one of his donuts.

You were a bit embarrassed to find out who you were talking to was the Tony Stark and you didn't even recognize him right of the bat but he brushed it off.

Apparently he had been interested in purchasing the shop for quite some time, it was a childhood favorite of his and he felt pretty bad once he found out Frank suckered yet another young ambitious baker into his schemes, he knew then he had to take the place. Not surprising Frank practically threw the keys into Tony's hands once he made an offer. Money was everything to that man, apparently it meant way more to him than the little bake shop his grandfather built from the ground up and handed down to him.

Tony had also took quite a liking to you and he insisted that you be the team's personal chef.

"You guys are superhero's when do you even have the time to sit down and have a meal?" You looked at him in disbelief.

"Never really, most things we take on the go which also seems impractical but it helps us feel grounded in a way." He shrugged.

"Plus i'm really tired of having to pretend to like Steve's cooking, it'd be nice to have someone that actually knows what they're doing in the kitchen." He shook his head.

"Wait ste- i mean Captain america cooks?" You laughed.

"Barley, he nearly burns down the kitchen every time he steps into it." He bumped your shoulder snorting.

"Okay." You spoke up after some time.

"Okay?" He raised a brow, knowing exactly what you meant but wanting you to say it.

"Okay i'll do it, i'll be your personal chef." You smiled brightly at him.

"Great, you can start tomorrow." He nodded handing you his card which also had the address to the tower on it.

That's how it began.

Part two: here

[bicheetopuff]

Hi @nemovanilla ! This is in reference to one of the tags on this post.

Sorry for taking a while to elaborate. I was gonna just explain in a reply but realized the way I explain things is always longer than it needs to be so I figured I respond in its own post. So anyways…

Contents:

I: Nighteye’s unwillingness to admit when he’s wrong

II: Deku’s unwillingness to just accept fate

III: The power of willpower and conviction

IV: Changing fate

V: Conclusion

I: Nighteye’s unwillingness to admit when he’s wrong

So if you’ve followed me for a while, you already know I don’t like Nighteye that much. However, I’ll admit that overtime I realized that I really wasn’t supposed to like him.

He’s overly cynical and critical of Deku despite the fact that he’s just a teenager. A major part of his character is that once he had something in mind, he’d run with it. His word is law to him and it annoyed the shit out of me. But you can’t really blame him because that’s the nature of his quirk. As All Might said, his foresight has never been wrong.

Once he had set in his mind that All Might was going to die, and needed a successor to pass OFA to (despite it not being his decision) he found Mirio and just clung to him. He even admits to himself on his death bed that he only initially took in Mirio for the sake of convincing All Might to make him his successor.

Because of that, he refused to have faith in Deku as All Mights successor and it took him all the up to the day he died to see what All Mights saw in Deku. It was the first time someone had ever proven him wrong.

II: Deku’s unwillingness to just accept fate

Since chapter one, Deku has proved time and time again that he refuses to accept circumstances that he deems unfair no matter how unrealistic his success would be. For example:

-Saving Katsuki from the sludge villain. He had no way of defending himself yet he still ran to save him when no one else would, influencing All Mights actions. If Izuku hadn’t done anything, everyone probably just would’ve stood by idly while watching a middle schooler die.

-Saving Uraraka from the one pointers at the entrance exam. While Uraraka most likely wouldn’t have died cuz she had the means to save herself, Deku still forced himself to do something about it, regardless of being too scared to move just a moment before.

-Convincing Todoroki to take control of his own fate at the sports festival by using both his left and right side.

-Hunting down Iida before he could kill Stain and somehow beating him despite most pros failing to do so.

Saving Kota from Muscular, Katsuki from AFO, Eri from Chisaki, the list goes on. But all of that to say that despite odds being against him in all of these circumstances, he persevered out of pure stubbornness and his unwavering conviction to save as many people as he can.

So, when All Might explained to Deku that he was destined to die, the first thing Deku did was try to figure out how he can change that. Initially it sounds like grief ridden denial but it later takes on a new meaning.

(I find this entire conversation almost ironic. All Might accepts that his fate has already been decided and Deku rebuttals by saying that he’ll be by his side to change said fate. But, throughout the entire final arc, Deku hasn’t even spoken to All Might. He was by someone else’s side (figuratively) changing All Mights fate.)

III: The power of willpower and conviction

So, in the Hassaikai raid:

This is when we start to realize the true meaning of Nighteyes character. The entire point of his character is to be proven wrong (in my opinion).

He represents the expectation of typical shonen tropes and he actively tries to enforce those stereotypes ever since he’s introduced in the story with beliefs similar to “the strongest heroes successor should already slightly stronger than the average person with light hair and light eyes,” hence why he clung to Mirio so much. Mirio fits the “my power is a curse but I’m admirable because I worked really hard to control it” trope and while one can argue that Deku fits this trope too, I don’t think he does. Deku has never viewed OFA as cursed. He’s always considered it a blessing. Controlling OFA took less than a hundred chapters and he was never looked down upon for it.

Oh and don’t forget “the mentors untimely death to further character development for the mc.” If anything, Katsuki took over that one. (Can katsuki be considered a mentor, technically? Since Deku always looked up to him so much and learned from him more than he learned from anyone else? This is a genuine question, pls help)

Those are major ingredients for the shonen formula and, according to Nighteye, that’s fate. Things that are destined to happen in a shonen manga because that’s what always happens in a shonen manga.

By his and most shonen readers standards, Mirio, Katsuki, or Todoroki should’ve been the mc to declare your run of the mill shonen comic book. But they’re not. Fate was changed and stereotypes were pushed already by Deku’s mere existence. He’s fought his whole life against people who didn’t believe in him and Nighteye was no different.

He had to continue proving his haters wrong and being told that he can’t do something furthers his willpower to help people no matter the cost (not that that’s entirely healthy but, you know.)

People that know Deku have seen time and time again that he reaches his goals no matter how steep the hill might be. He never ceases to surprise people (I think Uraraka said something similar at some point but I can’t remember when) so the people around him that know him on the surface, have faith in him.

And according to Nighteye, that’s all they needed.

IV: Changing Fate

Nighteyes foresight changed because Deku and co. refused to lay down and accept fate so, they fought it instead. And won. Deku proved to Nighteye that All Mights fate could be changed.

Skipping ahead to the final war arc, All Might is fighting that villain that was destined to follow through on All Mights unspeakably gruesome death. He starts looking back on his life as he waits for it to happen. People watching the broadcast just accepted that he was about to die.

However…

Remember what was said about faith? Yeah Izuku holds a lot of that in Katsuki. As for a character, other than Izuku (and Dabi but this ain’t about him), with enough will and conviction to change his own fate in order to change his mentors? I can’t think of anyone else but Katsuki.

(The panel of Eraserhead at the press conference after Katsuki was kidnapped was supposed to go here but I ran out of space so I’ll just give the quote: “Any lapse in his behavior is my failing. Still… he behaved that way at the sports festival because he has such strong convictions and ideals… more than anyone, he pursues the title of top hero with everything he’s got. If the villains have mistaken that for a weakness… then their thought process is indeed superficial.”)

Thus, Nighteye’s foresight was changed.

Izuku proved that All Mights fate could be changed, and Katsuki was the one who changed it.

V: Conclusion

This post probably could’ve been a lot shorter and summed up in only a few paragraphs but, where’s the fun in that? I honestly really wanted to talk about it in depth because I find this part of the narrative so poetic and beautiful.

In the Hassaikai arc, everyone had to believe in Deku. In this arc, all Katsuki needed was for Deku to believe in him. Making Deku’s faith in Katsuki just as strong as everyone’s faith in him.

It just kinda reminds me how bnha is really just a parody of shonen manga, calling out really dumb tropes time and time again by referencing western superhero media that’s been pushing away these same tropes for decades now.

Anyways, I hope this is a good enough elaboration lmao. If I keep typing, this post will end up being too long.

[vashatxt]

blade x reader - edging, sensory play

imagine: blade has been toying with the idea of giving you an experience you'll never forget. all you have to do is trust him.

there is no obligation to send any tips but if you feel like passing on a good deed, my kofi is https://ko-fi.com/idolelysia

if you would like to request a fic/send a prompt, please read pinned and head to my ask!

cw: overstimulation, blindfolding, edging with no release, sensory play. adult content under the cut, no minors

trust me.

It'll feel good; that's what Blade had said. He promised. No matter how dumb or strange or silly you feel now, that'll melt away once you learn to let go and trust him. And so, you agree to close your eyes; to allow Blade to tape down your twitching eyelids and place a tight mask around them; a complete blackout. You lie there, naked on top of your bed, and wait.

"Let the rest of your senses wake up," Blade whispers - you want to flinch, but he isn't touching you, he's nowhere near you. The mattress creaks and lifts a little, indicating that Blade has stood up, and slowly, your ears begin to pick out more sounds, small ones; like his feet on the floorboards. There's smells, too - the scented candles burning on the nightstand, Cinnamon and Vanilla. Blade’s face lit up when you agreed to try this, and he doesn't do things half heartedly. "Relax...," you can feel the hairs stand up on the back of your neck; Blade is right beside you, his voice and breath hot on your ear. Then there's another sound, like a sucking, slurping sort - and when Blade presses his lips to yours, your mouth fills with the taste of strawberries and fruits. Had he been chewing gum? Or eating a lollipop?

"Don't let your shoulders tense up like that...," Blade’s soft, careful words. His fingertips are just the same, delicate, grazing across your skin and tracing a slow, lazy trail down your neck, across your collarbones, and then... a bit more pressure; Blade pressing the side of his hand against your throat, chuckling - oh, so pleased - at the sound of your hitched breaths. "You always love that," he tuts. "Does it feel better when you don't know what's coming?"

You clench involuntarily, and he nods. "You look so pretty right now...," Blade drags his finger across your skin again, down towards your breasts. More creaking of the bed; he's straddling your hips and lowers his head with his tongue stuck out; gently swirling it around one of your hard nipples, then blowing on it.

"Ahh, Blade...,"

"Mhhm?"

You’re arching your back as Blade wraps his lips around your nipple this time, sucking and biting at it, the pain almost enough to distract you from the fact that Blade’s hand has slipped between your thighs - almost. The second you feel his palm hovering against his cunt, you buck your hips forward, whining. "Sweetie," Blade tuts, patronizing, nuzzling into your chest. "Already? You want me there already?"

"N-need...,"

"But we haven't even gotten to the fun part...,"

Your cheeks flush and your hands ball into impatient fists; Blade probably notices and raises his eyebrows; you don’t need your vision to know your boyfriend's facial expressions, and Blade loves nothing more than to pretend your bratty ways don't get him off. The only reason it annoys him is because he finds it hard to say no to you; and he doesn't want to give in easily, especially not now. Especially not when he'd been planning so much - tickling your feet and teasing your asshole and gently spanking you when you don’t expect it. Pulling your hair and forcing you to deepthroat his cock, blind and obedient, swallowing his load and really tasting and hearing and feeling what you do to him. Oh, there's so much on Blade’s mind, but your cunt is soaking wet already, and he can't resist running two fingers along your slit, sucking on them to get a mouthful of your sweet, gorgeous taste; and your spreads your legs because you know Blade, know he can't...

"Ah, ah," he warns, tapping your knee. "Impatient."

You reach out, trying to grab his hand or some body part to pull him back over, but it's in vein - all Blade does, though it takes so much inner strength to walk away, is let out a breathy laugh, and leaves you lying there. 

The sound of a bedroom door closing and locking behind him. "I'll be back. Don't you dare touch yourself. I'll know."

[anystalker707]

Admiral, my Admiral (1/2)

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gender neutral] Admiral! Reader Words: ~ 2 500 Summary: An unusual relationship that starts with a deal. Tags: no talk to him (ace) he angy / he gets to be babied tho / um, there's angst if you don't mind

MASTERLIST

PART TWO

• Ace could remember passing out during a fight. His division wasn’t able to defeat the marine because they happened to run into a fucking strong division

• He tried his best to fight, but he just ended up getting weak when the spear of Sea-prism stone touched his chest and there was nothing else he could do, not even burn the ship so he would die uncaught, in the bottom of the sea; the last thing he could see was the fucking admiral walking towards him before he passed out. Where did the admiral come from, anyways?

• He woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, but could feel the familiar movement of the sea under him, so he was a little relieved he hadn’t been taken anywhere on land. Or maybe it was actually worse, if he thought well

• The whole place was too... patterned. Minimalist. It seems like a guest room and, when he leaves the room, the place keeps the same dark gray, white and blue colors. He keeps going until seeing a sign with the Marine symbol on it makes him shout and try to start lighting everything on fire until he notices the anklet on his leg and it is made out of that goddamned stone

• It is stupid, but he still jumps on you in an attempt to kill you with his bare fists at the moment he finds you at the desk only to be sent flying into the sea with a kick and rescued by your subordinates

• Ace is so full of anger, so small compared to you as he stands on the deck and stares at you—if only looks could kill...—while you don’t even bother to order him to be chained or anything. He feels like he will combust when you look at him and have the audacity to grin

• Your subordinates seem to know something that Ace doesn’t, but none of them pipe a word about it, all of them always talking the minimum possible with him and ignoring his comments whenever they get him food. He almost feels like when he was taken in by Whitebeard all over again, but this time, the feeling isn’t exactly welcoming because the only one being nice to him there is the fucking admiral, even if you can get on his nerves with your sarcasm and superiority complex. That is living hell

• At first, he thinks you will execute him—doesn’t happen. Then, you’re probably taking him to some headquarters to make him prisoner or something—also wrong. He tries to bribe one of your subordinates into telling him, but it never happens; not like he has anything that may interest them

• All he needs to stop fussing around so much is a letter from Garp telling him to trust you; not really the most convincing thing, but surely does leave a thought in the back of Ace’s head

• If you don’t kill him and have a goal, then the logic is simple; you need Ace alive, so you won’t kill him even if he’s the most insufferable fucker in the whole world

• Spending a few weeks on your ship does make Ace soften, though. He ends up finding himself in late night talks with you on the deck because, as much as he doesn’t want to chat, your sweet talk does keep him going. Not to mention the way he finds comfort in you, somehow

• Ace softening up doesn’t mean peace. His way of showing he is more comfortable around you resolves itself around Ace suddenly falling asleep in the most inconvenient spaces and following you around while making the most annoying comments. It doesn’t matter that you’re an Admiral and the power you have—he will get on your nerves because that’s just how he is, even more knowing he won’t get killed no matter how much he annoys one of the strongest, best known marines and warriors out there

• “What’re you doing?” “...Paperwork.” “Well, that I can see. What’s it about, though? Can I see the files about me? You better have everything right. I’m sure my bounty would be higher if you knew everything I’ve done!” “Why don’t you go take a nap or something? Leave me alone, fire boy.” “You’re so annoying! I can’t even—” You look up from your papers and he is... sleeping again. Okay.

• “You must be receiving a great amount to be taking care of me.” “Oh, I wish I were...”

• The relationship between you two turns into something like; Ace: Yo, I’ve broken about 20 important things, almost sank your ship again and made one of your subordinates almost give up on being a Marine You: I know this and I love you

• Ace is a little suspicious if you really have any real destiny—you’re sailing without stopping at any island for longer than a couple of days and never going to any of the headquarters. Are you going against the rules and acting in secret? Really??? For real??? Damn it, someone for once should tell Ace a word about what’s going on. Not only would half of his doubts go away, but also something interesting would happen in that godforsaken ship before he went crazy

• Although, watching the admiral is quite interesting. Well, the admiral is quite interesting...

• He grows quiet for a while, spending some days processing how you are always checking on him every morning and every night before he goes to sleep, sometimes bringing you food in person and spending some of your time with him

• Why do you want to know if he is emotionally okay and has everything he needs? It's almost like you care

• Then there are those long, uncomfortable silences in which he doesn't know what to do because, maybe unintentionally, those little comments of yours and light smirks have his face turning bright red and something stirring inside his chest

• How did he even allow the admiral to get into his head like that? He can't let it continue this way, though

          “(Y/n)!” Ace whined as he walked into your office and didn’t even care about what you were doing before he threw himself on your lap, holding onto your shoulders as he dramatically leaned back.

“Ace—”

“I am afraid I am about to die! Your ship is so, so boring and your subordinates never talk to me!” He closed his eyes, making a face as if he were under a lot of pain—or at least trying to—, with no regard for the documents he almost made you ruin. “Like, why can’t they give me the combination to the vault? Or let me mess with the sails? That’s no fun!”

You would’ve chuckled if Ace weren’t being so obnoxious, so you just leaned back on the chair and observed him; he pouted at the silence and sat up properly on your lap. He takes in a breath, but you never allow him to voice whatever it is.

“Look, I am throwing you in the sea if you continue like this!”

“As if!” Ace chuckles. “You can’t k...”

Oh, it can’t be. Still, the soft snoring that comes from Ace confirms your theory and you roll your eyes, bouncing your leg lightly.

“Oi! What do you think you are doing, Ace?” You finally let go of your pen and your papers, shaking Ace a little. “Get lost, fire boy! I already forbid you from interrupting me while I’m on my paperwork! Why don’t you go read the books I lent you, hm? Go sleep in your room, at least. In the kitchen. I don't care.”

“It’s no fun without you.” Ace groaned, and you couldn’t help but to smirk and raise an eyebrow; a red tone took over his cheeks. “I—I mean, you’re the one who—”

“The one who?” You nodded for him to continue, resting your cheek against your palm. “Go on.” Ace exhaled, pressing his lips together as he looked away, and the lack of answer made you chuckle while wrapping an arm around his torso. “Oh, you don’t know what to do now that you have my full attention? Just wasting my time? I gave you rules to stay on my ship, Ace.” Your fingers held onto his jaw so he would look at you. “And I—”

Lips pressed to yours interrupted your words. Ace’s lips. You couldn’t help but to kiss back because he kept pressing his lips to yours for a few seconds, dismissing your hesitance, and even daring to hum softly once you started to kiss him back.

None of you stop. It started a chain of kisses that was enough to make you forget about your paperwork, lost in kissing the lips of a filthy pirate that fell in your hands because of a deal. Both of you had this same feeling; the spark of knowing that this was wrong and forbidden was what ignited your feelings for each other. Ace’s lips tasted like the sea, like the sweets he was eating earlier, but also tasted like freedom. A little bit of power that you had over the Marine and the World Government because no matter what you did, you knew no one would agree to have you dismissed from the Marine and they couldn't control every single action of yours.

Your fingers hooked with the hair on the back of Ace’s head to pull him away from the kiss a little. “You are down bad,” you mumbled into his ear.

• Once, Ace hears you talking to Sengoku. He sees you in your office, back to the door and with a den den mushi in hand. Your voice is calm, but not the sort of calm like you are when you raise an eyebrow at Ace then shrug in dismissal before you tell him to do whatever he pleases, no; it is the type of calm when your subordinates do something you don’t like, so you suppress your annoyance to long glares and pursed lips

• “No...” You say to the snail, “I am busy. I won’t be there for the next meeting. You already know my position in this. It is the same as Garp’s. And you know I haven’t seen Fire First. I would’ve reported already. Has he disappeared or something? You haven’t heard a thing about him for weeks.”

• And he doesn’t listen anymore. He doesn’t want to. Either way, it is enough to change the context again, from “stop locking me here” to “thanks for keeping me safe”

• You don’t understand what’s up with Ace being softer around you, but it is well welcomed. There’s something sweet about how he places a chair next to your desk and folds his arms over the table with his head on them, quietly observing you work until he falls asleep

• Actually, one night, Ace knocks on your bedroom’s door. He just walks past you and collapses on the bed at the moment you open the door. And fuck. That boy’s audacity. Whatever. It’s nice to hold onto something while you sleep

• And the fact your subordinates will walk into you making out with Ace on your lap while you’re in your office and just ignore what is happening is just... Hell, you love it

• There’s a whole new routine with Ace by your side

• The moment Ace has to leave comes quicker than you expected. It’s already time for you to return to your usual admiral duties and also for Ace to go back to the sea because there’s no longer a threat

• He can’t believe that keeping him was a whole plan to keep him safe while you, Garp and a few others did your best to convince the Marine that Portgas D. Ace was not a threat, so he shouldn’t be executed

• Ace is at loss of words, unable to formulate a thanks that’s genuine enough and expresses all of his feelings because you only fucking let him know about it when you’re dropping him at an island where Whitebeard already awaits for him. He wants to cry, to hug you, to kiss you, to ramble about how thankful he is, all at the same time—but he can’t

• You chuckle at how lost he seems, grinning happily and telling him he can go because he is safe now

• Ace doesn’t leave without giving you a kiss, a deep one

• What seemed to be a short-term thing, ends up leaving your hearts aching for more once you’re away from each other, in the sea. It is risky, it is dangerous, difficult to manage, even, but you’re picking Ace up in a random island to spend the night with you whenever you are able to, with excuses to the marine that you ended up letting him escape because your priorities were others. Sometimes he will just show up randomly with that devilish smirk on his face

• As much as you’re an admiral, your little relationship does reach the Marine’s eyes and ears, and it doesn’t seem to help them in the slightest bit because you’re not only with one of their highest potential enemies; your behavior also encourages other pirates a little too much, as if it gives them some sort of excuse or extra freedom. You’d always been a little rebel considering the Marine and World Government’s rules, so maybe you’ll go a little too far soon—if you haven't already

• Getting rid of Ace wouldn’t mean just getting rid of a big threat—it also would have you under the Marine’s control once for all

• First of all, the Marine can’t get rid of an admiral so powerful like you, so it isn’t a choice to dismiss or execute you, so that leads to Ace. Given the way you are lovesick, getting rid of Ace will teach you a lesson—and a lesson to every other marine and pirate as well—, and your head will be focused on doing your job. You won’t rebel against the only people who know your weaknesses and help you be stronger

• The new census doesn’t need you and Garp to vote; it doesn’t matter what a small biased minority things about such a threat

• You already suspect what's going on when they send you across the ocean, and it gets worse when they start to guide you to a weird island you’ve never seen before

• Held. You’re being held across the ocean because they know you can save Ace if you have the opportunity, because you’re too precious to be wasted for such an insignificant matter. You’ll just be force– I mean, invited to a confidential meeting later to establish that your relationship with Ace will be forgiven and forgotten since they know it won’t happen again and you’re such a great admiral that they can’t risk losing you. You will have to sign a few documents and be under constant watch for a few months after it

• For now, you will just sit in this cold cell knowing your love is being executed

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

PART TWO

[vigilanteshtagain]

HEADCANONS BECAUSE I'M BORED

GOJO

- Uses Instagram the way Millennials do (the first and seconds year's get second hand embarrassment)

- Drives like a maniac. Yaga has explicitly forbidden him to drive students around

- NEVER washes his blindfold, and if anyone suggests he should wash it he will get offended

- Cooks very well but settles for takes outs and fancy dinners with his students because he HATES to eat alone and has no one to share his food with back home, makes him even lonelier

- HAS to smell good ALL the time, and has a collection of different colognes, each one for specific ocassions

- Enjoyed taking Megumi to the park and playing with him, and wishes he wouldn't have grown up so fast

- Made hand crafted albums of every single little thing Megumi and Tsumiki have done, bad portraits of him and all

- Kissed sucked Geto's toes at some point, I'm not sorry

- Nevers answers the phone, much to Yaga's annoyance

- His heart warms up whenever his students bring him little gifts, like sweet pastries

- Defends his students with his LIFE, but this is canon already

- Is an ugly crier, like really bad. He yells when he cries. Shoko just stays there giving him the foulest glare.

GETO

- Refuses to cut his hair, no matter how many times Mimiko and Nanako have complained about finding long hairs plastered on the shower walls

- Keeps photos of his time in Jujutsu High in a box, and looks at them on lonely nights (specially photos of Gojo and him SHUT UP THIS IS CANON TO ME)

- Is allergic to nuts

- Has considered getting Mimiko and Nanako a pet, maybe a dog or a cat (I see them more as cats people)

- Definitely drew Gojo's eyes in the middle of class, multiple times because he couldn't get the colors "right"

- Is a tea person

- Sleeps like a victorian child on their deathbed, he's way too dramatic

- Tax evader

NANAMI

- Shops EXCLUSIVELY in brand stores. Dior, Channel, Gucci, you name it.

- Owns an air frier, uses it to it's maximum capacity. As soon as he got one, pots, pans and stoves doesn't exist to him anymore (I don't even know why I included this)

- Is in desperate need of a pet, this man needs some love and comfort in his life but his job as a sorcerer makes it difficult to have one

- Doesn't actually hate Gojo, he just gets heavily annoyed by him. After all, Gojo and Shoko are the only "close" classmates he has left.

- Pets stray dogs and cats on the streets and feeds them whenever he has time

- Actually likes that horrendous tie

- Knows how to play an air instrument, not sure which one but definitely knows how to play at least one

NOBARA

- Follows every beauty and fashion influencer, her for you page is flooded with that

- She's a Tini fan no doubt, La Triple T on repeat for days

- Can't dance to save her life

- Shows her affection through quality time

- Certified Barb along with Yuji, Nicki Minaj's biggest fans. Megumi acts like he doesn't care but he is just as Barb as they are.

- Her cf on Instagram is basically her day to day with the idiots she calls classmates (She likes to document them to have memories for the future)

- Actually very good at math, despite her not liking numbers.

- Gets road rage even if she's not the one driving

- Got Megumi into skincare

- The first one to propose a movie night between the first and second year's, she likes when all of them hang out

- She's the type to create a group chat to plan a birthday party for her friends and organizes everything

- Has a free pass to everyone's dorm, like she sees the door open and enters just to hang out, SHE DOESN'T CARE

- She enjoys training with the second years, specially Maki (NOBAMAKI FOR THE WIN)

- She gives practical gifts

- Gets way too much into TikTok drama, it's the only thing she'll talk about for days and it's overwhelming

YUJI

- Had a dog when he was little, probably named it something cheesy

- Likes reggaeton, in love with Karol G (a ver, quién no?), Jennifer Lawrence who

- Sunset pictures fill up his camera roll

- Doesn't like needles, still gets nervous when he get shots or vaccines

- He does this thing where he chews really fast whenever the food it's too hot to eat instead of letting it cool down. I don't know how to explain it but it's painful to watch, Megumi and Nobara smacks him on the head for that

- Definitely the type to bake a cake for his friend's birthdays, he bakes it with so much love I'm crying

- Gets his feelings hurt rather easily but he is quick to forgive

- Knows every single trending celebrity gossip and talks about it with Nobara and Megumi

- A KING at dancing, he can dance pretty much anything

- He gives very well thought gifts, like he really puts effort and pay attention to what his friends like

- He calls Nanami just to see how he is doing, needless to say Nanami is deeply touched by this

- Snores so bad Sukuna thought he was going to choke the first nights after Yuji ate the finger, now it's just background noise for him

MEGUMI

- Cuddles with his shikigamis on cold nights, and takes his demon dogs on walks

- He's very reliable, the first one out of his friends to find solutions to a problem

- SMART, but this is already canon

- Taught his demon dogs to steal and hide Gojo's clothes just to mess with him, he's a MENACE

- CAN'T TAKE A JOKE, he doesn't understand TikTok references it's so annoying.

- He looks like he's mad all the time when he's out, so bad sometimes people glare at him unprovoked

- The type to say no whenever someone asks him to do something but ends up doing it anyway

- Has thought about getting a tattoo related to his shikigamis in the future, but he's not really sure if he's going to get it done (Probably his demon dogs mark or Mahoraga's wheel because God he thinks about summoning it first thing in the morning, "With this treasure I summon" in italics tattooed on his forearm)

- Neat freak, NEEDS to have his room clean and organized at all times (if he doesn't, that will be his last straw and will summon Mahoraga)

- Gives well thought gifts, but plays it off and says it's nothing

- Bad grammar makes him wince, needless to say he has perfect grammar. His essays are perfect.

- He was that annoying child that corrected everyone whenever they said something wrong, like "Um, actually you're wrong because-", UGH. He's still like that but now he just throws a nasty glare and corrects them.

- His love language is acts of service but quality time is also important to him (despite how he pretends to hate hanging out with Yuji and Nobara)

- A very decent driver, Gojo taught him despite how he drives like a beast

___________________________________________

Sorry this was too long, but one thing led to another. Jjk brain rot is consuming me.

[fake-sturniolos]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬

pt2

SYNOPSIS:  a hopeless romantic teen attempts to secure a happily-ever-after moment with her forever crush, but finds herself reluctantly drawn to the boy next door.

WARNING: none!

word count: 1,722

ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏᴏᴋ 'ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇꜱ'

I've wanted love since I was old enough to spell the word 'love', probably because of my mom's obsession with romcoms. I would watch romcoms with my mom all the time; it was our thing. We would get snacks, snuggle up on the couch, and binge all of her favorites. When she passed away, what I inherited was the knowledge that love is perpetually present, always a potentiality, and eternally worthwhile.

I walked out of my house in a relatively good mood, only to be met with the sight of the person who annoys me most in this world, Matt Sturniolo. He was standing in front of my car with a grin on his face. Well, that couldn’t be good. I shut the door behind me and pretty much ran at him. “What are you doing near my car.”

Matt just shrugged, giving me a smirk.

"What's in your hand?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, putting his hand behind his back.

i rolling my eyes at him. "What did you do to my car?"

“technically i didn't do anything to your car”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He gave me a grin before saying, "Well, this has been fun, but I've gotta run.”

"Matt—" I began, but he turned around and walked back to his house as if our conversation hadn't just happened. I sighed and turned back to my car to see what he could have done to it.

Matt and I have an ongoing battle over who gets the parking spot, though he typically wins because he cheats. It's become a game of wits between us, each of us trying to outsmart the other in our quest for the coveted spot. But no matter how hard I try, it seems like Matt always has the upper hand.

I sighed and got into my car, only to find a parking ticket taped to the middle my windshield. Great.

I walked into school with 'Florida Kilos' playing in my headphones. I entered my first-period class and took the only available seat next to Lacy Johnson. Lacy is a high-class bitch, but there's no denying that she's gorgeous. We both grew up in the same neighborhood and hung out with the same kids. And every time we were together, she would find some way to call me weird or insult me in any way possible. It was like she had a radar for my insecurities and took pleasure in poking at them

“Nice dress, y/n," Lacy said, looking over at me.

I gave her a fake smile. "Thanks."

I pulled my phone out of my bag to see a text from my best friend, Audrina.

From Audrina:

You will not believe what I found out

To Audrina:

Spill

From Audrina:

You're not gonna want to be in class when I tell you, so meet me after

The bell rang, and I rushed out of class to our lockers. Audrina showed up right as I did.

"Okay, before I tell you, promise me you won’t freak out," she said.

"I can’t promise anything."

Before she could say anything, I glanced behind her and saw no one other than Tristan Parker walking in my direction. Audrina noticed the look on my face and turned around.

"Well, there it is," she said.

Tristan Parker was my childhood crush. He lived in my neighborhood and hung out with me and the few other kids on our block (Me, Matt, Audrina, Lacy, and a few other kids.) Till one day he moved to South Carolina. I never thought I would see him again but here he is.

“Y/N?” Tristan's voice jolted me out of my daydream, his gentle tone drawing me back to reality.

“Tristan?” I responded, my lips curling into a smile as I met his gaze.

In a heartbeat, he closed the distance between us, enveloping me in a warm embrace that felt like home. I felt my stomach flip. Oh my God.

All of a sudden, I feel someone bump into me, and I turn around to see Matt. Of course, if anyone was going to ruin this moment, it would be him.

“Matt!” I exclaimed, turning to face him. “You should really watch where you're going,” I said with a fake smile.

"‘Yeah, so sorry.” he said sarcastically, then turned to look at Tristan.

“Tristan!” he exclaimed, reaching out to dab him up.

“You were right about the biology teacher.” Tristan said.

“Yeah, she's a real bitch.” Matt grinned.

I watched as Tristan laughed. I tried to contain my smile, but it was useless.

“Relax, you're drooling all over yourself” Audrina whispered to me. I had pretty much forgotten she was standing there.

“You know Michael White, right?” Matt asked Tristan.

“Of course.”

“Well, he's having a party tonight. Would you be down to go?”

“Yeah, sounds good” Tristan replied.

“Alright, cool. I'll text you the details. But I gotta go. If I'm late one more time, I'm cooked.” he said, then turned and walked the other direction.

Tristan turned his attention back to me “I've gotta go too” he said “But we'll catch up later?”

I nodded eagerly, feeling a sense of anticipation bubbling within me. “Definitely” I replied, my heart skipping a beat as he flashed me a brief but warm smile before walking off.

Audrina sighed. “Don’t get too excited. I heard he's been talking to Lacy Johnson.”

I felt like someone had just punched me in the face. Why her? I didn’t get it. I couldn’t comprehend how someone like Lacy, who seemed to effortlessly have everything handed to her, could possibly be vying for the attention of the same guy I wanted. I couldn’t bear the idea of seeing the perfect guy for me end up with someone like her.

"I mean, they aren't official. I still have a shot,” I said, trying to reassure myself.

“Please don’t be that girl,” she said, giving me a pleading look.

Her words struck a chord within me, a reminder of the line I was treading. Did I really want to be that girl, the one who clung onto hope despite the odds?

I swallowed hard, the weight of my indecision heavy in my chest. "I won’t." I promised, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears.

Matt had beaten me to the parking spot, leaving me no choice but to park around the block and trek home through the pouring rain. As I reached my doorstep, a sudden realization struck me. If I could persuade Matt to take me to the party, it could be my ticket to getting closer to Tristan. I turned on my heel and headed next door, where I knocked on Matt's door. After a few moments, he opened it slightly, a bemused grin on his face.

“Well, well, well,” he chuckled, taking in my drenched appearance. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

I rolled my eyes, feeling the chill of the rain lingering on my skin. “I need to talk to you.”

His eyebrows raised in mock suspicion. “Why? Planning to exact your revenge?”

“Matt, just let me in,” I pleaded, my patience wearing thin.

From behind him, I heard his mother's voice. “Matt, stop teasing and let the poor girl in.”

“I think she's here to assassinate me,” Matt joked

“Hi, Mary Lou.” I said smiling at her.

“Hello, y/n. Come inside before you catch a cold,” she said kindly, ushering me into the warmth of their home.

“Thanks, Mary Lou,” I said gratefully

Mary Lou smiled warmly. “Of course, dear. Let me grab you a towel to dry off,” she said before disappearing into another room.

Left alone with Matt, I couldn't help but feel a pang of nervousness creeping over me. What if he refused to help me? What if my plan to get to the party and see Tristan up close fell apart before it even began?

Mary Lou returned with a fluffy towel, and with a grateful smile, I accepted it, quickly drying myself off as best as I could. Matt gestured for me to follow him, we made our way to the cozy living room, where the soft glow of lamps cast a warm, inviting ambiance.

As we settled onto the comfortable couch, I couldn't shake the nervous flutter in my stomach. Matt leaned back, his expression curious yet attentive. “So, spill it,” he prompted, his eyes fixed on mine.

“okay so I need your help.” I said meeting his gaze

he smiled “and why would I help you?”

“i have an offer for you.” I said clearing my throat “you will get full access to the parking spot for the duration of our deal.”

he looked back at me with a shocked expression “your giving me THE parking spot?”

I sat back and nodded.

“Deal.”

“What? You don't even know what I want you to do yet.”

“Whatever it takes, I'll do it.”

“Okay, but you have to swear that you won’t tell anyone or give up halfway. If you do, the deal is off.”

“I swear. Now, tell me.”

I looked at something other than his face. “I want to get close with Tristan.”

“And you want me to help with that how?”

“Well, since he's going to the party, I was hoping you could take me with you, so I could talk to him.”

He nodded. “So you want to get with Tristan, and you want me to take you with me to the party so you can get him to like you?” he said, scanning my face.

“Pretty much.”

“Isn’t he interested in Lacy?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry about that.”

He smiled. “How scandalous of you, Buxbaum.”

“Shut up.” I said smiling back "Alright, so here's the plan," leaning in closer to Matt. "You'll invite me to the party as your plus one, and once we're there, you'll introduce me to Tristan. From there, I'll work my magic."

Matt raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Your magic, huh? Should I be worried?"

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help but laugh. "Just trust me, okay? I'll handle it."

After exchanging numbers to discuss Tristan after, we agreed that he would pick me up at 7.

"Alright, you've got yourself a deal."

ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ɪᴛ! ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ʟᴀᴜɴᴀ